Category: English

After my husband Damien Carter died in the line of duty, I visited his grave every weekend. Five years later, on another weekend, I was in a car accident on my way to the cemetery. When I woke up, my best friend Gwen Mitchell tried to comfort me. “He’s been gone for so many years now. You need to move on and live your own life.” I nodded and agreed, deciding to take a job in the UK. Before heading to the airport, I decided on impulse to say goodbye to my husband at the cemetery. His headstone was gone. I pulled up the cemetery’s security footage from three days earlier. My husband — who had supposedly died in a fire — was there, holding hands with a pregnant Gwen. That evening, Gwen called asking if I’d landed yet, wondering why I wasn’t replying to her messages. I raised my hand and knocked on her door, smiling at her shocked, wide-eyed expression. “Your belly’s gotten so big. Why didn’t you tell your best friend?” That evening, I arrived at Gwen’s door and knocked. The moment she saw me, her phone clattered to the floor. I bent down and picked it up for her. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” She seemed to snap out of a daze, forcing out a smile. “Didn’t you fly to the UK? Why did you suddenly come find me without saying anything? I could have picked you up.” I let out a cold laugh. “Didn’t you sprain your ankle?” After my car accident, she’d been anxious and apologetic, saying she’d twisted her ankle and couldn’t get back from Los Angeles to see me. All lies. Just then, a delivery guy emerged from the elevator, handing over a large bouquet of roses. “Delivery for you — flowers.” Gwen didn’t take them. I did. “Honey, is that the delivery?” From inside the apartment, a man’s familiar voice made my heart lurch violently. The next second, Damien Carter walked out of the kitchen wearing an apron. Seeing me, he froze completely, his pupils trembling. I pulled out the card from the flowers. It was in Damien’s handwriting. “Dear Mrs. Carter, Happy Fourth Wedding Anniversary. Thank you for marrying me and giving me a lifetime of happiness.” I read it aloud mockingly, watching both their faces grow increasingly pale. “How wonderful.” They both stood frozen, unsure how to react. I walked toward the photo wall in the living room. Five years ago, Damien had supposedly died saving people, his body obliterated in a fire explosion. I’d been devastated, crying day after day until my retina detached. While they moved into their new home, excitedly planning their new life together. The day before I attempted suicide by cutting my wrists, they’d registered their marriage. While I was downing antidepressants by the handful, finding it difficult to even breathe or feel my heartbeat, they were traveling and vacationing around the world, skiing and diving. While I could only fall asleep listening to Damien’s old voice messages, he’d gotten my best friend pregnant and was reading picture books to their baby in her belly. I took down the ultrasound photo of the baby, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Have you picked a name for the baby yet? How about Luna?” At Damien’s wedding, he’d said in his vows: “I fell in love with you at first sight. The night we first said hello, I’d already thought of names for our children. Luna.” Everyone had laughed, including my maid of honor — Gwen. Gwen had held the bouquet and playfully hit Damien. “If you dare hurt Keira, I won’t let you get away with it.” Damien had laughed and said he knew. Back then, immersed in exhausted happiness, I hadn’t noticed the subtle tension between them at all. I took a deep breath, grabbed a potted plant by the sofa, and hurled it at the photo wall with all my strength. Gwen jumped in fright, her face going pale as she clutched her belly. “Honey…” Damien immediately rushed to support her, helping her sit down. Gwen shook her head and pushed him away. “I’m fine. Go check on the soup in the kitchen. Remember, don’t add cilantro when it’s done — Keira doesn’t eat it.” I let out a cold laugh. “My dear best friend, so thoughtful and considerate.” “Enough!” Damien’s face darkened, his voice a low, angry growl. I laughed again, staring straight into his eyes as I walked up to him. I slapped him across the face. Not satisfied, I hit him several more times. He turned his face away, veins bulging and pulsing on his forehead. My hand went numb from shaking, my whole body trembling. Over these five years, I’d lost count of how many times I’d dreamed of this exact scene. I’d come home, push open the door, and Damien would suddenly be standing there alive before my eyes. I’d hit him, curse at him, cry and ask him why he left me alone. “Keira, I’m sorry…” Gwen dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault. If you want to hit someone, hit me. I was the one who fell for Damien first. I seduced him, pursued him. I deceived you and betrayed our friendship.” She desperately pushed away Damien as he tried to help her up. “Go away! Go home with Keira! The baby… I’ll abort the baby. She never should have existed anyway, and I don’t deserve to be her mother.” Damien held her tightly, his eyes full of heartache. “Don’t talk nonsense. I love you. I love our daughter. You two are my family.” My heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant fist, the pain making my breath tremble. Suddenly everything went dark. I thought my retinal detachment was acting up again. Thankfully, it was just a power outage. “Ah…” Gwen screamed. She grabbed my leg, and I kicked her in the stomach. “Honey… the baby… my stomach hurts so much…” Damien frantically found his phone and turned on the flashlight. Seeing the footprint on her dress, his eyes filled with furious rage. He kicked me away with one foot. My head hit the cabinet corner, my back pressed against the broken ceramic shards of the flowerpot. My hand touched something wet — blood. Damien picked up Gwen to take her to the hospital, saying through gritted teeth: “Keira Summers, if anything happens to them, I won’t let you get away with it.” The door slammed shut. I lay on the floor, laughing and crying in the darkness. I don’t know how long passed before I seemed to smell gas. I tried to crawl up, but like in a nightmare, I couldn’t move at all. Maybe dying like this would be better. I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. I woke up with a splitting headache. My vision blurry, I instinctively grabbed Damien’s hand, my voice carrying a grievous sob. “Don’t leave!” He clearly stiffened. The next second, I snapped fully awake, remembering everything. He pried my hand away and placed it on top of the blanket. “Be careful. Don’t dislodge the IV.” His concern carried a deliberate distance and avoidance. I laughed self-mockingly. “Sorry, I forgot you’re my best friend’s husband now.” His expression darkened at that. He turned and pulled my phone from the drawer, handing it to me. “Your company called. They asked why you didn’t report for work.” He paused. “You should start a new life.” Everyone around me had been saying the same thing. A new life… just three words when spoken, but only I knew how difficult it actually was. From the moment I fell in love with him, all my visions of the future included him. When he died, my heart died with him. Now I’d tasted something a thousand times more painful than death. I swallowed the bitter taste in my throat. “Damien Carter, I won’t let you two get away with this.” His eyes flashed sharply, glaring at me with vigilance and resentment. “If you dare hurt Gwen and the child again, I’ll definitely make you pay.” With that, he turned and left. I stared at the ceiling and let out two cold laughs. When I first started working, my boss would take me to business dinners and subtly take advantage of me. I didn’t dare resist directly, so I complained to Damien when I got home. A few days later, my boss’s face was swollen like a pig’s head. “Don’t worry, he won’t suspect us.” Damien’s expression held a trace of pride, though it quickly turned serious. “Keira, no matter who it is, if anyone bullies you, I’ll definitely make them pay.” Looking at his serious, determined eyes, I was so moved my nose stung. I jokingly asked him: “What if the person bullying me is you?” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing his forehead to mine. “That won’t happen.” “If one day I really do make you sad… then punish me by losing you forever.” Losing me had once been the greatest punishment for him. But a few years later, I became the shackle he desperately wanted to shed. For that, he didn’t hesitate to fake his death and escape. I wiped away the tears rolling down my temples into my hair. Gwen pushed open the door. “Keira, eat something.” While arranging the contents of the lunch box on the table, she chatted casually. “The baby’s nickname is Joey. We haven’t decided on a full name yet. You’re the child’s godmother — why don’t you help us choose one?” “You understand, right? Your Damien can never come back to you. If you haven’t vented enough anger, we can keep playing along.” “Beef stew — Damien’s specialty. You haven’t had it in a long time, right?” Smelling the meat, I was hit with an even stronger wave of nausea. She smiled. “Oh, didn’t you tell me your sister finally got pregnant after so many rounds of IVF? Twins, even.” “What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth, my eyes bloodshot as I glared at her. “I don’t want anything.” She looked innocent. “The key is — what will you do?” 3 She returned my phone. My sister happened to call right then. “Keira, I just received a package. Inside were two really exquisite dolls. Did you buy them?” My heart jumped. I shouted urgently: “Don’t touch them! Throw them out!” My sister was startled, asking what was wrong. I took a deep breath, watching the faint smile on Gwen’s lips, my spine going cold. My parents died in an accident when I was young. My sister dropped out of high school to work, supporting me and putting me through college. Her difficulty getting pregnant was largely due to overwork that damaged her health. Gwen knew how deep my relationship with my sister was, so she was using her to control and threaten me. After hanging up, I admitted defeat and compromised. “I won’t do anything. I don’t know anything. Nothing happened. My husband is already dead.” Gwen smiled with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, the dolls are just ordinary dolls.” “Hurry and eat. The food’s getting cold.” But the next second, she heard movement at the door. She flipped the small table over. Soup and dishes spilled all over my bed and body. The lunch box rolled to the floor with a clatter. Damien rushed in from outside. “Gwen! Did you get burned?” Gwen shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m fine. Check on Keira quickly.” Damien held her back, glancing at me sideways. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her.” Another knife to the heart. Gwen looked even more satisfied. Damien protectively walked her out. I heard his voice, kept very low: “Keira’s emotionally unstable right now. What if she goes crazy and comes after you? I’ve already arranged for someone to come.” Gwen’s voice was soft and coquettish with a hint of laughter: “You’re so thoughtful.” They left. A nurse came in to clean up. I hid in the bathroom and called my sister back. “Hailey, will you come to the UK with me for a while? Have your husband take you to get your visa today. I’ll come back to get you.” Someone knocked on the door. I hurriedly told my sister one more thing and hung up. It was the nurse’s voice. I opened the door, and a man pushed his way in. Before I could scream in terror, my mouth and nose were covered, and I quickly passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was lying in bed wearing my hospital gown. Under my clothes were bruises all over. Gwen came in supporting her waist, like a friend sharing gossip as she showed me nude photos of myself. “Since you don’t trust me, I had to keep some leverage on you too.” “If you don’t want your sister, your coworkers and friends, or even strangers to see these things, you’d better keep your mouth shut forever.” I trembled all over, gritting my teeth and nodding. Gwen drove me to the airport and gave me a card. “Live well on your own.” I took it, but she didn’t let go immediately. “The password is the day Luna left. I’ve always felt guilty. Especially after I got pregnant myself — I kept dreaming about it.” I froze, realizing in a flash. “The car accident… you did it on purpose!” After Damien’s “death,” I discovered I was pregnant. Gwen advised me not to keep it. I couldn’t bear to give it up, so she said she’d help me raise it after it was born. But a few days later, she drove me out to relax, and we got into an accident. I lost the baby. “A child without a father is too pitiful. Better not to come into this world to suffer.” I swallowed the bloody taste rising in my throat and got out of the car. Just after getting off the plane, my old phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated frantically: “Is this Keira Summers, Hailey Summers’s sister? Your sister opened a package delivered to her home today. It had a strong allergen on it. She’s hemorrhaging badly and had a miscarriage. The situation is critical. You need to get to the hospital immediately to sign papers!” My fingertips instantly went ice cold. I turned around and went to the counter to change to the earliest flight back to New York. On the plane, I had a good cry. Back in New York, I bought a new phone and switched it on, then made a call. “This is Keira Summers. You said I could come to you if I needed help. Does that still stand?” 4 I brought my sister to New York, temporarily staying in a secure private community that the man had arranged. I felt somewhat reassured. I organized evidence and documents, writing two complaint letters. I printed the complaint letters and put them in two separate envelopes. One I sent to Gwen’s workplace, the other to Damien’s military unit. The afternoon after mailing the letters, I sat on a park bench, watching the falling leaves in a daze. These years I’d spent as a widow for Damien — it was all a joke. If only he had really died in the line of duty. At least then, we wouldn’t have come to this point, and my sister’s children would still be alive. Three days later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Damien standing outside, holding two crumpled letters in his hand. The very complaint letters I’d sent. “Keira, don’t do anything foolish.” He threw the letters on the coffee table, his tone carrying a warning. “Fighting a losing battle won’t end well for you. Your sister is the best example.” I suddenly stood up, my chest heaving violently: “I already agreed! Why did you have to destroy everything I had left?” For the first time, Damien’s eyes showed a trace of guilt. His expression was complicated. Suddenly he reached out and pulled me into his arms, apologizing: “I’m sorry, Keira. Don’t do anything foolish. Just live your own life properly.” I broke down crying, tears hitting the floor: “Damien Carter… why are you doing this to me?!” He didn’t answer. The accumulated grievances and anger exploded again. I continued crying and asking him: “Damien Carter! How can you?! How can you destroy everything I have and then tell me to live well?!” He let me hit him, but his arms only tightened around me. “I’m sorry…” he kept repeating. I cried until I was drained of strength, using what little energy I had left to push him away. When he left, he left behind a card. “Let’s end this here. Gwen still has those photos of you. I don’t want her to hurt you again.” “This card — consider it some compensation from me to you and your sister.” I looked at him with a smile and nodded okay. With my sister’s situation still unresolved, how could I possibly let them go? If I really gave up now, wouldn’t that be exactly what they wanted? If I was in pain, they shouldn’t get to be comfortable either. But I didn’t expect they had no intention of letting me go either. The next morning, I went to bring my sister breakfast. Just as I walked out of the community gate, a black sedan suddenly accelerated toward me. The blinding headlights made me unable to open my eyes. I instinctively stepped back but tripped on a step. After being hit by the car, only one thought remained in my mind. I can’t die. In the last second before losing consciousness, I felt someone pick me up. I struggled to open my eyes and saw a face with distinct features. The man’s voice was deep and gentle. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

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When popular actress Ruby’s secret Instagram account was exposed, hundreds of love letters made her the number one trending topic on social media overnight. She wrote: “The man I love became someone else’s husband.” Her fans all felt sorry for her: “You’re so devoted!” “These love letters are so touching! I’m crying!” I was lying in bed scrolling through my phone when I casually commented: “How can someone make falling for another woman’s husband sound so innocent?” One minute later, Frederick’s call came through: “Ruby didn’t do anything wrong. Saying that will cause her trouble.” I froze for a moment, then suddenly laughed. So in a relationship between three people, the extra one had always been me—the wife. The man Ruby couldn’t have in her posts was my husband of nearly three years, Frederick. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain I’d only commented casually. But the words that came out were: “How did you even see it?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. I suddenly understood. With tens of thousands of comments on the trending topic, Frederick—currently on a business trip abroad—had spotted my account among all those comments at a glance. Not because I was important to him, but because he’d been following Ruby’s every move. He’d even scrolled through every single comment. “Serena, delete the comment first.” Frederick’s tone softened slightly from before. “I’ll handle things with Ruby. You don’t need to worry about it.” I bit my lip. “Sorry. I didn’t know those love letters were written to you. I’ll delete it.” He paused. As if he wanted to say something more, but in the end just hummed in acknowledgment. The call ended. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the screen for a few seconds. Frederick had always been gentle and courteous with me. This was the first time he’d confronted me like this. I set my phone face-down on the nightstand and lay back down with my face mask on. Fifteen minutes later, I went to the bathroom to wash my face. The person in the mirror looked normal, except her eyes were a bit red. I leaned in for a closer look. Probably some mask serum had gotten in my eyes. After washing up, I reopened that trending topic. All the posts were titled “Letters to Mr. F.” Documenting Ruby’s years-long obsession with a man. I found my comment, clicked on it, and deleted it. When I exited, the number one trending topic had already changed. “Who Is the Man in Ruby’s Love Letters?” I scrolled past it and closed the app. My phone stayed quiet. It didn’t ring again. I turned off the light and lay back in bed. In the darkness, I suddenly remembered something. The prenuptial agreement between Frederick and me had a three-year term. Only two months remained.

