Category: English

After the miscarriage, I systematically erased every habit that Giles used to find irritating. I stopped asking where he was going. When he stayed out all night, I no longer paced the floor; I simply turned off the bedside lamp and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Even when I was injured during a training maneuver and the medic told me to call my family, I just looked at the sterile white ceiling and said, “I don’t have any next of kin.” The nurse recognized me. “You’re Mrs. Marshall, aren’t you? General Marshall is just in the next sector over. Should I send word to him?” I shook my head slowly. “No. There’s no need.” But thirty minutes later, Giles Marshall appeared anyway. He stood in the doorway, his uniform sharp, his presence commanding and cold. “You’re hurt. Why wasn’t I the first person you called?” I kept my eyes down. “It’s a scratch, Giles. Not worth bothering the Commanding General over.” That dismissive tone—the sheer lack of weight in my voice—made him visibly bristle. Before he could snap back, voices drifted in from the hallway. Two guards were gossiping, unaware of who was listening. “The General really has a soft spot for that girl, Maya, from the USO troupe. She twisted her ankle during the performance, and he practically commandeered a Black Hawk just to get her back. Carried her onto the bird himself. Didn’t let her feet touch the tarmac once.” I saw Giles’s chest tighten. His eyes flickered toward me, searching for the explosion, the accusations, the familiar fire of my jealousy. But my lashes didn’t even quiver. I just leaned back against the thin hospital mattress and closed my eyes, letting the silence settle between us. … It wasn’t until we were in his military Jeep that he finally spoke, his voice a low growl of defense. “Don’t listen to the gossip. It was professional. Maya was invited here to perform for the troops. She got hurt on my watch; it was my responsibility to handle it.” “Okay,” I said softly. I didn’t add anything else. Giles’s temper flared suddenly. “You don’t believe me? Is this still about that? God, Cassie… I’ve come back to you. I’m here. What more do you want?” I stared out the window at the passing barracks, my profile a blank slate. “I believe you,” I said. “I just didn’t think I was an emergency. I didn’t want to interrupt your work. Let’s just go back to the quarters.” The same scripted response. Autopilot. Giles slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The horn blared, a sharp, ugly sound that cut through the winter air, startling a group of performers who were just finishing their set across the road. One girl looked up. As the moonlight hit her face, the air inside the Jeep turned to ice. “Maya… what is she still doing out here?” Giles muttered. He glanced at me instinctively. In the past, every time I saw her, I’d lose my mind. I’d scream, I’d cry, I’d demand to know why she was wearing a coat that looked like mine. But now, I just gave her a fleeting glance and looked away. Nothing. Giles gripped the wheel, but his eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. It was a brutal December night. The girl was shivering in a thin stage costume, her arms wrapped tight around herself, her nose red from the cold. His hand was already on the door handle. The concern was practically leaking out of him. I understood the script perfectly. I opened my door and stepped out, giving him the exit he was dying for. “If you need to do a final sweep of the camp, I can walk back. It’s not far.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned toward the intersection. Giles jumped out and caught my wrist. “It’s over between us, Cassie. I didn’t know she was here. Why won’t you trust me?” I nodded. “I do trust you, Giles. She’s a young girl in a tough spot. Even if it’s over, it’s normal to care. I get it.” He stared at my face. There was no bitterness there. No hidden edge. That was what terrified him. I used to have an insatiable hunger for his attention. If I found a single long hair on his uniform, I’d interrogate him until dawn. Now, I was exactly what he’d always begged me to be: reasonable, quiet, undemanding. But it felt like he was breathing through wet cotton. I pulled my hand back and walked away. At the corner, I stopped and looked back. Beside the Jeep, Giles had already draped his heavy coat over Maya’s shoulders. He was cupping her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her with a desperation that looked like pain. I wasn’t surprised. I should have seen it coming. I certainly wasn’t going to be the woman I was the first time I caught him—the “crazy wife” screaming, “Giles! Have you no shame? I’ve been with you since I was eighteen! We had nothing, and now you tell me you love someone else?” Back then, he had looked at the blood on his lip where I’d struck him and sneered, “Shame? You want to talk about shame? You were sleeping with me at eighteen. Your own parents didn’t even want you. I’m the one who took you out of that state home. I’ve raised you for a decade. You should be thanking me.” That sentence had been a poisoned blade, shredding twelve years of shared struggles, of shivering together in foxholes and building a life from dust. My phone vibrated, pulling me out of the graveyard of my memories. “Colonel Miller, the personal effects and pension documents for your biological parents have been verified. When can you come to the West Coast Command to finalize the claim?” I pulled my sleeve down to cover the faint white scar on my wrist. “Ten days. My divorce papers finish processing in ten days.” The voice on the line hesitated. “You and General Marshall… it’s been a long time. You can inherit the estate and the honors without transferring units.” I watched the lights of the base fade in the distance. “I don’t love him anymore,” I said. “I just want to go home to a place I’ve never been.” Back at the officer’s quarters, the first thing I saw was our wedding photo on the wall. We looked so young. Giles was laughing, his nose pressed affectionately against my temple. We grew up together in the state foster system. When I was eighteen, the director tried to marry me off to a bitter, middle-aged sergeant just to get me off the books. Giles was the one who grabbed my hand and helped me scale the back wall. The director had screamed after us, “Giles Marshall! You think you can protect her forever?” He had looked back, his eyes blazing with a reckless, beautiful light. “Watch me!” He used his enlistment bonus to rent the cheapest basement apartment in the city. “Once I’m through basic training and get my stripes, you can come with me as a registered dependent,” he promised. “No one will ever take you away again.” For the first three years, he crawled through the mud in Ranger school. Before every jump, every dangerous op, he’d tuck my photo into his breast pocket, right over his heart. I worked a desk job in logistics, saving every penny. During the leanest winters, we’d share a single bowl of instant noodles on New Year’s Eve and feel like royalty. Then he made Special Forces. I moved into Intelligence. We traded the basement for a dorm, the dorm for a house, and finally, for this villa. The stars on Giles’s shoulders got brighter, and the “colleagues” around him started looking different. Until the day I found a smudge of lipstick on the inside of his collar. “A girl tripped backstage at the gala, I helped her up, it was an accident!” he’d snapped, ripping his tie off. “Cassie, you’re a soldier too. Stop acting like a paranoid housewife.” “Do soldiers not betray people, Giles? We said forever. Not ‘forever until it gets boring.’” The screaming matches became our new language. I tracked his missions, his call logs, even snuck to the edge of the training grounds when he claimed he was pulling an all-nighter. Giles, out of spite, leaned into it. He cycled through women, sometimes coming home with scratches on his back just to see me break. “Satisfied?” he’d sneer. “You wanted to find something. Now you have.” I felt like a ghost, knowing I should leave but unable to find the door. Twelve years meant we were grafted together. Tearing apart meant losing skin. But a year ago, he “changed.” He cleared out the flings. He kept only one. When I saw Maya’s photo, I collapsed. That face. She looked exactly like I did at eighteen—innocent, wide-eyed, untouched by the world. Giles would rather love a ghost of me than the woman I had become to survive him. That night, I sat in a bathtub and opened my veins. Giles broke the door down, his hands shaking so hard he could barely apply the tourniquets. He carried me into the ER, his eyes bloodshot and terrifying. “Cassie! Are you insane? We’ll fix it! I promise, just you and me, no one else, ever again!” I lay in that hospital bed feeling nothing but a profound, hollow exhaustion. That was the day the JAG officer found me. He handed me a yellowed file. “Colonel Miller, the department re-investigated the casualty lists from the ’94 border conflict… These two officers? They were your biological parents.” I held the file, my fingers icy. After I hung up, I walked to the window of my private room. In the garden below, Giles was holding Maya. “I’m sorry, Maya. She’s unstable. Post-traumatic stress… I can’t leave her like this. Not now. But trust me, once she’s settled, I’ll make it right for us.” They kissed like star-crossed lovers. In that moment, the graft finally failed. The skin tore away. The hole in my chest was so large I couldn’t even make a sound. On my seventh day in the hospital, I realized the truth. I had to kill the woman who loved Giles Marshall to let the daughter of heroes live. For a week, Giles didn’t come home. I didn’t ask. I filed the divorce papers and the transfer request through official channels and started packing. I decided to return the keys to our first apartment—the small “temporary” housing we’d kept for years as a storage unit—to the base housing office. When I arrived at the unit with the housing clerk, the door was slightly ajar. I heard a woman’s soft laugh and a man’s rhythmic, heavy breathing. Through the crack in the door, I saw a discarded USO uniform on the floor. Giles had Maya pinned against the wall, his tactical pants around his knees. He was wearing his wedding ring. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a slow breath, and pulled the door closed. I turned to the clerk. “I’m sorry. Today isn’t a good day for the inspection. Let’s do it another time.” The clerk was a young officer. She’d heard the noises. She looked at me with a mix of pity and horror. “Colonel Miller… do you want me to report this?” I shook my head. “No. It’s a private matter. Let’s not bother the command.” What was the point of bursting in? To scream like a banshee? To beg him to remember our years in the trenches? A man whose heart has moved on is just an empty shell. You don’t fight over a shell. I hurried down the stairs, but Giles came charging out after me, his shirt untucked, his breath ragged. “Cassie? What are you doing here? What did you… what did you hear?” I pulled my wrist away, my face a mask of calm. “I was dropping off the keys. The door was closed, so I left.” He let out a visible breath of relief, thinking I was just being sentimental about our old place. “I was on maneuvers all week, just got back. Maya needed a place to rehearse, so I let her use the key… Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t bother pointing out the lie. I turned to leave. Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering erupted from inside the apartment, followed by the roar of a flash-fire! Giles’s face transformed. He grabbed my jaw, his eyes burning with a terrifying rage. “Did you do this? Cassie, I thought you were finally being rational, but this? This petty, dangerous bullshit?” “If Maya is hurt in there, I will personally see you court-martialed!” He shoved me aside and ran into the smoke. I started to walk away, but then I remembered—my parents’ original documents and the divorce filing were locked in the old safe in that bedroom. I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the hallway, smashed the window, and dived into the heat. The room was thick with black smoke. Giles was already carrying Maya out. When he saw me, his eyes went cold. “What are you doing? Get out!” I ignored him and ran for the bedroom. The curtains were melting. The safe was right next to the burning closet. “Cassie! You’re going to die for a safe? Get out!” Giles roared from the doorway. I knelt by the safe, spinning the dial. As the door clicked open, the overhead light fixture, heavy and wreathed in flames, buckled. Giles instinctively shielded Maya and jumped back toward the exit. The blast of heat threw me backward. Glass shards sliced into my arms, blood soaking through my shirt instantly. I clawed the envelope out of the safe and tucked it against my chest. The smoke filled my lungs. The world blurred. The last thing I heard was the sound of Giles’s boots running away from me, and the distant, lonely wail of a siren. When I woke up, I was back in the military hospital. Giles was sitting by the bed, holding the scorched envelope. Inside were two red booklets. “Marriage licenses? You almost died for our marriage licenses?” His voice was tight. “Cassie, you have a hairline fracture in your leg, smoke inhalation, and second-degree burns. You almost didn’t make it.” I reached out and took the envelope back. There were no marriage licenses in there. Just the documents I needed to leave him and the proof of who I actually was. Giles watched me clutch the envelope, his brow furrowed. “We all could have gotten out fine, but you had to make it a choice. You had to make me choose between you two just to see who was more important, didn’t you?” “Arson is a serious crime, Cassie. I saved Maya first because she had no gear, no training. You’re a soldier.” I stared at the white ceiling. “Okay,” I whispered. “Cassie.” His voice softened. “I told you, I’m committed to us. Maya… her family is in trouble. I was just helping her as a commanding officer. The apartment was temporary.” He helped her right into our bed. He talked about “family” while his body was still buzzing from someone younger. I finally looked at him. My eyes were like stagnant water. “I know. I understand.” The calm seemed to drive him crazy. He stood up abruptly, then caught sight of the massive bandage on my arm. “One scar wasn’t enough? You need more to keep me tethered to you?” “No more,” I said. “I’m done being stupid.” His comms unit buzzed. He stepped to the window to answer. I couldn’t hear the words, only the high, sobbing pitch of Maya’s voice. Giles whispered a few reassurances, then turned back to me. “There’s an emergency with the debrief. I have to go to HQ. Rest up.” He left without looking back. I stayed in the hospital for a few more days. Giles sent flowers and supplements, and he called every day. I had the nurses answer. “She’s stable. No visitors.” On the day of my discharge, I was limping toward the billing desk on crutches when an older woman shoved past me. “My son-in-law is a General here. Move aside.” I frowned. “Wait your turn, ma’am.” She sneered at me. “Do you know who you’re talking to? My son-in-law is Giles Marshall. If I don’t get my heart medication on time, he’ll have your badge.” Before I could respond, Giles and Maya appeared at the end of the hall. He pulled me aside, his voice a frantic whisper. “Maya’s mother has a weak heart. She can’t handle stress. You’re a soldier, Cassie. Set an example. Let the civilian go first.” Maya held her mother’s arm, her eyes welling up. “Cassie, I’m so sorry… my mom’s heart is acting up. I told her Giles was my fiancé so she’d agree to take the expensive meds… please don’t be mad at him. He’s just a good man who can’t stand to see an old woman suffer.” I looked at the three of them. So, because Maya’s mother had a cough, he left his wife—the woman with a broken leg and charred skin—alone in a hospital bed? Fine. It didn’t matter anymore. I nodded and turned to leave. I’d only taken two steps when I heard Maya’s shaky whisper: “Giles, is she mad? Is she going to do what she did last time? I’m so scared for your career…” Giles’s voice was soft, but it carried perfectly through the sterile air. “Don’t worry about her. She grew up without parents. she doesn’t understand what family means. She doesn’t have the capacity for that kind of empathy.” My fingers tightened on the crutches until my knuckles went white. I walked, one agonizing step at a time, down the long corridor. Giles’s boots echoed behind me. “Cassie, wait. I’ll give you a ride back to the quarters.” I didn’t stop. I tried to go faster. The tip of my crutch hit a wet patch on the linoleum. I went down hard. My burned arm hit the floor, and I felt the wound tear open. The pain was so sharp it broke something deep inside my chest. I grit my teeth, my nails digging into my palms, but the tears leaked out anyway. All my life, I had hated the holidays. I’d watch the warm lights in people’s windows, listen to the laughter, and feel a dull ache like a knife in my ribs. Giles knew that. He was the only person in the world who knew how much that scar hurt. And he had just used it to comfort his mistress. He ran over to pick me up, his voice laced with annoyance. “Cassie! Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Suddenly, a heavy thermos flew through the air and struck me in the face. Hot soup scalded my skin. My forehead began to swell instantly. Maya’s mother stood there, shaking with rage. “You hussy! Trying to steal my son-in-law? I’ll show you!” She lunged forward and slapped me. I fell back again, my head spinning. Then, she swung her own cane and caught me square in the shoulder. I heard a dull thud against my bone. Giles finally stepped in, catching the woman’s cane. “Ma’am! Please! Calm down! It’s not what you think!” “Then what is it?” she shrieked. “This tramp was throwing herself into your arms! I have eyes!” I forced myself up. “Control your daughter! Ask her who the tramp is!” Giles whipped around, his voice a desperate, low hiss: “She has severe coronary disease, Cassie! She can’t take the shock! I’m begging you, don’t make a scene now!” He turned back to the mother, his voice soothing. “You’ve misunderstood. This is Colonel Miller. She’s a fellow officer. She’s had some… mental instability since the war. She gets confused…” He actually pulled my medical file out of his pocket to show her. The old woman spat on the floor. “A crazy soldier? No wonder her parents died early. No one was around to teach her any manners.” Giles practically carried her away. He never once looked back at me. I sat on the floor and watched them go. I couldn’t even cry anymore. A kind nurse helped me back into a treatment room and re-dressed my wounds. “Colonel,” she whispered, “do you want me to call security?” I shook my head. “No. Just process my discharge.” I went back to the quarters and finished packing my single duffel bag. My phone buzzed. Maya had posted an update. A photo of her wearing Giles’s uniform jacket, leaning against his chest. The caption: Through the smoke and the fire, I found you. Worth every bit of pain. I scrolled past it and hit “Unfollow.” Downstairs, the transport I’d ordered was waiting. I climbed into the back. “To the military airfield,” I said. As we pulled out of the gates, a black SUV passed us in the opposite direction. Giles was in the back, talking animatedly to someone. Maya was leaning on his shoulder, laughing. We drove in opposite directions, faster and faster. In the rearview mirror, the base shrunk into a tiny dot and then vanished. I thought about being eighteen and climbing that wall. Twenty and standing at his commissioning ceremony. Twenty-two and exchanging rings in the chapel. Twenty-eight and watching the women cycle through his life. The images flashed by, then fell away. It was over. Now, I was going to finish the flight my parents never got to. I was going to the sky they died protecting.

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On Valentine’s Day, right in front of all his colleagues, my husband generously shared the story of our first time together. “Don’t let my wife’s quiet, demure look fool you. Back when she was chasing me, she went totally commando! “She was the one who got me drunk and dragged me into a hotel room with a king-size bed. Bet you guys didn’t expect that, huh? “A lot of my business deals are thanks to her bottomless tolerance for alcohol. You guys don’t believe me? Then try to outdrink her!” Arthur chuckled, pushing me forward to toast the clients, constantly praising how “supportive” and “virtuous” I was. After seeing the guests off, I accidentally overheard him bragging to his friend: “While we were dating, I trained my wife to be exactly what I wanted. This way, I don’t have to lift a finger in the future; she’ll just habitually serve me. “In psychology, they call this the ‘Dog Whistle’ effect.” It was only then that I realized: My love for Arthur Vance was nothing more than the dog whistle in his hand. 1 By the time Arthur returned from entertaining clients at a karaoke bar, it was already 2:00 AM. The living room lights were off. The dining table hadn’t been cleared, and a thick layer of grease had congealed over the pork rib soup. Arthur frowned: “How can you be so lazy that you didn’t even clear the table? What if someone comes over tomorrow morning? Aren’t you embarrassed?” He kicked off his leather shoes and instinctively held out his jacket. But no one rushed forward to take his jacket, which reeked of alcohol and cheap perfume. He looked toward the kitchen. On the kitchen counter, there wasn’t the usual bowl of perfectly warmed, stomach-soothing porridge waiting for him. Arthur froze for only a second before quickly walking toward the bedroom. Seeing the bedside lamp on and me sitting up in bed looking at my phone, Arthur frowned for the second time. He strode over to me and plopped down heavily. He spread his arms, waiting for me to untie his tie: “Wife, what is wrong with you today? You had a sour look on your face the whole time at the dinner table, and now you didn’t even make me a late-night snack. You scared the clients away. “But thankfully, your husband is capable. After hustling all day, I finally closed the deal. I’m exhausted. “Go make me a bowl of noodles, add an egg. I’ll eat it after I shower.” I continued scrolling on my phone, motionless. It seemed that ever since we got married, Arthur had grown accustomed to me taking care of his every need. From helping him dress and putting on his slippers, to grocery shopping and cooking. To situations like today, where I played the role of the smiling, accommodating wife at his business dinners. I was his nanny, his maid, and his scene partner in the corporate theater. I was the wife he could push forward to take the literal and metaphorical bullets for him. But what Arthur said today made me freeze. Seeing me ignoring him and staring at my phone, Arthur’s face darkened: “Chloe, what is the meaning of this? “If you’re angry because I didn’t get you a Valentine’s Day gift, then you’re just being completely unreasonable. The money from this deal I just closed will ultimately be used for our family, won’t it? Isn’t that the best gift? “Forget it, there’s no talking to someone as selfish as you. I’m going to shower. Harmony is the most important thing in a marriage. Why do you always have to ruin the mood? “You’re always the one starting arguments. If I ever cheat on you in the future, it’ll probably be because you drove me to it!” Arthur sighed heavily, acting as if I had committed some unforgivable sin. He walked away angrily, yet closed the door gently behind him. As if he were afraid of waking me. And as if to prove that he was enduring my bad temper, that he was always the accommodating, forgiving one. With just a few sentences from him. I had suddenly become the sinner, the one who ruined the atmosphere. My eyes fell on the wrinkled tie he had thrown on the floor. My thoughts raced wildly. 2 Yesterday, I got up at 5:00 AM to iron his clothes, then went to the farmer’s market to buy the freshest fish. I worked all day just to prepare the exact kind of dinner he wanted—one that felt warm and homey, yet sophisticated enough to impress. But he brought his guests home early. I rushed to open the door, still wearing my apron, only to be met with a barrage of his disgust: “Why don’t you have any makeup on? I can tolerate you being a slob normally, but you look like this when guests are here? “It’s so embarrassing! Go change your clothes right now!” I was just about to explain. I hadn’t put on makeup because I had been cooking all day. I hadn’t changed because the kitchen was full of smoke and grease, and I hadn’t had time to clean up yet. But Arthur pulled the door wide open, letting a whole group of people see my bare-faced, flustered state. My face was sallow from the cooking fumes, and my red plaid apron looked completely out of place next to the glamorous, jewel-draped wives of his clients. The piercing, judging stares made me instantly lower my head in deep shame. I bolted upstairs to change. And heard Arthur downstairs, delivering his familiar opening monologue: “My wife is just a bit unkempt normally, but I love her simple, rustic nature. She’s from the country and doesn’t know how to dress up, so please don’t mind her, haha. “Sigh, I’m used to looking at her by now. I married her, what else can I do? “Usually, I’m the one doing all the laundry and cooking around here. Being married is no different from being single. Ugh, don’t get me started, it’s a tragic tale. “But a man has to be accommodating. No matter how successful I become, I could never do something like abandoning the wife who stuck with me through the hard times. Otherwise, what’s the difference between me and some ungrateful scumbag? “Alright, alright, just keep this between us. Don’t mention it when my wife comes down later. I don’t want her feeling bad, because then I’ll just have to coax her later. “Let’s eat, let’s eat! Come taste my plain wife’s cooking. “Hahaha.” Downstairs erupted into a chorus of laughter. Arthur always used putting me down as a quick icebreaker. When I came down in my nice clothes and took my seat, I could always feel the evaluating stares coming from all directions. Those stares were like nails, making me incredibly uncomfortable. I didn’t even have to guess; Arthur had definitely shared our romantic history again. “Don’t let my wife’s quiet, demure look fool you. Back when she was chasing me, she went totally commando!” Arthur held up his wine glass, nudging me with his elbow: “Wife, tell them, isn’t it true? “Back then, her skirt was so short it barely covered her butt. When we got to the hotel, she whipped out her ID and booked a king-size room—with a waterbed, no less! “When my wife threw me down on the bed, I realized she was actually commando! “It scared me half to death. I ran out of there in the middle of the night, hahaha…” This wasn’t the first time Arthur had said these things in public. It was always with different clients, and always featuring different embarrassing stories from various periods of my life. Arthur always consoled me by saying it was just a business tactic, telling me to prioritize his career. The goal was to quickly close the distance with his clients by sharing intimate details. At first, I strongly resisted. 3 Back then, we had just gotten married, and I didn’t know I was already pregnant. One night, I accidentally wet the bed. I was mortified and tried to hide it, but Arthur found out. He laughed as he got up to wash the sheets, comforting me the whole time: “Wife, it’s no big deal. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. Why are you being so formal with me? “Washing your sheets now is nothing. When you’re old, I wouldn’t even mind cleaning up your shit and piss. We’re married, we’re family.” I was so incredibly moved at the time. But the very next day, at his company’s celebration banquet. I heard him enthusiastically sharing the story with all his bosses and colleagues: “Who would have thought that Chloe, pushing thirty, would still wet the bed at night? You guys have no idea, when I was washing those sheets, the smell was so bad it burned my eyes. I was dying trying to hold in my laughter. “Sigh, but she’s my woman. What else can I do but spoil her?” In that moment, the blood rushed to my head, and I suffered a complete emotional breakdown right there on the spot. I was so angry I couldn’t even form coherent sentences, crying as I asked him how he could humiliate me like that. But Arthur just blinked, looking completely innocent: “Wife, stop being angry. It’s not like I said I was disgusted by you. You’re just being too sensitive.” His colleagues and bosses also chimed in: “Yeah, Manager Vance is such a good man. What man nowadays is willing to wash sheets for a woman, especially… those kinds of sheets. “Director Vance, you can’t take your blessings for granted. This is a celebration banquet. It’s not right for you to make a scene over nothing. “Yeah, Chloe, don’t be ungrateful.” Those light, careless words instantly made my stomach churn, and my head started spinning. I was so furious I flipped the table over, then my vision went black and I passed out. When I woke up, I found out I was pregnant. The urinary incontinence was also due to the pregnancy. But because of my extreme emotional agitation, I had suffered a miscarriage. The crushing grief of losing my child, combined with the terrible impression my outburst at the banquet left on management, and the mocking looks from my colleagues… Led me to voluntarily resign at the age of twenty-six, right at the peak of my career. Arthur was also very regretful. He knelt and apologized to me, then took time off work to care for me. “Wife, this isn’t your fault. I should blame myself for not noticing you were pregnant. I wasn’t attentive enough. “Sigh. If only you could have restrained yourself a bit and not been so emotional, things would be fine. “Once the baby was born, you would have become the regional manager. Now, your job is gone, and the baby is…” Arthur sighed deeply. I don’t know why, but starting from that moment. Whenever he sighed, I would think of the child I miscarried. My heart would clench painfully, and I would become inexplicably irritable and angry. And whenever that happened, Arthur would hold me and comfort me. Aside from constantly belittling me, Arthur was impeccable in every other aspect. Everyone said he was the model of a perfect husband. Just then, the sound of the shower running in the bathroom started, and I could hear Arthur humming a light tune. Three years of marriage had left my heart riddled with holes and utterly exhausted. I was afraid to go outside, and I dreaded returning to work. I slowly became numb. The only person I interacted with every day was Arthur. It felt like my vitality and spirit had been completely drained. But Arthur was doing better and better. His career was booming, and his reputation as a devoted husband was widely known. But was that really the truth? If he loved me, why was I so exhausted? I stared blankly at the search results for “Dog Whistle” on my phone: [The Dog Whistle effect refers to using subtle language, actions, or signals to trigger a victim, causing them to lose emotional control in a public setting. [The abuser masquerades as an innocent victim, leveraging the public’s misunderstanding of the victim to seize the moral high ground. [The victim often loses their sense of judgment through repeated cycles of self-doubt. [In a marriage, any manipulation disguised as ‘love’ should be approached with extreme caution.] I read it all night, and my heart turned from hot to freezing cold. Had my unreserved, unconditional love become the dog whistle in his mouth? Thinking about how all my sacrifices over the years had been calculated by him, how my youth had become a massive joke, a deep, seething hatred began to spread in my heart. Suddenly, a bold plan formed in my mind. Looking at Arthur’s silhouette in the bathroom, a bizarre, chilling smile spread across my face. 4 The next morning, I woke up at my usual time. But I found that the leftover mess on the dining table had been cleaned up, a fresh bouquet of lilies had been set out, and the floor was spotless. And Arthur was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, bustling around. He expertly blended a fruit and vegetable smoothie and put it in the fridge, then turned around to fry some eggs. Seeing me come out, he looked a bit surprised. He wiped his hands and walked out. “Wife, why are you up so early? Did I wake you? “You drank quite a bit yesterday. Go back to sleep for a while. You don’t need to cook today; I’ll go buy groceries later. “What do you want hubby to make? Sweet and sour ribs? Or your favorite little yellow croaker?” Seeing Arthur’s genuine expression, I felt a momentary lapse in reality. His tone was intimate, as if absolutely nothing had happened yesterday. “Wife? Happy Valentine’s Day!” A diamond necklace was draped around my neck. The cold touch snapped me back to reality. I looked down at the expensive necklace, while Arthur’s sigh echoed in my ear: “Sigh, yesterday was my fault, okay? “But I didn’t forget your gift. Stop throwing little tantrums, alright?” Hearing his nonchalant tone and that deep, deliberate sigh, I was no longer angry. Instead, I analyzed it rationally. He knew perfectly well that I hated when he sighed, that it triggered me. Yet he intentionally used this subtle signal to stimulate me. I could already picture exactly what Arthur would say if I exploded on the spot. “I already apologized, what more do you want? “Chloe, go out and ask around. How many men do a better job than I do? I think you should learn to be content.” Then he would storm out of the house in anger, leaving me to feel guilty for a long time, only to end up serving him even more attentively to make up for it. This wasn’t a diamond necklace. This was the dog leash Arthur used to tie me down. I masked the absolute disgust in my eyes, turning my head to give Arthur a bright smile. “Hubby, thank you for the gift. I was just being unreasonable yesterday. “You go focus on your work. I’ll clean up around the house.” Arthur, instead, looked stunned, but quickly recovered: “Chloe, I’m so glad you can see it that way. “Remember, everything I do is for the good of this family. It’s all for you.”