Three years ago, the Ashford family faced a crisis. Stock prices plummeted. Partners withdrew funding one after another. At that time, as the only daughter of the Hayes family, I proposed a marriage alliance. Some said I was taking advantage of their misfortune. Some said the Hayes family was bottom-fishing. What no one knew was that I liked Frederick. Since college. For seven years. To avoid putting pressure on Frederick, I drafted an agreement myself: a marriage term of three years. During those three years, we would cooperate to handle family matters and attend public events together. After three years, if either party proposed divorce, the other must agree unconditionally. This marriage held no benefits for me. I wanted nothing—just a chance to be with him for three years. Later I heard that he apparently had a girlfriend he was deeply in love with at the time. His parents forcibly separated them and made him marry me to save the company. Over these three years, Frederick had been very good to me. Genuinely good. Considerate, gentle, fulfilling his duties as a husband. He would bring me late-night snacks when returning home from business dinners. He would bring me gifts when returning from business trips. He never brushed off any holiday or anniversary. When I was sick, he would stay by my bedside. Even in our intimate life, he was attentive. I thought he was slowly falling for me. Now I understood. He was just fulfilling contractual obligations. As for feelings— Those weren’t in the contract. I turned over, burying my face in the pillow. Before long, the pillow was wet in one spot.

The next evening, Frederick returned from his business trip. I sat in the living room waiting for him. Before he could raise his arms to hug me, I pushed the agreement across. “What’s this?” He was clearly startled, sitting down beside me. “The prenuptial agreement.” “We have two months left until the three-year term expires. But if you’re in a hurry, we can end the contract early.” He frowned. “Serena, what do you mean?” I looked up at him calmly. “I don’t care about your business with Ruby. But I don’t want to stay in this position.” “Before proposing the alliance, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. I’m sorry, but I have no interest in being the one who gets in the way of true love.” Frederick’s expression froze slightly. He reached out to put his arm around me, his tone softer than before. “She and I ended completely long ago. Those love letters were written by her. They have nothing to do with me.” I moved back slightly. His arm froze in midair. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, finally placing his hand on my shoulder and patting it reassuringly. “The three years aren’t up yet. You’re still Mrs. Ashford.” I nodded. “Okay.” He looked at me for a few seconds, stood up, and said he was going to shower. That evening, we ate dinner together. After the meal, we sat together in the media room watching an old movie. During the end credits, we became intimate. Afterward, he carried me to bathe as usual. He let me fall asleep on his arm. I almost doubted again that he liked me. I woke in the middle of the night to find the spot beside me empty. I instinctively looked toward the balcony. The curtains weren’t fully drawn—there was a gap. Through it I could see a figure on the balcony, back turned to me, phone raised. I got out of bed quietly and walked to the door. “…I’ve already handled the trending topic.” His voice drifted in from the balcony, kept very low. “I don’t want this to affect the cooperation between the Ashford and Hayes families.” Silence for a few seconds. “Ruby, what we had is in the past.” I stood behind the curtain, my fingers clenched tight. He listened for a while longer, then said, “Get some sleep.” The call ended. I thought he would come back, but he made another call. “Mr. Johnson, the company needs a global brand ambassador for the new season. Contact Ruby’s agent. Accept whatever conditions they ask for.” I heard the sound of a lighter. A flash of flame—he lit a cigarette. Smoke drifted into the night. His profile was briefly lit by the cigarette’s glow, then darkened again. When we first got married, he occasionally smelled of smoke. I would cough a few times. After that, I never saw him smoke again. I stood behind the curtain watching him smoke one cigarette after another. My feet felt cold. I realized I was standing barefoot on the floor. I tiptoed back to bed, lay down, and closed my eyes.

On the weekend, Frederick had a gathering with friends. I hit traffic and arrived later than planned. The moment before I pushed open the private room door, voices from inside filtered through. “Frederick, if the Hayes family hadn’t taken advantage of the situation back then, you would have married Ruby by now, right?” “You two were doing so well together, forcibly torn apart.” “Exactly.” Another voice chimed in. “Serena’s move was pretty calculated. I heard that when your family had problems, she was the first to jump out proposing a marriage alliance. Who knows if her family was behind it all?” “I’ve wanted to say this for a while—you and Ruby were such a perfect match back then. She still can’t forget you, writing all those love letters. So devoted.” “Serena’s just been taking advantage these three years, when you get down to it.” Laughter, voices agreeing. Then I heard Frederick’s voice. His tone flat, almost cold. “It’s all in the past.” My hand stopped on the door handle. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t say Serena wasn’t that kind of person. Didn’t say she wasn’t scheming. Didn’t say she was his wife. He didn’t even tell them to stop. One dismissive “it’s all in the past.” Drowning three years of marriage and my dignity in their mockery. My nails dug into my palm. It hurt a little. I had looked into Ruby. When the Ashford family was in crisis, she had quickly latched onto a new benefactor. Even I could easily find this out. I didn’t believe Frederick couldn’t. Unless he trusted her completely. I suddenly recalled three years ago. When the Ashford family was in crisis, my family opposed the marriage alliance. They said the Ashford family’s problems were too deep—the Hayes family didn’t need to get involved. I was the one who sold all the properties under my name and mortgaged my shares in Hayes Corporation. I scraped together that money and transferred it to Frederick’s finance department under the guise of working capital. I never told anyone about this. Including him. I thought that was love. Turns out in others’ mouths, it was called taking advantage of someone’s misfortune. The laughter inside continued. I released the handle and stepped back. Before tears could fall, I left the club.

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Tricked by my boyfriend into going to a remote, lawless compound deep in the backwoods, I was reduced to nothing more than a breeding machine. The day the local quack cut my stomach open to deliver a breached pregnancy, I lay in a pool of my own blood. Through the haze, I heard the two women guarding the door chewing sunflower seeds and gossiping: “These college girls from the city are so gullible. She actually thinks she was kidnapped by human traffickers.” “Right? Who told her to mess with Mr. Vance’s precious best friend?” “Mr. Vance paid our boss a hundred grand to have the whole compound play along with this ‘escape room’ game. He even personally mailed the labor-inducing drugs.” “I heard Mr. Vance say that as long as she rots in this hellhole for three years and experiences the pain his ‘bestie’ went through, he’ll mercifully take her back to the city to marry her.” Through the crack in the door, I saw the video call from my fiancé, Arthur Vance, playing on the woman’s phone. So, this pitch-black purgatory I had endured for three years was just a customized punishment he orchestrated to make his female best friend happy. The excruciating pain in my abdomen tore at my nerves. As my consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Host, the abuse meter for the target, Arthur Vance, is full. Do you wish to abandon the conquest and detach from the current world?] I opened my eyes, staring at the blackened wooden beams of the ceiling. The heavy wooden door was violently kicked open. The hinges snapped, and the door crashed into the mud, splashing filth everywhere. Arthur Vance, dressed in an immaculate black suit, stepped into the dim, foul-smelling barn. Behind him were five bodyguards in sunglasses. And two private doctors carrying medical kits. The local quack was squatting beside me, holding a rusted needle threaded with coarse black string, hovering over my abdomen. The flesh there had been brutally sliced open, and blood was relentlessly pouring out. Arthur stopped in his tracks, looking at the blood-soaked hay and pig manure covering the floor. He raised a hand and pointed at the quack. “Stop. Get the hell out.” The quack dropped the needle and thread. With his hands covered in dark red blood, he scrambled and crawled out of the barn. Arthur turned his head, issuing a command to his private doctors. “Give her a shot of adrenaline. Use a high dose of stimulants. We can’t have her sleeping through this.” The two doctors immediately stepped forward. One opened a medical kit, pulling out a long syringe to draw a clear liquid. He grabbed the shriveled flesh of my inner thigh and drove the thick needle into my vein. The liquid was rapidly pushed into my body. Ten seconds later, the drug’s effects spread through my bloodstream. My muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. My body thrashed and twitched against the filthy hay. With every convulsion, more blood gushed from the unstitched wound on my stomach. The blood ran down my thighs, pooling into a dark red puddle on the dirt floor. Arthur took a step back, avoiding the blood creeping toward his Italian leather shoes. “Stop acting. I know all your little tricks.” He stared down at me from his high horse. “I read the script the compound boss sent me. The fake wound and the pig’s blood pouch on your stomach? Nice prop work.” He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Do you really think making yourself look like a tragic heroine is going to erase what you did to Chloe?” The stimulation from the drugs made my brain throb with agonizing pain. My upper body violently lurched forward, my hands instinctively reaching out. My skeletal, withered fingers brushed across the mud and grazed the hem of Arthur’s tailored trousers. The moment my fingertips touched him, I used my raspy, broken throat to force out a faint whisper. “Arthur… it hurts…” Arthur’s face darkened. He violently kicked my hand away. The back of my hand smashed against a stone trough, scraping off a layer of skin. He pulled a pristine white silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. Bending down, he aggressively wiped the spot on his shoe where I had touched him. “Put away that disgusting face.” He crumpled the used handkerchief into a ball and threw it directly at my face. It slid off, landing in the bloody puddle on the floor. “Chloe hasn’t forgiven you yet. You have no right to touch me.” I looked at the handkerchief and didn’t reach out again. I had to leave him. Arthur stood up straight and waved at his bodyguards. “Take her away. Don’t get my car dirty.” Two bodyguards stepped forward. They grabbed my arms and dragged me up from the hay. My legs had been broken months ago. The bones had healed misaligned; I couldn’t straighten them. As they dragged me, my paralyzed legs carved two long trenches through the mud and gravel. The skin on my knees was torn open by the sharp rocks, exposing the white bone underneath. Arthur walked out of the barn and stood on the dirt road at the edge of the compound. Old Man Cletus, the compound boss, stood by the road with a few locals, clutching several thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Arthur swept his gaze over them. “You all played your parts well these past three years. Her acting in this little setup of yours was very convincing.” Cletus nodded profusely, stuffing the cash into the pockets of his ragged coat. The bodyguards dragged me over to Arthur and dropped me. My body slammed heavily against the gravel road. Arthur looked down at my broken legs. “You didn’t want to do farm work, so you actually went far enough to break your own legs.” He scoffed through his nose. “Playing the beggar to get sympathy? Making yourself smell like an open sewer—did you really think that would soften my heart?” I closed my eyes. Three years ago today, I was slicing an apple in the kitchen of our mansion. The knife slipped, leaving a tiny, shallow cut on my index finger. A single drop of blood welled up. Arthur had sprinted in from the living room, snatching the knife away from me. He held my finger under running water for ten minutes, brought out the first-aid kit, and wrapped my finger in a thick cocoon of gauze. A month later, he rented out an entire private island. He covered it in red roses. He knelt on one knee in the flowers and slipped a flawless ten-carat diamond ring onto my finger. Two days later, Chloe Miller returned from abroad. She moved into the guest room of our mansion. A week later, Chloe walked down the stairs wearing a white dress that belonged to me. She picked up a pair of scissors from the coffee table and sliced a shallow bloody line into her own forearm. Arthur pushed the front doors open and walked in. Chloe clutched her arm, pointing at me. “Arthur, Stella cut me with the scissors!” Arthur snatched the glass of water out of my hand and shielded Chloe behind him. Another week passed. Chloe was holding a cup of boiling hot coffee. She poured the entire cup directly onto her own shoulder, screaming and shrinking into the corner of the sofa. Arthur rushed down from the second floor. Chloe pointed at me. “Stella tried to burn me to death with boiling water!” The next day, Chloe stood on the edge of the thirtieth-floor rooftop. Arthur rushed over and tackled her to safety. Following that, in front of a swarm of reporters, Arthur shredded our prenuptial agreement. He froze all my bank accounts and had his bodyguards shove me into a car. He personally drove me to this remote backwoods compound and handed a massive stack of cash to Old Man Cletus. He told me to rot here for three full years to experience the pain Chloe had gone through. And those three years were authentic, unfiltered torture. After taking the money, Cletus locked me in the barn. A heavy iron chain was padlocked around my neck. Every day, my only food was rancid pig slop. Every night, those backwoods creeps would walk into the barn. In the suffocating darkness, I suffered miscarriage after miscarriage. The bodyguards hauled me up by the arms and threw me into the trunk of the SUV. When the private jet took off, I lay crumpled in the corner of the cabin. I opened my mouth, wanting to make a sound. Only a broken, raspy wheeze squeezed past my throat. Sitting on the plush leather sofa, Arthur put on a pair of black noise-canceling headphones. “Enough, stop playing mute. Save your energy. When we get back to the city, you’re going to crawl on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness.” The jet landed at a private helipad in downtown Manhattan. The bodyguards wrapped me in a black industrial tarp and shoved me into the very back of a luxury van. The vehicle pulled into the underground garage of the Grand Continental Hotel. The elevator went straight to the penthouse ballroom. The grand doors were pushed open. The ballroom was lined with thick red carpets, the crystal chandeliers radiating blinding light. The bodyguards pulled off the tarp and threw me directly into the center of the room. Arthur, holding a microphone, stood under the spotlight. Surrounding us was a crowd of high-society elites holding flutes of champagne. Arthur pointed a finger at me. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the gift I prepared to help cleanse Chloe of her bad luck.” He scanned the crowd. “A vicious, toxic woman I dragged back from the backwoods.” A roar of laughter erupted from the crowd. Several women in expensive evening gowns stepped forward, swirling their wine glasses. They looked down at me. “I heard she stayed in the woods for three years?” “Covering herself in mud on purpose, smelling like a rotting fish… is she trying to disgust Chloe?” I lay flat against the red carpet. I reached out my right arm, planting my elbow against the floor, and dragged my body forward. My broken legs trailed behind me, leaving a dark, wet streak of blood and grime across the immaculate carpet. Chloe, wearing a pristine white tulle gown, walked down the grand spiral staircase. Seeing the blood on the floor, she let out a dramatic gasp. She collapsed into Arthur’s arms, gripping his suit jacket tightly. “Arthur… her blood is so red… I’m scared…” Arthur’s face instantly went ice-cold. He turned to the hotel security guards stationed by the door. “Bring buckets of water. Wash that filthy blood off the carpet right now!” Two guards ran over carrying heavy plastic janitorial buckets. The buckets were filled with freezing, dirty mop water. Arthur pointed at me. “Dump it over her head. Help her wash off this pathetic, vulgar disguise.” The guards lifted the buckets. The freezing water, mixed with dust and grime, crashed down directly over my head. The torrent washed over my matted hair and seeped deep into the unstitched, gaping wound on my abdomen. The bone-chilling cold triggered violent, agonizing muscle spasms. Arthur walked up to me, his polished leather shoe stopping just an inch from my fingertips. “Crawl over here. Bow your head to the floor three times for Chloe.” He looked down at me. “Admit that you faked your pregnancy and faked your death just to fight for my attention. As long as you do that, I’ll give you a chance to be a janitor at the company.” I lowered my head. The gala transitioned into its second half. The bodyguards dragged me out of the ballroom and tossed me into the corner of the hallway outside the women’s restroom. My clothes clung tightly to my body. The bloody water from my abdomen dripped steadily onto the marble tiles. Chloe walked out of the restroom holding a compact mirror. She stopped right in front of me. She lifted her right foot, bringing the razor-sharp heel of her stiletto down hard onto my broken right index finger. She ground her heel left and right. The pain shot straight to my heart. My body seized violently, instinctively trying to shrink back. Watching me, Chloe let out a light, airy laugh. “Did you really think Arthur set you up at a nice little farm retreat?” She bent down, staring right into my face. “The day Cletus got the money, he texted me, asking how I wanted you handled.” She stood up straight, smoothing