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My older sister, who died in an accident, moved into my body, and we started sharing it. At first, my parents didn’t believe me. Later, they got used to our souls switching back and forth. And then, they hired a hypnotist to erase my existence entirely. 1 I went crazy, smashing everything in the house that wasn’t bolted down. The countless shards covering the floor felt like my soul screaming for help. My mom covered her mouth, her face wet with tears. My dad looked furious, but he didn’t try to stop me. I roared at them, “Why?! This is my body! Why do I have to give it up for her?!” My dad rubbed his temples, seemingly having made up his mind. “We consulted a psychiatrist. You and Chloe can’t go on like this. Neither of you can live a normal life. So, we have to erase one of you. “Your mom and I are in a lot of pain too. You’re our daughter as well. We wouldn’t have made this decision if there was any other way. You have to understand us.” I grabbed a glass next to me and smashed it at my dad’s feet. Shattered glass flew everywhere. My dad instinctively took a step back. He wanted to yell at me, but remembering what he was asking me to do, he bit his tongue. “I have to understand you?! Who’s going to understand me?! You’re in pain, you have no other choice, so why am I the one who has to die?! This is my body. If anyone should disappear, it should be Chloe!” I was suffocating from a mix of rage and despair. I couldn’t understand how my parents, who had doted on me just days ago, now wanted to murder me. Hearing my words, my mom sobbed out loud. My dad frowned, annoyed, and corrected me. “What do you mean ‘die’? Your sister will use your body to live on for you. Whether you agree or not, the decision has been made.” With that, my dad lost his patience. He grabbed my mom and dragged her out of the house. After smashing a few more things, I collapsed to the floor, drained of energy. Three words echoed endlessly in my mind. Why should I? 2 I had an older sister named Chloe. She was three years older than me. I remember when I was six, my parents came home very late, their faces etched with sorrow. Seeing me, my mom broke down completely. She hugged me tight and mumbled through her tears, “Chloe is dead. Maya, you don’t have a sister anymore.” I was confused, but seeing my mom cry made my young self cry too. While sobbing, I pointed at the pile of dolls nearby. “Isn’t Chloe right there?” At first, my parents didn’t believe me and scolded me several times for saying it. Later, I repeated conversations they had secretly in their bedroom. At first, they thought I was eavesdropping. But over time, they realized I wasn’t, and they finally believed me. I really wasn’t lying to them. Chloe had been with me the whole time. She went to her own room to sleep just like before, went to school with me, and told me the things my parents said in their room. She knew she was dead. But when I told other people I could see Chloe, they looked at me like I was an idiot. Some people would even say, “What a tragedy! Only two kids in the family—one’s dead, and the other’s crazy.” Some relatives and classmates even called me a liar looking for attention. On the surface, my classmates still played with me, but I caught them secretly laughing at me more than once. Whenever that happened, Chloe would pounce on them and try to hit them. But Chloe was just a ghost; she couldn’t hurt the living. At most, she could make them sneeze a couple of times. After that, I stopped mentioning Chloe to anyone, except my parents. At home, we lived together just like before. My parents got used to her existence through my words. They couldn’t see her. But whenever they bought me something, they’d buy one for Chloe too. No amount of distance could lessen the deep love they had for their deceased daughter. I became the messenger, relaying Chloe’s thoughts to them. Until I was sixteen. I suddenly couldn’t see her anymore. At the same time, I lost two days of my life. My parents told me Chloe had awakened inside my body. Those two lost days were when Chloe used my body to live. From then on, I often woke up to find that several days had passed. Chloe and I continued to share one body. We would write in a journal to tell each other what happened during the days we “disappeared.” Three years flew by. I just never imagined that in a mere three years, my parents would be willing to sacrifice me for her. 3 Maybe it was my subconscious rejecting my feelings for Chloe, but I could feel her sleeping very deeply inside me. I sighed in relief. But remembering what my parents said yesterday, that relief instantly vanished. After venting my anger yesterday, my mind became incredibly clear. I was never as bold and outgoing as Chloe. My outburst yesterday was my absolute limit. If I hadn’t been terrified out of my mind, I never would have smashed anything. After washing up, I guessed they would be disappointed to see it was still me when I woke up. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I opened my bedroom door. Sure enough, the moment my parents saw me, the hope in their eyes turned to disappointment. Even though I was prepared for it, the feeling of being abandoned by my own parents violently tore at my heart. The mess I made yesterday had been cleaned up at some point, and the broken items had been replaced. I forced myself to stay calm and walked downstairs. My dad let out a scoff through his nose and completely ignored me. My mom tried to say something several times, but it only ended in a sigh. My nose stung. Along with my grievances, the air was thick with the scent of flowers. A bouquet of lilies sat dead center on the dining table. There were more on the coffee table in the living room, in the bathroom, and even on the kitchen counter. Everywhere I looked, I saw lilies—Chloe’s favorite flower. My parents were using this to show me who was boss, while also expressing their eager anticipation for Chloe to wake up. I heard the sound of my love for my parents shattering, and the sound of myself nearing a breaking point. Unable to stand the overpowering scent and the suffocating atmosphere, I finally grabbed my bag and ran out. It wasn’t until I was outside the neighborhood that I realized my face was drenched in tears. I took the bus to campus like a robot. I sobbed as I watched the scenery outside the window flash by, just like the last three years of my life. When I got to my classroom, my surprised classmates told me I had switched majors. In that moment, an unprecedented fury burned away the last shred of affection I had for Chloe. 4 My counselor told me I couldn’t switch majors again. My original major had strict requirements. Once you transferred out, you couldn’t transfer back in. I walked to the Business Administration building like a zombie. Listening to technical jargon I didn’t understand at all, surrounded by the chatter of unfamiliar classmates. I felt like I was in another world. I suffered through the classes until the afternoon. It was still bright out, but I had zero desire to go home. I wandered aimlessly around campus. My thoughts were a mess, but one thing was certain. Chloe had been planning to replace me for a long time. No wonder her journal entries had become shorter and shorter; she didn’t want me to know what she was doing. After walking for a long time, my legs ached. I slumped onto a bench by the path, completely lost. On one side, a major I knew nothing about. On the other, a family trying to steal my body. I leaned my head back against the bench, imagining myself enveloped by the sky. When I lowered my gaze, the word “Library” came into view. By the time I walked out of the library carrying a stack of books, the sun had already set. When I got home, my mom had finished cooking. Seeing me with a pile of business books, she looked a bit awkward. From her expression, it wasn’t hard to guess—they definitely knew about the major change. It might have even been their idea. At the dinner table, the food tasted like ash. I only took a few extra bites of the dishes I actually liked. My mom smiled, trying to ease the tension: “Honey, look, Maya really takes after us. She loves fish just as much. Chloe is different; she never ate anything from the water since she was little.” It would have been better if she hadn’t said anything. The atmosphere grew even more awkward. My dad set down his wine glass and said, “I heard you brought home a lot of business books. You must know Chloe changed your major. Just listen to me. Chloe is smart. If she studies this, she can help me with the company. Even if you study it now, you’re just forcing it. It’s useless. Maya, you know what I mean.” I nodded, continuing to shovel a few grains of rice into my mouth. Seeing me so submissive, my parents thought I had agreed. They exclaimed joyfully, “So you’ve thought it through! Good. I’ll contact the hypnotist in the next few days. Then you can finally live a normal life.” I looked up, staring straight into my dad’s eyes. “Will I be normal, or will Chloe be normal?” My dad frowned slightly, but quickly smiled again. “She’s your sister, you share a body. If she’s normal, doesn’t that mean you’re normal?” I nodded again. Under their joyful gaze, I enunciated every word: “Even if I have to burn this body to ashes, I will never let Chloe have it.” It took a second for it to register. My dad threw his wine glass to the floor. He pointed at me, panting heavily, clearly furious. My mom glared at me reproachfully while rubbing my dad’s back to calm him down. I really couldn’t stay in this house anymore. If I stayed with two people constantly plotting to steal my body, I’d definitely go crazy. I quickly packed a bag and moved back to the dorms that very night. 5 Living on campus, I went to classes during the day and devoured books in the library at night. My dad always thought Chloe was exceptionally smart, but he never noticed that I had a near-photographic memory. As long as it was knowledge I wanted to learn, it only took one or two reads for it to stick in my brain. During this time, my mom contacted me several times. At first, she tried to coax me, but later she started calling me ungrateful. I just didn’t get it. All I wanted was to live. We were both their daughters. Just because Chloe died once, they felt guilty and wanted to make it up to her—so they had to sacrifice me to make themselves feel better. Seeing that persuasion was useless, my parents sent a negotiator. Someone I couldn’t refuse. Liam. My childhood friend, and the guy I secretly, hopelessly loved. “Maya, please. Give Chloe back to me, okay?” “What… what do you mean your Chloe?” A chill shot up from the soles of my feet. I could hear my own voice, trembling and weak. Liam didn’t seem to notice my emotional state. “Maya, I’ve actually known about you and Chloe for a long time. I know you definitely won’t agree, so I’m begging you. I really can’t live without her. You’ve gotten to live for so many years, but Chloe had an accident when she was so young. It’s a miracle she survived in your body, but it’s only been three years. What if she suddenly disappears one day? The thought of her disappearing makes me feel like I’m suffocating. So I’m begging you, agree to what your parents want. That way, your body and Chloe’s soul will merge into one. Isn’t that great? Why do you have to be so selfish?” I was so shocked I couldn’t believe my ears. I stood there, frozen. Liam continued, “Maya, we grew up together. I’ve never begged you for anything. But now, I’m begging you. Do you want me to get on my knees?” And with that, Liam actually knelt down. My hands trembled as I reached out to help him up, but he suddenly grabbed me, his eyes bloodshot. “Maya, promise me right now.” His fierce look terrified me. Instinctively, I tried to break free, but his grip was iron-clad. Panicked, I blurted out, “You’re trying to force me to die too! Let me tell you, keep dreaming! I’m not going to die. The one who should be dead is Chloe!” I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. I shouldn’t have let my anger put me in danger. Sure enough, Liam’s handsome face contorted. He glared at me venomously. “Since that’s how it is, don’t blame me. I absolutely cannot lose Chloe.” The next second, a large, hot hand clamped over my mouth. We had met in a secluded corner of the campus. No matter how hard I struggled, it was unlikely anyone would find us. Eventually, everything faded to black. 6 Liam looked at the unconscious figure in his arms, a fleeting trace of guilt crossing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Maya. If it’s possible, I’ll work like a dog in the next life to repay you.” With that, he quickly carried her out of the campus and got into a car.

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The day my billionaire parents finally found me, I was busy gutting fish at the local farmer’s market. After they brought me home, the fake heiress spent all day trying to gaslight and manipulate me with her two-faced “mean girl” act. Unfortunately for her, I had barely spent a day in school, so I didn’t understand a single word of her passive-aggressive nonsense. My biological brother couldn’t stand watching it anymore, so he gifted me a Mean Girl Survival Guide. I ended up being a natural. I just smiled goofily at the fake heiress and said, “Haha, if you’re trying to provoke me, you’re basically punching a marshmallow~” I made her so mad she literally ended up in the hospital. 1 When my biological parents found me, I was passionately gutting a fish. It was the dead of summer. I was wearing a heavy, waterproof apron, and my meat cleaver was rattling aggressively against the chopping block. I was completely covered in a foul mixture of fish scales and blood. I stared blankly at the impeccably dressed couple standing in front of my stall. Their faces were completely unfamiliar to me. I asked them absentmindedly, “Can I get you a fresh bass?” The man ignored the stench and pulled me into a tight hug. “Mia, you’re our daughter. Mommy and Daddy are taking you home now, okay?” Seeing how sincere he looked, I nodded and agreed, but I made one strict demand: I had to bring my little stray dog with me. I couldn’t read the complicated emotions swirling in their eyes. My dad patted my head. “Mia, how about we go home and buy you a brand-new puppy? A Poodle, or a Maltese? Anything you want.” I shook my head stubbornly, scooped up my little mutt, and climbed into their luxury SUV. My mom kept staring at me, repeatedly telling me not to get the car interior dirty. I nodded and hugged my dog, Buddy, even tighter. “I’m a very good girl, Mom. And Buddy is too.” Only then did she turn her head away and stop looking at me. 2 We pulled up to the mansion, and a girl looking to be exactly my age was waiting at the front door. She was wearing a pristine white sundress with a delicate little flower pinned in her hair. She looked beautiful. My mom rushed over and hugged her, rubbing her back. “Sophia, Mommy’s home.” I clutched Buddy to my chest and hid behind my dad. I was so dirty; I didn’t want to stain that perfect white dress. Dad pulled me out from behind him. I awkwardly watched the mother and daughter holding each other. The girl turned, wanting to hug Dad, but she hesitated and didn’t step forward. I tactfully stepped aside to give them space, but Dad pulled me right back. “This is your sister. She was adopted, but we’ve raised her like our own flesh and blood all these years, so she is your real sister.” I nodded, vigorously wiped my free hand on my dirty apron, and reached out. “Hi, sister!” She looked at me with absolute terror and quickly glanced at Mom. “Does sister think I’m dirty?” I asked Dad. Tears welled up in Dad’s eyes. He reached out and grabbed my hovering, outstretched hand. “Mia is not dirty.” Mom finally snapped out of it. Looking at me with a face full of guilt, she asked the housekeeper, Maria, to take me upstairs to get cleaned up. Honestly, I really wasn’t dirty! I took a shower every single day after selling fish! It was my first time ever soaking in a real bathtub. Everything was so fascinating. Meanwhile, Maria was washing Buddy in the sink. Turns out, Buddy wasn’t a yellow dog—he was actually a white dog. I sweatdropped a little at that. 3 While I was comfortably soaking in the tub, Mom walked in carrying a dress. “This is a dress Sophia used to wear… When I have time, I’ll take you out to buy brand-new ones…” Before she could even finish her sentence, I stood up in the tub, my eyes sparkling, and gave her a goofy, massive smile. “A dress! This is my first time wearing a dress! It’s so pretty!” Mom stared at me and suddenly burst into tears. Did I scare her? She hugged me, her heart breaking. “Mia, why do you have so many scars on your body?” I looked down at my hands, my legs, my shoulders. Some were old and fading, while others had just recently scabbed over. “Some are from gutting fish. I wasn’t very good at it when I first started, so I kept chopping my own hands. The others are from my old dad. He used to hit me whenever he got drunk,” I said, completely unbothered. “But later on, I got really, really good at gutting fish, and I never accidentally cut myself again! Mom, aren’t I amazing?” I looked at her, fully expecting praise. Instead, Mom pulled me into a crushing hug and sobbed uncontrollably. She eventually slipped the dress over my head, but it was much too big for me. Then, for reasons I couldn’t understand, she started crying even louder. Her wailing brought Dad running. He asked her what was wrong. Mom choked out that I was far too skinny. I didn’t look like a sixteen-year-old at all. Oh, so that was it. I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought she was crying because I looked so ugly in my sister’s dress! It was my first time wearing a dress, and I spun around in circles, amazed by how the fabric flared out. I kept asking Dad if I looked pretty. And then, I walked straight into a pillar. Since when was there a pillar in the middle of the hallway? Oh, it was my older brother, Ethan. He looked down at me with pure disgust. “Where did this skinny little monkey come from?” Dad immediately smacked him upside the head. I walked over and blew on Ethan’s arm, telling him that if I blew on it, the pain would go away. He just stared at me, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. 4 Now, Sophia was the only one in the house too afraid to come near me. But I had already washed off all the dirt! When she looked at me, she started crying too. I concluded that I must have some magical superpower that made everyone who looked at me burst into tears. Sophia clung to Mom and refused to let go. “Mommy, I don’t want to go gut fish.” Why didn’t she want to gut fish? It was a great gig. My adoptive dad paid me one dollar for every fish I prepped. I had saved almost a thousand dollars! A whole thousand bucks! Mom looked at Dad pleadingly. Dad looked at me. “Why does sister have to go gut fish?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Because your sister is the biological child of your adoptive parents. After you went missing, we found her. We thought it was fate, so we adopted her,” Dad explained. No wonder I thought she looked familiar! She looked just like my adoptive mom. What a coincidence. I was my parents’ real daughter, got lost, and was adopted by her parents. She was my adoptive parents’ real daughter, got lost, and was adopted by my parents. Dad looked at me hesitantly. “Mia, what if we don’t send your sister back?” “As long as we have three thousand dollars a month, that’s fine!” I answered with a bright smile. “Why three thousand?” “Because I only need five hundred dollars a month to live. Three kids would be fifteen hundred. Plus you, Mom, and Maria, that’s six people. So, we just need three thousand bucks!” I calculated proudly on my fingers. Dad’s eyes instantly went red again. Sigh, how long was my crying-curse going to last? I stopped crying when I was five, yet these full-grown adults were crying all the time. “Mia, you can spend five thousand a month if you want. Mommy and Daddy have a lot of money. Look at this giant house we live in.” “Five thousand dollars?!” I was utterly shell-shocked. So my parents were actually rich! Well, of course we could afford to keep my sister then. We could afford to keep dozens and dozens of sisters! 