out her dress. “I texted back: Play with her however you want. Just leave her with one breath.” Chloe stared at the blood pooling around my stomach. “These past few hundred days and nights… tasted pretty good, didn’t they?” The sharp click-clack of leather shoes echoed from the other end of the hall. Arthur appeared around the corner. Chloe immediately threw herself backward, crashing heavily onto the marble floor. She grabbed her ankle, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sister, I know you hate me, but why did you push me…” Arthur’s face changed instantly. He sprinted toward us. Without even glancing at me, he swung his right foot directly into my body. The toe of his leather shoe slammed precisely into the gaping wound on my abdomen. The fragile skin instantly ruptured. Blood and shredded tissue splattered against the wallpaper. I lay flat on my back, my eyes wide open, my breathing coming to a dead stop. Leaning against the wall, Chloe panted, her face pale. “Arthur, I was so scared, my anemia is acting up… I feel so dizzy…” Arthur immediately turned his head, his gaze locking onto me like ice. “Since you have enough energy to push her, you can use your blood to compensate Chloe.” He pulled out a walkie-talkie and called his private doctors waiting outside. Seconds later, a doctor ran down the hallway with a medical kit. Arthur pointed at my arm. “Draw her blood.” The doctor crouched down and pulled up my left arm. He tied a tourniquet around my bicep and pulled a thick, glass vacuum-extraction syringe from his kit. In my mind, the System’s alarm blared again, the frequency incredibly fast. [72-hour countdown has encountered lethal external trauma. Termination protocol accelerating.] [Biological vitals severed. Pain-shielding function deactivated.] [Soul detachment successful. Wishing Host a pleasant journey in your next world.] The needle plunged viciously into my collapsed vein. The extraction pump clicked on, emitting a faint whirring sound. Arthur stood to the side, looking down at his luxury watch, his expression dripping with extreme impatience. “Draw it faster. She won’t die.” He glared at me coldly. “Starving away all your subcutaneous fat just to fake an illness… this pathetic pity act is only going to fool the clueless servants.” My head tilted back, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling. The light in my vision slowly grew darker. I didn’t even have the strength to twitch the corners of my mouth anymore. My eyes lost their focus. Pulled by gravity, my head rolled softly to the right, resting limply against my shoulder. Arthur frowned tightly, barking a sharp order. “Stop playing dead! Lift your head!” The moment the words left his mouth. CRASH. An ear-piercing shattering sound echoed through the hallway. The private doctor let out a horrified scream, his hands jerking back violently. The glass extraction tube hit the marble floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Dark red liquid splattered everywhere. Arthur took a massive step forward. “What the hell are you doing?!” The doctor didn’t answer him. His eyes were wide with absolute terror. He scrambled backward across the floor until his back slammed into the wall. His hands shook violently in the air, pointing at the ruptured hole in my abdomen. Putrid, black blood was pouring out in a continuous, endless stream. The doctor’s voice was so shrill it completely broke. “M-Mr. Vance… that tube… it was entirely filled with septic blood caused by severe internal organ failure!” He grabbed his own head in horror. He pointed a shaking finger at the rotting flesh. “And her abdomen has absolutely no healing muscle tissue… there is a necrotic, decaying fetal remain inside!” The air in the hallway froze solid. Everyone stood paralyzed in place. The doctor’s trembling voice continued to echo. “Mr. Vance… this body was irreparably destroyed days ago. She is completely, undeniably dead!”

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I was a spoiled, high-maintenance wife who made my billionaire CEO husband give me foot baths and forced my five-year-old heir to massage my calves. That was, until a stream of holographic text suddenly floated across my vision, declaring that I was just the “toxic evil ex-wife” in a romance novel. I was scheduled to be written off soon—paralyzed in a horrific car crash—to make room for the pure, innocent, and kind-hearted female lead. Terrified, I immediately kicked over the foot spa basin and yanked my legs back. Are you kidding me? My legs are long, pale, and flawless. I am not losing them! 1 I’ve always had a pampered, diva-like temper. I married a giant iceberg of a man and gave birth to a mini iceberg. Even as my son turned five, I continued to rule the house like a queen, bossing the two of them around all day. I just loved watching them secretly annoyed but still having to wait on me hand and foot. Until today, when a row of glowing text suddenly scrolled past my eyes. [The toxic wife is finally getting written off! The female lead just transferred to the male lead’s company today, and she even took the little heir out for fried chicken. The plot is finally on track!] [She spends all day torturing our male lead and the little boy. Thank god this father-son duo will eventually kick her out to please the female lead. This pampered rich wife ends up homeless on the streets and gets paralyzed from the waist down by a car.] [Just thinking about the male lead’s new happy family of three visiting the hospital to laugh at that crippled witch makes me so satisfied.] Terrified, I jerked my leg up in a panic. My husband, who was soaking my feet in a warm basin, and my son, who was squatting next to him massaging my calves, were instantly splashed with warm water. The two identical, stoic iceberg faces immediately frowned in unison. I stuttered. “You… you don’t have to do this. I’ll do it myself…” Leo, my five-year-old, knitted his little brows together. His tiny brain probably couldn’t figure out why I was throwing a fit this time. “Mom, is the water too hot?” I awkwardly placed my foot back into the basin. “No, I’m done soaking. You don’t need to massage me anymore. You can get up.” I swallowed hard and looked at my husband, who was also resting on one knee. “You get up too.” Compared to Leo, Carter was much more composed. He seemed completely used to my erratic mood swings. He calmly stood up to grab a towel. [Look how humiliated the male lead and the little heir are, kneeling like that. It’s going to be so satisfying when they slap her in the face later.] [Making the little prince massage her legs, and the billionaire CEO wash her feet. She really has a death wish.] I stared at the scrolling subtitles in utter silence. So, after all this time, I was just a villainous supporting character. My husband and son were the main characters of this fictional world. Not only did I have to step aside for the female lead, but my son Leo only existed because the author didn’t want the female lead to suffer the pains of childbirth—so they used me as an incubator! In the end, the female lead would make a glamorous entrance, take over my husband and son, “redeem” them, and show them that truly kind women existed in the world. Then, their new family of three would live happily ever after. I clenched my fists. Whatever, I could let Carter go. We were just a business arrangement anyway; we didn’t have any emotional foundation. But Leo… I looked down at the obedient little boy standing nearby. Even though he had a face identical to his father’s cold one, he was still the flesh and blood I carried for nine months! I was not about to just hand him over to some other woman on a silver platter. So, I cleared my throat and asked him. “Sweetie, if Mommy and Daddy get a divorce, who would you want to live with?” Leo froze for a second. Then his little eyebrows furrowed again, perfectly mimicking his father’s cold tone. “Mom, please don’t make meaningless hypothetical assumptions.” I choked on my words. Looking up, I met Carter’s indifferent eyes. His gaze was like a stagnant pool of water. He stepped forward, bent down on one knee again, and lifted my feet out of the basin. “Don’t say things like that in front of the child.” Leo nodded, turning around and walking toward the door like a serious little adult. “I’m going to bed.” The live-chat comments erupted into mockery. [What is this villain thinking? The father and son are cut from the same cloth; they definitely find her equally annoying.] [CEO Vance can at least hide it, but the little heir practically has ‘disgust’ written all over his face.] [Lmao, forget about her not wanting to divorce. Even if they did, the kid would never go with her. Why would he? To be her little servant dog?] [Her only purpose in this story is to be a total brat, get abandoned, and die a miserable paralyzed death to give the readers a satisfying payoff.] My heart skipped a massive beat. Without a second thought, I snatched the towel right out of Carter’s hands. “I’ll dry them myself.” Carter’s brow twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a word. Lying in bed, I desperately tried to digest the information from those floating comments. I pulled up my silk robe, staring at my legs. They were so pale, so long, and so perfect. I absolutely refused to lose them! After thinking it over, I decided I needed to stop exploiting my husband and son immediately. According to the comments, I couldn’t stop the male and female leads from meeting. Even if I forced Carter to fire this female lead, they would just bump into each other at the next intersection. That’s how plot armor works. But if my son realized I was actually a gentle, loving mother, maybe when Carter and I divorced, he would willingly choose me. Just as I had this epiphany, I looked up and saw Carter walking out of the master bathroom. He had a towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water trailed slowly down his chiseled chest. Seeing me lying in bed with my robe pulled up and my legs exposed, he paused mid-towel-dry. His eyes instantly darkened. I was still wracking my brain figuring out how to be a good mother. When I looked up again, Carter had already pulled out the “men’s battle armor” I used to buy for him from the closet. In his left hand, he held a black, lace-trimmed harness. In his right hand, a purple silk sheer shirt. The tips of his ears were slightly flushed. He stared at me with a wooden expression, as if waiting for me to pick one. The floating text before my eyes went absolutely feral. [Why did my screen just go black?! What is it that my premium VIP membership doesn’t allow me to see?!] [Villainess, I take back my insults! Turn the camera back on and let us all appreciate your husband’s massive pecs!] [Serena, share your husband with the class! Turn on the camera right now!] Amidst the barrage of thirsty comments, a few original book fans chimed in. [I can’t accept this. Even knowing how the kid was conceived, I still feel like the male lead is being forced. Can’t she see that her husband has a cold, miserable face every time?] [Exactly. The male lead clearly rejected her the very first time, but she forces him to wear these things every single night just to satisfy her weird kinks. So gross.] [It’s fine. Just remember that the legs currently resting on the male lead are about to be crushed into paste. It makes me significantly less angry.] I took a deep, sharp breath. Looking at Carter, who was just about to change clothes, I violently yanked the duvet up and buried my legs completely. “I… I’m not in the mood tonight! Let’s just go to sleep early!” As soon as those words left my mouth, the air in the bedroom seemed to freeze solid. The comments boiled over. [Oh? The sun rose in the west?] [The male lead’s face looks off. What kind of stunt is she pulling now?] [What else? She tried to force him to wear it and got rejected. Look at how his knuckles are turning white from gripping that lace shirt so hard. He is truly enduring humiliation for the sake of the family…] I noticed it too. Carter’s face looked absolutely terrible. Especially when I said I wasn’t in the mood, his expression visibly darkened by two shades. In the past, Carter was always extremely reluctant to put on these outfits, and I had to coax and pressure him into it. Right now, looking at the scrolling comments, I didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. “Understood.” Carter’s voice was just like his personality—freezing cold. He casually tossed the clothes back into the closet, lifted the covers, and got into bed. I covertly pinched my legs under the duvet and let out a long sigh of relief. Thank god. They were safe. Goodnight, legs. See you tomorrow. The next morning, the sun was already shining brightly when I woke up. I walked out of the master suite and saw the large iceberg and the mini iceberg sitting in the dining room. The moment I sat down, Carter stood up to get my toast from the kitchen. Leo grabbed a heavy carton of milk, grunting as he waddled over to me. He stepped onto a stool, preparing to pour it for me. The comments started roasting me again. [This woman totally deserves to die. They have so many maids in the house, but she forces the male lead and the kid to serve her. She’s just looking for reasons to torture them.] [Exactly. She claims she wants the little heir to “develop a service-oriented mindset” so he won’t be a useless husband when he grows up. Does the billionaire heir of the Vance family need to act like a servant?] [She covers it up by saying she’s making the dad set a good example for the son, but she’s just a control freak trying to torture them.] My eyelids twitched violently. I quickly reached out and grabbed Leo’s little arm. Leo looked up at me, his face full of confusion. “I put a spoonful and a half of sugar in it this time.” I took the milk carton from his hands, poured it into my own glass, and took two big gulps. “Mommy can do little things like this herself from now on. You go eat your breakfast.” Leo stared at me. He probably couldn’t figure out why I was acting so out of character. But he turned around and went back to his seat anyway. Carter came out of the kitchen, looking at me with a slightly troubled expression. “We’re out of your favorite truffle mayo. I already asked Maria to go buy some…” I grabbed a plain turkey sandwich with one hand. “It’s fine. I can eat it without mayo.” The room went dead silent. Even the housekeeper was staring at me in utter shock. Carter looked down at his empty hands, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. “Mom, you didn’t throw the sandwich at Dad’s face…” My son blinked in disbelief. I took a deep breath. Was I really that awful before? The comments answered for me. [Why did she suddenly change her personality? Isn’t her morning temper legendary? Last time they were out of mayo, she threw a massive tantrum and chucked the sandwich across the room.] [Look how scared our little Leo is. His stoic facade broke! He probably thinks his mom is possessed by a demon.] I took a bite of the sandwich, too guilty to look at the comments anymore. A small piece of lettuce slipped out and landed right on my thigh. Looking at my stained silk loungewear, I instinctively frowned. Suddenly, a tissue was gently placed over my leg, followed by a large, well-defined hand entering my line of sight. Carter’s hand was massive; it practically covered my entire thigh. My pupils constricted. It felt like I was watching my beautiful legs turn transparent, grow wings, and wave goodbye to me. I immediately brushed the lettuce off myself. Looking up, I crashed right into Carter’s icy eyes. “I can handle little things like this myself.” I forced a tight smile, then turned to my son. “From now on, you don’t need to massage my legs or pour my milk anymore. Mommy will do it herself.” Leo’s eyebrows twisted into a tight knot. His voice was cold. “Mom, are you sick?” I choked. This little brat! I try to be nice to him, and he asks if I’m mentally ill! I ate the rest of the meal in total silence. I didn’t throw a temper tantrum or demand anyone hand me a napkin or pour my drinks. Leo looked up at me several times, his little frown deepening with every glance. Carter’s gaze also swept over me intentionally or otherwise, before slowly looking away. It wasn’t until Carter took Leo and left for work and kindergarten that I finally collapsed onto the sofa. Looking up at the massive, floor-to-ceiling wedding photo hanging dead center in the living room, I massaged my temples. Truth be told, before I was set up in this arranged marriage with Carter, I had a massive crush on him. But he was a legendary iceberg. All of my socialite friends who tried to flirt with him hit a brick wall. I had my pride. I wasn’t about to lower myself and chase a man who didn’t want me. Let alone try to melt an impossible glacier like him. Just as I was about to strangle my little crush in its crib, the arranged marriage between our two prominent families tied us together. I still remember how secretly thrilled I was when we first got married. But then, I overheard a conversation between him and his friend, Ryan, outside his home office. “Serena Sterling is famous in our circle for being an absolute spoiled brat. You really drew the short straw, man.” Carter’s voice had been flat. I heard him reply. “We each get what we need. That’s how arranged marriages work.” The tiny spark of hope in my heart was permanently extinguished. After pretending to be a sweet, obedient wife in front of my crush for a few months, I completely gave up. I shattered the facade and exposed the most authentic, demanding version of myself. Whatever. Just like he said, we each get what we need. From the major appliances to the smallest rugs, I demanded everything in the house be styled exactly to my taste. Carter never cared. The only time he ever showed a reaction was when I insisted on hanging this gigantic wedding photo right in the center of the living room. He had frowned. “Hanging it here… it clashes with the decor. It’s ugly.” I was just being petty back then. He didn’t think the photo was ugly; he clearly thought I was ugly. But Carter’s cold personality meant his temper was surprisingly tolerant. He rarely argued. So, I escalated. I started ordering him around, making him do this and that. I forced him to wear clothes he hated, just to satisfy my own visual pleasure. Sometimes Carter looked unhappy, but his only way of expressing dissatisfaction was frowning. He looked incredibly handsome when he frowned. He already looked like a marble statue of a Greek god. I loved watching him frown—it was like a painting coming to life, finally showing a vivid, human expression. Over the years, he always indulged me and went along with my demands. Sometimes I even caught myself having the delusion that he actually loved me. But looking at that iceberg face, he treated the housekeeper with the exact same polite indifference he treated me. I knew it was just my ovulation cycle messing with my hormones, creating false delusions. “Maria, get someone to take this photo down.” I pointed up at the massive wedding portrait. I had hung it up full of joy and fantasy back when we first got married. It’s been six years. I finally see clearly that in Carter’s eyes, I’m no different from anyone else. Honestly, I can accept a loveless marriage. But the floating comments acting like security cameras, live-streaming what the male and female leads were doing right now, was driving me insane. [The female lead just poured the male lead coffee! He actually looked up at her! I ship it so hard!] [The female lead didn’t even realize she made a typo in the document. She’s such a clumsy little cutie. The male lead is definitely going to find her adorable~] I closed my eyes, deciding to take a nap first. When I opened my eyes again, thunder was rumbling outside. It was pouring rain. My phone buzzed. It was Carter. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?” His voice was flat. I hummed in agreement. After two seconds, he spoke again. “I have to work late today. If it gets too late, I won’t come back tonight. Let Leo sleep with you.” Before I even had a chance to agree, the floating text sped across my vision in a frenzy. [The male lead is working late, but our female lead is still at the office too!] [It’s raining, and the only people left in the building are a few extras and the two leads. Just thinking about it is so romantic!] [I love this power-couple dynamic! He’s a workaholic CEO, and she’s a career-driven woman. So much better than a certain spoiled housewife.] [Exactly. She’s scared of a little thunder and needs someone to keep her company. If her husband isn’t home, she forces her kid to do it. Is she a giant toddler?] Being roasted as a giant toddler, I let out a long, heavy exhale. “No need, you just focus on your work…” Before I could finish my sentence, I looked up and saw Leo standing a few feet away. He had a stiff, serious look on his little face. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing at the doorway or how much he’d heard. As I looked up, the perspective of the comments shifted for two seconds. My son didn’t say a single word. He silently took off his backpack, turned around, and walked to his room. Carter, however, spoke up. “The wall behind you…” I turned to look. Oh, while I was sleeping, the staff had already taken down the wedding photo. “Where is the photo?” he asked. I answered honestly: “I had someone throw it away. You just focus on your work. Hanging up now.” Carter didn’t say anything, but his face darkened instantly on the video call. I didn’t notice, though. I was too busy staring at the empty wall, feeling stressed. Should I buy a giant abstract painting to hang up there? It really did look bare and ugly. After dinner, the thunder outside still hadn’t stopped. I rubbed my sore eyes. When I opened them, the little boy was standing solemnly in front of me, clutching a storybook. “Let’s go. I’ll coax you to sleep.” Honestly, I wasn’t that scared of thunder. I just hated the gloomy, oppressive weather. So every time there was a thunderstorm, my mood plummeted, and I would find creative ways to torture Carter in bed. [The villainess is so annoying. Forcing a five-year-old to coax her to sleep. Talk about reversing roles.] [And she has zero self-awareness. The little heir’s face is completely stiff; he’s practically radiating disgust. Since the husband is working late and she can’t torture him, she starts torturing the son. Can the romance plotline please speed up?] I looked at Leo. The boy was expressionless, his wooden face a carbon copy of his father’s. “No need. Mommy can sleep by herself.” I waved my hand to refuse. Leo bit his lip, looking a little wronged. “But Daddy told me to keep you company.” I felt a headache coming on. Before I could say anything else, the sound of a car honking echoed from the courtyard. I froze. The comments were equally dumbfounded. [Why is the male lead back? What about the female lead?!]

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When it was time to head back to college, my stepmother shoved a cheap, off-brand carton of milk into my suitcase. “Take this. Drink it at school.” It was a leftover holiday gift from someone else that had been sitting untouched for months. My dad leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not giving you any money this semester. Didn’t you make $2,000 working your winter break job? $500 a month for living expenses—that’ll cover you for four months perfectly.” “You’re an adult now. It’s time you learned to be independent.” My hand, in the middle of packing my suitcase, froze in mid-air. Nearby, my younger sister, staring at her phone, suddenly screamed in excitement. “Yes! I got the concert tickets!” “Dad, hurry up and book my flights! And I want to stay in a five-star hotel!” My dad wrapped an arm around her, immediately agreeing to everything. My stepmother glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, the large hoop earrings she wore glinting in the light. The three of them huddled together, laughing as they booked flights and hotel rooms. I’ve watched this warm, picture-perfect family scene for ten years, and it still makes it hard to breathe. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone. [Chase Bank: Dear Ms. Harper Davis, your Certificate of Deposit ending in 1234 has matured. Principal balance: $800,000. To renew, please reply 1.] 1 A Certificate of Deposit? I silently counted the long string of zeros on the screen. Eight hundred thousand dollars. Assuming it was a scam text, I didn’t reply. “Dad, I was planning to use the $2,000 I earned from my winter job to get this mole removed.” My dad, Richard, glanced at the pea-sized dark mole near the corner of my mouth. “You go off to college and suddenly you’re full of wild ideas! Wasting money on useless vanity!” “You’re just like your dead mother—born with bad luck!” My stepmother, Brenda, wearing a thick layer of foundation, batted her heavy fake eyelashes. “Oh, Harper, sweetie. Wait until you graduate college, and I’ll personally take you to get it removed.” Before, they used to say: Wait until you finish middle school. Wait until you finish high school. Wait until you get into college. Now, the mole is getting bigger, and they’ve pushed it to: Wait until you graduate college. Actually, before winter break started, I went to a clinic to ask about the price. It only cost $2,000. For my entire winter break, I didn’t take a single day off. I worked from open to close at a fast-food chicken joint. Looking at my sister, Mia, happily humming a tune nearby, a knot of suffocating anger swelled in my chest. “Dad, you didn’t even blink before buying her a $2,000 VIP concert ticket, but you won’t even give me $500 for a month’s living expenses.” “I’m your biological daughter too!” My dad’s face turned beet red with rage. “You think you can lecture your own father in this house?!” “Fine! Since your mother has been dead for ten years anyway, I’ll tell you the truth today!” “Mia is my biological daughter with Brenda!” Brenda turned her face away, refusing to look at me. My mom died ten years ago. I am 18 this year; Mia is 14. My dad started messing around with Brenda when I was four. Back then, my mom wasn’t sick yet. She was a top-tier CPA at a corporate firm, and she was always incredibly busy. During those years, she would often spend entire days locked in her office. I remember she always had a look of deep, irremovable sorrow on her face. But the moment she saw me, she would automatically erase that sorrow, smile, and pull me into her arms. When I was seven, my mom collapsed. She spent a year lying in a hospital bed. Right before she passed, my dad held her hand. “Evelyn, do you have any savings left under your name? You’re leaving, but we still have to survive.” My mom was so emaciated her cheeks were hollowed out, her face completely devoid of color. She motioned for my dad to lean in closer, and then she spat right in his face. For all these years, my dad has held a deep, bitter grudge against my mom because of that. With a look of pure disgust, I pulled that cheap carton of milk out of my suitcase. Brenda turned her head back, looking visibly displeased. My dad slammed his hand down on mine. “Brenda was nice enough to pack that for you! How dare you be so ungrateful!” “She specifically told the rest of us not to drink it so she could save it just for you!” I struggled, but he clamped his hand down hard on my forearm. An intense, searing pain shot up my arm, making my scalp tingle. When frying chicken at work, hot oil frequently splashed onto my arms. My forearms were constantly covered in small burn blisters. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. “Did she save it just for me, or did she give it to me because literally nobody else wanted to drink it?” “If it’s such a ‘good thing,’ you should keep it here for Mia to drink!” Smack. My dad slapped me hard across the face. This wasn’t the first time I had been hit. I wiped away my tears and looked at my dad’s flushed, angry face. He is 45 years old this year. For all these years, I had clung to a desperate hope—the hope that my dad would eventually treat me a little better. After all, I am his biological child. I am his only flesh-and-blood daughter from his first marriage. I waited for ten years, and he hasn’t changed one bit. It turns out, I wasn’t his only biological daughter. No wonder. I kept my head down and continued packing my suitcase. The new semester was about to start, and I would finally be able to leave this house. But thinking about the pea-sized mole on my face, a wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to deal with people’s weird stares anymore. If only I had a sum of money right now. 2 I zipped up my suitcase and went into my room. Closing the door, the very first thing I did was turn on the light. My room doesn’t have any windows. If the light is off, it’s pitch black. There are five bedrooms in this house. My dad and Brenda share the master suite. Right next to the master suite is Mia’s bedroom. Of the other three rooms: one is my dad’s private lounge, one is Brenda’s walk-in closet, and one is a dedicated room just for Mia’s K-pop merchandise and posters. I live in the storage closet under the stairs. I’m not even worthy of the smallest, north-facing bedroom. Brenda pushed the door open a crack. “Harper, I washed some grapes for you. Have some.” The grapes on the stem were shriveled and dry. Earlier, I had seen Mia pop one into her mouth, frown, and immediately spit it out. “Ew, so sour! That’s disgusting!” The food she likes is never shared with me. The food she throws away is always boxed up with a smile by Brenda and handed to me. The second month after my mom died, my dad moved Brenda into the house. He told me to call her “Mom.” I couldn’t force the word out of my mouth. Brenda set the grapes down, pulled two crisp $100 bills from her pocket, and handed them to me. “Harper, things are a little tight right now, but take this $200 for now. Use it at school.” She had just gotten a new set of acrylic nails. They were blindingly red. I stared at her coldly. “Stop with the fake hypocritical act.” My dad snatched the money right out of her hand. “You spoil her too much! That’s why she acts like such an entitled brat!” “From today on, she isn’t getting a single cent out of this house! Let’s see if she still dares to talk back to us!” My dad threw the bunch of grapes onto the floor and stomped on them. “Don’t give her anything to eat!” “Let her starve for a day and think about what she’s done. Let her realize who the actual masters of this house are!” In high school, my monthly living allowance was $300. When I got to college, it went up to $500. During the first month of my freshman year, I spent $120 of that $500 on the cheapest, unreserved train ticket available. I had $380 left for the month. For the last week of that month, I survived by eating plain bread and pickles every single day. When I asked my dad for the next month’s allowance, he screamed at me over the phone. “Asking for money again?! It’s barely been a few weeks! Were you born just to drain me dry?!” “It’s hard enough for me to make a living, and you’re just sitting at school living it up on my dime!” “If you keep wasting money, drop out and go find a job at a factory!” Half a month later, I finally received the $500 he transferred me. I pulled a photo of my mom from under my pillow. As I stared at it, my vision blurred with tears. If only my mom were still here. Everything would be okay. The smell of dinner wafted in from under the door. I heard Mia’s excited voice. “Wow, Mom! You made so much good food!” Nobody called me to eat. I was dizzy with hunger. Because I never had money, I was used to being half-starved. Now, whenever I get hungry, my stomach physically aches. Mia spoke between bites. “Mom, your ribs are my absolute favorite! You’re the best, Mom!” Brenda’s voice was full of laughter. “Eat as much as you want, sweetie.” I crouched on the floor, trying to curl myself into the tightest ball possible to lessen the stomach cramps. My phone rang. It was Chase Bank. “Hello, am I speaking with Ms. Harper Davis? The $800,000 Certificate of Deposit you opened with us ten years ago has matured. Would you like to renew it?” “You must have the wrong person. I’ve never opened a CD. Ten years ago, I was only eight.” The voice on the other end continued. “Ten years ago, Ms. Evelyn Davis deposited a principal amount of $800,000 into an account under your name.” “May I ask, what is your relationship with Evelyn Davis?” Evelyn Davis. My mom. I gripped my mom’s photo tightly, lowering my voice. “Can the money be withdrawn right now?” 3 I tucked my mom’s photo into my jacket pocket, grabbed my ID, and walked out the door. Brenda watched me, nudging my dad. “Why are you arguing with the kid? Her biological mother passed away early; it’s normal for her to have a bit of a temper.” “Harper, come eat. The food is getting cold.” I looked at the meager leftovers on the table and shot her a look of pure contempt. “What exactly are you expecting me to eat?” My dad, having eaten his fill, was currently fiddling with his expensive tea set. “There’s still food left. You should be grateful you have anything to eat at all. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Oh, and when you’re done, wash the dishes and wipe the table clean.” I turned around and walked toward the front door. Behind me, my dad’s roaring voice echoed. “You ungrateful brat! Are you trying to climb over my head now?!” “If you think you’re so tough, then once you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” Followed by Brenda’s slow, measured voice. “Where is she going at this hour?” “Maybe you should go check on her. Kids these days are sensitive. What if she runs away?” “Good riddance if she doesn’t come back! She’s 18 now anyway. I have zero legal obligation to keep supporting her!” I walked faster, their voices fading into the distance. I arrived at the local Chase Bank branch. The bank teller who assisted me was incredibly polite. She informed me that I had a principal balance of $800,000, and the accumulated interest over ten years was approximately $128,000. Right now, the account ending in 1234 held a grand total of $928,000. I stood there, completely stunned. The teller handed me a sealed package. “Ms. Evelyn Davis left this in a safety deposit box ten years ago. She instructed us to give it to you when you came in.” My hands were shaking. Inside was a letter, a key, and a property deed. I unfolded the yellowed piece of paper: To my precious 18-year-old Harper, How are you doing right now? I am so sorry, Mommy couldn’t be there to watch you grow up. Before Mommy leaves, you are the only thing I can’t bear to let go of. The money in this account and this apartment are Mommy’s coming-of-age gifts to you. If you are doing well right now, that’s wonderful. This gift is just the icing on the cake. If you are facing hardships right now, don’t be afraid. You still have Mommy. Mommy will always protect you from behind the scenes. You probably know about your dad’s affairs by now, so I won’t mention it. I will love you forever. Mommy. 