5 Sophia looked at me timidly. “Sister, you really aren’t going to kick me out? I don’t want to leave Mommy and Daddy.” “Of course not!” Mom let out a massive sigh of relief and instantly pulled Sophia into a tight embrace. Watching the two of them hug, tears suddenly pricked my eyes. How weird. What was going on today? I had just been making fun of them for crying, and now I was crying too. Dad looked at Mom, then coughed awkwardly. I sniffled and asked Dad if he was feeling sick. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around me. Ah, now it’s fair, I thought. One hug for each of us. Wait, no, it’s not fair! I wriggled out of Dad’s embrace. While he watched in confusion, I ran over and hugged Ethan. Then I tossed Buddy into Dad’s arms. Yep… now it’s perfectly fair. Seeing us all tangled up together, Maria laughed and called us into the dining room for dinner. I had never seen such an extravagant feast in my entire life. Ethan called me a country bumpkin, but I ignored him. Sophia picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks to put on my plate. I held my bowl up to catch it. Mom smiled warmly, watching this picture-perfect scene of sisterly harmony. “Oh! Sister… do you still hate me?” I don’t know how it happened, but the food Sophia tried to give me completely missed my bowl and fell onto the floor. I had been holding my bowl perfectly still! I didn’t even process what Sophia was whining about. My eyes were entirely focused on the dropped food. I quickly picked the piece of eggplant off the floor and popped it into my mouth. Mom stared at me like I was a space alien. I panicked and frantically tried to explain, “If it falls on the floor and you pick it up within five seconds, you can still eat it! That’s how I’ve always eaten…” Besides, the marble floors in this house were polished to a mirror shine. They weren’t dirty at all. I caught a flash of shock in Sophia’s eyes before she instantly masked it with her timid expression. “Sister, it’s all my fault. I didn’t hold it tight enough…” “It’s fine, sister! I’ll just serve myself.” “Sister really does hate me…” Sophia whimpered, looking like she was about to burst into tears again. “Ah… no! Jeez, I just wanted to try every single dish on the table, and I didn’t want to tire your arms out!” I blurted out, thoroughly embarrassed. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. And then, I actually did. Ethan started laughing hysterically. He laughed so hard I was too embarrassed to come out. Eventually, Mom had to pull me out from under the table and personally put a piece of every single dish onto my plate. I had never eaten food this delicious! I was perfectly happy again. 6 “Sister, are you really okay with just leaving your old home? Don’t you miss your adoptive parents? I can’t even imagine what I’d do without Mommy and Daddy,” Sophia asked me curiously. “Hmm… I guess I miss it a little. Gutting fish is really tiring, but I got one dollar for every fish! Over the past two years, I saved up a whole thousand dollars! Plus, even though my adoptive dad hit me, he always avoided my face so I wouldn’t miss work at the fish market.” “Oh, and the kids in the neighborhood always complained about how exhausting school was. My adoptive parents never made me go to school, so I got to skip all that!” I replied cheerfully. Sophia looked absolutely flabbergasted. I figured she must be super jealous of my cool lifestyle. “If you want to try it out, I can take you with me! I’m super experienced! I can show you the ropes, and together, we can dominate the fish market!” “Mommy… Sister is… she’s threatening me again! Waaaah!” She burst into tears and threw her arms around Mom. “Huh? Sister, no I’m not! I just thought my adoptive parents would be really happy to see you. Just like my Mommy and Daddy were really happy to see me.” “Sister, please don’t cry. I’m really bad with words and I don’t know how to comfort people. Here, I’ll give you all my money!” I unfastened the little cloth pouch from my neck—the one I never took off, not even in the shower. Inside was the thousand dollars I had saved up over the last two years, neatly folded. With an aching heart, I held the money out to my sister. She didn’t take it. The cash tumbled out and scattered all over the floor. “Does sister… still think I’m dirty?” Feeling completely dejected, I crouched down alone and started picking up the scattered bills. Dad crouched down and helped me pick them up. Once we gathered it all, he pocketed the cash and handed me a sleek bank card instead. “Daddy will keep this cash safe for you. Take this card. There is a lot of money on here. Mia, buy whatever you want.” Dad. My actual, biological Dad. I took the card and rubbed it carefully. It looked different from the bank cards I had seen before. It was pitch black. But I finally had my own bank card! My friends at the fish market told me you had to take a massive pile of money to the bank before they’d give you a card. Sophia stared at Dad in disbelief. “Daddy… wasn’t that supposed to be my birthday present?” “Huh? What’s a birthday present?” I asked out of nowhere. In my memory, I vaguely recalled celebrating a birthday when I was really, really little. But I couldn’t really remember it. I didn’t have birthdays. My adoptive dad told me that every time the calendar year changed, I just got one year older. That was how I always calculated my age. The guilt in Dad’s eyes was impossible to hide now. He looked at Sophia sternly. “Mia just got home. Let your sister have this. Daddy will get you another one later.” Then, Dad told me my birthday was May 17th. I was so happy. I finally had a real birthday, just like everyone else.

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The enemies of my parents, seeking revenge, declared they would tear their son limb from limb. To protect their adopted child, they took all the bodyguards, leaving me, crippled and unable to walk. Before the killer murdered me, he made a bet. He told me to call my parents, and if they came for me, he would spare my life. The moment the call connected, I desperately pleaded: “I’m held captive in the South End, can you please come and save me?” But the bodyguard’s voice came through: “Mr. Forrester said you’d surely lie about being in trouble to gain attention.” “Your father has already had a dozen of your distress calls hung up today. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” My father snatched the phone, his tone impatient: “Can’t you be more sensible? If we only care about our biological child and ignore our adopted one, people will call us hypocritical and heartless. What about our reputation as outstanding entrepreneurs?” “Besides, Leo is easily frightened. How can we possibly leave him home alone?” Later, the killer dismembered me and threw my remains into a septic tank. A month passed, and my parents held a celebration, reveling in their adopted son’s safety. On that very same day, a horrifyingly disfigured male corpse was discovered in a septic tank on the outskirts of town. 1. When my parents were about to leave to protect Leo, I tried to stop them. “The killer’s target is me, not Leo.” “You’re going to protect him, but have you ever considered my safety?” My mother pushed me away, her face etched with disappointment. “Leo may be adopted, but he’s our son too! Who knows if the killer might target him instead!” “If we only care for you and not your brother, people online will call us hypocritical and cold-blooded! What about our reputation? What about the company’s honor and stock price!” I listened to her words, utterly incredulous. “But your enemy is Leo’s biological father! Why would he ever hurt Leo? You’re choosing to protect him for good PR, disregarding your own son’s life! What kind of ‘goodness’ is that?” A sharp, stinging slap sent me sprawling to the floor. My father’s eyes blazed with fury, pointing a finger at me: “You’re absolutely out of line…” My mother’s face was grim. She held my father back. “Alaric, it’s not that we don’t care about your life. You’ve been recovering in the sanatorium for years because of your illness. Leo has been with us, attending events as our son. Everyone knows Leo is our son; they don’t know you exist.” “Moreover, the nominations for this year’s National Outstanding Entrepreneur Awards are coming up soon! If something were to happen to your brother now, both our personal and corporate reputations would be ruined!” “Can’t you think of your father and me?” Hearing this, I gave a bitter, hollow laugh. I pointed to my legs, limp and useless on the floor. “Think of you? Isn’t this the result of thinking of you? Isn’t this enough?” A flicker of guilt crossed my parents’ faces. Five years ago, Leo’s father, a man named Marcus King, caused the deaths of hundreds of workers, absconded with their hard-earned money, and vanished. The victims’ families came seeking revenge, but mistook me for Leo and abducted me instead. In that perilous moment, Marcus pulled the detonator on the explosives strapped to his chest. He shouted, demanding to know from my parents who, between Leo and me, was the son of the monster who stole their hard-earned money! Instinctively, my parents pointed at me. The moment the bomb exploded, my parents rushed forward, shielding Leo. I was held by Marcus, and the blast shattered my legs. That year, I had earned a scholarship to a prestigious university through my excellent grades. While I lay in a coma, my parents used their connections to steal my spot and give it to Leo. When I awoke, I wept, demanding to know why they had done this to me. My parents explained: “When we adopted Leo, we publicly stated to the media that we wouldn’t let past grievances affect him, and we swore we’d treat him better than our own son…” “With so many reporters present, if we had chosen you, wouldn’t our previous statements have been discredited? Your mother’s and my reputation would have been completely ruined…” My mother tried to persuade me: “You’re disabled now; we can’t let you go off to school alone. Your father and I want you to stay with us, so we can take good care of you!” “As for that scholarship… it would be such a waste to let it go unused, better to give it to Leo… that way everyone will praise your father and me for treating everyone equally…” But later, I underwent more than a dozen surgeries in the hospital, completely alone. Meanwhile, my parents proudly hosted grand graduation parties for Leo, even taking him to visit university administrators, asking them to look after him. All I wanted was for them to help me contact a specialist for my bomb injuries, to perform surgery. But they scolded me, calling me thoughtless. “No! If the media found out, they’d say your mother and I were abusing our power and misusing public resources!” “Your father and I are at a crucial stage. Are you happy to ruin our reputation?” Because I never received proper surgery, my legs were permanently crippled. … My parents’ silence gave me a flicker of hope. But before I could speak, Leo’s muffled sobs came through the phone. “Dad, Mom, don’t come! Brother is right, I should have been the one whose legs were blown off that day!” “If something happens to me tonight, I deserve it… just consider it me repaying you with my life!” He hung up right after. My parents, who had been hesitating, instantly changed their expressions. “Alaric Forrester! Look what you’ve driven your brother to!” “You’d better pray he’s safe before we get there! Otherwise, we will never forgive you!” I was numb. “And if something happens to me? Will you forgive him then?” My father, furious, kicked my wheelchair over, roaring: “How could I have such a selfish, inconsiderate son?” “If I could, I’d rather not be your son.” My words only earned me the sound of my parents storming out, slamming the door. “Fine! You don’t want to be our son! Then don’t enjoy the conveniences we provide!” “We’re taking all the bodyguards! You can just stay here by yourself!” Leo posted an update on his social media, tagging me: “Brother, don’t be angry with Mom and Dad because of me. I apologize.” Aunts and uncles who knew me sent messages, urging me: “Alaric, how can you be so thoughtless?” “Leo has accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Forrester to events, taking on many risks for you. You should be grateful to Leo, not squabbling with him during such a dangerous time.” But I found it laughable. To adopt Leo, they moved my registration to my grandmother’s house in the countryside and never checked on me. In contrast, they fully supported Leo, traveling with him around the world, attending events. They even encouraged him to open social media accounts, becoming an influencer on the strength of being the Forrester Group heir. I had questioned my parents about their favoritism towards Leo. Their explanation to me was always: “You are our son; you’ll have a good life no matter what. Leo has no parents to care for him, he’s so pitiful, so we naturally have to be a little more biased towards him…” So I became obedient and sensible, no longer competing with Leo. But what was my fate? … If my father hadn’t kicked me over, perhaps I could have rolled my wheelchair away and hidden. But now I was sprawled helplessly on the floor, letting the vengeful man who had burst through the window drag me away. My broken fingernails scraped trails across the floor. He tied me to the back of his car like a dead dog, dragging me to a dilapidated warehouse in the South End. Ten miles of dirt road, and I’d shredded half my body, broken an arm. At the height of the pain, I was close to passing out, but I still fought with all my might, desperately dialing for help. One emergency call after another, each one hung up. The moment the car stopped, I sent one last desperate text. “The killer is in the South End. Save me.” This time, my mother finally answered my call. Hearing my muffled shouts on the phone, my mother paused. But then she angrily demanded: “Alaric Forrester! Don’t you know everyone is waiting for clues to catch Marcus King tonight!” “You’ve been constantly dialing the emergency line, tying it up, just to squabble with your brother. Do you realize that if someone calls in with a tip during this time, you’ll be responsible for the delay! What’s the difference between your behavior and that monster Marcus King’s!” She said coldly: “You don’t need to call anymore. We’ve had all emergency hotlines block you! No one will listen to you!” Suddenly, a wave of resentment and anger filled her voice: “Now everyone knows our biological son is abusing the hotline and interfering with the arrest operation, all because of sibling rivalry. You’ve completely shamed your father and me! How could I have given birth to such a malicious and selfish son!” Her words were cut short as the killer stomped on my phone, crushing it. I watched the scarred, grotesque man before me, trembling uncontrollably, filled with despair. He stomped on my fingers, breaking all ten of them. My screams were drowned out by the storm. He hung me from the rafters, detailing years of hatred for my parents. With each grievance, he carved a fresh wound into my flesh. When he spoke of his biological son, Leo, a flicker of light shone in his eyes. He looked at me with a triumphant smirk. “My son has become a man of consequence.” “And you, you pathetic worm, will soon be a pile of rotten flesh, thrown into a septic tank.” He grew excited: “I never would have guessed! Your parents are so good to my son! Just because he said he was scared, they took everyone away that very night! That’s how I got my chance!” “You’re their biological child, yet they don’t even care if you live or die!” I struggled to ask: “So, you and Leo teamed up…” He grinned hideously: “So what? Blame your parents. If they cared about you, you wouldn’t have fallen into my hands.” Blood soaked my entire body. I was too weak to struggle, only able to whimper softly, begging him to let me go. He tossed a phone at my feet, a triumphant grin on his face. “Tell you what, call your parents. Tell them to come here and save you.” “If they truly believe you, I’ll spare your life.” The phone rang, once, twice, until it was nearly hung up before it was answered. My voice was hoarse as I whispered: “Dad…” In response, I heard the sounds of a lively celebration and a bodyguard’s voice. “Alaric? Looking for your father? He’s busy looking after your brother!” “Marcus King didn’t show up tonight, so your brother is safe. He twisted his ankle in excitement, and your parents are absolutely heartbroken.” Numb with heartache, I forced out: “Help me… Marcus King kidnapped me and took me to the South End…” Uncle David’s hesitant voice replied. “But your father said you’ve been filing false reports all day, lying to get attention.” “He told us not to answer any of your calls for help today, no matter what you said. We weren’t to help you.” “Still… your voice sounds so hoarse. Is something really wrong?” Before I could continue, my father snatched the phone. His voice was cold. “Alaric Forrester, it’s almost dawn. Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “Thankfully your brother is fine today. He said he forgives you and won’t hold a grudge, but you need to apologize properly to him, otherwise we won’t pay for your rehabilitation therapy!” Uncle David also tried to persuade me: “Alaric, you kept calling the emergency line yesterday, and it caused your parents to be questioned. You should be more sensible, apologize to them and be nice. Can you please stop making trouble?” I forced a bitter smile, tears streaming down my face. “Just believe me this one time…” “Mom, Dad, please come to the South End?” “I’m really kidnapped. If you don’t believe me, you can…” “Your brother twisted his ankle! He can’t even walk, and you show no concern for him! Do you really want us to indulge your foolishness?!” My mother suddenly exploded, snatching the phone and shouting at me: “The South End is so far away! You’re a cripple, without money, how could you possibly get that far!” “Even now, you’re still trying to lie and deceive us!” “Do you only care if your father and I are completely shamed?!” Leo gently tried to comfort my mother, then feigned concern for me: “Enough, brother, please stop talking. Don’t you know the reporters are live-streaming here right now! Everything you’re saying is being broadcast!” “Your reckless behavior, wasting police resources, will damage Mom and Dad’s reputation!” “Hurry and apologize to everyone!” “Leo! You don’t need to try and persuade him!” My father, utterly disappointed, delivered his final words: “It is my failure as a parent to have raised such a son.” “From today onwards, I disown him.” “My only son, from now on, is Leo.” He roared into the phone: “Alaric Forrester! Do you hear me?!” He seemed to wait for me to say something. But I couldn’t say anything. The killer had slit my throat, and I was convulsing. My father, waiting for my response for a long time, let out a heavy sigh. “Alaric Forrester, you truly disappoint us…” The rusty iron knife hacked at my limbs. I no longer had the strength to resist. Warm tears mixed with blood splattered on my face. In the last moments of my life, the only thing I could do, was to swallow the wristband that had been continuously recording. Let me do one last thing. Let my death help those innocent victims, to catch this villain who has been on the run for over a decade.

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My son had a severe allergy to tobacco smoke. But when my wife took our six-year-old to her childhood friend’s birthday party, she let the man deliberately blow smoke in our son’s face. Panicked, our son ran downstairs, but it was too late. The allergic reaction closed his airway, and he suffocated. By the time the hospital’s call reached me and I rushed to his side, he was already fading, his face and mouth covered in a crimson rash. Even as he was dying, he gripped my hand tightly and whispered, “Daddy, don’t blame Mommy. It’s my fault. If only I wasn’t allergic.” I nearly shattered. I called my wife dozens of times, my hands shaking. When she finally answered, it was with a roar of fury. “That son of yours is just as useless as you are! Preston was just joking with him, and he threw a tantrum and ran off. Just wait until I get my hands on him!” Rage trembled through my entire body, but my voice was ice. “You don’t have to come home. There’s no home left. Let’s get a divorce.” 01 I handled my son’s final affairs alone, watching him turn to ash. I carried his urn home, my hands shaking, my heart a raw, gaping wound. Even now, I can’t believe any of this is real. For two days, I didn’t eat or drink. I tried to force myself to sleep, desperate to wake up and find it was all just a nightmare. But it was a dream I couldn’t escape. And in those two days, my son’s mother never came home. She never even called. It was time to end it. I drew up the divorce papers myself, waiting only for Serena to return. Half a day later, she finally walked in, her face a thundercloud, reeking of stale tobacco. She launched into a tirade the moment she saw me. “That son of yours is as useless as you! Preston was just messing with him, and he had to throw a fit and run home. Was he in that much of a hurry? Running off like his life depended on it!” “He even pushed Preston! Preston scraped his arm because of him.” Her words were like knives twisting in my gut. Yes, Preston suffered such a terrible scrape, while my son only lost his life. If my son is truly reborn, I pray he is never born to a woman like this again. She doesn’t deserve to be a mother. Serena plopped down on the sofa next to me, the stench of smoke clinging to her like a shroud. I immediately clutched the urn and moved away. My son had been extremely allergic to tobacco since he was a baby. To protect him, I made sure our home was a sanctuary, completely free of the scent. I myself had grown to despise it. But my action only drew Serena’s scorn. “Oh, please. Stop the act. Your son is just like you, always putting on a show. You’re the one who coddled him into having all these ridiculous problems.” “And how dare he push Preston? I’m going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget!” She started to get up, heading for our son’s room. But as she rose, I held out the divorce papers I’d prepared. “You don’t need to use your lover to lord it over my son. Just sign it. Then you and your precious Preston can run off into the sunset together.” My words ignited her fury. She snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. “Are you insane, Wyatt? Your son misbehaved, and I’m going to discipline him! What’s wrong with that? Is this how you raise him? No wonder he dared to lay a hand on Preston!” “And don’t you dare threaten me with divorce. You’re not worthy.” She shot me a look of pure contempt. “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Preston, I will make you both pay!” Her words stole the air from my lungs. Could a mother really say something like that? A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. “Oh, if something happens to Preston, you’ll make us pay? What if something happens to our son? Have you forgotten he has a severe tobacco allergy? Do you have any idea that even a whiff of smoke makes him cough for ages, makes his skin break out in hives? Do you know why he pushed Preston away? Do you even know what our son…” The words caught in my throat, choked by a sob. But Serena’s face remained a mask of disdain. “Please. What could possibly happen to your son? That ridiculous tobacco allergy is just something you made up to drive a wedge between us.” “Do you know he actively avoids me now? And it’s all your fault!” With that, she stormed off toward our son’s room to find him. This time, I didn’t stop her. I said nothing. I just sat on the sofa, a hollow smile on my face. Our son avoided her? Did she really not know why? She was gone twenty-eight days a month. And when she did come home, she was always steeped in the smell of cigarettes. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to be close to her. But every time he did, the allergic reaction would torment him for days. Why had she never seen him have a reaction? Because when he was suffering, she was never home. She was in bed with her Preston. Soon, Serena returned, having found the room empty. She sneered at me. “Well played, Wyatt. You’ve even learned how to hide him from me now.” She threw a credit card on the table. “Here’s a hundred thousand. Give him to me, now. I have to teach him a lesson today. He needs to learn to respect Preston.” “You love money more than anything, don’t you? Isn’t that why you married me in the first place? So take the money and hand him over!” I looked at her, at the madness in her eyes, and let out another dry, humorless laugh. “You’re pathetic. Keep your money for you and Preston. It’s filthy.” With that, I clutched my son’s urn and walked out, without a moment’s hesitation. 02 My father and Serena’s father were old classmates. I met Serena at one of their gatherings and fell for her instantly. But I knew my place. I was from a working-class family, while hers was in another world entirely. I never dared to dream. Until one day, when our fathers were on a trip together, her father fell into the water. My father dove in without a second thought and saved him, but he never made it back to shore himself. Serena’s father knew of my feelings for her. Out of gratitude for my father’s sacrifice, he insisted that Serena marry me. But in Serena’s eyes, my father’s death, my love for her—it was all a conspiracy. “You two did everything you could to get tangled up with my family. It was always about the money, wasn’t it?” “Fine. I’ll give you money. I’ll even stay married to you. But I’m warning you: don’t you dare try to control me.” From the very beginning, our marriage was a sham. She was rarely home. But I refused to give up. I believed that with time, with my devotion, I could make her see my heart, change her opinion of me. The birth of our son, Noah, only strengthened my resolve. I was sure she would come around. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. And if I hadn’t been so naive, my son would still be alive. I took Noah’s ashes back to my father’s old house. I’d chosen a burial plot and was preparing to take him there. The moment I stepped outside, Serena was there, blocking my path with several men. Her face was cold as she waved them inside to search the house. They found nothing. “What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Where did you hide that little thief? Tell him to get his ass out here. I’m going to break his legs today!” My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Serena, Noah is your son too. Do you enjoy slandering him like this?” A fresh wave of anger crashed over me. I had thought, for a fleeting moment, that she’d found out about Noah and had come to say her final goodbyes. But no. She was here to falsely accuse my dead son. Suddenly, Serena lunged at me, her movements wild, and slapped me hard across the face. “You’re still defending him? Do you have any idea what he did? Yesterday, your son stole Preston’s asthma inhaler! Preston almost died! He’s in the hospital right now!” “He’s so young and already so spiteful. A little thief! I’m so embarrassed in front of Preston!” “He will pay for this today!” Her words left me reeling in disbelief. “What did you say?” I laughed, a cold, furious sound. “Serena, have you lost your mind? Did that man put some kind of spell on you?” You’ve already killed Noah. Why do you still have to slander him like this? But Serena just slapped me again, the sting of it white-hot on my cheek. “You dare say another word against Preston and see what happens!” she spat, her eyes burning with contempt. “You raised him to be like this, and you have the nerve to blame someone else?” Now I was the one slandering Preston? The rage was a fire, threatening to consume me. I wanted to kill this insane woman standing before me, but I forced myself to remain calm. Her life didn’t matter. What mattered was clearing my son’s name. I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. “Fine. You say my son stole Preston’s medicine. I have one question for you. Do you have any proof?” “You’re still trying to defend him?” she roared. “Fine! I’ll show you just how wrong you are!” She pulled out her phone and played a video. It looked like Preston’s apartment. A figure, similar in build and appearance to Noah, tiptoed into a room. After looking around, he took something from a cabinet. The video was blurry. You couldn’t make out a face, and you certainly couldn’t see what was taken. But Serena’s face was alight with triumph. “See?” she said scornfully. “That’s your son. He stole Preston’s asthma medication. Now what do you have to say?” “This happened yesterday. Your son is a thief. A spiteful little thief! I’m ashamed to have a son like him. You two are both the same, despicable and shameless…”

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For Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend said he was taking me back to his hometown to meet his family. Instead, the moment we arrived in his isolated backwoods village, he hogtied me and threw me to a mob of men. My boyfriend wrapped his arm around his childhood sweetheart, staring at me with cold indifference. “If I didn’t trick you into coming here, Chloe would be the one going up the mountain to be sacrificed to the Old God.” His little sweetheart gloated, parading in front of me. “Being chosen as the Forest God’s bride is an honor! People beg for this blessing and never get it!” You want this blessing so bad? Take it! Staring at the painfully familiar statue inside the decaying chapel, I wailed like a broken siren. When I ran away from the altar a century ago, the God swore that if he ever caught me again, he would crush me to death! “Carter, even if you don’t want to marry me, did you really have to kidnap me?” I was bound hand and foot, dumped on the freezing mud floor, surrounded by villagers glaring at me with malicious intent. A million possibilities raced through my mind. Was this a human trafficking ring? If he just needed cash, he could have asked! After all, the one thing I have an endless supply of is money. But Carter just held his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, looking at me without a shred of pity. “If I didn’t trick you into coming here, Chloe would be the one going up the mountain to be sacrificed.” “You always said you wanted to get married. Who cares who you marry? Just think of this as doing me a favor.” I thought I had been kidnapped for ransom. I never expected it was a cult sacrifice. Without giving me another glance, he signaled the villagers to take over. “I brought her back. You can do whatever you want with her, but nobody touches Chloe again. We have a deal.” Carter looked down at me, a twisted sense of self-righteousness on his face. “I treated you so well for two years. It’s time for you to repay me.” We had been together for two years. I truly thought Carter loved me. When he pursued me, he was incredibly attentive. Whenever I needed him, he was there. He even spent most of his meager paycheck on me. Different breakfasts every morning, cheap but thoughtful little gifts—I was so moved. I thought that was what true love looked like. I considered myself lucky to have found a good man. It wasn’t until I saw the fiercely protective way he held Chloe that I realized what the look of true love actually was. “Don’t worry, the Forest God only needs one bride. Carry her to the lodge.” The town’s mayor, an old man with rotting yellow teeth, puffed on his pipe. His greasy eyes scanned me up and down. “Tsk. She’s definitely prettier than Chloe. The Old God will love her!” Like a prized pig prepped for slaughter, I was bound so tightly I couldn’t move an inch. They forced me into a vintage crimson gown. They told me I had to be locked inside the unheated lodge for three days to fast and “purify” my body before being offered to the God. The Forest God’s bride had to be a pure, untouched virgin, inside and out. In the dead of winter, tied to a wooden pillar in the freezing chapel, I shivered uncontrollably, starving and freezing. I had already gone through this exact routine once before. Doing it a second time didn’t make it any less miserable. That night, when Carter came in carrying a wool blanket, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. “I’m begging you, Carter, let me go! I have money, I can pay you!” “If you just let me leave, I’ll give you whatever you want!” When Carter wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, I thought he had finally softened. Instead, his hands slid directly down to my waist. His face twisted into a greasy, greedy smirk. “Let me test the merchandise first. It’s a damn shame to let someone else have you when I haven’t even gotten a taste!” His hands slipped lower, grabbing my leg. For two years, he had completely respected my boundaries, claiming he wanted to wait until marriage because he cherished me so much. That was exactly why I trusted him so deeply, believing he was a decent, honorable man I could rely on. I never suspected that beneath his handsome exterior hid such a nauseating, vile monster. Terrified, I kicked my legs wildly. “What is it going to take for you to let me go?!” Carter’s rough fingers dug into my skin. His eyes were full of calculation. “Give me the passcode to your safe. You’re an orphan anyway, you can’t spend all that wealth yourself.” Staring at his greedy, venomous face, I suddenly calmed down. He wanted the money and my life! Even if I gave him the passcode, he would never let me walk out of here alive. During the honeymoon phase of our relationship, I had foolishly shown him all my cards. The contents of my private vault held enough wealth to last several lifetimes. Back then, I completely missed the flash of pure greed in his eyes. When he acted indifferent, I actually thought he was a man of high morals who didn’t care about money. Turns out, he was worse than any criminal I had ever met! He just hid it better. But right now, begging was my only option. I had to play along. “I really don’t want to be sacrificed. You just want the money, right? We can make a deal!” “I can give you more money than you could ever spend. Just let me go! With that cash, you and Chloe could move anywhere in the world!” Carter seemed tempted. He stroked my cheek, his hands getting bolder. “Such a great body, such a pretty face… Would that bullshit Forest God even know what to do with