2016. I read those few short lines over and over again. Without me realizing it, the paper was soaked with tears. My mom had known about my dad and Brenda the entire time. Ten years later, I finally understood the irremovable sorrow that had always lingered on her face. I finally understood why my mom refused to tell my dad how much savings she had before she died. I finally understood why she spat in his face. Now, it all made sense. My mom left everything to me. Ten years ago, she had prepared all of this for me. I tucked the letter into my jacket pocket, keeping it safe right next to her photo. I looked at the $928,000 balance on the account statement. Suddenly, I thought of how my dad had cursed and complained for all these years. After my mom died, he tore the house apart searching for money. But he found absolutely nothing. He took all his hatred for my mom and took it out on me. He even suspected my mom had an affair and gave the money to another man. He slandered her name for ten years. But he was the one who destroyed our family. The scabbed-over burn blisters on my arm itched a little. I scratched them gently. And then, I clenched my fists tight. This money was left to me by my mom. Nobody else was going to touch a single cent of it. 4 It was getting dark. I didn’t go back to my dad’s house. I typed the address from the property deed into my phone and caught a bus. When I inserted the key into the lock, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned it. The moment the door opened, a smart-home system triggered my mom’s pre-recorded voice. “Welcome home, my precious Harper.” Hearing her voice again after ten years, an overwhelming wave of grief and longing crashed over me. Crying, I walked through the rooms of my new home. Two bedrooms, one living room. The windows were massive, letting in so much natural light that you wouldn’t even need to turn on the lights during the day. I stayed there for two days. For those two days, my dad didn’t call me a single time. But I saw his posts on Facebook. “Taking my precious daughter to see her idol!” The three of them had concert stickers on their faces, beaming with excitement. When I left, I hadn’t taken my keys, but nobody even noticed or cared. Brenda posted a new update on her Instagram. “My ears are ringing from the concert! Finally getting some much-needed rest.” The attached video showed a sweeping view of a luxury hotel family suite. Mia’s TikTok was also updated. “I finally saw him live! Best night ever!” “Thanks for the support, Dad! Love you!” I clicked onto Mia’s profile and scrolled down. January 12th. “New phone! Thanks, Dad!” The photo showed the newest iPhone Pro Max. The screen on the budget Android phone I had used for four years was shattered. Fixing it would cost $30. When I asked my dad for the money, he told me he already gave me my living allowance and to figure it out myself. December 15th. “It’s getting freezing outside! Dad bought me a new winter coat!” I searched the brand online. It was a $600 designer puffer jacket. I was wearing a $20 clearance coat. Because I was always cold, my hands were covered in chilblains that still hadn’t fully healed. January 1st. “Dad sent me a massive New Year’s cash drop! Happy New Year!” November 3rd. “Got so many gifts today! Happy Birthday to me!” I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was eight. Nobody cared enough to remember. October 1st. “Fall Break! Dad took the whole family out for a trip! So crowded but so fun!” During that break, I didn’t go home because I couldn’t afford the bus ticket. I stayed in my empty dorm room, eating plain bread and pickles for the entire holiday. … There were plenty of comments under her posts. “So jealous! I wish I had a great dad like that!” I locked my phone screen. I stared at the ceiling of my new apartment for a long time, then threw on my jacket and headed back to my dad’s house. When I reached the front door, I ran right into the three of them returning from their trip. My dad immediately started mocking me. “I thought you were so tough? Why did you come crawling back?” Brenda maintained her hypocritical, fake-concerned act. “Harper, where did you go? I was worried sick these past two days.” I ignored them and walked straight into my “room.” As always, I immediately turned on the light. I started packing up the rest of my belongings. I was planning to take everything that belonged to me and leave for good. I grabbed a duffel bag for my clothes. But I quickly realized that aside from a few worn-out shirts and pants, there was nothing else to pack. A ratty stuffed animal I had held onto since I was six, some ID documents, and a few textbooks. That was it. Those were the only traces of my existence in this house. I pulled my suitcase behind me, keeping my head down as I walked toward the door. I didn’t want to look at any of them, and I didn’t want to look at this house ever again. Brenda watched me. “Harper, your semester doesn’t start for another two days. Why are you leaving today?” I looked up at her. “Aren’t you exhausted from pretending all the time?” “Whenever I’m home, you act like my very existence annoys you. Now that I’m leaving, aren’t you thrilled?” I saw the flash of genuine disgust in Brenda’s eyes, but she quickly covered it up with an awkward, nervous laugh. Before my dad could raise his hand to slap me, I pulled my suitcase out and slammed the door shut behind me. I hadn’t taken two steps down the hall when I heard my dad shouting from behind the door. “Wait! Did your mother leave you $800,000?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397484”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On the day I was set to give birth, terrified of the pain, my husband, Mark, and I had fully agreed I would get an epidural. To ensure everything went smoothly, I had paid out of pocket for an upgraded, private maternity suite and several pre-paid, elective medical options not fully covered by our insurance. I didn’t expect that the moment I was three centimeters dilated and agony was setting in, my mother-in-law, Sharon, would practically block the delivery room door, physically stopping the nurse from bringing in the anesthesiologist. She marched over to my bedside and slapped a car title transfer document onto my over-bed table. “Sign over the title of your Porsche to your brother-in-law right now for his wedding! Otherwise, forget about the epidural!” The labor nurse stood nearby, tapping her foot in frustration and checking her watch. “Ma’am, we need to get the doctor in here now.” But Sharon had dug her heels in. Until I signed that paper, no medication was getting through that door. Worried about triggering an emergency with the baby due to the intense stress and pain, I had no choice but to grab the pen and scrawl my signature. I thought that was the end of it and I could finally focus on delivering my child. But then, the fetal monitor began to beep sharply. The baby’s heart rate was plummeting. As the OB-GYN rushed in holding a consent form for an emergency C-section, needing an immediate signature to save two lives, Sharon spoke up again. “If you want a family member to sign that consent, you need to add my son’s name to the deed of your downtown penthouse.” Pale from the blinding pain, I looked at Mark, desperately begging him for help. “Mark, the baby is losing oxygen! Are you really extorting a house from me right now?” Mark looked incredibly conflicted, shifting his weight from foot to foot while holding my hand. “Honey, you have to understand, Mom is just trying to look out for our family’s future.” “Just nod your head, please! Otherwise, Mom swears she won’t let me sign these life-saving papers!” … Mark was actually crying harder than I was, as if he were the victim being coerced. “That penthouse is my separate premarital property!” I tried to yank my hand away from his, but I didn’t have an ounce of strength left. Beside me, the fetal heart monitor’s alarm became a piercing, continuous scream. “Her water is completely meconium-stained! The baby is severely oxygen-deprived!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead under his cap, practically slammed the surgical consent form against Mark’s chest. “Any more delay and this will be a stillbirth! Sign it now!” Mark acted like a spineless coward, burying his hands deep in his pockets and letting the paper slide right off his chest and onto the floor. He turned to look at Sharon, pleading with her, “Mom, shouldn’t we save them first?” “Save them, my ass! If that house deed doesn’t have your name on it today, no one is cutting her open!” Sharon shoved Mark aside, acting like a brick wall blocking the surgeon. She pulled out a self-inking notary stamp and an “Amendment to Real Estate Deed” document, shoving it directly into my face. “Rylee, just press your thumb right here. The downtown place gets Mark’s name on it, and I will instantly tell my son to sign the surgery consent!” “This is extortion! I’m calling the police!” the labor nurse yelled, her whole body shaking with rage as she reached for her phone. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon snapped, swinging her hand and aggressively slapping the nurse’s wrist. “Furthermore, this is a family matter! When the cops show up, they have no right to stop a mother from educating her daughter-in-law!” The pain was causing stars to explode in my vision. Tears mixed with cold sweat poured down my face in huge drops. “Mark, this is our baby! The one we fought through five rounds of IVF to get!” “How can you let our child suffer like this?” For this baby, I had endured over three hundred days of daily hormone injections, leaving my stomach a mass of black-and-blue bruising. During egg retrieval, I had screamed in agony. Mark had knelt by my bedside then, slapping his own face, swearing on his life he would spend forever cherishing the baby and me. Five years of supposedly unbreakable love—was it really worth less than a piece of real estate to him? “Honey, I’m hurting more than you are right now!” Mark sobbed, dropping to his knees by the bed. “But it wasn’t easy for Mom to raise me all on her own. She just wants some security for us.” “Just add the name, and I’ll sign immediately! I swear to God, even with my name on the deed, it’s still your house. I will never take a dime of equity from you!” Even as he was speaking these supposedly profound words of love, he was physically forcing open my clenched fist. “Honey, just swallow your pride for once. The nurses are already making fun of us. Nothing is more important than our family being okay and together!” Listening to this incredibly spineless speech, my heart went completely cold. “Fetal heart rate is down to sixty! Prep for internal resuscitation!” the OB-GYN roared at the team. “My baby…” I closed my eyes in despair, my mental defenses completely collapsing. For this piece of my own flesh and blood that I had suffered so much for, I couldn’t gamble. I couldn’t afford to lose. “I’ll sign…” The words had barely left my mouth when Sharon grabbed my thumb, practically grinding it into the stamp ink, and jammed it down hard onto the deed amendment document, leaving a clear, dark fingerprint. “See? If you’d just been this sensible from the start, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Sharon tucked the document away with a look of immense satisfaction. Mark instantly stopped crying, scrambled up from the floor, grabbed a pen, and scrawled his signature on the surgical consent form. “Doctor, quick! Save my wife and child! Use the best medicine!” Mark yelled. Several nurses worked together to lift me onto a gurney, pushing me at a dead run down the hallway. Just as the gurney was about to burst through the doors of the operating room, a sharp voice rang out. “Wait! Stop! She can’t go in!” The head surgical nurse came sprinting from the opposite end of the hallway like a track star, slamming her hand down on the gurney to halt it. “What is going on? We are out of time!” the lead surgeon bellowed. “The surgery is canceled!” The head nurse held up a printout of the billing statement, yelling, “The two hundred thousand dollar pre-payment in the patient’s hospital account… a family member just applied for a full refund and took the cash!” 2 “What refund?” the lead surgeon demanded, his voice dangerously low. I followed the head nurse’s pointing finger. Not far away, at the hospital’s billing and discharge window, Sharon was busy stuffing stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a black plastic trash bag. Mark stood right beside her, hunched over, holding the bag open for her. “Mark!” I used every last ounce of strength I had to scream his name. Below the belt, another wave of agonizing, tearing pain ripped through me. Hearing my voice, Mark flinched, and the plastic bag almost slipped from his grasp. Sharon snatched the bag away, hugging it tightly to her chest, and turned around to roll her eyes at the doctor. “What are you screaming for? Charging two hundred thousand to deliver a baby, this hospital is practically committing highway robbery!” The doctor was shaking with rage, pointing his finger at her and yelling, “That was the pre-paid emergency fund for dynamic complications, major hemorrhaging, and life-saving intervention!” “Without money, the blood bank won’t release units for transfusion! If the patient gets on the operating table and can’t come off, who’s going to take responsibility?” “I had three kids, all natural, total cost was like fifty bucks back in the day!” Sharon retorted, sticking her finger aggressively toward the doctor’s nose. “I asked around! A standard delivery is a few grand, max! You people are just trying to scam us!” I could feel warm liquid continuously gushing from me, and the bedsheets beneath me were already soaked red in a massive bloom. That two hundred thousand was my own money that I had pre-paid into the hospital account to save my own life, specifically for a catastrophic moment like today! “Mark…” I grit my teeth, shaking violently. “Give the money back.” Mark walked over with an expression of complete helplessness. “Honey, Mom says we need this money for an urgent emergency.” “Your brother-in-law is getting married, and the bride’s family suddenly demanded an extra two hundred thousand for the dowry, or she’s getting an abortion and calling off the wedding. Mom was completely frantic, that’s why she had to borrow your pre-payment fund for just a moment.” “Don’t worry, as soon as he’s married, I’ll sell my soul to pay you back.” I was so angry I actually started laughing—laughing until tears streamed down my face. Taking my life-saving money to pay for my brother-in-law’s wedding dowry? “That is my life!” I struggled, trying to grab his collar, but I didn’t have the strength to even raise my hand. “Without money, she cannot enter the operating room! Family needs to go pay now!” The head surgical nurse blocked the operating room door, holding firm on hospital protocol. Mark turned to beg Sharon, his voice pathetic beyond belief: “Mom, can we maybe just pay fifty thousand of it? Rylee is bleeding a lot, it looks pretty scary.” Sharon squeezed the plastic bag tighter against her chest and plopped down onto an open chair in the waiting hallway. “No money! Not a single dime!” “Her parents have money. A little bleeding isn’t going to kill her!” The medical staff in the vicinity were completely stunned. “You are recklessly endangering a human life! I’m calling the police right now!” The head nurse pulled out her cell phone to dial 911. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon dropped to the floor and began slapping the linoleum with her hands, throwing a full-blown toddler tantrum. “Help! The doctors are conspiring with patients’ families to steal money! There’s no justice in the world!” Mark looked at me, his face a mask of total helplessness. “Honey, look at Mom. She’s completely lost it. Just look at this two hundred thousand as helping your brother-in-law out, okay?” “We’re all family trying to live a good life, what’s a little money between us?” Beside me, a nurse screamed, “Fetal heart rate is still dropping! Patient is in active hemorrhage!” I looked at the man standing over me and found him completely unrecognizable. For this baby that I had fought through five rounds of IVF to get, I couldn’t waste another second. Trembling, I fumbled under my pillow for my phone. “I’ll pay…” “I will use my own trust fund money to pay the advance!” Hearing this, Sharon, who had been throwing a fit on the floor, suddenly scrambled to her feet. “You little bitch, you finally admitted it!” 她 rushed over and aggressively grabbed my wrist. “Mark works day and night to earn money, and you have the nerve to hoard a secret stash behind our backs!” I screamed in pain. “Let go! That is my inheritance from my parents!” “Bullshit! You married into the Vance family, your money is Vance money!” Sharon ignored me completely, desperately trying to pry my fingers open. “Mark, quick! Come help! Get the phone! This bitch definitely has way more than a few hundred grand hidden away!” Mark stood there. He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he just rubbed his hands together, looking at me with an expression of utter betrayal. “Honey, since you had money all along, why didn’t you just take it out earlier to help my brother?” “Why do you have to draw such a hard line between ‘yours’ and ‘ours’ within the same family?” 3 Sharon snatched my phone from my hand and violently slapped my face. “What’s the passcode! Tell me!” A searing, burning pain exploded across my cheek, and my vision began to go black in patches. “That is my life-saving money… in your dreams!” “Won’t talk, huh?” Sharon grabbed a handful of my hair, violently slamming my head against the cold metal railing of the gurney. “I’ll teach you to be stubborn! You don’t pay today, you can just lie here and die!” “Stop it! Security! Get security down here now!” The head nurse and several other nurses desperately rushed forward, trying to pull her off me. Sharon fought like a rabid dog, biting and scratching, single-handedly forcing several nurses back. “Mark!” I screamed in pure despair. Mark finally moved. He stepped quickly over to the gurney and aggressively pulled the thrashing Sharon back. “Mom, stop beating her! Rylee is still pregnant with a Vance child!” I gasped for air weakly, thinking that he finally had a sliver of conscience. But in the next second, Mark grabbed my right thumb and violently pressed it against the phone’s screen to use Touch ID. “Mark… what are you doing!” I tried desperately to shrink away, but I couldn’t break free from his grip. “Honey, I’m sorry.” Mark’s eyes were red, and tears began to plop, plop down onto my face. “Mom is stubborn. We just have to go along with her this one time. As soon as you pay the money and the baby is born, I promise I will sell my soul to make it up to you!” There was a soft beep. The fingerprint ID worked. Mark expertly opened my mobile banking app and tapped on the account balance screen. Both of them leaned over the screen, and instantly, they let out a sharp, synchronised gasp. “Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions…” Sharon’s voice was trembling violently. “Three million dollars! You little bitch, you actually had three million hidden behind my son’s back!” Mark’s eyes went wide, and his tone actually carried a hint of self-pity and accusation. “Honey, your family gave you that much inheritance? You were hiding it so deep from me…” “Give me back my phone…” I was continuously gushing blood from below, and my consciousness was beginning to fade; only a sliver of primal instinct was keeping me holding on. “Give it back? You crossed into our Vance household; this is now marital assets!” Sharon immediately clicked on the transfer funds screen. “Enter the passcode! Transfer all three million to my son’s account right now!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead, was pushing the gurney, ready to burst through the operating room doors. “Patient is going into hypovolemic shock! Are you paying the surgical fee or not!” Sharon whirled around, spreading her arms wide, using her heavy-set body to completely block the operating room entrance. “No, we aren’t paying! And she’s not going in!” “If this three million isn’t transferred to my son today, no one is doing any surgery!” The head nurse was shaking with rage. “Are you insane? That is a human life! This is literal murder!” “Bullshit!” Sharon spat on the linoleum. “She has three million and refused to help my youngest son in his emergency. She doesn’t care about family, so why should I care if she lives or dies!” “Mark, hold her face! Use Face ID for the transfer!” Mark looked at me, covered in blood, and then looked at the numbers on the phone screen. He swallowed hard, bringing the phone up to my face. “Honey, just blink your eyes for me.” “The second the transfer is confirmed, I will personally carry you into the operating room. The doctor said if we wait any longer, the baby’s brain will be irreversibly damaged from oxygen deprivation.” “Didn’t you love this IVF baby more than anything? Trading three million for our child’s life is a good deal.” Listening to this casually evil speech, my heart completely died. Five years of marriage, the love I thought we had—it was all nothing but a joke. “In your dreams…” I clamped my eyes shut as tight as I could, violently biting down on the tip of my tongue, using the blinding pain to force myself to stay conscious. “You bitch! Daring to close your eyes?” Sharon rushed over, using both hands to violently pry my eyelids open. “Mark, quick! Scan! Scan!” I desperately rolled my eyes, fighting against the phone screen’s facial scan. The pain in my lower abdomen hit me like a tidal wave. I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and my vision was plunged into complete darkness. “Patient has lost consciousness! Fetal heart rate is almost gone!” a nurse screamed in despair. In this moment of absolute, life-or-death crisis… The elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened with a soft ding. A furious roar exploded down the hallway like a thunderclap. “Let’s see who dares to touch my daughter!” 4 “Rylee!” When my mom saw the horrific sight of me covered in blood and unconscious on the gurney, her vision blurred, and she almost collapsed. My dad rushed forward like an enraged lion. “What did you animals do to my daughter!” He swung his foot, violently kicking Mark square in the stomach. “Murder! The rich are getting away with murder!” Sharon saw this, but instead of being scared, she plopped down right at the operating room entrance, throwing a full-blown tantrum again. “If you beat my son to death, your daughter can forget about ever getting on that operating table today!” My dad ignored her completely, turning to roar at the doctor: “I am her biological father! I will sign! However much money you need, I will pay! Save my daughter!” The doctor, looking utterly panicked, shook his head frantically, tightly gripping that crumpled surgical consent form. “We can’t! The patient already signed earlier, and this agreement is a co-signature form with her husband holding joint liability.” “Hospital policy dictates that when the husband is present, his signature is required to override the previous consent and proceed with surgery!” “And the patient is actively hemorrhaging. The emergency pre-payment was refunded, and the blood bank won’t release units without funds!” My dad whipped his head around, staring with murderous intent at Mark, who was cowering in the corner. “Sign! Get the money paid!” Mark clutched his stomach, scrambled up from the floor, and immediately hid behind Sharon. Sharon’s eyes darted around, and she stood up, brushing the dust off her clothes. “My, my, you have quite a temper.” She pulled another document from her pocket and slapped it against my dad’s chest. “Want my son to sign? Want the money to save your daughter?” “Fine! Transfer thirty percent of the shares in your company over to my son’s name immediately!” “Otherwise, you can just stand here and watch your daughter and that little bastard die together!” “In your dreams!” My mom pointed a shaking finger at Sharon, screaming, “That is the business we’ve worked our whole lives for. Why the hell would we give it to you parasites!” “Don’t give it, then. We can just wait.” Sharon gave a cold laugh, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking entirely untroubled. “I’m not the one bleeding.” Mark peeked out from behind her, looking pathetic and aggrieved. “Dad, Mom, Rylee’s life is hanging by a thread. If I had these shares, I would have the financial security to take care of them both for the rest of my life.” “Just look at this as helping me out for the sake of the baby Rylee is carrying.” Hearing this unbelievably shameless speech, my dad was shaking with rage, pointing at Mark, unable to form a word for a long minute. A nurse screamed, tears running down her face. “Family needs to decide now! Patient’s blood pressure is down to fifty! If we don’t transfuse now, she really won’t make it!” My mom looked at my deathly pale face, and her mental defenses completely collapsed. “Honey, give it… give it to them! Rylee’s life is what matters most!” My dad had been a proud man his whole life, decisive in the business world, but now his eyes were red, and his hands were shaking violently. He looked at me covered in blood, his knees began to bend, and he was actually about to kneel down to this spineless coward, Mark! “Mark, I am begging you…” “Dad! Do not kneel!” I don’t know where I found the strength, but I suddenly opened my eyes and ripped out a raw, agonizing scream. My dad froze. Mark and Sharon were also startled by my sudden burst of rage. I grit my teeth, fighting against the blinding pain in my lower abdomen that felt like I was being torn apart. I slowly pushed myself up. I looked at my parents’ white hair, at the way they were humiliating themselves for my sake, and the pain in my heart far eclipsed the physical agony. Five years of compromising, five rounds of IVF torture—what it bought me was their escalated extortion and the humiliation of my parents. Enough! This bottomless, parasitic leeching ends today! I violently ripped off the fetal heart monitor leads attached to my belly! “Rylee, what are you doing!” Mark yelled, turning pale with terror. “I’m not giving birth.” I stared dead at Mark, pronouncing every word. “I do not want this baby anymore.”

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I was sitting at a long red light on my way to meet Caleb at the hospital, so I pulled out my phone to kill time. The top recommended post on Reddit caught my eye: [Life, Freedom, Love, and Money: How would you rank them?] The comments section was chaotic, but the vast majority ranked Money first. Only one comment stood out, completely at odds with the rest. “Love will always be my first choice. With love, everything else has meaning.” Someone immediately replied mockingly: “Another hopeless romantic.” But looking at that comment, a faint sense of agreement rippled through me. Of course love should come first. The love Caleb had given me had always been flawless. Amidst the chorus of cynical replies, the original commenter responded calmly: “If you were in my shoes, you’d choose the same.” “Last year, I went into acute renal failure. He gave me one of his kidneys. At the time, he wasn’t even my boyfriend; he was just my attending physician.” My heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Last year, Caleb had also donated a kidney. To a patient he supposedly didn’t even know. I had fiercely opposed it at the time, but he just coaxed me, saying: “Saving lives is a doctor’s calling.” My fingertips went cold. With a trembling hand, I scrolled down. “He only has one kidney left now, but in that department… he’s still so intense it’s hard to keep up.” The comment continued, “Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Every night he tosses me around until my back aches.” Attached below was a photo. Under the dim, amber glow of bathroom lighting, it showed a man’s muscular back. On the left side of his waist, there was a faint bite mark. It was the bite mark I left on him when I was eighteen, punishing him for getting into a fistfight with a senior who had a crush on me. It wasn’t until a chorus of honking horns erupted behind me that I snapped back to reality. I was still twenty minutes away from Caleb’s hospital. I abruptly pulled the car onto a side street and turned off the eng

Eight in the morning. I am sitting in our newly renovated apartment, fully dressed in my wedding gown, waiting for the groom and his party to arrive for the ceremony. But he never shows. His mother, pale as a ghost, keeps wringing her hands: “I’ve been calling him since sunrise, but he won’t pick up. His father drove back to their place to find him. He said he drank too much at the bachelor party last night and can’t be woken up…” Rage boiling in my chest, I grab my phone and dial his number myself. After several attempts, it finally connects. “Hello?” A weak, drowsy groan comes through the receiver, heavy with sleep. My heart sinks. I press the speaker button. “Liam, do you have any idea what today is?” “Hm? What day?” Frustrated, I yell into the phone: “Today is our wedding day!” Silence for a few seconds on the other end, then sudden alertness. “Wait? Since when were we having the wedding today?” 1 I can’t process his response. My only thought is: can he still make it on time if he leaves right now? But I know Liam Sterling too well. He dawdles for a solid hour just getting ready to go out normally, let alone putting on a suit, doing his hair, and the whole nine yards for a wedding. What if we skip all that? “Liam, go take a quick shower, throw on the suit in your closet, and grab an Uber straight to the venue.” I think this solution is standard protocol. I didn’t expect Liam to completely explode. “No way, man! Since when did we agree on having a wedding today?” “How am I just finding out about this? Did I even agree to it?” “Can you stop looking for trouble when there isn’t any?” Me: … I am gripping the phone, my hand shaking slightly. For this wedding, I’ve only slept four hours a night for a solid month. Yesterday, I was busy for twenty-four hours straight, not even stopping for a drink of water. But right now, I am so angry my stomach aches, and I feel like I might be sick. I respond with icy calm: “We had an engagement dinner. We picked out the wedding rings. We put deposits down on the venue. And you’re sitting there telling me you didn’t know we were getting married?” His tone is matter-of-fact: “Of course I didn’t know. Nobody told me!” The relatives standing around me exchange glances. His mother asks me carefully: “Claire… did you really not tell him?” I am stunned. How could I not have told him? I ask him: “Do I need to file a formal request in triplicate and get your signature as proof of notification every time I initiate a life-changing conversation?” But Liam acts like his logic is flawless. “Then what? Can you stop making me look dumb? No way, man… You handled this so unprofessionally, and you have the nerve to blame me? I’m completely baffled, okay!” “Out of nowhere, you just tell me today’s the wedding day? I never wanted a big ceremony! Is marrying me all you think about?” I feel a deep chill settle in my soul. But looking around at the living room packed with relatives and friends staring at me, at the bright, agonizingly festive decorations… I feel like I’m being roasted alive. Everything is prepared. Friends and family rescheduled their lives to be here today. So many people are currently sitting at the reception venue, expecting a party. And the groom claims he had absolutely no idea? I let out a cold laugh. “I get it. You aren’t ignorant; you just didn’t want to come. You are trying to ditch the wedding, right?” Liam hears the profound disappointment in my voice. He sighs, his tone softening a bit. “Claire, look, that was just my morning grumpiness talking… But seriously, think about it. I was up until four-thirty playing games with Luna. She wanted to play; I couldn’t just tell her no, right? Any day can be a wedding day. Is it absolutely necessary to do it right this second?” “Be good. Stop being angry; you’ll ruin your health. When I finally wake up, I’ll take you out for burgers and milkshakes, okay?” Me: … Someone nearby whispers. “Who is Luna?” “No idea. Never heard of her.” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm. I issue Liam a final ultimatum. “I’m giving you exactly one hour. If you aren’t here by then, this wedding is off. Permanently.” Liam doesn’t explicitly refuse, but he doesn’t explicitly agree either. He dodges. “But I’m still not finished sleeping…” I feel hot blood rush to my head. I emphasize again: “Make no mistake. My meaning is: if it doesn’t happen today, it is never happening.” Liam is silent for a long moment: “Let’s talk after I wake up.” Then he hangs up. 2 I am sweating from anxiety, shaking from pure rage. Yet I feel a crushing sense of powerlessness, as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I genuinely want to pass out just so I don’t have to deal with this nightmare. But things have to be resolved. I can’t collapse right now. I cannot lose control of my emotions. I look up at the people surrounding me. Their faces are all dark with anger and embarrassment. Especially Liam’s parents. They look like the sky just fell. Obviously, they didn’t expect their son could be this unreliable either. Actually, Liam’s personality had shown cracks long before the engagement. When his parents and I were arranging everything for the engagement dinner, I told him he needed to pick out his outfit ahead of time. But he was completely unwilling. He continued playing his game, not even looking up. He whined, “Ugh… do I have to go?” I thought it was just a joke. After all, during the entire engagement process, even though he was reluctant, he never said no. But what happened today is beyond ridiculous; it’s a living nightmare. For a split second, I even consider grabbing a rando on the street to be the new groom. But this is reality, not some dramatic fanfiction. How could I possibly find a suitable replacement on five minutes’ notice? Even if I wanted to, the other party definitely wouldn’t agree. What if I hire an actor just to walk me through the process? Forget it… besides being able to keep the cash gifts, there’s zero meaning. Things have progressed too far. There is no remedy. My wedding. It is completely ruined. 3 I have always been a strong, rational person. I hate letting others see my vulnerable side. So I fight back my tears, trying my best to keep my voice steady. I even keep a forced smile on my face. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now. The wedding has to be cancelled. Please spread the word.” Finished speaking, I open my contacts list and randomly dial a number. Very apologetically, I tell them the wedding is off due to an emergency. On the surface, I act like none of this is bothering me. In reality, my mind is complete chaos. I don’t even remember who I called, and I have no idea what they said in response. I just kept apologizing, apologizing, apologizing. The other end of the line goes silent. The entire living room is also dead silent. Expectant eyes are locked onto me, tonnes of weight pushing down on my shoulders. I struggle not to collapse, quietly waiting for the response. Suddenly, the person asks: “So, when is the next wedding?” I feel a slight unease at the question, but I instinctively reply: “We haven’t decided yet, but to make up for today, I’ll definitely take you out for dinner another day to apologize in person.” “… Okay… Well, what about you? Are you alright?” “Everything is fine on my end.” “But you don’t sound fine.” “Hm? Do I?” I let out a couple of fake, dry laughs. I vaguely realize this person is slightly strange. But right now, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth or time to analyze it. I make a few more brief pleasantries and quickly hang up. Seeing this, the expressions of the guests in the room all go dark. They start pulling out their phones to spread the news themselves. Tell the people waiting at the reception venue to just leave. The wedding checks and gifts will be returned. Quite a few people are audibly complaining: “What kind of mess is this? I’ve never seen a wedding like this before! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered coming! I’ve never met someone so unreliable!” “I thought I was coming to celebrate a happy occasion, and it’s just miserable! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered. This is a complete joke.” “Is it possible she got rejected and doesn’t even know? This clearly feels like she deliberately played us.” “Stop talking. His family is well-off. Maybe she was trying to force him into marriage with this whole thing. But the guy actually had some backbone; he firmly decided not to show…” I pretend I can’t hear any of it. I continue apologizing to the next person I call. And that’s when something even more bizarre happens. 4 The guests at the reception hall had just left, still complaining loudly, when a section of the hotel building suddenly collapsed. Fortunately, because everyone had evacuated in an orderly fashion, there were no injuries. Perhaps even God wanted to stop this wedding. I think if we are selecting the world’s most miserable person today, it has to be me. This event quickly makes the local news. By coincidence, Liam, who just woke up, happens to see the story. He forwards the news clip to me, proudly bragging: See? Good thing I didn’t go. That building was destined to fall. Just say it—if I actually went today, how many people would I have doomed? Look at my foresight! Honestly don’t know why you’re always so anxious and looking for trouble. You were so unlucky because you didn’t listen to me, haha. Having been busy for twenty-four hours straight, when I see these messages, a metallic taste rises in my throat, and I spit out a mouthful of blood. The pristine white wedding dress I carefully picked out over a month ago is stained with a patch of crimson blood. I stare blankly. My mind is a complete void, a humming sound in my ears. He is completely unhinged. So unhinged that even if I wanted to yell at him, I wouldn’t know where to start. I just toss the phone aside. Sitting in the empty apartment, I return to the mirror and continue undoing my hair and removing my makeup. But the few phrases he just sent repeat themselves in my heart, torturing me almost to madness. Only half my hair is undone when I finally can’t hold it in any longer and burst into tears. Abandoning all hope, I just yank the pins out, ignoring the pain in my scalp. My hand shaking, I type out: You are completely unhinged. Let’s break up. He replies quickly. Claire… stop being angry. I’ve actually done some self-reflection. I was definitely in the wrong too. When you get home, I’ll apologize and make it up to you, okay? Besides, it’s just a wedding. It’ll happen sooner or later. What’s the rush? You don’t actually want to get married right now anyway, right? Hurry up and finish your stuff over there and come find me. Haven’t you been dying for burgers and milkshakes? I’ll take you for a huge meal. It feels like a massive boulder is pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Sooner or later… He actually believes I will wait for him unconditionally, infinitely, and will never leave him. What if I don’t wait? Will he suffer like I am today? But recalling his face, I can’t help but let out a self-deprecating, cold chuckle. No. He absolutely will not suffer. I can never, ever make him personally experience the pain I suffered today. And what I wanted wasn’t burgers and milkshakes. It was BBQ. Liam always forgets. The humiliation and indignation I’ve repressed for so long flood my heart simultaneously. Everything suddenly goes black. When I next wake up, I am lying in a hospital bed.