you?” “I might as well enjoy you first. If you’re a good girl, maybe I really will take you with us!” Carter started rooting around my neck like a pig. Stripped of his disguise, his evil nature was on full display. He was vicious and rough, leaving dark bruises across my pale skin. Just as I was fighting back the urge to vomit and trying to break my bindings, Chloe ran into the lodge, crying hysterically. “You bastard!” Smack! Carter took a hard slap to the face, instantly snapping him out of it. Seeing Chloe’s tear-streaked face, his demeanor flipped. He hugged her, frantically trying to soothe her. “Chloe, it’s not what you think! I didn’t touch her, I was just trying to scare the vault passcode out of her!” “She forced me to do it! Yes, she was trying to seduce me! I didn’t touch her for two whole years, why would I want her now?!” Chloe glared at me with pure venom, acting like she was the ultimate victim, looking like she wanted to eat me alive. “You’ve been together for two years! The Mayor just said she’s prettier than me, I don’t believe you never had feelings for her!” Carter practically dropped to his knees. “I swear I didn’t! She doesn’t even compare to a single strand of your hair! I only dated her for you. She’s a sacrifice for the God, I wouldn’t dare touch her!” Hearing that, Chloe bought it. With a few whimpers, she leaned in, and they started aggressively making out right in front of me. The sick lust he had just directed at me was now being unleashed on Chloe. Watching them act like they were about to consummate things on the chapel floor, I quietly spat on the ground. Disgusting. Terrified they were actually going to put on a live show, I had to speak up. “Are you guys really not going to consider letting me go?” Chloe leaned against Carter, panting, glaring at me like a victorious queen. “Let you go? Then who goes to the God? Don’t try any tricks. If you try to seduce Carter again, I won’t hold back!” Seeing this toxic duo perfectly united in their delusion, I had to play my final card. “Let me tell you the truth. I actually know the Forest God. If you offer me to him, you are going to bring down a terrible curse on yourselves!” Chloe looked at me like I was a mental patient and burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious! You know the Ancient God?” She pointed to the faded portraits hanging in the back of the lodge. “See those? Those are the women who actually met the God. Not a single one of them ever came back alive!” The portraits were of previous sacrificial brides. If they looked closely, one of the heavily faded, ancient portraits in the corner looked exactly like me. But it was covered in a century of dust, totally unnoticeable. Carter frowned, losing his patience. “You’re going crazy because you can’t have me, aren’t you? Playing insane won’t work. I have plenty of ways to make you spit out that passcode!” I kicked my legs out, adopting a “nothing left to lose” attitude. If they weren’t going to let me go, they weren’t getting a dime! I was dead either way! Seeing me turn hostile, Carter slammed his fist into my stomach. “You bitch! Tell me!” I curled in on myself, tasting copper in my mouth, but my glare remained fiercely defiant. Carter raised his fist again, but Chloe stopped him. “Carter, stop. If you bruise her up too badly, the Mayor won’t accept the sacrifice. I have a way to make her talk.” Carter’s face lit up. “Really?” Chloe smiled maliciously, pushing him toward the door. “Of course. Go get some sleep. I promise I’ll get the code.” Once Carter left, I looked at Chloe’s wicked face, a deep sense of dread pooling in my gut. “What are you going to do?” Chloe swung her arm back and slapped me hard across the face, her acrylic nails leaving deep bloody scratches on my cheek. She gritted her teeth. “You really think you’re prettier than me?” My head spun from the impact, my ears ringing. I struggled instinctively. “If you ruin my face, aren’t you afraid you won’t be able to deliver the sacrifice?” Chloe grabbed my jaw. Pulling out several long sewing needles from her pocket, she viciously jabbed them into my arms. “What do I have to be afraid of? Once I get your money, Billy is going to take me far away from here.” “Even if the village investigates, the only ones taking the fall will be you and that cowardly loser, Carter!” “If Carter had just been man enough to protect me years ago, why would I have had to sell myself to all these disgusting men in the village?” “No woman who goes up that mountain comes back alive. You think you have a chance to fight me?” With that, she violently pinched my cheeks open and shoved a squirming, pitch-black insect into my mouth. Before I could spit it out, the bug slithered down my throat. As someone with a lifelong phobia of creepy crawlies, my entire world collapsed. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Forest God’s realm was full of bugs, I wouldn’t have run away from my wedding a hundred years ago! Watching me gag and tear up, Chloe smiled with immense satisfaction. “That’s a Veritas Parasite. Once you swallow it, you can only speak the truth. Now, give me the passcode to the vault!” If she had something this effective, why did she even bother torturing me first?! This evil witch did it on purpose! In the end, she got exactly what she wanted. The vault passcode slipped easily from my lips. The Veritas Parasite lived up to its name; my mouth was completely out of my control. Before Chloe left, she deliberately took a blade and sliced my cheek. The moment she stepped out, a hulking man stepped in. “Billy, didn’t you say you wanted a taste of that bitch? Once you’re done, we’re leaving! You promised you’d take me away from this dump!” Billy looked absolutely thrilled. “Carter is such a coward, how could he hold back with a piece of meat this prime? More for me!” “Good job, babe! I’ll reward you properly later. With that cash, leaving this town is gonna be a breeze!” Chloe left looking overjoyed, pulling the heavy lodge door shut behind her. Covered in blood and barely breathing, I watched the massive man approach, cursing every deity I knew. If I knew I was going to suffer this much in the human world, I would have just stayed on the mountain with the bugs! Terrified I would scream, Billy gagged me tightly with a dirty rag. Just as he was unbuckling his belt, Chloe’s voice shrieked from outside: “Billy! Your dad is coming with the elders!” Billy panicked, yanking his pants back up. He spat on the floor in frustration and shoved a burlap sack over my head. “Damn it! Whatever, with millions of dollars, I can buy whatever woman I want.” The door slammed shut. I heard voices talking outside. Billy, being the Mayor’s son, corroborated Chloe’s story, claiming he had already “inspected” the sacrifice, and shooed the elders away. Gagged and blindfolded, I whimpered as I listened to their footsteps fade away. It wasn’t until the third day that they finally came for me. Starving and barely conscious, with the sack still over my head, I was tossed into a wicker palanquin. As they carried me up the bumpy mountain trail, I used every last ounce of my strength to push the rag out of my mouth with my tongue. If I could just let them see my ruined face, they wouldn’t dare send me up the mountain! The Ancient God only accepted flawless brides. Even a single blemish was considered an insult. My tongue was completely numb by the time the rag finally popped out of my mouth. Using my remaining strength, I threw myself out of the palanquin, crashing onto the dirt trail, trying to scream with my hoarse voice. But all that came out was the metallic taste of blood. I couldn’t form a single coherent word. Three days without food or water, raging with a fever from my infected wounds, my throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. The Mayor panicked. He ordered the men to grab me and shove me back inside. “Oh, please, Bride of the God, stop fighting! If you get bruised, the Old God will unleash his wrath!” “Just accept your fate! This is an honor people beg for!” I let out desperate, raspy hisses, but couldn’t speak. I thrashed violently, and during the struggle, I managed to yank the burlap sack off my head. My heavily scarred, infected, and festering face was exposed to the daylight. The entire procession gasped in collective horror. Carter stared at Chloe in shock, but cowardly chose to keep his mouth shut. The Mayor turned pale. “Who did this?! Who the hell did this?! The God will destroy our town!” One of the villagers nervously suggested, “The damage is done! We have to swap the bride!” Instantly, every single pair of eyes locked onto Chloe. Carter instinctively jumped in front of her. “You promised you wouldn’t touch Chloe!” The Mayor’s face darkened. He brutally kicked Carter to the ground. “To hell with your promises! We’re out of time. It has to be Chloe!” “Or what, are you going to die to appease the God’s wrath?!” Carter, stunned and clutching his stomach, turned deathly pale and didn’t dare make another sound. Seeing his cowardly submission, Chloe ground her teeth in fury and rolled her eyes. “I’m not pure anymore!” she shrieked. “I can’t be the God’s bride! You have to send Scarlett! At least she’s never been touched by a man!” Carter’s jaw dropped. His face flushed beet red with absolute fury. He grabbed Chloe’s arm, shaking her. “What did you just say? I’ve been away working for two years and never laid a hand on you! You’ve been sleeping around behind my back?!” Chloe impatiently ripped her arm away and hid behind the Mayor. “You worthless loser. You disappeared for two years. Did you expect me to wait for you forever?” The surrounding men exchanged knowing, sleazy smirks. Carter’s face burned with humiliation, his eyes looking like he wanted to murder her. “Today is the God’s wedding day! Carter, are you really going to cause a scene?” The Mayor’s eyes roamed over Chloe’s body with a perverse glint, before making the final call. “Enough! We have no other choice. Send Scarlett up the mountain! Let’s just finish the ritual and hope for the best!” I stared at the mob in pure disbelief, fighting with everything I had. But it only earned me a brutal beating. They aimed for my ribs and stomach—places where the bruises wouldn’t be visible. I finally passed out from the pain, blindfolded once again, and tossed into the palanquin in utter despair. When I woke up, I was inside the familiar, ancient temple at the peak of the mountain, surrounded by the chanting of the villagers. Terrified to linger, the cultists quickly retreated and locked the heavy wooden doors. But the next second, I was magically violently hurled through the air, crashing hard onto the stone floor outside the doors. A freezing, booming voice echoed from within the temple: “I said no more women! Get out!” It was the Ancient God! The villagers outside fell to their knees, shivering in terror. Chloe was the first to react. She pulled out a hunting knife and lunged at my throat. “Please calm your wrath, O Great God! We will slaughter the imperfect sacrifice to appease you!” Wait, if he said he didn’t want a woman, why are you killing me?! I frantically rolled to the side. The knife plunged into my shoulder instead. Chloe pounced on me like a rabid animal, tearing away the thin fabric of my crimson gown. On my shoulder, the divine mark the deity had branded me with a century ago was exposed to the freezing air. “You have to die! I am not spending the rest of my life trapped on this mountain with a monster!” Chloe screamed. As the knife came down for a second strike, I squeezed my eyes shut. But from within the dark temple, a voice echoed in pure, shocked disbelief: “Scarlett?!” A blast of gale-force wind erupted from the doors. Chloe was sent flying backward like a ragdoll. The next second, I fell into a freezing, iron-hard embrace, shivering uncontrollably. This terrifyingly familiar sensation… it felt exactly like being coiled up by a giant serpent. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the entity holding me seemed to be trembling slightly too. From above my head, Silas’s voice spoke through gritted teeth: “You said you’d rather die than stay here. Why did you come back?” “I told you… if I ever saw your face again, I would not spare you!” Weakly, I parted my lips to speak, but all that came out was a mouthful of dark blood. Great. He doesn’t even have to kill me. I’m already dying. I used to be so terrified of being caught by him again. But now, I didn’t find him scary at all. In fact, his freezing cold, scale-like skin felt incredibly soothing against my feverish body. I thought that if I died, Silas would be thrilled. But there wasn’t a trace of joy in him. Instead, his eyes turned blood-red. He gripped my neck, shaking me frantically. “Speak to me!” Even if he strangled me to death right now, I physically couldn’t speak. My throat was agonizingly tight, and I felt like I was fading fast. But I wasn’t afraid. I had lived a long, full life anyway. A hundred years ago, when I was originally offered as a sacrifice, I smashed a vase over the Serpent God’s head, stole the bridal hoard of gold, and ran away. After that, I realized I no longer aged and couldn’t die naturally. Like a freak of nature, I lived from the pioneer days all the way into the modern era. I had lost track of how old I actually was. I don’t know if it was a near-death hallucination, but I felt a powerful, warm current flowing from Silas’s body into mine. I couldn’t seem to take my final breath, so I just closed my eyes and played dead. But that warm energy only grew stronger, knitting my bones back together. Outside, none of the villagers dared to step closer. Everyone knew that those who looked upon the Ancient God never returned. Except for Chloe. Gripping the stone wall, she furiously staggered back to finish me off. But the moment her eyes landed on Silas, she froze in her tracks, a suspicious blush spreading across her cheeks. In utter disbelief, she stammered, “You… you’re the Forest God?” Silas was undeniably breathtaking. He had an otherworldly, razor-sharp beauty, his features completely flawless. Dressed in ancient, flowing black robes, he looked like an immortal god stepped out of a myth. He was gorgeous, sure, but he was literally a giant snake. His body was ice-cold and rock-hard. Not exactly ideal husband material. I was thinking practically, but Chloe was clearly blinded by lust. She had always assumed the Forest God was a grotesque monster. Who knew he was an insanely hot, ethereal being? If he didn’t look like a bug, she was perfectly willing to be his bride. She twisted her body, acting coy and shy. “My Lord, I am actually your true bride! Scarlett dared to impersonate me and desecrate your presence. I’ll throw her out for you right now!” Silas didn’t even spare her a glance. He was too busy glaring down at me, his handsome face radiating immense, overflowing resentment. Seeing him ignore me, Chloe looked thrilled and took a step closer. “My Lord, she’s an ugly monster! I am your destined bride! You must punish her severely!” Carter suddenly rushed forward and grabbed Chloe’s arm. Even though he was wearing the ultimate horns, when push came to shove, he still cared about her.

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When the plane went down, everyone was crying and sending final messages to the people they loved most. I opened my arch-nemesis’s chat and furiously typed out my final words: “Are those two holes in your head just for decoration? Are you fucking blind? Could you really not tell that I like you? “Last time I pretended to be drunk so you’d make a move, you didn’t do shit. Serves you right, it’s too late to regret it now. “I’m hitting reset on my life, asshole—” 1 My body was in a freefall. Hypoxia was blurring my consciousness, and every ounce of strength was draining from my body. After a violent bout of turbulence, my phone slipped from my hand. I instinctively reached out to grab it, but my fingers closed around something soft and warm instead. Strange… is there anything on a plane that feels like this? In the dead silence of the cabin, a voice suddenly echoed. “Hey, how long are you going to hold on?” How was someone still talking? Everyone else had already passed out. “Deaf? Oh… you just don’t want to let go?” There it was again. Closer this time. Clearer. And painfully familiar. My sluggish brain finally processed it. Ah, it was his voice. Just seconds ago, I was furiously typing out my aggressive confession to him, but now, all my bravado was gone. At the very end, I had to admit my nonchalance was entirely faked. Deep down, I was so full of regrets that I was actually having auditory hallucinations. But this voice… why did it sound so distant? It carried a hint of that nostalgic, youthful arrogance. I strained my fading consciousness to think, when suddenly, my arm was yanked. Like a drowning man being pulled from the water, I gasped for air and snapped my eyes open, finally seeing the person in front of me. A raised brow, a recklessly arrogant smile, and a face that was aggressively handsome. Ethan Bennett. In a flash, all my lost senses flooded back into my body. The deafening chirp of summer cicadas filled the air, the hardwood floor gave off a rich scent under the baking sun, and a bead of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead. And I was tightly gripping Ethan’s hand. Was this… an illusion? “Carter Hayes, don’t tell me you’re about to confess your love to me too.” It wasn’t an illusion. I blankly pulled my hand back and opened my palm. Beneath the skin, there was a healthy pink hue, my pulse beating strong and steady. I clenched my fist, opened it, clenched it, opened it. I could control my body. “Did you actually go dumb? Tch, I told you studying too much would turn you into a total nerd.” I looked up and saw the blue trim of Ethan’s high school uniform. It was the summer of 2016. This year, I was a high school junior, and Ethan was a senior. 2 We had never gotten along. I hated how he always acted like a cynical, careless slacker. He hated how I was too rigid, boring, and lifeless. But as fate would have it, his younger brother, Liam Bennett, was my best friend. I always came over to their house after school to do homework. Just like today. “Fucking disgusting.” Ethan leaned lazily against the window, letting out a scoff. I followed his gaze. Down in the small garden below, someone was confessing their feelings to Liam. It was another boy. Out of the three Bennett brothers, Liam, the youngest, had that pretty-boy charm and naturally attracted a lot of suitors. “Fucking queer, doing that shit in someone else’s house. Disgusting, right?” Ethan turned his head, looking straight at me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but while his expression was teasing, his eyes were dead serious. He was earnestly waiting for my answer. If I were the seventeen-year-old Carter, even though I couldn’t stand Ethan, I would have agreed with him on this just to avoid a fight. But the soul currently inhabiting this body was twenty-five years old. Over the next eight years, we went through a lot together. My feelings for him morphed from annoyance to love—so much love that, right before I died, he was the only person on my mind. I didn’t want to lie to myself. So I shook my head. “I don’t see the problem.” Ethan froze, his expression inexplicably darkening. “Tch, nerds are so boring.” He turned his back to me, clearly pissed off. I stood rooted to the spot, watching him walk away, feeling a bit lost. I couldn’t tell if this was time travel or reincarnation. But either way, it meant the twenty-five-year-old me was definitely dead. When Ethan heard the news of my death, how would he feel? Would he feel guilty? After all, the only reason I was on that doomed flight was to make it to his engagement party. 3 Eighteen-year-old Ethan hadn’t stepped into the halls of marriage yet. Right now, he was just furious that I couldn’t return his serve. “You’re the top student in our grade but you can’t hit a ball like this?! I practically fed it right to your racket! Are those two eyes of yours just for show?” He yelled so loud my eardrums ached. For some reason, the lingering sensation of impending death still clung to me. I felt like I was still on that plane, my brain suffering from intermittent bouts of vertigo. I lowered my tennis racket. “I’m done playing.” Liam jogged over to smooth things over. “Don’t mind my brother. You know he’s had a trash mouth for years, it’s not targeted at you.” I knew that. Ethan was an equal-opportunity asshole who verbally attacked everyone. But he was especially harsh with me. As I sat on the bench zoning out, a water bottle was suddenly tossed onto my lap. I didn’t catch it, and it rolled onto the ground. “Tch.” Ethan bent over, picked it up, and handed it back. “Drink some. You’re so pale I thought you were gonna drop dead.” When I didn’t move, he muttered a string of curses, took the bottle back, unscrewed the cap, and shoved it forcefully into my hands. “What, your majesty, you waiting for me to feed it to you?” With him taking it that far, I had no choice but to obediently lift the bottle and take a sip. Grapefruit flavor. Sweet. His expression softened, giving off a ‘that’s more like it’ vibe. Then he moved my racket aside and sat down next to me, lazily watching the other two guys rallying on the court. “Did you go to bed past midnight again? Doing those stupid practice tests?” My house and the Bennetts’ house were right next door to each other. Our bedroom windows were only separated by a narrow garden path—close enough that if he was changing his shirt by the window, I could see it the moment I looked up. “Would it kill you to do one less test and sleep earlier? Is your valedictorian spot hanging by a thread on that one single worksheet?” He really had a terrible way of talking. I wasn’t exactly a submissive person, and I had never been polite to Ethan either. Do you want to see me fail that badly? Normally, that’s how I would have fired back. But when I opened my mouth, the words caught in my throat. What came out instead was: “Are you worrying about me?” The moment the words left my lips, Ethan’s pupils shrank, and he shot up to his feet. “Bullshit!” He threw that single word at me and hurried back onto the court. Like a man whose soul had left his body, he completely completely missed every single one of Liam’s serves. I slowly screwed the cap back onto the water bottle, my heart racing uncontrollably. By bringing me back to the past, did God want me to fix my regrets? Or rather, did He want me to see the things I had previously ignored? Take that conversation just now. When I was younger, I only felt targeted and mocked. I never would have considered that Ethan was just being a prickly tsundere, refusing to admit he cared. I pressed a hand to my chest, taking a deep breath to suppress the overwhelming surge of joy. Ethan ran back over, his voice tight. “Fuck, are you feeling sick?” “No.” I shook my head. The sunlight was blindingly bright. If I could live my life over again, Ethan and I… 4 I went to sleep harboring infinite hopes for my second life. Yet, when I woke up, I saw the familiar ceiling of my college dorm room. I thought I was seeing things. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Still in the dorm. I lay there, unmoving. A dreadful realization crept up my spine like cold, damp moss. My ears rang, and my blood ran ice cold. This wasn’t reincarnation, and it wasn’t time travel. It was my life flashing before my eyes right before I died. Fate hadn’t given me a second chance. No miracle had descended. I was still hurtling toward my inevitable death. I couldn’t change a single thing. Liam knocked on my bed frame. “Come straight to my house after class today.” I stiffly turned on my phone. The calendar reminder read: Liam’s Birthday. I would remember this day for the rest of my life. Halfway through Liam’s party, a massive blackout hit the entire neighborhood, and the power company was taking forever to fix it. I navigated the pitch-black streets to walk back to my own house. Ethan followed right behind to walk me home. “You heard them too, right?” It was the exact same dialogue from my memory. “They were sneaking a kiss.” I opened my front door, crouching in the dark entryway, fumbling to take off my shoes. “It’s normal. They’re dating.” Liam had started dating his roommate freshman year, and their relationship was very stable. I was long used to their occasional PDA. Ethan made no move to leave. He leaned against the doorframe. I couldn’t read his expression in the dark. “Carter, if I remember correctly, you still haven’t had your first kiss, right?” This was playing out exactly like my memory. Next, I was supposed to snap back defensively, “So what? Mind your own business.” Then he would magnanimously say, “How pitiful. Why don’t you beg me? I might be willing to do you a favor and help you out.” His version of “help” was pinning me against the wall and kissing me until the power came back on and the lights flooded the room. Afterward, he had explained that it was too dark that night, his senses were heightened, and hearing the wet sounds of Liam and his boyfriend had riled him up. It was just an impulse, and he hoped I wouldn’t overthink it. My heart, which had been beating wildly, plummeted into a silent abyss at those words. To hide my crushing disappointment, I had forced a casual laugh and agreed: Yeah, totally. Two guys kissing is no big deal, basically the same as kissing a slab of pork. Snapping back to the present, Ethan noticed my silence and chuckled. “What, too embarrassed to admit it?” “No,” I denied. “It’s already gone.” Ethan froze, utterly shocked. “With who? Are you seeing someone?” Before I could answer, he started muttering to himself. “Impossible. Liam said you’ve been single this whole time. Oh—are you talking about kindergarten? That little girl with the pigtails? “Carter, that doesn’t count as a fucking first kiss. A kiss is supposed to be with someone you actually like—” He abruptly cut himself off. Ethan was right about one thing: the darkness really did amplify your senses. For instance, right now, I clearly felt his breathing hitch and stumble for a split second. “Hmm?” Curious about what he was going to say next, I feigned realization. “Oh, is that how it works? Then I guess I do still have it. Is there a problem?” Ethan went silent. After a long time, he stuttered out, “Then… do you… need me to…” “Need you to what?” He paused again, taking a deep breath. “Hearing those two going at it… didn’t you feel an urge to… to kiss someone too?” I stared intently into the dark where he stood, and heard myself say, “No.” Actually, I wanted it desperately. But I also knew that no matter what choice I made in this illusion, it wouldn’t change the ultimate outcome. So what if it was meaningless? I just wanted to confirm that all these years, my unrequited love hadn’t been entirely one-sided. Ethan had lost his excuse. We fell into a stalemate. I finally relented. “Okay, maybe I want to a little. But you just said it yourself, it only counts if it’s with someone you like.” Am I someone you like? “You can just pretend I’m the person you like,” Ethan said, stepping closer to me, his scalding breath washing over my face. “Like that underclassman in your club. You’re into her, right? Heard you asked her out to dinner a few times but still haven’t sealed the deal?” Underclassman? It had been so many years since college, I had almost forgotten she even existed. Thinking back, we had teamed up for an academic competition, but there was never anything else between us. “Did I guess right?” Ethan reached out and gripped my chin. For some reason, his grip was unexpectedly tight. “No…” A soft click sounded from above, and the next second, the room flooded with light. I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut. “The power is back.” Ethan stared at me fixedly, his gaze dark and unreadable. He raised his hand and covered my eyes. “No, it’s not.” Warm, soft lips pressed against mine, slowly and deeply grinding against them. I wanted to ask him if the old, emotionally stunted me had missed too many signs. When did you start liking me? Why couldn’t either of us just be a little braver? It was all too late now. I couldn’t bear to push him away. I’ll ask him when this is over. When this kiss ends, I’m going to finally confirm his feelings properly. That way, even if we couldn’t be together in life, I wouldn’t die with regrets. But when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my entryway. A coworker was supporting my weight as we walked toward a hotel room door, and Ethan’s voice rang out from behind us. “Why did he drink so much?”

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Our new finance manager, Kylie, claimed she was biologically incapable of feeling cold. She said she “ran hot”—a metabolic furnace that necessitated a sub-zero environment. Meanwhile, a polar vortex had descended upon the city, dropping temperatures into the single digits. While the rest of us sat at our desks, teeth chattering and wrapped in blankets, Kylie militantly forbade anyone from touching the thermostat. “It’s not cold,” she’d scoff, rolling her eyes. “You office types just have poor circulation because you never exercise. That’s why you’re weak.” She even convinced our boss, Mr. Davis, to cancel the company shuttle service that picked us up from the train station. She pitched it as a “wellness initiative”—forcing us to walk the two miles would improve our health, she argued, while conveniently slashing “unnecessary overhead.” Davis loved the idea. He cancelled the shuttle immediately. Of course, he continued to drive his heated Range Rover to the door every morning. Because our office was in a remote business park with zero public transit access, my colleagues and I had to wake up two hours earlier just to trudge through the freezing wind. After a month of this, we were all sleep-deprived zombies. Performance dropped, bonuses were slashed, and morale was in the gutter. Just as I was wondering how long I could survive this frozen hellscape, an email pinged in my inbox. It was a resume. The cover letter read: “I suffer from severe chronic cold sensitivity. My ideal work environment is a sauna. I am looking for a company that keeps the heat on 365 days a year.” I slapped my thigh, grinning for the first time in weeks. I grabbed the phone and dialed HR. “I don’t care about her qualifications,” I said. “I want this woman as my assistant. Get her in here yesterday.” 1 “Who turned the heat on? Kill it. Now!” A shrill shriek cut through the office air. But this time, the entire team maintained a collective, practiced deafness. We didn’t look up. We didn’t flinch. Last month, the company had hired Kylie. It was late autumn then, and most of us were already layering up, some even resorting to thermal leggings under our slacks. Kylie, however, had breezed in on her first day wearing a sleeveless summer dress, bare legs on full display. When a colleague politely asked if she wasn’t freezing, she’d slapped her chest proudly. “High metabolism,” she bragged. “I radiate heat. I don’t even own a winter coat.” At first, we thought, fine, her funeral. But then the problems started. A cold front hit hard after a week of rain, dropping the temperature by twenty degrees overnight. The building’s central heating kicked in automatically. But the moment the vents started blowing warm air, Kylie marched over to the control panel and shut it down. “You people are so dramatic,” she lectured, blocking the thermostat with her body. “It’s not even freezing outside yet. I’m actually sweating. If you moved around a bit instead of rotting in your chairs, you wouldn’t have such pathetic constitutions.” The office heating was a central system, but I had a separate zone in my managerial office. Or I did, until she killed the main breaker. My room turned into an icebox instantly. I turned it back on and sent out a memo explicitly forbidding unauthorized tampering with the HVAC. She ignored it. I’d turn it on; she’d turn it off. It was a war of attrition, and we were losing. I was plotting a way to escalate this to HR when, a few days later, the system let out a dying beep and shut down completely. I stormed out, assuming Kylie was at it again. Instead, I found her leaning against the wall, a smug little smirk playing on her lips. “Manager,” she said, feigning innocence. “Don’t look at me. The wiring shorted out. The system couldn’t handle the load. Guess we’re out of luck.” Wiring could be fixed. I called maintenance immediately. The response was grim. “Sorry, the control board is fried. We have to order parts from the manufacturer overseas. With supply chain issues, you’re looking at two months, minimum.” Two months. The heart of winter. We were going to freeze to death. Looking at the triumphant glint in Kylie’s eyes, I knew this wasn’t just bad luck. This was sabotage. 2 I took the issue straight to Mr. Davis. His office was equipped with a sleek, standalone industrial heater. Even with the central air dead, he was toasty warm. The rest of the staff weren’t so lucky. “Alright, Harper, I hear you,” Davis said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll handle it. Give me a week. I won’t let the team freeze.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I assumed he’d authorize portable units or an emergency HVAC replacement. I went back out and rallied the troops, promising them that by Monday, the heat would be back. They grumbled but agreed to tough it out for the weekend. Monday morning arrived. It was somehow colder inside than out. And instead of a repair crew, we got a town hall meeting. Davis stood before us, wrapped in a cashmere scarf. “Moving forward,” he announced, “heating is prohibited unless the indoor temperature drops below freezing.” Before anyone could protest, he continued with that condescending, corporate-dad tone. “I know it’s brisk. But artificial heating is just a band-aid. That’s why, effective immediately, the shuttle service is permanently cancelled. I want you all jogging or power-walking from the train station. By the time you get here, your blood will be pumping so hard you won’t even need a heater.” The silence in the room was absolute. It was the silence of people realizing their boss had lost his mind. “You can thank Kylie for the suggestion,” Davis added, beaming at her. “It cuts costs and promotes cardio. Win-win.” “Right, back to work,” he said, and disappeared into his heated office, leaving us to the tundra. The cheapskate. No heat, and now a forced march to work. Most of the staff couldn’t afford cars. I usually took the train and then a rideshare bike. Riding a bike in this wind was agonizing. Several colleagues quit on the spot. The rest of us—trapped by mortgages and a tough job market—swallowed our rage and put on another sweater. “Harper, you’re late. That’s a fifty-dollar fine. Scan this.” I had just sprinted into the lobby, lungs burning, only to be blocked by Kylie. She was holding up a QR code for the company account, looking entirely too pleased with herself. I looked at the wall clock. 10:01 AM. “I’m not late,” I wheezed, trying to bypass her. “Are you blind?” She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “10:01. One minute late is still late. Pay up.” I shook her off and pulled out my phone. “Open your eyes and look at the atomic clock, Kylie. It’s 9:56. The wall clock is fast.” I had asked the janitor to set the lobby clock five minutes fast yesterday, specifically to catch people trying to leave early. Seeing the undeniable time on my phone, Kylie’s eyes widened. A few colleagues walked in behind me, checking their own watches. “Weird,” one said loudly. “I’ve got four minutes to spare.” Kylie flushed a blotchy red. “You got lucky this time,” she spat. “You’re all so selfish. If you cared about this company, you’d be here early creating value, not sliding in at the deadline.” Mr. Davis walked in right at that moment. I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, Kylie just called you selfish for not coming in early to create value.” My colleagues nodded vigorously. “She definitely said that, boss. We all heard it.” Davis’s face darkened. Kylie opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Stop playing hall monitor and get to work.” As she slunk away, I exchanged a look with my team. For the first time in weeks, we smiled. “It’s colder than a morgue in here,” one colleague whispered. “My electric scooter has a better windshield than this building.” Watching Kylie eat crow warmed me up more than a heater ever could. But it wasn’t enough. 3 A few days later, I was in a meeting with a client who manufactured outdoor gear. They were beta-testing a new line of portable, high-efficiency space heaters. When I mentioned our HVAC situation, the client insisted on sending over a dozen units for “field testing.” They arrived the next day. I distributed them immediately. The hum of the heaters was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. For the first time, I could type without my fingers stiffening. “What do you think you’re doing?! Where did these come from? Turn them off!” Kylie stormed into the bullpen, screeching like a banshee the moment she felt the warmth. I stood up, my expression icy. “These are client prototypes. We are required to use them and provide feedback reports. Unless you want to explain to the client why we breached our contract?” “Mr. Davis is in Europe for two weeks,” I added, stepping closer to her. “So save the drama.” “I don’t care!” Kylie yelled. “Look at the electricity usage! Turn them off, or go run laps outside if you’re cold!” She lunged for the nearest desk and yanked the plug out of the wall. That was the last straw. The team had reached their breaking point. “Don’t you dare,” a quiet analyst named Sarah said, standing up. “Touch my heater again, and I swear…” “You class traitor,” another colleague shouted. “Go find a streetlamp to hang from!” The entire team formed a protective wall around the heaters. Kylie, realizing she was outnumbered, backed off, muttering threats. We worked in blissful warmth for the rest of the day. Near closing time, I was shutting down my computer when a deafening crash echoed from the lobby. The glass doors were kicked open. A man—built like a linebacker and looking twice as angry—stormed in. “Who turned on the heat?! You trying to give my baby heatstroke? Where’s the manager? Get out here!” My staff froze. I looked through my blinds and saw Kylie sprinting toward him. “Brock! It’s them! They forced the heaters on! It’s like an oven in here, I’m dying!” I recognized the type immediately. I dialed 911 from my desk, whispering for them to hurry, before stepping out. “Brock, honey, that’s her! She brought the heaters!” Kylie pointed a manicured finger at me. Brock marched up to me, nostrils flaring. “You the manager? I hear you’ve been bullying my girl.” I held my ground. “It is forty-six degrees in this office. If your ‘baby’ is overheating, I suggest a thyroid check at the nearest ER.” Emboldened by her human shield, Kylie smirked. “I told you, I have high yang energy. I run hot. But a bitter, single old woman like you wouldn’t understand. Having a warm man beside you is better than any heater.” I stared at her, unimpressed. “Then why are you here? Go stay home and hug your husband. The police are on their way. I suggest you leave.” 4 “You called the cops?” Brock roared. “You got some nerve.” “She almost killed me with this heat!” Kylie shrieked. “She should be arrested!” Brock grabbed me by the collar, raising a fist the size of a ham. “Touch me and you’ll lose everything,” I shouted, staring him in the eye. “We have cameras. Do you have enough equity in your house to cover the lawsuit? This isn’t a bar fight.” He hesitated. He wanted me to cower. My refusal to flinch confused him. “I’ll show you heaters!” He shoved me backward, turned, and kicked the nearest space heater across the room. Then he stomped on another one, shattering the casing. Sirens wailed outside. When the officers entered, I pointed to the broken electronics and the security camera. “Assault, destruction of property, making threats. It’s all on tape.” “Pfft,” Brock scoffed. “I know she got those free from a client. They didn’t cost you a dime. You can’t sue for damages on free junk.” Kylie suddenly clutched her forehead, swaying theatrically. “Oh god, I’m dizzy… I think… I think the heat gave me heatstroke…” It was a masterclass in gaslighting. They refused to pay for the heaters and demanded we pay Kylie’s medical bills for her “heat-induced trauma.” The police, useless as ever in civil disputes, gave them a stern talking-to and told us to “work it out amongst ourselves.” That night, two more colleagues resigned. “Harper, I can’t do it,” one texted me. “I’m losing money working here just paying for flu meds.” I didn’t blame them. I went home, exhausted. I opened my laptop to check the HR portal, and that’s when I saw the resume again. “Severe cold sensitivity… left previous job due to lack of heating… strictly require a hot environment.” Nova. I sat up straight. This wasn’t just a candidate. This was a biological weapon. I emailed HR immediately. “Hire Nova as my personal assistant. Start date: Monday.” Kylie was Fire. Nova was Ice. It was time for a thermodynamic showdown. Over the weekend, while the office was empty, I hired a private contractor to look at the AC. “Nothing major,” the guy said, tinkering with the panel. “Just a crossed wire. Fixed it in two minutes. That’ll be twenty-five bucks for the call-out.” I realized then that the building’s maintenance guy—Mr. Davis’s nephew—had lied. He and Davis had probably cooked up the “broken part” story to save on the electric bill. Monday morning, I arrived at 7:00 AM. I cranked the thermostat to eighty degrees. When the staff arrived, they practically cried with relief. Then Kylie walked in. Her face turned purple. “Who turned it on?! Are you insane? You trying to kill me?” “I’m calling Brock! If I faint, you’re all paying for it!” As she screamed, the door to my office opened. Nova stepped out. She was wearing a thick wool cardigan even in the eighty-degree heat. “Who keeps trying to turn off my heat?” Nova asked, her voice calm but sharp. “I have a medical condition. If I get hypothermia, which one of you is writing the check?” Kylie stared at her. “Showtime,” I whispered to myself.

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In the seventh year of our marriage, Arthur Sterling’s true, playboy nature was finally exposed. He tricked me into taking an experimental drug designed to induce temporary amnesia, making me forget him entirely. While I was “forgetting,” he brought another woman into our marital home, flaunting their affair. He even threw her a massive, lavish wedding. But what he didn’t know was that my memory had already completely returned. I continued to fake my amnesia, playing along with his elaborate performance. When I quietly bowed out to let them be together, Arthur lost his mind trying to find me. He broke down, sobbing hysterically: “Chloe, it was all my fault! Will you please just take the pill one more time?” “This time, I promise I’ll make you forget all the pain, and you’ll fall in love with me all over again.” 1 In the third month of my supposed amnesia, my memories finally came rushing back. I was just about to push open the study door and share the good news with Arthur. When I accidentally overheard his best friend talking: “Arthur, where the hell did you get that drug?” “When my wife and I hit the seven-year itch, I need to give her a dose of that amnesia pill too. You get to have a mistress without getting caught, and it keeps the marriage perfectly intact.” I froze outside the door, my trembling hand pulling back from the handle. The casual banter inside sent a violent chill down my spine. My amnesia wasn’t from a car crash… it was intentional! And my own husband, Arthur Sterling, was the one who did it. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. Arthur was leaning lazily against the leather sofa, holding the antidote in one hand, while kissing a sexy woman sitting next to him with the other. “In a month, I’ll give Chloe the antidote.” “Then I’ll dedicate myself to taking care of her. I’ll be the perfect husband and a great father from then on.” One of his friends gave him a thumbs-up, looking at him with a smirking, entertained expression. “Arthur, just don’t get addicted to the thrill. You might find it hard to give up the entire forest just for one tree.” Arthur chuckled mockingly. “The only woman I truly love is Chloe. The rest are just for fun.” “Careful, Artie.” “If that drug fails, and Chloe finds out you’ve been messing around… with her personality, she’ll definitely divorce you.” “Yeah, man. You’ve had your fun tonight. Go home and slip her another pill. The more she forgets, the safer you are.” His friends were eagerly offering terrible advice, but Arthur looked incredibly confident. “Her dad died three months ago. Chloe still doesn’t even know.” “She’s an orphan now. No one in the world loves her as much as I do. She will absolutely never leave me.” He twisted the wedding band on his finger, his eyes full of absolute certainty. The men in the room were completely envious, practically begging Arthur for a few pills to slip to their own wives. I stumbled backward, barely able to keep my balance. Arthur and I had known each other for ten years. High school sweethearts. For me, the notoriously lazy bad boy had studied relentlessly to get into a top-tier university. For our future, he gave up his passion for racing to start a grounded, practical tech company. All so I wouldn’t have to struggle. When Arthur’s company went public, he held my hand and we rang the opening bell on Wall Street together. Right there on the trading floor, he dropped to one knee and proposed: “Marry me!” “I, Arthur Sterling, offer the entire Sterling empire as your dowry.” I truly believed he was my forever. Yet here he was, intentionally erasing my memory, deceiving me. 2 Three months ago, my memory started getting hazy and chaotic. Arthur lied to me, saying it was trauma from a minor car accident, and pretended to take me to endless doctors. It turns out, the “medication” he was giving me to “cure” my memory loss was actually the drug causing it. The man I trusted most in the world was playing a sick, twisted game with my emotions. The heartbreak was so severe I could barely breathe. Coupled with the devastating news of my father’s passing, a heavy, crushing weight settled deep in my chest. Freezing rain began to fall. Memories flooded my mind like a surging tide. During my amnesia, Arthur would often smile and gently test me: “Chloe, what do you think our relationship is?” I would shake my head. He would say, “Chloe, we’re best friends. I’m helping your husband take care of you.” Friends? I laughed bitterly at myself. The rain soaked me down to my bones. 3 I returned home like a walking ghost, quickly filled out the application forms, and ran straight to my former professor’s office. “Professor, can I still join the classified research project?” “Someone with your talent? Anytime. But…” After his initial excitement, the professor looked slightly hesitant. “Arthur has always been so protective of you. He didn’t want you working because he was afraid it would be too hard on you.” “Once you enter the secure facility, you’ll be working under an alias. You might not see your family for ten, maybe even twenty years. It’s nothing like living the life of a billionaire’s wife. Do you want six months to think about it?” I didn’t hesitate. “No need. I’ll be ready to join in one month.” If the rest of my life had to be dedicated to a husband like Arthur. I would rather burn out the rest of my days in a lab, dedicating myself entirely to biomedical research. The professor respected my decision and didn’t press further. “If you’ve truly made up your mind, we would be honored to have you join the project.” My gaze was unwavering. “I don’t have any attachments holding me back anymore.” Right now, I was exactly what Arthur called me: an orphan. I had no family, and I certainly didn’t need a husband. 4 “Where are you?” Arthur called me. I quickly suppressed the chaotic storm of emotions in my chest before forcing out the words, “Artie.” Hearing that I still hadn’t “woken up,” the man on the other end let out a clear sigh of relief. “Chloe, come home early. It’s time for your medicine.” “Okay.” Hearing him arrange for me to take the drug again sent a violent chill through my entire body. I was completely, utterly disgusted by this husband. I had told him once, long ago, that if the day ever came when he didn’t love me anymore, he just had to be honest, and I would gracefully bow out. But clearly, Arthur confused the desire for control with actual love. I refused to settle for a love that was tainted. I didn’t even have the energy to expose his sick game. I just had to play along for one final act. Then, we would be completely, permanently done. 5 When I pushed open the front door, Arthur was sitting leisurely on the sofa, looking impeccably handsome in a tailored black suit. For a split second, I felt a familiar flutter in my chest, but then he walked over, holding a glass of water and the pill. “Chloe, take your medicine. You’ll remember everything soon.” Taking the pill from him, I stared directly into eyes that used sincerity to mask absolute deceit. “How soon is ‘soon’?” Having never questioned him before, my sudden inquiry made Arthur’s eyes dart away evasively. “…I’m not a doctor. But I would never hurt you.” “Don’t you trust me, Chloe? We’ve been best friends since we were kids.” I gave a bitter, mocking smile. I swallowed the pill right in front of him. I saw the flash of immense relief wash over his face. What he didn’t know… Was that the second I turned my back, I spit the pill I had hidden under my tongue directly into the toilet. 6 Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I wiped away the tears of sheer heartbreak. “Arthur Sterling, you will never lie to me again.” Taking advantage of Arthur going out on a date, I walked into our old master bedroom. I dug through his drawers and found our marriage certificate. He had wrapped it in several layers of newspaper and hidden it deep in the back. During my “amnesia,” he had set me up in the guest bedroom. Arthur had taken all our photos together and hidden them in the basement, creating the perfect illusion that I was just a temporary houseguest. All so he could openly bring different women home. And sleep with them… right in front of me, in our marital bed. I gathered everything from the basement and the hidden spots in the master bedroom—anything that proved I existed—and hauled it all to the empty fire pit in the backyard, ready to burn it. A sleek, customized Lotus sports car pulled into the driveway. This was the tenth woman Arthur had brought home. He had been seeing her for three months; a significantly longer run than the previous ones. He pressed a kiss to the girl’s blushing cheek before strolling over toward the glow of the fire. “Chloe, what are you burning?” I was burning everything face down. Arthur couldn’t tell that our marriage certificate and wedding photos were hidden beneath the flames. “Just some old, useless sketches that I couldn’t sell. They were taking up space.” Arthur’s eyes filled with genuine regret. “Don’t burn them. I’ll buy them from you.” During my two years as a stay-at-home wife, since I couldn’t work in the lab, I had taken up painting. And during my amnesia, painting was the only thing I remembered how to do. So, he knew exactly how much I cherished my artwork. Arthur looked distressed. He reached his hand toward the fire, clearly wanting to salvage whatever he could. I swatted his hand away firmly. “They’re defective. There’s no point in saving them.” Arthur clutched his chest, a flicker of unease passing through his eyes. “If you have any more drafts you don’t want, sell them to me.” “Actually… I really love… your paintings.” I clearly saw the flash of deep, genuine emotion he accidentally let slip. I knew he loved the artist, not the art. But right now, wracked with guilt and secrecy, he didn’t dare admit it. I smiled faintly. “You should be focusing on Ms. Evans. My paintings aren’t anything special.” Evelyn Evans smirked and leaned into Arthur’s embrace. “Arthur, weren’t we going to go play some games?” He looked down at Evelyn with indulgent affection. “Let’s go.” I watched their retreating backs as they walked intimately into the house. He loved being wild and free. I was going to let him have it.

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