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The post-Thanksgiving holiday rush was brutal. Driving my fully loaded 18-wheeler, I merged onto the packed Interstate. On a continuous downhill stretch, I noticed a yellow school bus full of kids ahead of me. I proactively downshifted, leaving a massive, safe following distance. Suddenly, an SUV cut aggressively right into the gap between me and the bus. I honked my air horn to warn him—pulling a stunt like that on a downhill grade in front of a semi is practically a death wish. The driver ignored the warning and simply stuck his hand out the window, flipping me the middle finger. For the next few miles, he made it his mission to play games with me. He’d speed up, then slam on his brakes, intentionally brake-checking my heavy rig. For the sake of safety, I swallowed my rage and refused to engage. But I never expected this psycho to suddenly swerve across lanes without a blinker right on the next steep, downhill curve. Seeing that my massive grill was about to rear-end the school bus, I jerked my steering wheel hard to the side. Because of the sheer momentum, my rig clipped the rear of his SUV, sending him spinning directly into the steel guardrails. The chain reaction caught the surrounding traffic. Over a dozen passenger cars ended up crashing into the pile-up. I immediately jumped out of my cab to help. I had just managed to drag the SUV driver out of his smoking, crumpled vehicle when he turned around and slapped me hard across the face. “What’s your excuse going to be?!” he screamed. “First, you couldn’t see me? Second, your air brakes failed? Third, your job is so hard? Fourth, we’re all just trying to make a living?!” … That slap hit me so hard it knocked one of my teeth loose. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the asphalt and tried to explain. “You cut me off first…” The man standing in front of me just laughed. “Cut you off? Do you own the damn Interstate? You’re the only one allowed to drive on it? If I drive on it, you have the right to run me over?!” “If I wasn’t so tough, I’d be dead, and you think you can stand here and argue with me, you animal?!” “You son of a bitch truckers, you murderers! Seeing you scum who treat other people’s lives like garbage makes me sick! Why don’t you go drop dead?!” As he yelled, the man threw a brutal punch right at my face. That punch shattered my nasal bone. Blood immediately poured down, covering my entire face. But the man had no intention of letting me go. He grabbed me by my hair and violently smashed my head against the jagged, wrecked hood of his SUV. Just one impact left me dizzy and seeing stars. Jagged pieces of broken plastic pierced my forehead, the excruciating pain contorting my features. I tried to fight back, but it only earned me a more savage beating. He even kept screaming as he rained down punches. “Scum! Animal! You livestock who treat passenger cars like speed bumps!” “Think you’re invincible because you have full commercial insurance?! As long as I’m breathing, I’m going to destroy you brain-dead bastards!” The other drivers involved in the pile-up began stepping out of their cars. Seeing my face covered in blood, someone couldn’t help but speak up. “Hey man, let it go. We had an accident, we’ll just go through insurance. If you keep hitting him like that, you’re going to kill him…” The man’s voice instantly spiked an octave. “It’s exactly because of spineless cowards like you who just cry to your insurance companies that these truckers think they can get away with murder!” “If everyone acted like you—getting hit and just taking a payout instead of demanding justice—you deserve to get run over like a speed bump!” The chaotic scene went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. No one said another word in my defense. Instead, their eyes filled with hostility toward me. It was the collective hatred reserved for someone who seemingly despised human life. The passengers on the school bus had evacuated too. The lead chaperone, a female teacher, stepped up to defend me. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t give you the right to assault him!” “Besides, I saw it clearly from the back of the bus! You were aggressively weaving and changed lanes without a blinker! You caused this crash!” The teacher was telling the absolute truth, but the man just raised his fists and marched menacingly toward her. “What does a woman know about driving? Say one more word and I’ll rip your mouth off!” 2. The man was big. Standing over six feet tall and pushing two hundred and fifty pounds, he was incredibly intimidating. The female teacher’s body trembled slightly. But she stubbornly stood her ground. “I’m stating a fact! If you don’t believe me, go pull the footage from the dashcam in his truck…” Before she could even finish her sentence, the man popped the trunk of his wrecked SUV, pulled out a baseball bat, and viciously smashed it into the grill of my rig. He shattered my windshield, reached inside to rip out my dashcam, and threw it onto the pavement, stomping it into a pile of shattered plastic and silicon. After doing that, he glared at the teacher with a vicious, warning look. She trembled even harder than before, but still insisted on defending me. “Smashing the dashcam won’t help you! There are traffic cameras on this stretch of the Inter… Ah!” Before she could finish, the man swung the bat and struck her hard on the side of the head. Blood trickled down her temple. The kids from the bus huddled together, terrified. The man ignored her bleeding wound and turned to address the crowd of angry drivers. “I didn’t use my blinker because it’s broken.” “But I slowed down and used hand signals!” “This bitch is completely slandering me! For all we know, she’s sleeping with this trucker!” “I say we make him pay up right now! Out of pocket! Otherwise, he’s going to skip town on us!” This animal was spouting absolute lies! He did slow down, but that was only when he was brake-checking me to mess with me! Right before he cut me off, he had accelerated, nearly getting us all killed! And the “hand signal” he used was nothing but a humiliating, provocative middle finger! “That’s not what happened! He’s lying!” “We need to call 911 and let the State Troopers handle this!” I pulled out my phone, but the man snatched it from my hands and hurled it violently onto the concrete. He jumped on it, stomping on it with his heavy boots. He didn’t stop until my phone was shattered into pieces, the internal battery and chips spilling out. Then he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against my truck’s grill. “You think you’re smart, huh? You know you can’t afford to pay for this, so you want to call the cops to play the victim and get a discount.” “I’m telling you, no way in hell! If you don’t compensate every single one of us for our damages today, you aren’t leaving this highway!” The other drivers, convinced by his logic, began swarming me, demanding money. Even though I repeatedly explained that this chain-reaction crash was not my fault. And even if it was, I had commercial insurance. Any payouts needed to be handled by the insurance adjusters. But they refused to listen to a word I said. The man continued throwing gasoline on the fire. “You all heard it, right?! We almost died in a massive pile-up, and this bastard doesn’t even plan on giving us a dime for the repairs!” “Let the insurance handle it? Easy for him to say! There are over a dozen wrecked cars here. The damages are easily going to top a million bucks. What insurance company is going to pay that out on the spot?” “They’ll drag this out for a year or two! We’re all working people trying to feed our families! Can any of you afford to wait that long?!” His words were incredibly inflammatory. I was nearly drowned in the angry spit of the mob surrounding me. A few hotheads in the crowd, taking a cue from the SUV driver, started rolling up their sleeves, ready to beat the money out of me. Left with no choice, I told them I was just a driver making a delivery after the holiday. I didn’t have cash on me. The man, who had somehow climbed up the side of my trailer, pointed to the massive load of cargo secured in the back. “Then we’ll use whatever you’re hauling to cover the bill!” “No!” I shouted, rejecting his proposal instantly. The cargo in my trailer consisted of donated supplies I was transporting for free on behalf of a local charity. It was heading to a foster care facility. It contained enough winter clothes and supplies to last those kids for the next six months. If it was looted to pay these people off, what would the kids do? Besides, I wasn’t at fault! Why should I pay anything? But the man ignored me entirely. He ripped open the heavy canvas tarp covering the back and started pulling boxes out. 3. Riiip! The man violently tore through the heavy packing tape sealed by the charity volunteers. When he saw the cheap, bulk-ordered winter coats inside, his eyes filled with undisguised disappointment. “What the hell is this? Can’t you haul something actually worth money?!” With a look of pure disgust, he threw the box off the trailer. Refusing to give up, he ripped open several more boxes. Unfortunately for him, the boxes contained either winter coats, thick blankets, or cartons of used children’s books. “Fuck! Are you a damn garbage collector? Why is your rig full of worthless trash?!” The enraged man started hurling the boxes off the truck. They tumbled over the guardrail, rolling down into the deep, dark ravine beside the Interstate. My heart bled. This wasn’t trash! This was love and charity donated by good people for orphans! I tried to climb up the rig to stop him, but the mob of drivers, thinking I was trying to make a run for it, tackled me to the ground. They pinned my shoulders against the asphalt, refusing to let me move. A voice in the crowd spoke up ominously. “I heard these trucker guys are sneaky. They like to hide the high-value cargo at the front of the trailer and put the cheap stuff at the back.” “Why don’t you check the front?” My pupils dilated in sheer panic. It was true. The front section of my trailer contained highly valuable cargo. But it wasn’t trade goods. It was a shipment of rare, genetically engineered seedlings I had promised to deliver to the State University’s Agricultural Research Institute. They held immense, irreplaceable scientific value! If this scumbag found them… I didn’t dare to imagine. My breath hitched, and with a surge of adrenaline, I broke free from the men holding me down, scrambling on all fours toward my truck. But before I could climb up, they yanked me back by my ankles, throwing me to the ground and slapping me across the face repeatedly. “Motherfucker! Still trying to run?!” “Let me tell you something! Today, even if you try to run to the ends of the earth, you’re paying us for our cars first!” My face was battered and bleeding, but I still craned my neck and roared. “This is my truck! None of you have the right to touch what’s on it!” “Get the hell down right now! Or I’m pressing charges against all of you for armed robbery!” My eyes burned with a feral intensity. I wanted nothing more than to rip the man on the trailer apart with my bare hands. But he wasn’t afraid of me at all. Instead, he jumped down, walked over, and patted my bloody cheek. “Ooh, getting defensive. Hit a nerve, didn’t I? There really is something valuable at the front of this rig!” “Don’t just stand there, guys! Get up here and help! If we find a few boxes of premium freight, our repair bills are covered!” Hearing there was money to be made, several car owners scrambled up the side of my trailer alongside the man, brazenly rummaging through my freight. I was forced to watch helplessly as box after box filled with hope for those orphans was tossed off the truck, discarded like garbage down the ravine. My heart ached so badly it felt like it was bleeding. Looking at this mob acting like literal bandits, even though I knew the accident wasn’t my fault, I had no choice but to surrender. “Stop! I’ll pay! I’ll pay you all, okay?!” The man dusted off his hands and hopped down from the trailer. “Should’ve just said that from the start.” “Eighty grand. Wire transfer or cash?” 4. My hand, reaching for my wallet, froze. Even though I was prepared to be extorted, the sheer size of the man’s demand left me stunned. Looking at his rusted-out, ten-year-old domestic SUV, I tried to reason with him. “A brand-new model of that car is barely worth twenty grand. Don’t you think eighty is a bit much?” The man kicked me squarely in the chest. “Fuck you! I was almost killed by your rig! You think eighty grand is too much?!” “This is attempted murder! Attempted murder gets you life in prison! I’m giving you a chance to buy your pathetic life back. You should be kissing my feet, and instead, you’re whining?!” “Pay up! Or your entire cargo belongs to us!” In that moment, I wanted to stand up and beat this extortionist to death—the man who broke the law, pinned the blame on me, and was now trying to rob me blind. But I knew I couldn’t. The truck held not only the charity supplies but also the priceless agricultural seedlings. I couldn’t let the people who trusted me suffer catastrophic losses just to play the hero for a minute. Forcing myself to sit up, swallowing the agonizing pain radiating from my ribs, I choked down my pride. “But I don’t have that kind of money…” I was instantly kicked back to the ground. “Then what the fuck are we talking about?! Stop wasting my time!” “Keep digging, boys! This punk definitely has the expensive shit hidden up front!” The man climbed back onto the trailer, vengefully throwing more cardboard boxes over the side. I wanted to stop him, but with fractured ribs, simply standing up was an excruciating ordeal. The female teacher, who had hastily bandaged the bleeding wound on her head, helped me up. “Don’t panic, young man,” she whispered. “I already called the State Troopers. They’re on their way. These thugs won’t be able to act tough for much longer.” But I shook my head, pointing desperately toward the front of the trailer. “There’s a crate of scientific research seedlings up there! They absolutely cannot be allowed to find it!” The teacher’s eyes widened. She was just about to step forward to help me pull the crate down when the man on the trailer caught our frantic gestures. His eyes lit up with predatory excitement. “I found where this bastard hid the good stuff!” He rushed straight to the front of the trailer, pulled out the secured crate containing the seedlings, and prepared to rip it open. My heart leaped into my throat. The teacher who had been helping me stepped bravely forward. “Stop!” “That cargo belongs to him! What you’re doing is highway robbery! Aren’t you afraid of getting locked up for ten years in federal prison?!” The man just laughed. “Paying debts is the law of the land!” “Besides, this low-life crashed into me first! I’m doing him a favor by not pressing charges for attempted murder, and he wants to accuse me of robbery?!” The man’s sheer shamelessness ignited my rage. I gritted my teeth and shouted at him again. “I didn’t hit you! Your own reckless driving caused this crash!” The man lost his temper. He jumped down from the trailer, raising the heavy crate above his head, aiming right for my skull. “Motherfucker! You just won’t quit, will you?!” “A murderer acting this arrogant? I’m going to teach you the lesson your parents never did!” I didn’t dare to dodge. I instinctively reached up, trying to catch the crate to protect it. But the crate crashed heavily against my arms, splintering and breaking apart completely. The fragile University seedlings cascaded down, covering my head, my shoulders, and scattering across the asphalt. In that single instant, my heart plunged into the darkest abyss. The man looked down at the mess on the ground, his lips curling in utter contempt. “Fuck! I thought it was something actually valuable! It’s just a bunch of rotten weeds!” “If you had told me your rig was full of literal garbage, I wouldn’t have even bothered climbing up!” As he spoke, he vengefully ground his heavy boots into the few remaining intact seedlings on the pavement, crushing them to mush. Looking at the destroyed, irreplaceable research specimens, the raging inferno in my heart suddenly went terrifyingly cold and calm. I stared at the man standing in front of me and spoke, enunciating every single syllable. “You’re done.” “Even if you rot in a cell for ten lifetimes, you won’t be able to pay for what you just did.” The man completely brushed off my words, still acting like a tough guy. “What the fuck kind of crazy shit are you babbling about now?!” “Let me tell you right now, today you either pay us the cash, or you’re leaving this Interstate in a body bag!” He raised his fist, preparing to strike me again, when a thunderous roar echoed from behind him. “BACK OFF!” Without anyone noticing, a convoy of more than a dozen massive 18-wheelers had pulled up, forming a barricade that completely boxed the entire scene in!

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1 I am the wife Caleb Vance stole from his best friend through sheer, ruthless manipulation. Because he started as the “other man,” he is paranoid about every single male who comes anywhere near me. Even when I feed the stray dogs in our neighborhood, he has to confirm that both the dog and its owner are female before he can relax. Until recently, when a new, young intern at my office brought me coffee for a few days. Caleb claimed it was fine, but that night, he scrolled through my phone until 3:00 AM, getting so worked up he broke out in full-body hives. On the way to the hospital, his face flushed bright red with fever, he shoved a photo of the intern right in my face. “Look at these pecs! They are obviously Photoshopped!” “And look at his height, he’s definitely wearing shoe lifts. There is no way he is six feet tall!” Seeing the nurses around us trying to hold back their laughter, I embarrassedly clamped a hand over his mouth and hauled him into the ER. While picking up his prescription, the doctor casually mentioned: “For birth control, we still recommend the woman takes the pill or you use condoms. After all, this new male contraceptive pill just hit the market. The side effects are severe. Hives are actually on the milder end of the spectrum.” “Furthermore, he’s taken it three times in just one week. Even if he doesn’t want you to suffer the side effects of birth control, he can’t be this reckless with his own health.” I froze for a second. But I’ve been pregnant for three months. … I watched Caleb sleeping soundly and picked up his phone. His passcode was entirely my birthday. His Instagram feed was filled exclusively with photos of me. His search history was all about me: “How to get my wife’s attention?” “My wife thinks I’m too clingy, is she seeing someone else?” “What to do when my wife misses her late mother?” Even his Notes app was packed with information about me: “March 20th: My sweet girl had a nightmare and missed her mom.” “March 21st: My sweet girl’s morning sickness is awful lately. She throws up everything she eats.” “April 1st: Went out of my way to find my sweet girl’s old nanny to learn how to make my mother-in-law’s signature beef and tomato stew. My sweet girl ate it very happily.” Reading these, my eyes stung with tears. I tried to comfort myself, thinking that maybe I was just being overly sensitive due to the pregnancy. Until, the GPS app on his phone suddenly popped up with a notification: “Based on your usual routine, your route home has been automatically calculated. Estimated time: 30 minutes.” The destination of the route was Building 7, The Pinnacle Apartments. But I live in Building 3. My hand uncontrollably tapped into the app. The location history showed that for the past three months, every single day at noon, he would navigate exactly to this address and stay for about two hours. I suddenly remembered that because my morning sickness was so severe, I had lost eight pounds in just three months. The only thing I could stomach was the food Caleb cooked. But his company was so far away. Every day, he not only had to take care of me but also deal with the old foxes on his board of directors. Working overtime until dawn was his norm. My heart ached for him. I wanted him to get proper rest at the office during his lunch break. But he thought I didn’t need him anymore. We had a massive argument. No matter what I said, he kept a cold face and insisted on making lunch for me. It wasn’t until I pretended my morning sickness had improved and promised I would take good care of myself that he finally agreed to rest at the office. But in reality, every single day, he was in another building less than a thousand feet from our home, keeping someone else company. I gripped the phone, my entire body shaking. Suddenly, a text message popped up: “Cal, you left a pair of boxers at my place yesterday. She didn’t find out, did she? I left those for you on purpose… unwashed.” “Those are my absolute favorite boxers. Make sure you bring them to me on my birthday.” I stared dead at that profile picture. With trembling hands, I clicked into it. It was Chloe! The illegitimate daughter who infuriated my mother to death and monopolized my father. Since we were kids, she had to fight me for everything: clothes, jewelry, my father’s love… And even my husbands. My ex-husband and I divorced precisely because I caught him and her in bed together. The day of my divorce, I was in absolute despair. Caleb held me, promising me word by word: “My sweet girl, I will only love you for the rest of my life. No matter how much she tries to show off, I could never look at her twice. Trust me.” And he had actually done it. When Chloe tried to seduce him and sent him nudes… He called the police directly, getting Chloe detained for seven days. He even reported the incident to her university, getting her expelled and ruining her future. I thought that escaping that swamp and meeting Caleb was the greatest luck of my life. But why did it have to be her? Why is it her again! Almost masochistically, I opened their chat history. I watched Caleb call her “his sweet girl.” I watched how, when Chloe threatened to expose everything to me, Caleb ruthlessly blocked her, disciplined her, and took that discipline all the way to the bed. I watched how, when I was hospitalized and crying from fear over poor prenatal test results, they were sleeping in the very room I had decorated with my own hands, and she was wearing my pajamas… My whole body trembled, a wave of nausea rising straight to my throat. Behind me, the bed shifted slightly. “Wife?” 2 Seeing my reddened eyes, Caleb reached out to hug me. Smelling the faint, distinct scent of sex and sweat on him… I shoved him away violently and rushed into the bathroom, dry heaving. “My sweet girl!” Caleb immediately followed me in. The moment his hand touched my back, I sprang away as if burned, grabbing a glass jar nearby and hurling it at him. “Get away from me!” The heavy glass ashtray struck his temple. Blood began to trickle down his brow bone. Caleb didn’t seem to care at all. He just looked at me with deep concern, panic practically spilling out of his eyes. “Is the baby acting up again?” “Or are you feeling sick somewhere else?” I sat on the floor, watching him frantically rush out of the bathroom. He poured water, grabbed my medicine. Blood dripped onto the collar of his crisp white shirt, blooming into a small red stain. He was completely oblivious, just holding out the medicine with a cautious, fragile look in his eyes. “Open your mouth, sweet girl.” “Why?” I looked into Caleb’s eyes, so full of love. Tears poured out uncontrollably. Just a few days ago, we were still discussing baby names together. We were still dreaming about our future life as a family of three. We talked about taking her to the beach, to the mountains, to every place we had ever visited since we fell in love, once she was a little older. Just moments ago, he was still acting jealous because I stood a little too close to someone else. “Why did you betray me!” I looked at him, tears blurring my vision. Caleb froze. The hand gripping the medicine clenched tightly. “You know everything.” I waited for him to explain. I told myself that no matter what he said, I would believe him. As long as he said it, I could forgive him. “I’m sorry.” He took a step forward, his voice trembling. “I know you’re upset that I fired the intern behind your back. But I just couldn’t accept another man being around you every day, seeing your smile.” He crouched down, looking up at me with an agonizingly humble expression. “You don’t know how much effort it took for me to steal you away from Ethan, just to be able to stand beside you in the light. What right did that intern have to just have all that without doing anything?” “I know I’m sick. I know I’m not normal. But I absolutely do not regret it.” “My sweet girl, hit me, curse me, punish me however you want. Just don’t hurt yourself, and please don’t leave me. I will die.” He looked up at me, his eyes rimmed with red, looking like an abandoned dog. I looked at him, knowing that right now I should turn and walk away without a second’s hesitation. But I couldn’t bear to. I couldn’t bear to lose his tenderness. I couldn’t bear to lose these happy days. So, as long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could pretend nothing had happened. As long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes. I looked at Caleb and forced a smile. “I want some of that beef and tomato stew.” Caleb’s eyes lit up instantly. He turned to head to the kitchen. But soon, his phone rang. He glanced at it, his face filling with apology. “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. There’s an emergency at the company. I’ll make it for you as soon as I get back.” Before I could say a word, he was gone. I drove my car, following closely behind him. Building 7, The Pinnacle Apartments. I stood in the shade of a tree, watching Chloe link her arm through his, intimately walking through that door. The moment the door closed, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. Through the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room, I saw him stand up immediately, making a gesture as if he were about to leave. Then, Chloe went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The sickening sound of wet kisses and his heavy breathing came through the receiver. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. “Caleb. My stomach hurts.” Hearing this, Caleb violently shoved Chloe away, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. “My sweet girl, don’t be scared. I’m coming back right now.” Suddenly, a muffled groan came through the phone. Chloe crouched down. Immediately after, the call was disconnected. Ten seconds later, a message popped up: “My sweet girl, an emergency board meeting just got called. I absolutely have to attend. I’ve already contacted your doctor, he’s on his way to our house right now. Don’t be scared.” I looked up. Through that window, I watched him carry Chloe toward the bedroom. My heart died completely. I pulled out my phone and dialed the hospital’s number. “Hello. I need to schedule an abortion.” 3 I was about to drive away when I saw someone standing in front of my car. It was my father. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then I followed him into the house where I had lived for eighteen years. The living room was still the same living room, but everything else was different. The photo of my mother and me that used to hang on the wall had been entirely replaced by photos of Chloe and her mother. My mother’s favorite begonias had been replaced by sickeningly sweet roses. I stood in the center of the living room, feeling like I was standing in a completely foreign place. My father pointed to the sofa. The moment I sat down, he cut straight to the chase. “Leave Caleb.” “I refuse. Caleb is the one who can’t leave me.” Once, when I discovered he had Chloe’s contact info on his phone, feeling betrayed, I packed my bags to leave. He blocked the door. Without a word, he grabbed the fruit knife off the coffee table and plunged it into his own abdomen. Blood poured out, but he didn’t take a single step back. He just stared at me. “If you want to leave, it’ll be over my dead body.” My father didn’t speak. He just looked at me with pity. Then, he pointed to the adjacent wall. It was a photo wall. Entirely covered in photos of Chloe and Caleb. Snuggling on a gondola in Venice. Holding hands under the cherry blossoms at Mount Fuji. Kissing passionately beneath the Eiffel Tower. “He didn’t go on a business trip last week. He took Chloe traveling all over the world.” He stood up, walked to the photo wall, and pointed at the massive wedding portrait in the very center. “They got their marriage license abroad. They had a wedding, and invited everyone.” “Including his parents.” “To get his parents to accept Chloe and attend their wedding, he knelt outside their door for seven days.” “I seem to recall that no one attended your wedding with Caleb, right?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Caleb’s parents despised me. They thought I had seduced their son, making him bear the label of a homewrecker and ruining his reputation and future prospects. So, they didn’t show up on our wedding day, and they refused to let us visit them. But in the photo, they were smiling with absolute benevolence, happily accepting the ceremonial tea from Chloe. “I heard you got into a car accident a few days ago?” “Because you didn’t want Caleb to worry, you handled it all by yourself and didn’t tell him.” My father scoffed. “Do you know where he was right then?” “He was standing not far away from you, helping Chloe pick out a diamond ring.” My brain started buzzing with a loud, ringing sound. “He watched the whole thing. He watched that driver harass you. He watched that man shove you to the ground. He watched you hide in your car and cry. He watched them pound on your window and curse at you. He watched you force yourself to call the police.” “And he didn’t move a muscle. Because Chloe was thirsty, and he was in a hurry to buy her boba tea.” “I don’t believe you!” I stood up, trembling all over. I refused to believe that the man who would agonize for half a day over a minor scrape on my knee would watch me being bullied and do absolutely nothing. “These are all lies! These are stories you made up just to get me to leave Caleb!” My father stared at me in silence. That look terrified me. After a long time, he spoke. “Chloe is pregnant.” “The baby’s name is Julian.” Julian. Wishing him a peaceful, secure life. Something snapped in my brain. That name… Caleb and I had spent an entire month flipping through dictionaries to come up with it. That was the name for our child. Only my child’s name! “Men understand men best.” My father’s voice echoed again. “What he has left for you now is just obligation. If you keep going like this, you’ll end up exactly like your mother.” My mother. When she found out my father had a mistress, she stubbornly refused to get a divorce. My father blatantly brought the mistress into the house and was intimate with her right in front of my mother. Eventually, unable to bear the humiliation, my mother took her own life. Will my fate be the same as my mother’s? Spiraling into an endless cycle of breakdowns, madness, and mutual torture? I didn’t know. I just suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. I stopped paying attention to the words the man in front of me was saying. I pushed open the door and walked out. The sun outside beat down on me, but I couldn’t feel a single trace of warmth.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397501”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel