Category: English

“How much was that ring of hers?” At my wedding, Michelle’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers. Every guest in the hall immediately looked up at the sound system on both sides of the stage. Michael’s voice followed: “Six thousand.” “Only six thousand?” Michelle’s laughter was amplified by the microphone. “The one you bought me was a hundred and twenty thousand.” “How can they compare?” Michael coaxed. “Yours was custom-made just for you. Hers was something I won in a mall raffle.” Center stage, the champagne flute in my hand trembled. Every eye in the room fell on me, but I remained calm. Because I was the one who turned on that microphone. The hall was silent for exactly four seconds. After four seconds, my mom was the first to stand. “What is that?” She turned to look at my dad, then at Michael’s mother Ruth sitting at the head table. Ruth’s expression changed in that instant as she rapidly assessed the situation. The conversation from the speakers continued. Michelle’s voice became softer, as if she’d leaned close to someone’s ear, but the microphone faithfully picked up every syllable. “Did you think… she looked really fat in that wedding dress today?” Michael didn’t answer. Michelle continued: “There’s a roll of fat bulging at her waist. Standing next to her, even I felt uncomfortable for her.” Then Michael laughed. It was a quiet laugh, as if afraid of being heard, yet the sound system mercilessly amplified it. The crowd began to stir. Michael’s college friends were the first to react. A man in a gray suit rushed toward the sound booth, shouting at the sound engineer: “Turn it off! Turn it off now!” Sound engineer Bob looked up at him, then at me. I gave Bob a slight shake of my head. Bob didn’t move. The man in the gray suit shouted again, his voice cracking: “Are you deaf? Turn it off!” Bob said expressionlessly, “The bride told me not to.” The hall erupted. “She told you not to?” The man froze. I stood center stage and set down my champagne flute. Everyone was watching me—some shocked, some confused, some already recording video. My dad’s face was ashen, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Ruth finally couldn’t sit still. She rose from behind the head table, her heels clicking an urgent rhythm on the floor. “Bob! I’m telling you to turn it off!” Bob looked at me. I still hadn’t nodded. He sat behind the mixing console, motionless. Ruth turned to me, forcing a strained smile. “Sophia, it’s a technical malfunction. Stop this nonsense.” I looked at her. “Please, sit down.” My voice was flat. “The show isn’t over yet.”

Twenty-one days ago, I was just as calm. The bridal shop was on the fourth floor of the downtown mall, called WEISS. Their prices started at thirty thousand. That afternoon at two o’clock, I was trying on my third wedding dress. In the full-length mirror, I could barely breathe from how tight it was. The white train was six feet long. Michelle was outside helping me with accessories, saying she’d ask the staff for a longer veil. I was in the dressing room trying to reach the zipper on my back. When I couldn’t, I pushed open the door to call her. Then I heard her voice. Behind a row of clothing racks, with her back to me, phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah… she’s trying them on now. Pretty ugly.” She laughed quietly. “Her waist has gotten so thick and she doesn’t even know it. I’m too embarrassed to say anything.” I stood behind the rack, silent. “Okay, okay, you pick the restaurant for tonight. I’ll come over after I finish helping her shop.” She hung up. I retreated to the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed again. My heartbeat pounded in my ears like drums. My first reaction wasn’t anger—it was confusion. Who was she talking to? Three minutes later, Michelle came back with a lace veil. “Sophia, try this one! It’s gorgeous!” I took it and smiled. “Where did you just go?” “To get the veil from the staff.” Her eyes showed not a ripple of emotion. I didn’t press further. But that evening when I got home, I opened Michael’s phone bill for the first time. He used a secondary card under my name. The bill came to my email every month. I’d never looked at it before. That night I went through six months of transaction records. I found three transfers that shouldn’t exist. One for forty-three thousand, noted “necklace.” One for twenty-seven thousand, noted “hotel.” One for a hundred and twenty thousand, noted “ring.” The hundred-twenty-thousand-dollar ring matched the number Michelle mentioned in the speakers exactly. In that moment, sitting on the living room couch, my face illuminated by the phone screen. Outside, the sound of traffic surged in waves. I suddenly felt that for the past three years, I’d been watching a play. And I was the only one who didn’t know the script.

I didn’t confront Michael immediately, nor did I call to curse out Michelle. The next day I took a half-day off and went to the building across from Michael’s office. Not to find him—to check the surveillance at the print shop across the street. Michael’s company was in a Financial District office building. Every day at noon he’d go downstairs to eat. I wanted to see who he ate with. The print shop owner took two hundred dollars from me and let me watch a month’s worth of door surveillance footage. Day one: Michael went downstairs alone, went to the noodle shop next door. Day three: Michael came out with a woman. I zoomed in on the image. Michelle. She was wearing the beige trench coat I’d given her for her birthday last year, arm-in-arm with Michael as they walked into the Western restaurant next door. I kept scrolling. In one month, they’d eaten lunch together eleven times. Eleven times! Michael and I had dated for three years, got engaged, and the number of times he’d eaten lunch with me—I could count them on one hand. He always said he was busy, that he could only grab something simple at the office for lunch. I’d even bought him a case of self-heating rice, told him to keep it in his office so he wouldn’t always eat instant noodles. He said, “Baby, you’re so good to me.” What happened to that case of self-heating rice? I don’t know. But I knew that those eleven Western restaurant bills were all charged to his secondary card—in other words, my money. I screenshot all the records and saved them to a new encrypted album. I named the album “Wedding Materials.” From that day on, I began another kind of life. Working during the day, investigating at night. On the surface, I was still that busy bride-to-be preparing for her wedding. Discussing bridesmaid dress colors with Michelle, tasting menu options with Michael, arranging seating with Ruth. On the third day, I found a pattern in Michael’s Twitter activity. Every Thursday night he’d appear at a residential complex in the east part of the city. The complex was called Love. Average price: twenty-eight thousand per square foot. I looked up the property ownership information. Building 7, Unit 1402. Owner: Michelle. Purchase date: Eleven months ago. Down payment: Six hundred and seventy thousand. Six hundred and seventy thousand. Michael’s year-end bonus last year was seven hundred and twenty thousand. He told me his take-home bonus was only three hundred and fifty thousand after the company deducted taxes and insurance. The extra three hundred and seventy thousand, plus the miscellaneous expenses he’d charged to the secondary card each month, added up to exactly the down payment for this apartment. I stared at the numbers on the screen for a long time. Then I closed my phone and washed my face. My eyes in the mirror were dry—not a single tear. Not because I wasn’t hurt—because my tears weren’t worthy. My tears weren’t worthy of being shed for people like this.

On day seven, I went to Michael’s house. The purpose was simple: to test Ruth. Before retirement, Ruth had been a department store floor manager. Sharp as they come. Michael’s entire social life was arranged by her. Even what we ate on our first date—she decided that. She said Michael was shy and needed her help. That afternoon, Ruth was cutting fruit in the kitchen while I flipped through photo albums on the coffee table in the living room. “What do you think about this dessert table for the reception? Should we switch to this two-tier one?” “Sure, whatever you think.” I changed the subject: “By the way, Michelle said she wants to read something at the wedding. What do you think?” “Michelle?” Ruth’s knife paused. “Yeah, she’s my best friend.” Ruth didn’t turn around, continued cutting fruit. “Well… you decide.” There was a hint of discomfort in her tone. I continued: “I think Michelle’s dating someone. Did you know?” Ruth’s knife finally stopped. She turned to look at me, her smile somewhat stiff. “How would I know about that? You young people and your business.” Her right index finger rubbed against the back of the knife. I’d known Ruth for three years. That gesture meant she was nervous. “Sophia, the fruit’s ready. Take it over.” She changed the subject, but her reaction had already given me the answer. She knew. That evening, I left Michael’s house early, sat in my car, and called Natasha. Natasha was my other college roommate, now working at a law firm. “Natasha, I need you to help me check something.” “What?” “The names on the purchase contract for Michael’s and my wedding apartment.” “You don’t know?” Natasha’s voice paused. “I put down seventy percent of the down payment, but Ruth took the contract the day we signed. She said she’d keep it safe for us.” Natasha was silent for three seconds. “Sophia, hold on.” The next afternoon, Natasha sent me the search results. Only one name on the purchase contract: Michael. Out of the two-million-one-hundred-thousand down payment, I’d contributed one million five hundred thousand. But my name wasn’t on the deed—and I’d always thought both our names were on it. Because the day we signed, I watched Michael write down my name with my own eyes. But what did Ruth do after “safekeeping the contract”? I didn’t know, but I could guess. That night I couldn’t sleep. Not because of anger, not because of sadness. Because I was thinking about one thing: how long had they been scheming against me? From the very beginning? From the day Michael met me through Michelle? At 2 AM, I pulled up our chat history from three years ago. Back then, Michelle had enthusiastically introduced Michael to me. “Sophia! I have a classmate who’s perfect for you! Handsome, good family background, works as an analyst at a financial firm!” That message was from three years and seven months ago. And Michelle’s secondary phone card activation date—I’d checked it yesterday—was three years and nine months ago. They’d been together two months before Michael and I got together. In other words, Michael was with Michelle first, then met me through Michelle. And Michelle personally introduced her own boyfriend to me. Why? The answer was in the first transaction on Michael’s secondary card. Three years ago, Michael’s first secondary card purchase was at a high-end club. Note: Sergio’s welcome banquet. Sergio is my dad. This relationship was a business transaction from day one.

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The plane had just landed when I learned that my best friend Juliet, married for only six months, was planning to divorce. I rushed to her house immediately. As soon as I walked in, Juliet’s husband Thompson pointed at me and cursed: “If it weren’t for you calling Juliet every day to sow discord, why would she bring up divorce? You’re just jealous that Juliet is happy!” Juliet’s mother Betty also scolded me: “Chloe, just because you can’t get married doesn’t mean you should wish for Juliet to divorce. Don’t tell me you’re trying to seduce her husband? No wonder you didn’t even attend the wedding. I never thought you were this kind of person!” I opened my mouth, completely baffled. They said I called Juliet every day to convince her to divorce, that I actually wanted to seduce her husband? But I had just finished a year-long Antarctic research expedition where there was absolutely no cell phone signal! After twenty-two hours on the plane, I only received Juliet’s message sent two hours earlier when I landed. [Chloe, I just brought up divorce. Can you come to my place and keep me company? I’m a little scared.] I was somewhat confused. Out of nowhere, why did she suddenly want a divorce? I had been on an Antarctic expedition for a whole year and already regretted missing Juliet’s wedding. Now seeing this message, I headed straight to her place without even going home first after getting off the plane. The moment I walked in, Thompson pointed at me and started cursing. “Chloe, perfect timing. If it weren’t for Juliet listening to you sow discord every day, why would she bring up divorce with me!” Juliet and Thompson had a whirlwind marriage after a blind date. Although I’d heard his name, this was my first time meeting Thompson. I was stunned by the scolding and looked around the room. I didn’t see Juliet. But Juliet’s parents and Thompson were all there. Before I could speak, Thompson cursed again: “You just can’t stand to see Juliet doing well, so you deliberately badmouth me.” “A best friend who only kicks people when they’re down like you—Juliet should have cut ties with you long ago!” I frowned and retorted, “When did I ever badmouth you to Juliet? Did she tell you this herself?” Thompson said excitedly: “Does she need to tell me herself? She only has you as a friend. If it wasn’t you on the phone, who was it!” “When we first got married, our relationship was pretty good.” “Ever since Juliet started hiding in the bedroom every night to make phone calls, she’s been deliberately picking fights with me and causing conflicts.” “She listens to you so much. If you weren’t fanning the flames on the phone, badmouthing me, why would Juliet cause conflicts with me out of nowhere?” “Chloe, marriage is between Juliet and me. It’s not your place as an outsider to point fingers.” “Apologize to me right now and tell Juliet to stop this nonsense! Who gets divorced after only six months of marriage? How embarrassing would that be!” I had been sleeping on the plane for two days and was already exhausted. Now being slandered by Thompson, I had even less patience. “You can’t maintain your own marriage, so why should I apologize to you?” “Thompson, I’ll say this one more time: the person calling Juliet wasn’t me, and I never badmouthed you.” “Where’s Juliet? Have her come out and confront me.” Thompson said, “She gave me divorce papers early this morning and then disappeared somewhere. She won’t answer her phone either!” After saying this, he pulled out his phone. “Chloe, I knew you wouldn’t admit it, so a few days ago when Juliet was on the phone with you, I secretly recorded it.” He pressed play, and a woman’s voice rang out. [Juliet, since he’s treating you this way, just divorce him.] In the recording, Juliet’s voice sounded somewhat hesitant: “Should I really get divorced? But I’ve only been married for six months.” That female voice spoke up again. [So what if it’s only been six months? He’s already like this. What are you afraid of? I’m here for you!] After that, Juliet immediately made up her mind. “You’re right, I want a divorce!” Thompson said angrily, “Chloe, the evidence is right here in my hands. How dare you say you weren’t sowing discord?” Hearing this, Betty, who had been silent on the side, also got angry. “Chloe, just because you can’t get married doesn’t mean you should wish for Juliet to have a bad life too.” “Thompson is clearly quite decent and treats Juliet well. How could you say such things?” “Don’t tell me you have your eye on Thompson, so you’re hoping Juliet will divorce? No wonder you didn’t even attend the wedding!” “Our families have known each other for over twenty years. I never thought you were this kind of person!”

The female voice in the recording did sound like mine. But I knew that the person speaking was definitely not me. Hearing Betty’s string of slanderous accusations, I also lost my temper. “You can’t just say whatever you want. The person in that recording isn’t me.” “Six months ago, I didn’t attend Juliet’s wedding because I was on a business trip abroad and couldn’t make it back.” “Thompson and I have never even met. How could I possibly have any thoughts about him?” Betty clearly didn’t believe me. “Chloe, I watched you grow up. That’s clearly your voice in the recording, and you still won’t admit it.” “Juliet has an introverted personality. You’ve been her only close friend since childhood.” “She never guards against you, so she must have sent you lots of photos and videos of Thompson.” “Thompson is so excellent. It’s normal for you to have thoughts about him. The blame is on Juliet for being too naive.” “All these years, I’ve treated you like a daughter. I never thought you’d be thinking about Thompson and secretly encouraging her to divorce!” I laughed instead of getting angry. “Your imagination is way too wild.” “I spent the past year on an Antarctic research expedition where there was no signal.” “I couldn’t receive any messages Juliet sent, much less fall for Thompson because of them.” Hearing this, Betty’s voice rose considerably. “Antarctica? Research expedition? You?” “Chloe, I know you’re panicking because your thoughts were exposed, but you can’t just make things up.” “Juliet graduated from a top Ivy League school and can only work as an ordinary clerk.” “Back then, your SAT score was mediocre and you only got into an ordinary college. How could you possibly qualify for an Antarctic research expedition?” “You probably did some shameful work outside and didn’t dare come back to your hometown for a year!” It’s true that I didn’t do well on the SAT back then. But I studied hard during college, later got into Harvard for my doctorate, and finally joined the Polar Research Center. All these years, I worked tirelessly for one goal—to join the Antarctic research expedition I’d always dreamed of. I never imagined someone would consider it shameful work. I pulled out my plane ticket from my pocket and said, “Stop slandering me.” “This is my ticket from just returning from Antarctica. My luggage is still downstairs.” Thompson looked at the ticket in my hand and laughed. “Chloe, I can’t believe you prepared a fake ticket to support your lie. Looks like you’ve been planning this for a while.” I said angrily, “If you still don’t believe me, I can call my colleagues who went with me and have them testify.” Thompson scoffed, “What good is a phone call? Who knows if you coordinated your story beforehand?” “You said you had no cell signal in Antarctica, but six months ago on Juliet’s and my wedding day, I received your money transfer. That record is still there!” “If you really had no cell signal, how could you have transferred the gift money!”

We research personnel get one day off each month. On that day, we rest at the research station and can use the weak internet signal to send messages to relatives and friends. After learning about Juliet’s wedding date a month in advance, I specifically requested that day off so I could send her my blessings on her wedding day. I never imagined that my thoughtfulness would now become a blade Thompson was using against me. My expression turned cold as I said: “I made that transfer because I specifically requested leave to rest at the research station, using the weak signal there to send Juliet my wedding congratulations.” “Thompson, I don’t think you want to know the truth. You just won’t admit that you did something wrong that led to the divorce, so you want to make me the scapegoat.” “As you said, marriage is between you two.” “So what you should be doing now is contacting Juliet as soon as possible, not making baseless accusations against me.” “But looking at your bad temper and how good you are at twisting the truth, it’s perfectly normal that Juliet can’t get along with you.” “You should just sign the divorce papers and part on good terms!” Having his thoughts exposed, Thompson’s face turned the color of liver. I looked at Betty and continued: “Our families have known each other for over twenty years. We know each other inside and out.” “But now you’re spreading rumors about me because of a man you’ve only known for half a year. It’s truly disheartening.” “Since Juliet didn’t even inform you beforehand about something as major as filing for divorce, it shows your relationship with her isn’t as close as you think.” “You should stay out of this and wait until Juliet comes back.” Betty was also somewhat embarrassed by what I said and stopped arguing with me. Juliet’s father Anderson, who had been silent on the side, also came out to mediate: “Alright, alright, stop arguing.” “Juliet isn’t the type to joke about divorce. Whatever happened, let’s wait until she comes back to discuss it.” But just as I walked to the sofa, preparing to sit down and watch TV while waiting for Juliet to return, Thompson walked over to Juliet’s parents with a grave expression. “Dad, Mom, there’s something I didn’t want to say out of consideration for face, but since things have escalated to this point, I have to say it.” “Actually, both Juliet and I are victims in this matter.” Juliet’s parents looked somewhat confused and asked, “What happened?” I looked at Thompson’s wretched expression as he tried to squeeze out tears, and an ominous feeling welled up inside me. Sure enough, the next second I heard him say: “Actually, during this time, besides calling Juliet every night to convince her to divorce, Chloe has also been sending me harassing messages behind Juliet’s back.” “At first I didn’t say anything, considering everyone’s dignity, not wanting to make things too ugly.” “But since Chloe has this attitude, I don’t need to keep hiding it for her anymore.” I scoffed and said, “I send you harassing messages every night? Do you have evidence? Don’t make things up without proof!” At this moment, the news on TV had started reporting on the Antarctic research team’s return home. I pointed at the TV screen and said: “I already told you, I spent the past year on an Antarctic expedition. Out of 365 days, I had no cell signal for 360 of them. How could I possibly harass you every day!” “You don’t believe my plane ticket, but surely you believe the news on TV. In a moment, I’ll appear on this news broadcast!”

Seeing how certain I was, Juliet’s parents were somewhat convinced. They prepared to sit down and watch the news about the research team’s return with me. But Thompson put on an appearance of deep distress and said: “Dad, Mom, don’t be fooled by her. She’s just stalling for time.” “Let me just say it directly! During this time, Chloe not only secretly sent me messages pursuing me, but also sent me those kinds of videos!” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and held it in front of Juliet’s parents. I looked confused and was about to move closer to see what video it was. But before I could see it, Betty suddenly flew into a rage and shouted: “Chloe, you shameless woman! You actually sent Thompson videos of yourself without clothes on!” “Juliet treated you as her best friend, but you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing!” “Seducing your best friend’s husband—are you even human! I’m going to beat you to death, you shameless woman!” Seeing Betty’s arm about to strike my face, I quickly stepped back. Anderson’s old face turned red, and his eyes were full of disgust as he looked at me. “Chloe, I really didn’t expect you would do such a thing!” The sudden turn of events left me somewhat unprepared. I looked at Thompson and didn’t miss the triumphant smile on his face. I strode up to him and snatched his phone away. But before I could see what was in the video, Thompson lunged at me, trying to attack. He deliberately shouted, “Dad, Mom, this is bad! She’s grabbing my phone to destroy the evidence!” I quickly hid the phone behind my back and firmly gripped Thompson’s wrist as he swung at me. Then, using his own force, I twisted his hand and yanked it hard, making him slap his own face. You’ve got to be kidding. I’m an elite member of the research team’s field investigation group. Even five more Thompsons wouldn’t necessarily be my match. Thompson was stunned by the slap I made him give himself, then immediately insisted I was acting out of embarrassment. “Dad, Mom, look! She’s even resorting to violence to destroy evidence!” “After all these years of treating her like a daughter, you’ve been deceived by her. She’s not a good person at all.” “Dad, Mom, quickly help me stop her!” “If she deletes the evidence, Juliet definitely won’t believe that Chloe betrayed her. Then she’ll only be determined to divorce me!” Hearing this, Juliet’s parents exchanged glances and made up their minds. Then, the three of them surrounded me together. “Chloe, we don’t want to get physical with you either. Just hand over the evidence quickly.” “We can’t let you deceive Juliet anymore!” My expression turned cold. I felt utterly disheartened. Just then, the sound of the door lock turning came from the entrance. Juliet walked in carrying several documents. Seeing the three of them surrounding me, she shouted: “Dad, Mom, Thompson, what are you doing?!” At the same time, the news anchor’s barely contained excited voice came from the TV: “Now approaching us is Dr. Chloe, the leader of the Antarctic research team’s field investigation group!”

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To support the company’s growth, I spent six months on an overseas business trip. But on the day I returned home, I was stopped by security at the company entrance. I looked down at myself. White shirt, jeans, and a pair of old sneakers on my feet—I certainly didn’t look like one of the employees inside. I was about to explain. “I’m—” But the security guard cut me off rudely: “I don’t care who you are. Wright said no shady women are allowed in, period.” “Who’s Wright?” I asked. “You don’t even know Wright?” The guard sneered. “She’s the secretary to our SKY Group CEO, and also the CEO’s wife.” I nodded and let out a cold laugh. Then I pulled out my phone and called Phillips, the CEO of SKY Group: “I heard you got a new wife?” On the other end of the line, Phillips was clearly stunned for a moment before laughing: “Dahlia, what are you talking about? Come on, don’t mess around. I have a meeting soon. I’ll call you back when I’m done.” Phillips’ tone was as gentle and indulgent as always. Before I could tell him I was downstairs at the company, Phillips had already hung up. Just as I was about to call back, the security guard snatched my phone away. “You deaf, bitch? Didn’t you hear me tell you to get lost?” “Give it back.” I extended my hand, looking at him with icy eyes. At first, I’d simply assumed he was new and didn’t recognize me—that was understandable. But given his terrible attitude, he clearly looked down on people. At this point, my impression of him had hit rock bottom. “Give it back?” “What if I don’t? What are you gonna do about it?” The guard looked at me sideways with utter contempt. “What? Not happy about it? Want to call someone?” “Might as well tell you now—doesn’t matter who you call today, it won’t help!” “I’m Wright’s cousin. Even Phillips has to show me some respect when he sees me.” I looked at the name tag on his chest: Tony. “You say you’re Wright’s cousin?” Tony froze, then nodded: “That’s right.” I nodded: “Good. Now you’re fired.” People who look down on others only damage the company’s image. Tony’s expression changed, and he roared in humiliated rage: “Who the hell are you to fire me?” After over ten hours on a plane, I was exhausted and sleepy. Not wanting to waste any more words on him, I stated my identity directly. “Because I’m Phillips’ wife, the owner of this company—Dahlia.” The air went suddenly quiet. The next moment, Tony burst into laughter as if he’d heard the world’s greatest joke. “What did you say? That’s hilarious!” “Did you all hear that? This woman just said she’s Phillips’ wife and that she owns the company!” He laughed so hard he doubled over, even tearing up. Several of Tony’s coworkers standing behind him also started laughing: “Everyone knows the owner of SKY Group is Phillips, and Wright is Phillips’ wife.” “This woman must have some kind of delusion.” “Look at herself—how dare she try to scam our Phillips!” These people pointed at me, mocking and ridiculing. I took a deep breath, forcing down my rage. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m Dahlia, Phillips’ wife. If you don’t believe me, you can call him.” I reached for my phone. But Tony stepped back, dodging my hand: “Call him? So you can get a chance to latch onto Phillips? Nice try!” “Shameless bitch!” “People like you have no shame and need to be taught a lesson. Today I’ll teach you a lesson on Wright’s behalf.” With that, he rolled up his sleeves and swung a fist at me.

I shifted slightly to the side, easily dodging his attack. Turning, I grabbed his wrist with one hand and seized his hand with the other, twisting hard. A crisp “crack” sounded, and Tony’s right hand hung limply. Tony probably didn’t know I’d practiced taekwondo for over twenty years. Dealing with him was more than easy. “Ahhh—” Tony clutched his wrist, howling in pain. Our commotion had already attracted plenty of passersby. More and more people gathered to watch the spectacle. “She’s crazy! She even dares to hit Tony?” “I think you’ve got a death wish!” The coworkers behind Tony rushed forward in a fury. “Bitch, you dare hit me?!” Tony’s chest heaved violently, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me with murderous rage, as if he wanted to tear me to pieces. “Everyone, get her! Kill her! Wright will give you all promotions and raises afterward.” Their eyes lit up as they rolled up their sleeves and charged at me. Two fists can’t fight four hands. In the chaos, someone kicked the back of my knee. I grunted, stumbling forward a couple of steps from the kick. Tony saw his chance and was about to follow up with a few more kicks. Then came a screech—a red sports car stopped smoothly in front of everyone. The car door opened, and a gorgeous pregnant woman stepped out. Judging by her belly, she was about four or five months along. “What’s all this shouting about?” “This is SKY Group’s office building, not a farmer’s market!” Seeing the chaos at the entrance, the gorgeous pregnant woman frowned. “Wright!” Seeing the pregnant woman, Tony cradled his arm and trotted forward, his face full of flattery. Wright? My heart stirred. So this was the Wright everyone had been talking about, the CEO’s wife of SKY Group. I observed the woman before me calmly. This Wright was gorgeous and seductive, with a pair of captivating peach-blossom eyes. Even with a pregnant belly, she still exuded allure. Wright frowned: “How many times have I told you? At the company, call me Secretary Wright.” “Yes, yes, yes!” Tony nodded and bowed with a smile, not offended at all. “Tony, haven’t I told you that the entrance is the company’s face?” “A crowd of people gathered here making a scene—what does that look like?” “Phillips chose you for this important position because he values you. Is this how you do your job?” Wright’s face darkened with displeasure. “Wright…” Tony habitually started to speak, but met Wright’s warning eyes. His neck shrank, and he quickly changed his words with an awkward smile: “Secretary Wright, this really isn’t my fault.” “It’s her—this beggar tried to force her way into the company. I tried to talk sense into her, but she wouldn’t listen and even attacked people.” “Look, she broke my hand!”

Seeing Wright, Tony acted like he’d found his backer. Not only did he complain first, but he twisted the facts and turned the tables. In just a few words, he pushed all the blame onto me. Wright’s gaze fell on Tony’s limply hanging hand, and her expression darkened immediately. “Who are you? Do you know what this place is? How dare you come to SKY and cause trouble?” As she pointed at me, I saw the familiar jade green on her wrist, and my heart sank. It was the jade bracelet Phillips had bought for me at an auction six months ago, worth thirty million dollars. I hadn’t been willing to wear it and had kept it in the jewelry box on my nightstand. Now, it appeared on a stranger’s wrist. Before this, even though Tony had been so certain, I still didn’t believe Phillips would betray me. After all, I knew better than anyone how much Phillips loved me. Back then, to marry me, Phillips had knelt outside my house for three days and nights. He remembered every one of my periods. He’d remind me in advance to watch my diet, make me ginger-sugar water, and warm my stomach. When I was sick and hospitalized, he was more upset than I was. He stayed by my bedside, never leaving, handling everything personally. He remembered my birthday and every holiday. Flowers, gifts, special gestures—he never missed a single one. But now, I wasn’t sure anymore. I ignored Wright and, taking advantage of Tony’s distraction, snatched back my phone and called Phillips again. However, the phone rang and rang, but no one answered. Wright’s sharp eyes caught sight of my phone’s lock screen wallpaper—a photo of me and Phillips together. “Why do you have a photo with Phillips?” Wright demanded angrily. At that moment, Tony seemed to remember something and whispered in her ear. “What?” Wright’s eyes widened, and she slapped me across the face. “Bitch, how dare you covet Phillips?” I was caught off guard and took the hit squarely. My cheek burned with pain, and my ears rang. “Serves you right!” Tony looked at me with schadenfreude. Wright still didn’t seem satisfied. She pointed at me and continued her tirade: “Shameless slut! I bet you’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?” “Tell me, have you been scheming to seduce Phillips all this time?” As she spoke, Wright grabbed my phone and smashed it hard on the ground. With a “crack,” the phone shattered into pieces. Seeing I didn’t respond, Wright grew even more smug: “Let me tell you something—as long as I’m here, you can forget about it.” “I’ve seen plenty of people like you. You think just because you have some looks, you can climb the ladder. But look at yourself—you’re already so old, and you’re still daydreaming?” Old? Well, age was the only thing Wright had over me. I looked around. There were over twenty security guards on site. These people were all on Wright’s side. If it came to a confrontation, I wouldn’t have the advantage. “Phillips is here, right? Let him come down and talk to me.” Since Phillips had caused this trouble, he should be the one to clean it up.

Wright froze, then said angrily: “Who do you think you are? You don’t deserve to speak to Phillips.” “His time is precious. He doesn’t have time to deal with you.” “I’m in charge of SKY now. What I say represents what Phillips says.” Tony and the others nodded in agreement. Wright became even more smug, patting her pregnant belly: “I advise you to be smart and get on your knees and apologize!” “Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll forgive you this once.” Looking at Wright’s arrogant and smug face, I suddenly laughed coldly. My sudden laughter made Wright’s heart skip a beat for some reason. “What—what are you laughing at?” Wright instinctively wanted to step back, sensing nothing good. But I suddenly stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, twisting it hard behind her back. “Ahhh—” Wright screamed in agony, struggling with all her might, but to no avail. “Bitch, how dare you lay hands on me?!” “I’m the owner of SKY, and I’m carrying SKY’s future heir in my belly.” “Just wait until Phillips gets here—he’ll chop you up and throw you in the ocean to feed the sharks!” Wright threatened me viciously. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face: “Shut up!” “Ah! You…” Wright looked at me in disbelief, about to continue cursing. I raised my hand again, and Wright quickly shut her mouth in fear, not daring to make another sound. But the look in her eyes as she glared at me seemed murderous. Turning to see Tony and the others still standing there stupidly, Wright shrieked in rage: “What are you standing there for?” “Hurry up and call Phillips! Tell him to come save me!” Only then did Tony and the others snap out of it. Tony fumbled to find Phillips’ number and dialed. The line was still busy. “Idiot! Use my phone!” Wright was both angry and anxious. “Oh, right.” Tony quickly dug Wright’s phone out of her bag. As he unlocked it, I saw her wallpaper—a wedding photo. The groom in the photo, holding Wright and smiling sweetly, was none other than Phillips, the man who supposedly loved me deeply. The call had barely connected before someone picked up instantly. “Baby, did you miss me?” Tony had put it on speaker, so I heard it clearly. The male voice on the phone was gentle and doting—it was Phillips. “Phillips, come quickly! Someone’s bullying me!” Wright cried into the phone. “Who has the nerve to touch my woman?” Phillips’ voice darkened, seeming to squeeze through gritted teeth—a sign of his anger. Even through the phone line, you could feel the chill radiating from him. The call ended, and Wright looked at me smugly: “Bitch, just you wait. Phillips will be here soon.” “Even if you get on your knees and beg for mercy now, it’s too late.” Before long, a large group of people came out of the office building. Leading them, surrounded by black-suited bodyguards and wearing a cold expression, was Phillips himself. “Phillips! You’re finally here!” Seeing Phillips, Wright’s eyes reddened. She broke free from my grip and ran crying toward Phillips. Soft and weak, she was completely different from her arrogant self moments ago. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Phillips nervously looked her up and down. Finding Wright unharmed, he visibly relaxed. “Tell me, who bullied you?” Phillips looked in the direction Wright was pointing and met my mocking gaze. His face turned white. “Dahlia?! When did you get back?” Phillips’ voice trembled with emotion. At those words, Wright froze, the smile on her face stiffening.

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One month before the wedding, I saw my boyfriend’s post online. “She’s a nurse—gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous.” My heart warmed. I was just about to like his post. Then he added, “But she’s seen so many men’s private parts. It really bothers me.” “She must know people would mind, right? That’s why she doesn’t want a wedding fund.” My hand froze mid-air. My enthusiasm for wedding planning cooled instantly. He was still torn between choosing me or his divorced childhood sweetheart. I quickly made the decision for him. The latest post was from Brian. I recognized it immediately. His username was “Century of Solitude,” and his profile picture showed the Alps. Century of Solitude was the book he still couldn’t finish but kept on his desk to look cultured. The Alps—he’d been talking about conquering them for three years. His first line read: [I’m getting married. She’s a nurse—gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous.] He was a man of few words. Managing to squeeze out this much praise wasn’t easy for him. My heart warmed. I was about to give it a like. Before my cursor could click, he posted another line. [She deals with bodily fluids every day and has seen so many men’s private parts. It really bothers me.] My hand stopped in mid-air. I remembered how he’d been frowning lately, telling me he actually had a cleanliness obsession. While I sat there stunned, the replies had already reached a dozen. [Urology department, right? Nurses are basically just there to serve people, aren’t they?] [Dude, look on the bright side—someone who’s seen that much isn’t likely to cheat.] I’d seen comments like these plenty of times before. But this time was different. My heart clenched inexplicably. I waited for Brian’s response. He quickly posted two more lines. [I figure she knows people would mind, right? That’s why she doesn’t want a wedding fund.] [I’m really conflicted right now, because she’s not the only option.] I slowly lowered my hand, staring at the scrolling comments, unable to speak. No wonder as the wedding approached, he seemed less and less concerned. Ordering our outfits, choosing wedding favors—he’d been completely indifferent, telling me to decide everything myself. After all, he had a much bigger decision weighing on his mind. What troubled him was that Peyton Smith, his childhood friend, had come back. Divorced, no kids, and now worth twice as much. The flame his parents had forced him to extinguish years ago was rekindling. I’d already sensed the turbulent emotions in his eyes when he looked at Peyton. … The wedding was next month. The invitations were half-written. Should I still marry him? It felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat. Thinking of Brian made me want to vomit but unable to swallow. My grandfather, who’d raised me, was gravely ill. He was clinging to life just to see me get married. If I didn’t go through with it, I was afraid it would break his heart. By the time I returned from a tasteless lunch, the post had been deleted. Two people stood at the nurses’ station. Tall, upright Brian was hard to miss. He was looking down, comforting someone in his arms—that cascade of sleek black hair belonged to Peyton. Peyton had fair skin and a voluptuous figure. She wore a man’s oversized jacket over her bikini. She’d seen me from far away but made no attempt to step out of Brian’s embrace. Only when I came closer did she shyly pull away. “Charlotte… don’t get the wrong idea…” She made sure I couldn’t miss the blush lingering on her face. Brian only noticed me when he turned around. His face showed no trace of panic. He urgently pushed Peyton toward me. “Peyton just cut her foot swimming. Can you check if she needs a tetanus shot?” “At the beach?” I couldn’t help asking. He couldn’t swim to save his life. I’d spent three years trying to teach him with no success. We hadn’t picked the banquet menu yet. The officiant was waiting to finalize the ceremony. He’d said he had no time. But he had time to go swimming with her. My wavering heart had already begun to tilt decisively in one direction. “The pool…” He impatiently cut me off. “Does it matter where? Did you even hear what I said?” An image flashed in my mind—him standing at the poolside, watching Peyton splash around, posting those anonymous comments. That line “she’s not the only option” became crystal clear. My throat tightened. My voice turned cold. “Find a doctor. Why are you asking me?” Brian grabbed my arm. “Registration takes too long. Just help her clean the wound first.” I glanced at him. “I’m just a nurse. I don’t own the hospital.” The frustration in my chest made it impossible to stay calm, especially seeing Peyton still clinging to him. Peyton flinched slightly. “Brian, I should just register. Don’t make things difficult for Charlotte.” The small distance she’d created completely vanished as she pressed closer again. Brian acted as if that arm was paralyzed, seemingly unaware of her soft chest pressed against him. Perhaps spoiled by my usual compliance, he showed a hint of displeasure. “What’s difficult about it? It’s just a simple task. Isn’t this what she does?”

All those mocking comments from the forum flashed before my eyes, word by word. My fingers, clutching my clothes, nearly drew blood. Someone gently tapped my shoulder just then. I turned to see the family member of the little boy admitted to pediatrics last night. “Nurse, could you please check if my son’s IV needs to come out?” He towered over Brian, looking at me with a gentle expression. The IV had just been inserted. I knew he was giving me an out. “I’ll take a look.” “Charlotte!” Brian called out behind me, his voice neither too loud nor too quiet. I ignored him and headed toward the ward, quickly recalling that the family member’s name was Ethan Miller. Around the corner, I stopped. “Thank you.” A slender hand extended a tissue. Only then did I realize I’d been crying. Ethan patted my shoulder. “Sometimes when people panic about their sick family members, they really are hard to communicate with.” He thought Brian was a frantic patient’s relative. The next second, he pulled a bag of candy from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. I froze. He looked a bit embarrassed. “Eating something sweet might help you feel better.” Then he added, “It’s my son’s—secretly, don’t let him see.” The tightness in my chest eased slightly. I couldn’t help but laugh. I remembered the little boy named Hudson well. He never cried or fussed during blood draws or injections. He’d just ask after each procedure, “Miss, can I have one candy?” I pulled out the candy I kept in my pocket and showed him. “He has several tests today, so I still have…” Ethan smiled too, his expression full of tenderness. “Thank you, but when you’re around, he behaves much better.” I paused. He quickly clarified, “No ulterior motive—his mother used to be a nurse too.” A fellow professional. I suddenly understood why he’d intervened so abruptly. A deliberate cough came from above. I looked up. Brian stood there, his face dark, glaring at me. Peyton still clung to his arm. The bloody scratch on her pale foot had long since dried, yet she still stood on tiptoe. Peyton let out a light laugh. “Nurses really do have so many people to take care of. No wonder Charlotte is so attentive.” Before she finished speaking, Brian’s face had already turned dark. He snorted coldly through his nose, then turned and walked away supporting Peyton. The contemptuous glance she threw my way looked like a proud queen surveying her domain. I was speechless. A month ago, she’d shown up at Brian’s door in tears. When I came out of the kitchen, she had her arms around his neck. Only when she saw me did she awkwardly let go. “I’m divorced.” Those four words didn’t seem directed at Brian. They were a declaration of war against me. … I’d known about her for a long time. Back when Brian and I talked about everything, he’d mentioned a childhood friend who had a crush on him. “My mom wouldn’t let me hang out with her. She had a bad reputation.” “Lots of guys chased her, but she always followed me around.” He’d sounded annoyed, but his expression held that unmistakable male pride. “Never had your heart race for her?” He’d stopped smiling then, looking at me mischievously. “If my heart raced for her, what would that leave for you? You’re the only one who’s ever made my heart race.” Coming from someone not good with words, that one line struck right at my heart. So when he casually mentioned that Peyton was divorced and coming back, I didn’t think much of it. Not until she cried while hanging onto him, and he looked at her with eyes full of concern, wiping away her tears. I realized I must have missed something. An unimportant childhood friend wouldn’t warrant him bringing her up specifically. In the early morning hours, Brian sent two messages. [Don’t overthink it. I was just being impatient.] [Charlotte, I do love you.] Random and out of context. I looked at them but didn’t reply. My phone notified me of an update to a topic I followed. I clicked to find Brian had posted. The timestamp showed a few minutes ago. [It really bothers me. Even her touching me feels dirty.] [Divorce isn’t this disturbing. At least she’d only been with one man.] [If she were even a janitor, I’d feel better about it.] I silently read each line, feeling a deep chasm split open in my heart. Those two messages didn’t seem so random anymore. I knew clearly he was wavering, torn. That “I love you” was him winding himself up. But I’d already heard the sound of the mechanism breaking. I thought it over. This wedding would happen, but it didn’t have to be with him. I logged in with my real name and posted a reply. [Brian, we’re breaking up.]

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My ex-husband saw the words “autism” on my daughter’s diagnosis and slapped me across the face without hesitation. “You slut! You must have cheated while you were pregnant. Three generations of the Smith family, and we’ve never had a single idiot!” He forced me to sign divorce papers, threw down five hundred dollars, and vanished, cursing: “Raising this money pit? What rotten luck!” For that one-in-ten-thousand chance of recovery, I quit my director position, sold everything of value, and during the hardest times, even waited in line at the hospital to sell my blood. Ten years later, my daughter finally spoke and got into a top high school. Her homeroom teacher called to say a “successful entrepreneur” had been anonymously supporting my daughter and wanted to meet me at school today. I rushed to the principal’s office in a shirt washed white with age, only to find my ex-husband. He had his arm around my daughter, pointing at me: “Principal, look at her—this neurotic parenting style is what messed up the kid. Now that the child’s doing well, she wants to swoop in and take credit.” My daughter frowned in an uncharacteristic way: “Mom, could you please not dress like this when you come to school? The other students think I’m some trash picker’s kid.” She handed me a bank card: “There’s fifty thousand dollars here. Dad says it’s compensation for your ten years of hard work. Use it to make yourself look decent instead of being filthy all the time. I’m embarrassed to even tell people you’re my real mother.” I felt an unprecedented sense of alienation and anger toward my daughter. Had all these years of her attachment to me and resentment toward her father been fake? I laughed. “Fine. I’ll grant you both your wish. I hope you won’t regret this later.”

“Fine. Fifty thousand dollars. I accept it—payment for ten years of hard work.” I stuffed it in my pocket and turned to reach for Smith’s hand. “Emily, let’s go home.” She jerked away as if burned, shrank back, and hid behind my ex-husband, Victor Smith. “Mom, tonight… I’m going with Dad. You go home first.” Victor’s current wife, Lily, immediately stepped forward and linked arms with Smith intimately, as if they were the real mother and daughter. “Grace, Emily wants to see our house. Kids grow up and like new environments—you should be happy for her.” My heart sank to the bottom. I stared at Smith, my voice trembling: “Have you forgotten how we lived these ten years? Have you forgotten how he abandoned us?” Smith’s shoulders shook, but her eyes kept darting away, refusing to meet mine. “Enough!” Victor impatiently pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet and shoved it roughly into my hands. “Stop putting on this pity show. Too proud to know what’s good for you. This is this month’s child support—ten thousand dollars. That’s enough for you to live on.” The red bills felt like fire, searing my palm. All my rationality shattered in that instant. “Victor Smith!” I used every ounce of strength to hurl that stack of money back in his face. It scattered across the ground. “Don’t you dare try to buy my daughter with your filthy money!” The principal and homeroom teacher heard the commotion and rushed out of the office. “Oh my, Ms. Reed, let’s talk this out calmly! Please calm down!” “That’s right, Smith’s mom. Mr. Smith is doing this for the child’s good. Don’t make a scene at the school entrance—it looks bad.” Smith was terrified by my outburst. She clutched Lily’s sleeve tightly, looking at me with fear in her eyes. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. I reached out again, trying to take her hand. “Emily, come home with me. Don’t be afraid…” “Don’t touch me!” She pushed me away violently. I lost my balance and stumbled backward, landing hard on the ground. “This is so embarrassing! I don’t have a mother like you!” Students and parents passing by gave me strange looks, whispering and pointing. “Isn’t that the autistic girl from Class Three, Grade Ten? Her mom does seem kind of off.” “I heard her dad’s a big businessman who came specially to pick her up today.” “Tsk, then why is her mom making a scene? Turning down the good life?” I sat on the ground, utterly humiliated, my dignity crushed. Victor glanced at me with contempt, put his arm around Lily, and led Smith toward a black Mercedes parked at the entrance. The luxury car’s engine roared to life, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. I sat alone on the ground, surrounded by whispering crowds. My heart felt like a piece had been violently ripped out, hollow and filled only with howling cold wind. Sixteen years. I had given everything, and this was my reward—public betrayal and humiliation. I don’t know how I made it back to that cramped rental apartment. On the wall hung a photo of Smith and me embracing, both of us smiling so brightly. I reached out to touch her adorable face in the picture. The moment my fingertip touched the frame, I felt nothing but bitter irony. I raised my hand and smashed the frame to the floor.

Late at night, my phone rang abruptly. I jolted awake from the couch, seeing “Emily” flashing on the screen, my heart pounding wildly. Had she regretted it? Did she want to come home? I answered hastily, my voice trembling slightly. “Emily?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then her cold, impatient voice came through. “Pack up my things. I’ll send the driver tomorrow to pick them up.” My heart plunged back into an ice pit. Early the next morning, a black Audi pulled up outside my shabby apartment building. The driver looked at me with arrogance. “Ms. Reed, Mr. Smith sent me to collect Miss Smith’s belongings.” I blocked the hallway entrance, looking at him coldly. “I won’t give them to you unless I see Smith in person.” The driver smirked, pulled out his phone, dialed directly, and put it on speaker. “Miss Smith, your mother refuses to give me the items.” Smith’s irritated voice immediately came through. “Mom! Stop making a scene, okay? What’s the point of this harassment? Haven’t you tortured me enough for ten years?” “Tortured?” I hung up and rushed out of the complex like a madwoman, hailing a cab straight to Victor’s gated community, wanting to see if she was being coerced. Unsurprisingly, the security guards stopped me at the entrance. “Sorry, ma’am, you can’t enter without an appointment.” No matter how I explained, the guards stood like a wall, coldly blocking me. Just as I was about to despair, the villa’s iron gate slowly opened. Lily walked out leisurely with a cup of coffee. She looked at my disheveled state, a fake sympathetic smile curling her lips. “Oh my, Grace, why put yourself through this? Emily is taking lessons with her new private tutor. She doesn’t have time to see you.” She sipped her coffee casually. “Grace Reed, you should start living for yourself. Stop clinging to Emily. She’s about to apply to college, enter high society. This isn’t good for her future.” “Get lost!” I forced the word through gritted teeth. Lily didn’t seem offended. She just shrugged and turned back inside. I stood at that gate from morning to noon, then from noon to afternoon. My legs felt like lead, but I wouldn’t move an inch. Three hours later, Smith finally came out. She wore a brand-new Chanel dress and delicate leather shoes, completely different from the uniformed girl I’d seen yesterday. I rushed forward and grabbed her arm. “Why won’t you see me? Why did you say I tortured you?” She frowned prettily and shook off my hand forcefully. “Dad hired eight tutors for me—math, English, science, piano, horseback riding, French… How would I have time to see you?” I held out the old backpack I’d been clutching, my voice softening. “Emily, come home with me. Look, your favorite doll—I kept it for you…” Inside that old backpack was the stuffed toy she’d treasured as a child, sewn by my own hands, stitch by stitch. She glanced at it, disgust filling her eyes. “Those things are garbage. I stopped wanting them ages ago. Just throw them out.” “Garbage?” I felt like I’d heard the biggest joke, my emotions completely collapsing. “Emily Smith, where’s your conscience? On your tenth birthday when you had a high fever, you cried holding that doll, saying you wanted it with you forever! Have you forgotten?” She looked at me coldly and said something I would never forget. “Can conscience get me into Harvard? Can conscience give me the good life I have now?” With that, she turned without looking back and walked through that magnificent villa gate. “Smith!” I screamed her name desperately, trying to chase after her. Two security guards immediately rushed over and dragged me out like a dead dog. I struggled, but one guard shoved me hard, and I fell to the ground again. My palms and knees scraped against the rough concrete, drawing blood. That cold black gate slammed shut in front of me with a heavy bang. My world completely collapsed.

A video of me “causing trouble” at Victor’s gate was somehow filmed and posted to the neighborhood group chat. The next day, the property management gave me a polite but firm “warning.” Neighbors looked at me with contempt and distance. “That’s her—I heard her daughter was taken in by a big businessman, and she’s still unhappy about it. Went to their gate and made a scene.” “Crazy from poverty, trying to extort money.” “Poor daughter. Finally makes something of herself, and her mom drags her down.” Rumors and gossip cut me like invisible knives. An old colleague I hadn’t contacted in ages must have heard about my situation and got me an administrative job. The pay wasn’t great, but at least it could ease my immediate crisis. I forced myself to go to work. But I didn’t even last one full day. Just after starting, people were whispering in the office break room. As I walked past, I clearly heard them discussing a video. When I returned to my desk, the colleague next to me gave me a strange look and quietly put away her phone. My heart sank. I searched my name on the computer, and a glaring video title popped up. [Shocking! Teen Girl Tearfully Accuses: Ten Years of Living Hell, Autism Actually Caused by Mother’s Mental Abuse!] My hands trembled as I clicked the video. In the footage, Smith sat on a luxurious sofa in a white dress, eyes filled with tears. “My mother… because her life wasn’t going well, she took all her frustrations out on me.” “For ten years, she often hit me, yelled at me, wouldn’t let me interact with anyone outside, saying everyone out there was bad… that’s why I… became autistic.” Victor and Lily held her on either side. Victor faced the camera with a pained expression: “As her father, I failed. I let my child suffer so much. From now on, I’ll give her the best compensation.” Lily gently wiped Smith’s tears: “Good child, it’s all in the past. From now on, you have me and Victor. No one will dare bully you again.” At the end of the video were photos of me “making scenes” at the school and villa gate, the child’s terror contrasting sharply with my twisted expression. All the blood in my body froze instantly. “Grace Reed, come to my office.” My boss’s voice came from the doorway. The boss didn’t look at me, just stared at the computer screen. “Our company may be small, but we value our corporate image. We don’t want employees with ‘character issues.’ You… don’t need to come in tomorrow.” I frantically pulled out my phone and dialed Smith’s number. “Why would you do this? Why lie! When did I ever abuse you!” The voice on the other end remained ice cold. “I just told the ‘truth.’ You’re the one who’s psychologically twisted and won’t admit it.” “You’re lying!” “Think whatever you want,” she coldly interrupted. “Don’t call me anymore. I don’t want to see you again, you ‘abusive psycho mother.’” The call ended. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe she could be this heartless. I rushed to her school, wanting to confront her face-to-face. Her classmates blocked me, looking at me like I was some kind of monster. “Smith says she doesn’t want to see you. Stop harassing her.” In just one day, I became the evil mother everyone online wanted to condemn. My personal information, home address, and workplace were all exposed. My front door was spray-painted with red paint: “Vicious woman,” “Get out.” Someone even threw feces at my door. The landlord called, demanding I move out immediately. My only outlet was to run to the old house about to be demolished. It was the only inheritance my parents left me. I clutched the inheritance deed, sitting on the dusty floor, crying my heart out. I didn’t understand. Why would the daughter I raised with my life use the most vicious lies to personally push me into irredeemable hell? Just then, my phone vibrated. A text from an unknown number. “Want to know the truth? They have a son. He’s dying.” I froze, then laughed bitterly. Another prank? I deleted the message and curled up on the cold floor, letting the darkness swallow me whole.

I was eventually driven out by the landlord. He pointed at my door covered in paint and filth, cursing. “You jinx! Get out! If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!” I dragged a shabby suitcase, wandering the streets like a homeless dog with nowhere to go. Night fell. With nowhere to turn, I could only sit on a park bench. My phone rang—the demolition office calling to notify me I could come sign the contract. After hanging up, I looked at my reflection on the phone screen: disheveled hair, sallow complexion, hollow eyes. I truly had nothing left. Just then, a black sedan stopped in front of me. A man in a suit stepped out. He looked at me with pity and handed over a document. *Voluntary Relinquishment of Guardianship and Severance of Family Relations Agreement*. Those words burned my eyes like red-hot iron. “Ms. Reed, Mr. Smith says if you sign this agreement, he’s willing to give you another hundred thousand dollars in ‘compensation.’” “This way, Miss Emily can be officially adopted by Lily. Her record will be clean, which is good for her future.” I laughed coldly and didn’t take it. The lawyer seemed to expect my reaction. Calmly, he pulled out another stack of photos from his briefcase and threw them in front of me. Photos of me sleeping miserably on park benches, picking up bottles near trash cans… every degrading angle captured. “Ms. Reed, you need to think carefully. If these photos reach the media, what do you think people online will say about you?” My body began trembling uncontrollably. Just as I was about to break down, another luxury car pulled up. Victor and Lily, with Smith, appeared before me. Smith wore an expensive designer outfit I couldn’t even name, her makeup flawless. She walked up to me, her eyes cold and resolute. She glanced at the agreement by my feet, then looked up at me. “Mom, be dignified. Just sign it.” Her voice corroded my heart like acid, word by word. “You can’t give me the future I want. Don’t drag me down anymore.” I stared hard at her face, trying to find even a trace of reluctance or pain. But there was nothing. Seeing my hesitation, she suddenly reached out and shoved me hard! Unprepared, my back slammed into the metal armrest of the bench. Sharp pain shot through my ribs. I gasped in agony. She didn’t even look, just shoved the pen into my hand. “If you don’t sign, I’ll kneel right now and beg you! Let everyone see how heartless you are as a mother!” I looked at this face, both familiar and strange. Looked at the determination and cruelty in her eyes. I suddenly laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down my face. I picked up the pen and forcefully signed my name at the bottom of that agreement. Then I looked up, meeting her cold gaze, and told her word by word: “Fine. I’ll grant you both your wish. I hope you won’t regret this later.”

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Derek pushed the divorce agreement in front of me. I glanced at it. The house goes to him, the car goes to him, savings split fifty-fifty. “Fifty-fifty?” I laughed. “There’s only thirty thousand in the account. You want to take fifteen thousand?” “This is just a fake divorce.” He frowned. “I need to guarantee a loan for a friend’s startup. I can’t have any debts under my name.” I stared into his eyes. He looked away. “Fine.” I picked up the pen. He visibly relaxed. He had no idea — I’d been waiting three years for this day. On the day we signed, Derek took half a day off work. Outside the courthouse, he even put on a show. “Sarah, I’m sorry to put you through this.” He held my hand. “Three months at most. Once I sort out the situation, we’ll remarry.” I nodded. “I’ve got it all arranged. You’ll move in with my mom for now.” “No need.” I pulled my hand back. “I’ll stay at my parents’ place.” He paused. “Your parents’ place? That’s so inconvenient…” “We’re divorced now. How can I still live with you?” He opened his mouth but said nothing. When we were processing the paperwork, the clerk asked if we’d thought this through. Derek rushed to answer: “We’ve thought it through.” I echoed: “We’ve thought it through.” He relaxed again. Outside the courthouse, he offered to drive me to my parents’ house. “No need.” I hailed a cab. “You go handle your business.” After the car had gone about fifty meters, I saw him through the rearview mirror, standing in place on his phone. His expression was relaxed, even smiling. I looked away and sent a text to my best friend, Madison. “It’s done.” She replied instantly: “What’s next?” “Wait.” I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. Five years ago when I married Derek, I thought I was marrying for love. He was three years older than me, working as a sales manager at a private company, making just over twenty thousand a month. I was an elementary school teacher making eight thousand, later raised to twelve thousand. When we got married, we bought an apartment on the east side of town. The down payment was eighty thousand. I paid fifty thousand — five years of savings plus twenty thousand from my parents. He paid thirty thousand. The monthly mortgage was eight thousand. I covered five thousand, he paid three. After marriage, I thought we were building our future together. He thought I was an ATM. The turning point came three years ago. That day I came home early and heard him on the balcony on the phone. “…Don’t worry, just wait a bit longer. When the time’s right, I’ll dump her…” I stood in the living room, frozen. He hung up and turned around. When he saw me, his expression changed for a split second before quickly returning to normal. “Who were you talking to?” I asked. “A client. A difficult client.” He walked over with a smile. “Why are you home so early?” I looked into his eyes and said nothing. From that day on, I started paying attention. I opened a bank account he didn’t know about and deposited two thousand every month. I quietly verified the details on our property deed. I checked his credit report and looked into his assets. The more I investigated, the colder my heart became. In five years of marriage, he’d registered a company under his name with fifty thousand in capital. I didn’t know a single thing about it. And our “joint savings” account always maintained a balance hovering around thirty thousand. Where did the money go? I didn’t ask. If I asked, he’d have a hundred excuses. I just waited. Waited for him to slip up on his own. Now, he’d finally made his move. A fake divorce. His reason: guaranteeing a friend’s loan. Laughable. That “friend” he wanted to help — I’d already investigated her. It was a woman.

When I got back to my parents’ house, my mom Elena looked worried. “Really just one month?” “Mom, I know what I’m doing.” “What about the house?” “Temporarily his.” My mom panicked: “Are you crazy? You paid the down payment on that house, and you’ve been paying most of the mortgage every month!” “Mom.” I held her hand. “It’s a fake divorce, not a real one. After we remarry in a month, the house will still belong to both of us.” This was Derek’s line. My mom was skeptical: “Well… you better keep a close eye on things.” “Don’t worry.” My dad Thomas sat nearby smoking, silent. Only after my mom went to the kitchen to cook did he speak. “Sweetie, are you hiding something from us?” I looked at him. “You’ve always been like this. The bigger the issue, the less you say.” He tapped ash from his cigarette. “But whatever decision you make, I support you.” My eyes felt hot. “Dad, I might need to stay here for a while.” “Stay as long as you want.” That night, Derek sent me a text. “Did you get home okay?” “Yes.” “Good. Rest well. Once things are sorted here, I’ll come get you.” “Okay.” The phone screen went dark. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The next day, I took my annual leave. Madison asked me: “What’s your plan for investigating?” “Start with that woman.” “You know who she is?” “I do.” I handed her my phone. “I found out a year ago.” On the screen was a photo. A young woman, around twenty-six or twenty-seven, with long hair and delicate features. The photo was taken at a café. Derek sat across from her. They were smiling. “This is…” Madison’s eyes widened. “Vanessa Clarke, the accountant at his company.” I said. “That company Derek owns — on paper it’s his, but she has a share too.” “How do you know?” “Public business registration records. Two shareholders: Derek owns sixty percent, Vanessa Clarke owns forty.” Madison gasped. “There’s more.” I pulled up another image. “This is another property under Derek’s name, on the west side of town. Eighty-three square meters.” “What? He has another apartment?” “Yes. Bought two years ago. Down payment of forty thousand, mortgage of one hundred twenty thousand. The delivery address on the purchase contract is Vanessa Clarke’s address.” Madison looked at me: “How long have you been investigating?” “On and off, three years.” She was silent for a moment: “Why didn’t you confront him earlier?” “Not enough evidence.” I put my phone away. “And I wanted to see how far he’d actually go.” “And now?” “Now,” I smiled slightly, “he’s delivered himself to my doorstep.” In the fake divorce agreement, the house goes to him, the car goes to him. This house is worth three hundred fifty thousand. This car is worth twenty-three thousand. And the “joint savings” only listed thirty thousand. He thought I didn’t know his company made over eighty thousand in profit last year. He thought I didn’t know about his apartment on the west side. He thought I was an idiot. He wanted to use a fake divorce to leave me with nothing. Then openly be with that woman. Too bad he miscalculated.

Three days after the divorce, Derek called. “Sarah, there’s a complication with the guarantee. Might need to wait a few more days.” My tone was calm: “How long?” “About… two or three weeks.” “Okay.” “Don’t worry. When it’s done, I’ll personally come get you and bring you home.” “Alright.” After hanging up, I stared at the call log. He’d stopped calling me “honey.” The change came quickly. Madison asked me out to dinner and wanted to know my next move. “I’m going to meet someone.” “Who?” “Derek’s mom.” “Why would you meet her?” “To test the waters.” The next day, I brought fruit to my ex-mother-in-law Helen’s house. When she saw me, her expression showed a moment of awkwardness, but quickly returned to normal. “Sarah, come in and sit.” “Helen, I came to check on you.” She took the fruit: “You’re so thoughtful, even after the divorce.” I laughed coldly inside but kept my face neutral. “Helen, what’s Derek been busy with lately? He mentioned guaranteeing a loan for a friend. Who’s this friend?” Her hand paused. “I’m not really sure. I don’t get too involved in Derek’s business.” “Really?” I smiled. “Is this friend’s last name Clarke?” Her expression froze. “Vanessa Clarke, right?” I looked at her. “Helen, have you met her?” The living room fell silent for a few seconds. She set down the fruit, her face changing: “Sarah, what are you implying?” “Nothing.” I stood up. “Just asking.” “You…” She pointed at me. “You’re divorced and you’re still here causing trouble?” “Helen, I’m not causing trouble.” I picked up my bag. “Your son started this with me. Fake divorce, ha.” “That was for your own good! Once the guarantee thing is done…” “Helen,” I interrupted her, “how old is the child Vanessa Clarke gave him?” Her face went white as a sheet. I walked to the door and looked back at her. “Tell Derek I have something for him.” Outside the complex, I called Madison. “Confirmed. There’s a child.” “How can you be sure?” “Her reaction.” I took a deep breath. “Also, that phone call three years ago when Derek said ‘when the time’s right I’ll dump her’ — I finally understand what he meant.” Madison fell silent on the other end. “Their child should be over two years old now.” I said. “The timing matches perfectly. Three years ago was right when that child was conceived.” “Sarah…” “I’m fine.” My voice was calm. “I was mentally prepared for this.” But after hanging up, I squatted by the roadside and cried for a long time. Not because I was heartbroken. But because the breath I’d been holding for three years finally had an outlet.

Derek quickly learned I’d visited his mother. He called, his tone clearly off. “Sarah, what were you doing at my mom’s?” “Checking on her.” “Why were you asking her about Vanessa Clarke?” “I didn’t say much. Just asked who this friend you need to guarantee for is.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Sarah, what exactly are you trying to do?” “Me?” I laughed. “I’m not trying to do anything. But what about you, Derek? What are you trying to do?” He hung up. That evening, he showed up downstairs at my parents’ building. “Sarah, we need to talk.” I went downstairs and stood in front of him. “Talk about what?” “Did you find something out?” His eyes were evasive. “What do you think?” He licked his lips: “Vanessa… she’s just my business partner. Don’t misunderstand.” “Business partner.” I nodded. “And that apartment on the west side is also part of your business venture?” His expression changed. “Also, your company made over eighty thousand in profit last year. Your share is sixty thousand. Where’s that money?” He took a step back: “How… how do you know this?” “Derek,” I looked at him, “did you think I was an idiot?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. “The fake divorce agreement — house goes to you, car goes to you, thirty thousand in savings split in half.” I enunciated each word. “You planned to leave me with nothing, then openly be with Vanessa Clarke, didn’t you?” His expression finally cracked. “Sarah, let me explain…” “I don’t want to hear it.” I turned toward the building. “Wait!” He rushed after me. “The divorce agreement is already signed. It’s too late to back out!” I stopped. Turned to look at him. “Who said I’m backing out?” He froze. “Derek, I signed that divorce agreement. I don’t regret it.” I said. “I just wanted to tell you — I have more on you than you think.” “What… what do you mean?” “Nothing much.” I smiled slightly. “Just think carefully about what you’ve done to me these past five years. Then wait for my lawyer’s letter.” I went into the building without looking back. Behind me came his voice: “Sarah! Sarah, stop right there!” I ignored him. The moment I closed the building door, I heard him violently kicking it from outside. “Sarah! Don’t push me!” I frantically pressed the elevator button.

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On April Fools’ Day, I received a promotion email. I thought my five years of hard work had finally paid off—I was finally being promoted to Sales Director. Full of joy, I moved my belongings to the door of my new private office. But when I pushed open the door, there wasn’t even an office chair inside—just a pile of stinking garbage. That’s when I heard loud mocking laughter from my colleagues behind me. “Sasha, you actually fell for it? How pathetically shameless!” My boss also chimed in, “It’s just an April Fools’ prank. You can take a joke, right?” I became the laughingstock of the entire company, a complete fool. But they forgot—this afternoon, I was scheduled to sign a one-billion-dollar contract that would determine the company’s fate. Since my boss loved April Fools’ jokes so much, I’d give him a special April Fools’ gift of my own. “What’s wrong, Sasha? It’s just an April Fools’ prank. You can take a joke, can’t you?” My boss, Mr. Richards, looked down at me with unconcealed smugness. Faced with his mockery, the entire office area erupted in piercing laughter. “Exactly, Ms. Turner! Did you really think you could become Sales Director?” Lily from reception covered her mouth, laughing so hard she was shaking. “She should look at her own credentials—a community college graduate thinking she can become a phoenix? As if.” I didn’t lose my temper. I just stiffly crouched down and began picking up the personal belongings I’d just joyfully packed into the large cardboard box, one by one. I was like a clown being paraded through the streets. Under everyone’s unrestrained pointing and whispering, I walked step by step back to my cramped old desk in the main hall. “She usually acts so high and mighty just because she’s the top salesperson, bossing us around. Now she’s been put back in her place.” Behind me, I could hear my colleagues’ shameless gossip. Mr. Richards followed me over, tapping my desk with the bottom of his coffee mug. “Sasha, don’t take it to heart. Young people need to face some setbacks—it’s good for you. I’m just trying to build your stress tolerance.” He adopted the tone of a caring elder. “You’ve been with this company for five years. Even if you haven’t achieved great things, you’ve worked hard. But the director position isn’t something you can get just by working yourself to the bone. You need big-picture thinking, you need to understand office politics. Understand?” I looked at him coldly. “Mr. Richards, last week you personally told me that if I secured Mr. Wilson’s one-billion-dollar contract, the director position would be mine.” Mr. Richards scoffed. “That was motivational rhetoric. You couldn’t even tell? Besides, we could land Mr. Wilson’s deal even without you, just based on our company’s reputation. Don’t think too highly of yourself.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Five years of my youth, countless days and nights of struggle. In his eyes, it was all just a cheap game he could trample on at will. I felt utterly humiliated and degraded. But I forced myself to swallow this bitter pill. Because this afternoon, I still had to represent the company to sign that one-billion-dollar contract. It was the most important credential in my professional career. I couldn’t flip the table at this critical moment. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Richards.” I forced out a smile completely devoid of warmth. Mr. Richards nodded with satisfaction. “That’s more like it. Girls shouldn’t always be fighting for power.” He turned to the other employees who were watching the spectacle. “What are you all standing around for? Don’t you have work to do? Even though it’s April Fools’ Day, performance reviews are no joke!” Everyone immediately scattered, but the looks they gave me were still full of undisguised contempt. Derek Shaw from the next desk leaned over. “Well, well, Ms. Turner, giving up so easily?” Derek usually got chewed out by me for his bottom-of-the-barrel sales numbers. Now seeing my misfortune, he was happier than on Christmas. “I’ve always said women in sales are just trading on their youth. You’re getting older now, you’ve lost your looks—how can you compete with those young girls?” He picked his teeth while giving me an extremely sleazy up-and-down look. “You should just find yourself an honest man to marry and be a housewife.” I whipped my head around, staring at him with icy eyes. “Derek Shaw, your sales this month are zero, and you still have time to worry about my marriage prospects?” His face stiffened, then flushed with embarrassed anger. “Who are you to act so superior! You’re not even a manager anymore—what right do you have to boss me around?” I didn’t bother with him. I needed to go over the final contract details one more time. No matter what, this contract was my personal achievement, and I wouldn’t allow any mistakes. Just then, someone gently tapped my shoulder. I turned around.

“Ms. Turner, are you okay?” Marcus, a subordinate who’d only been with us for two months, stood behind me. I shook my head. “I’m fine. Go back to your work.” I stood up, heading toward the break room to get some water. The corridor was narrow. Derek saw me coming and deliberately stretched his leg into the aisle. I tripped over it and fell hard to the floor. My knee hit the hard surface, sending a sharp, drilling pain through me instantly. “Oh my! Why is our great Director Turner bowing so low?” Not only did Derek not apologize, he mocked me loudly with heavy sarcasm. The surrounding colleagues burst into laughter again. “Sasha, are you blind or something?” I endured the searing pain in my hand and knee, struggling to get up from the floor awkwardly. I looked coldly at Derek. “Get your dog leg out of the way.” Derek slammed his hand on the desk and stood up. “You walk without watching where you’re going and blame others? You think you’re still that high-and-mighty top salesperson? You’re nothing but a joke now!” Marcus walked over, his eyes red. “Ms. Turner, ignore them.” He helped me to my chair, his voice choked with tears. “Ms. Turner, what am I going to do?” I frowned, looking at the paper in his hand. It was a demotion notice. It stated that due to Marcus’s failure to meet performance standards during his probation period, he would be demoted to reception assistant with his salary cut in half. “What’s this about?” I asked. Marcus wiped away tears. “Mr. Richards said I’m too stupid and can’t do anything right. Ms. Turner, I really need this job. I have a sick grandmother back home to support.” Seeing him like this, the anger in my heart subsided slightly. In this cold company, perhaps only this fresh graduate still retained some human warmth. Remembering how I’d trained him hands-on these past two months, I softened. I patted his shoulder consolingly. “Sales is tough for everyone. You just started—not having resources is normal.” I thought for a moment and pulled out a client list from my desk. “Tell you what—I have some repeat orders from old clients here. The profit margins aren’t high, but they’re enough to get you through probation. Take these and follow up on them. They’ll count as your sales numbers, give you a cushion.” Marcus’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really? Ms. Turner, you’re really willing to share clients with me?” I nodded. “Everyone’s struggling. We should help each other out.” Marcus clutched the list tightly, breaking into a smile through his tears. “Thank you, Ms. Turner! You’re like a second parent to me!” Watching his joyful retreating figure, I sighed helplessly. The wounds on my hand were still bleeding. I went to the restroom to clean them up. Otherwise, meeting Mr. Wilson this afternoon looking like this would be far too unprofessional. I limped toward the restroom. I firmly believed that as long as I held that one-billion-dollar contract in my hands, I’d have the capital to turn things around. But I never imagined that what I thought was kindness was just another carefully crafted joke. A party popper went off in the office area. Immediately followed by everyone’s cheering and celebration. “Come on, everyone! Let’s congratulate Mr. Richards on his promotion to Sales Director!”

I froze in place. What should have been a quiet workspace now looked like a wild party. I stood at the office entrance. I saw Marcus, who’d just been crying to me moments ago, now sitting brazenly on my desk. He held a glass of freshly opened champagne, laughing his head off. “Did you all see how stupid Sasha looked just now? She actually believed I was getting demoted and condescendingly offered me some trashy clients! Those moldy resources of hers—I wouldn’t even use them as coasters!” Lily from reception approached with a wine glass, looking obsequious. “Exactly, Marcus! She doesn’t know her place. Just because she landed a few big clients, her tail’s pointing to the sky. She doesn’t even know whose name is on this company.” Derek circled around Marcus like a lapdog. “Marcus is Mr. Richards’s own nephew, an elite returnee from a prestigious university! The Sales Director position was always meant for Marcus. That nobody Sasha isn’t even worthy of carrying Mr. Richards’s shoes!” I stood in the corridor’s shadows, feeling all the blood in my body freeze instantly. His own nephew? I stared at Marcus sitting on my desk. So all of this was fake. The promotion email was fake. The demotion notice was fake. Only I was the fool, manipulated and mocked by the entire company in a conspiracy. Mr. Richards emerged from the private office, holding a wine glass. He looked at Marcus with a smile. “Marcus, how was my April Fools’ production? Pretty good, right? Did it help you vent?” Marcus jumped off the desk and threw his arm around Mr. Richards’s shoulder. “It was awesome, Uncle! You don’t know—these past two months she’s been making me memorize product materials every day and forcing me to run sales calls in the blazing sun. I’ve never been treated like this in my entire life—not even by my own mother! Seeing her today like a stray dog moving her stuff—I can’t tell you how satisfying that was!” Mr. Richards laughed heartily. “She’s just meant for grunt work. This afternoon, after she signs Mr. Wilson’s one-billion-dollar contract, I’ll just find some excuse to fire her. Then that massive achievement will be yours! I’m good to you, aren’t I?” I stood there watching their ugly faces, suddenly feeling my stomach churn. Five years. For this company, I’d given up all my vacation days. I’d pulled a nearly bankrupt workshop up by its bootstraps into a well-known industry player. I thought if I just worked hard enough, I’d earn the respect and rewards I deserved. But reality had slapped me hard across the face. I pushed open the door and walked in expressionlessly. The cheering stopped abruptly. Everyone looked at me like I was some kind of monster. The smile on Marcus’s face froze for a moment, then returned to that same arrogant expression. “Oh, Ms. Turner’s back? That demotion notice earlier was a misunderstanding. My uncle said for April Fools’ fun, all decisions and responses today had to be reversed!” He boasted, “So I actually got promoted!” I laughed coldly inside. Reversed. So that’s how I got that ridiculous promotion notice. Just then, Mr. Richards walked over with a cold expression. He slammed a thick stack of documents against my chest. “Sasha, you still have the nerve to chat here? Get your ass to the conference room right now!”

Mr. Richards pointed at my nose and cursed. “Mr. Wilson’s already here with his legal team—go sign that contract immediately!” I looked down at the contract that had fallen to the floor. Just flipping to the first page, my brow furrowed tightly. This contract was full of holes. Not only were the profit margins completely wrong, even the breach of contract clauses were reversed. “Mr. Richards, this contract is unusable.” “Shut up!” Mr. Richards rudely cut me off. “This is the proposal Marcus personally revised. He’s an elite returnee who understands advanced management concepts far better than you!” Marcus chimed in smugly from the side. “Exactly. Your outdated negotiation tactics are ancient history.” I looked at this ridiculous uncle-nephew pair, hardly believing my ears. Signing this hole-riddled contract would destroy my industry reputation and lose all client trust. Mr. Richards and Marcus could easily deflect all blame, but I’d be finished in the industry. Mr. Richards glared at me viciously. “Sasha, stop being alarmist! I’m ordering you to go to the conference room and handle this right now, or you’ll bear all the losses and get out immediately!” He shoved me, pushing me straight through the conference room door. Inside the conference room, the atmosphere was oppressively tense. Mr. Wilson sat across the long table with his elite legal team, their expressions dark. I looked at the wound on my knee from Derek’s trip, then at the disgusting faces of this uncle-nephew duo. Then at Mr. Wilson’s extremely displeased expression across from me. Five years of grievances, humiliation, and resentment reached their peak in this moment. Mr. Wilson pushed the contract toward me. I took a deep breath and picked up that contract. Then I announced loudly to Mr. Wilson: “On behalf of the company, I reject this partnership!” As soon as the words left my mouth, I gripped the contract with both hands. With a loud rip— In front of everyone, I tore that billion-dollar contract to shreds. Paper fragments floated down like snowflakes in the conference room. The smile on Mr. Richards’s face instantly froze. “Sasha, have you lost your mind!”

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In my past life, my name was Claire Vance. I donated over $10 million and sponsored 101 underprivileged kids through school. When I died of stomach cancer at 37, not a single one of those 101 kids came to visit me. In this life, the very first thing I did after waking up was throw that densely packed list of sponsored students straight into the trash. Taking the money I had prepared to donate, I took advantage of the pre-boom housing market and bought ten rental properties in one go. Soon after, I saw familiar faces flashing across my screen. The boys and girls who had once sworn to repay my kindness in my past life were now wiping away tears during a local news interview: “Ms. Claire promised she would pay for my entire college tuition, but now she’s disappeared. I heard she bought 10 houses instead.” “Now, we have no choice but to drop out and work fast-food jobs.” “I don’t hate her… it just hurts…” “We just want to ask one thing: Ms. Claire, we looked up to you like a mother. How could you be so cruel?” I turned off the TV with a blank expression. The moment I unlocked my phone, a tidal wave of notifications flooded in. The first text: “Ms. Vance, I’m a reporter from Metro News Tonight. May I ask why you suddenly cut off funding for 101 disadvantaged students? Are you available for an interview?” The second: “Ms. Claire! It’s Lily! Why aren’t you answering my calls? You promised you’d put me through college!” The third: “Claire Vance, as a well-known local philanthropist, you suddenly have ten new properties under your name while leaving children to drop out and work minimum wage. How do you sleep at night?” The fourth, the fifth, the sixth… My phone was vibrating so hard it felt like it was going to explode. At the same time, chaotic footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Judging by the sound, there were at least a few dozen people gathered outside my door. Through the heavy wood, their impatient voices drilled in: “Ms. Vance! Come out and give us a statement!” “Why did you stop the funding?” “Do you know the kids are staging a sit-in outside the news station?!” I closed my eyes. In my past life, I was a selfless, dedicated “good person” who only knew how to give. My husband, Arthur, and I ran a wholesale building materials supply store. We worked from dawn to dusk, pinching every penny. We spent very little on ourselves; the vast majority of our profits went straight to charity. Over ten years, we donated over $10 million, sponsoring 101 kids from impoverished rural counties in the state. We sponsored many of them from the time they were in elementary school. I promised them that if they just focused on studying, I would cover everything through their college graduation. They wrote letters, calling us “Mama Claire” and “Papa Art,” promising they would repay us when they grew up. We saved every single letter. On nights when we couldn’t sleep, we’d take them out to read, often shedding tears of joy and comfort. Arthur and I didn’t have children of our own. We didn’t want the kids to “repay” us; we just didn’t want poverty to limit their potential in life. Then, Arthur died. His supply truck flipped on the highway. His last words were, “Make sure you take care of the kids.” Then, he was gone. I cried until I thought I would die. Before I could even recover from the grief, I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. During the year I was hospitalized, I lay in that bed, waiting for those kids to come see me. Not a single one came. I told myself they were busy, their coursework was heavy, and bus tickets were expensive. I didn’t blame them. Later, when my medical funds ran dry, I had no choice but to suspend the scholarship payments. That’s when my phone started ringing. “Aunt Claire, why hasn’t this month’s living stipend arrived yet?” “Aunt Claire, you promised to pay through college, and you’re cutting me off in my freshman year of high school? Isn’t this practically a scam?” “Ms. Vance, I’m [Redacted]’s parent. You made a promise. You can’t just stop paying now! What is our kid supposed to do?” The very last phone call came from a girl named Mia. Back when I was selecting students to sponsor, she had knelt in front of me, crying her eyes out, calling me “Mom.” On the phone, she said, “Mama Claire, how long is your treatment going to take? Hurry up and get better so you can get back to work. We have so many kids depending on you.” I hung up the phone and burned every single letter I had kept under my pillow. Later, a reporter dug up my story and went to interview the kids. Reporter: “Claire is very sick. Are you going to visit her?” Student A: “She promised to pay for my college. Now she’s just lying in a hospital and the money’s gone. What good would it do if I went?” Student B: “She’s so rich, it’s just a medical bill. Besides, how much is our tuition really costing her?” Student C—Mia—smiled innocently at the camera: “Nobody does anything without a motive. I won’t say what she was really after, but I think everyone can guess, right?” I turned off the TV. Without enough money to cover the final medical bills, I was discharged. I went home, lay in the bed Arthur used to sleep in, and suffered day by day. The night I died was New Year’s Eve. People were setting off fireworks outside my window. Staring at the ceiling, I whispered, “God, if I could do it all over again…” “I would absolutely put myself first.” Heaven had eyes. I truly was reborn. I woke up back when I was 33. Arthur wasn’t dead yet, and our family was still relatively wealthy. Changing fate wasn’t easy. That afternoon, I almost couldn’t make it out of my own neighborhood. A massive crowd was gathered downstairs. Nearly a hundred kids, wearing their school uniforms, holding up banners. “Mama Claire, we need you.” “Mama Claire, don’t abandon us.” Kneeling at the very front was Mia. Holding a megaphone, crying hysterically, she shouted: “Mama Claire! You said you’d put me through college! Did you forget?!” Countless reporters stood nearby, all their cameras aimed directly at my building’s entrance. The moment I stepped out of the lobby, I heard a wailing cry—”Mama Claire!” Mia crawled forward on her knees, lunging to wrap her arms tightly around my legs. “Mama Claire, please don’t abandon us! You said we were your children! You said you would always provide for us!” Her tears smeared against my pant leg, icy cold. Behind her, the other 100 kids started crying in unison. The sound was deafening. Security guards tried to step in but were blocked by the reporters. From every direction, telephoto lenses and cell phone cameras were pointed at me. People were livestreaming on TikTok and Instagram. Some bystanders were wiping away tears, whispering, “They’re so pitiful. How can this woman be so heartless?” I looked down at Mia. This face was exactly the same as in my past life. In my past life, she had knelt before me, crying exactly like this, promising she would take care of me when I grew old. Then, when I was dying, she looked into a camera and said, “Nobody does anything without a motive.” I reached down and peeled her fingers off my pant leg, one by one. “Mama Claire!” she shrieked, gripping tighter. I pried her last finger loose. I crouched down and looked her dead in the eye. “Mia, how old are you this year?” She froze for a second. “S-seventeen.” “Seventeen,” I nodded. “That’s not so young anymore.” I paused, enunciating every word clearly: “Nobody does anything without a motive. I won’t say what you’re really after right now, but I think I can guess.” Her face stiffened entirely. I stood up, stepped around her, and kept walking. Behind me, Mia suddenly burst into dramatic wails. “Mama Claire! You can’t do this! You promised us! You can’t go back on your word!” The other kids followed her lead, crying even louder than before. Someone started chanting: “Bring Mama Claire back! Bring Mama Claire back!” Cell phone cameras followed me relentlessly. The livestream chats were scrolling wildly. “What kind of person is this? So many kids are begging on their knees and she doesn’t even look back?” “So cold-blooded! I can’t believe I used to like her posts!” “Ten houses, and she won’t even donate one? I always knew her charity was a fake tax write-off!” “Claire Vance, how do you sleep at night?” The reporters practically shoved their microphones into my face, their mouths opening and closing, all asking variations of why I stopped the funding. Seeing that I couldn’t avoid them, I simply stopped and gave the reporters a polite wave. “That’s right, I have decided to permanently terminate the sponsorships.” “As for the reason, it is a private, personal matter, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss it here.” “However, I believe there are mostly good people in this world. Like all of you, for example. You are more than welcome to take over sponsoring these children.” “Everyone here is so kind and righteous. I’m sure that even without me, they will successfully finish their education, right?” I smiled, scanning the faces of these seemingly “kind and righteous” people. Seeing me steer the conversation in this direction, the reporters instantly shut their mouths, not daring to pester me with more questions. Taking advantage of their silence, I pushed through the crowd and quickly walked to the neighborhood gate. A pickup truck was parked by the curb. The window rolled down; it was Arthur. He looked at me, his eyes red. “Honey, I saw everything,” his voice choked up. “Those kids… they’re so pitiful. Haven’t we always sponsored them? Why the sudden…” I opened the door and got in. Arthur turned to me. “Didn’t we always say we didn’t want them to repay us, we just wanted them to do well…” “I changed the PIN on the savings accounts,” I said. He froze. “What?” “The two main savings accounts. I changed the PINs,” I repeated, looking straight ahead. “If you need to withdraw money, you have to ask me.” “Honey, you—” I sighed. “Arthur, I had a dream. It was so real, I believe it’s a premonition.” “In the dream, you died in a crash. I got stomach cancer. I lay in a hospital bed for over a year, and out of those 101 kids, not a single one came to see me. When I stopped the funding, they called to harass me, telling me to hurry up, get cured, and get back to making money for them. They even went on TV to say I had an ulterior motive. In the end, I died alone in our house on New Year’s Eve while fireworks went off outside.” He was stunned silent. “Arthur,” I said, utterly exhausted. “In this life, let’s put ourselves first.” He sat there with his mouth open, looking at me in confusion, unable to speak for a long time. Outside the window, a massive digital billboard was playing the local news. “Well-known philanthropist Claire Vance abandons 101 disadvantaged children. Students kneel in the street begging her to return…” Many pedestrians were looking up at the screen. Someone shouted, “Claire Vance, go to hell!” A chorus of voices immediately agreed. I sneered. Give a man a fish, he’ll thank you. Give a man a fish every day, he’ll hate you when you stop. The ancients were right. Cyberbullying spreads like wildfire. For days, the area downstairs was completely packed with angry mobs. “Claire Vance! Get out here!” “Heartless bitch!” “Stop pretending to be a philanthropist, you’re just a scammer!” People threw eggs at my windows; the yolk dripped down the glass. Someone spray-painted the lobby doors with red paint: “Fake Charity, Real Bloodsucker.” They even hung banners: “Punish the corrupt businesswoman, get justice for the kids!” Peeking through the curtains, I saw Mia still standing at the very front of the crowd, accepting interviews with a tear-streaked face. “We never wanted to ask her for much money. We just want to know why she suddenly threw us away?” Next to her, a teenage boy cried hysterically: “She buys ten houses, but forces us to drop out! My little sister is only in seventh grade, and now she has to go work in a sweatshop!” The crowd exploded. “Call the cops! Arrest her!” “Cancel her! Ruin her life!” “Smash her house!” Suddenly, a fairly large rock shattered my living room window, sending glass shards flying dangerously close to my eyes. Arthur shielded me, his face pale. “Honey, let’s call the police.” I shook my head. What good would the police do? To the public, they were just a group of “pitiful,” “helpless,” “betrayed” children. The next day, things got worse. Someone doxxed my home address and the location of Arthur’s supply store online. By the time I rushed over to the store, I heard someone in the mob yell: “Smash it!” Before the words even faded, baseball bats shattered the glass storefront. The mob surged in like a tidal wave. Shelves were toppled, ceramic tiles were smashed, and the cash register was flipped over. Someone even lit the store’s sign on fire; thick black smoke billowed into the air. Honest, hardworking Arthur, his eyes completely red, rushed in to try and stop them, but was violently shoved to the ground. People spat on him; people kicked him. In that moment, the blood rushed to my head. But I didn’t charge in. Instead, I took a step back to the edge of the crowd and started a TikTok live stream. I pointed the camera at the fire, at the store being trashed, and at Arthur being trampled on the floor. The chat went wild: “What’s going on here?” “Holy shit, this is a full-on riot!” “Did someone call 911?” “That’s Claire Vance’s store!” “Good job! Make that fake philanthropist go bankrupt!” I stared at the screen, my voice calm but laced with a slight tremble: “Hello everyone, I am Claire Vance. What you are seeing right now is my husband being attacked by a mob.” “For the past three days, my home has been vandalized, my store has been besieged, and my husband is currently being stomped on the ground. And all of this is simply because I stopped funding 101 students.” “Up until now, I have sponsored them for over 3 years, totaling roughly $300,000. Every single transaction has bank records.” “As for why I suddenly stopped the funding, I originally didn’t want to say this today—” I pulled a few pieces of paper from my pocket and unfolded them in front of the camera. It was a medical pathology report. The date was from 5 days ago. Under the diagnosis section, in black and white, it read: Gastric Adenocarcinoma, Stage II. In my past life, by the time I found out I had stomach cancer, it was already late-stage. After being reborn, the very first thing I did was go to the hospital for a full screening. “I stopped the funding because I need the money for my own medical treatment. I didn’t want to make it public because I didn’t want people to worry. But now, I have no choice but to tell you all.” “I also wish I could keep paying for these kids to go to school, but my health won’t allow it. My husband’s health isn’t great either. Our medical bills are going to be massive, and potentially never-ending.” By the time I finished, I was openly sobbing. The live chat started scrolling frantically: “Wait… Stomach cancer?” “She didn’t say that before!” “Of course she needs her money for medical bills if she’s sick!” “Did the mob just force a cancer patient into this?” “Why didn’t she just say she was sick? No one would have bullied her!” “Are you stupid? If she said it, people would have accused her of playing the victim card!” “So she was cyberbullied for three days straight and just took it?”

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At my brother-in-law’s wedding reception, my new sister-in-law suddenly went on the offensive, targeting me in front of everyone. “Chloé, it’s absolutely shameful how you and Liam have taken over Mom and Dad’s retirement estate since you got married. On top of that, you’ve monopolized their Maybach! It’s disgusting.” “Today, with all our friends and family present, I’m calling for a formal separation of the family assets. We’re going to make sure you can’t leech off Liam’s parents anymore!” The room erupted into hushed whispers among the relatives. My in-laws looked beyond mortified, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. I took a slow, calm sip of my wine, then nodded with a smile. “Divide the assets? honestly, I’d love nothing more.” It seems this incredibly self-righteous new sister-in-law of mine doesn’t actually know who pulls the strings in this family. The sprawling estate, the black Maybach, and even that glittering, publicly traded company they all rely on… The actual owner is me. 1. The once-boisterous reception hall fell instantly silent. Up on the stage, Tiffany didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing me fly into a rage. Instead, her own expression soured. Ignoring Liam’s brother, Caleb, who was frantically trying to pull her back, she gripped the microphone tightly and continued her public shaming. “Chloé Vance, I actually admire the sheer thickness of your skin.” “We’re both daughters-in-law married into the Miller family. Do you really think nobody sees what you’re up to? Don’t think you can just nod this away and pretend it’s over!” She turned to the crowd, pointing a trembling, righteous finger at me. “None of you know just how awful my sister-in-law is. She lives in my in-laws’ house but insists on occupying the master suite. She doesn’t lift a finger, expects to be waited on hand and foot. My mother-in-law kindly tried to tidy up the trash in Chloé’s study last week, and Chloé didn’t just show ingratitude—she screamed at her until my mother-in-law was in tears!” “And last month, when my father-in-law slipped at home and sprained his ankle, she didn’t care at all. She actually drove off in the family Maybach, leaving him writhing on the floor in pain!” “It’s the same story at ApexTech. That’s clearly a Miller family business, yet she has the nerve to squat on the title of Executive Vice President. She shows up late, leaves early, and spends her time at her desk doing her makeup, eating snacks, and binge-watching shows. All she does is order her sister-in-law around!” Tiffany glared at me, then looked down at my husband, Liam, who was sitting beside me. “Liam, you need to say something today. Are you really just going to sit there while your wife rides roughshod over the entire family?” Instantly, every eye in the room focused on Liam Miller. Even I looked at him, genuinely curious to see how he would respond. When we first got married five years ago, the Miller family was practically destitute. Liam was the only saving grace, an Ivy League graduate. His younger brother, Caleb, and sister, Mia, had both dropped out of high school to work in factories. His parents did grueling manual labor on construction sites. Their combined annual family income back then wouldn’t have been enough to buy my cheapest pair of shoes. In the five years since our wedding, I didn’t just buy them a mansion and luxury cars; I fully funded and founded ApexTech. I taught them how to do business from scratch, using my money and my connections to land their first clients. No one else in that room knew the truth, but every single person in the Miller family knew exactly how they got where they were. Under the weight of countless scorching stares, Liam’s face darkened. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his wine glass. After a few excruciating seconds, as if making a monumental decision, he turned to face me. “Chloé, Tiffany isn’t lying. You really were in the wrong for those things.” “As the eldest sister-in-law, you should have set an example. You should have shown respect to my parents.” “Today, in front of everyone, I want you to stand up, pour a glass of wine for Mom, Dad, and Mia, and give them a proper apology. We’ll let this go once you do.” My gaze icy cold. The smile completely vanished from my face. These words might have sounded like he was trying to smooth things over, but in reality, he was confirming every single one of Tiffany’s accusations. He was branding me a sinner in public, forcing me to confess on the spot. But Liam seemed to have forgotten the night we got married. He had knelt before me, crying, saying I was the savior of his entire family. He swore that even if it cost him his life, he would never let me suffer a single moment of grievance. The promises were still ringing in my ears, but the man was unrecognizable. I turned my head, my eyes slowly scanning my parents-in-law, Mia, and then Caleb up on the stage. That time Tiffany claimed I made my mother-in-law cry? It was because she ignored my explicit, repeated warnings never to enter my study. She snuck in while I was out under the guise of “cleaning” and threw away the original, signed copy of a multi-billion dollar international merger contract, thinking it was scrap paper. Yes, I used harsh words then. And the sprained ankle incident? I had immediately canceled a meeting with a major client to call a high-end private ambulance. I didn’t drive away until I saw my father-in-law safely inside the ambulance and on his way to the hospital. As for Mia, if I hadn’t stepped in, her money-grubbing parents would have practically sold her off in an arranged marriage to a rich, older widower back in their hometown. I treated her like my own sister. I paid for her to go to a top tier business school abroad to broaden her horizons, and when she started working, I kept her by my side, teaching her everything I knew about running and managing a company. Even Caleb—every luxury sports car he owned, his racing gear, the house and car he bought for Tiffany, the massive dowry, and the entire cost of this wedding reception—it was all my money. Yet now, faced with this “sinner” label being slapped on me, every single one of them avoided my eyes. Not one person intended to speak up for me. I felt a chilling sense of ridicule. I looked at Liam, who was silently urging me to submit, and just curled my lip. “You want me to apologize? In your dreams.” “I haven’t done anything wrong, so I’m not apologizing to anyone.” 2 Liam didn’t expect that I, who always protected his ego in public, would completely humiliate him like this. His face went totally black. “Chloé, this is a major day for the Miller family.” “For the sake of our years as husband and wife, don’t be so immature. Show some class.” Hearing his lowered, threatening tone, I actually laughed out loud. When we were dating, no matter how wild or impulsive I was, Liam accepted it all. He used to adore my stubborn streak, saying he loved how passionate and unyielding I was, like bright sunshine. But now, simply because I refused to take the blame for things I didn’t do, I was labeled “immature.” Looking at this man I had loved for nearly ten years, I realized for the first time just how hypocritical and selfish he was. He was frighteningly cold-hearted. “Show some class? Liam, who do you think provides the Miller family with the ‘class’ you have now?” Before I could finish, Liam interrupted me with an icy tone. “Enough, Chloé Vance. It seems I’ve spoiled you too much!” “I am announcing, as of this moment, that we are formally separating from my parents’ household!” “In the future, that retirement estate and the cars belong to them. You are not allowed to use them without explicit permission!” “As for ApexTech, you will surrender all the stock shares under your name. We are doing a clean break!” The mask was finally off. Only now, with the dagger pointed at me, did I understand the true purpose of this ambush. They wanted to seize the thirty percent of ApexTech’s original founders’ shares that I held. When Liam said those words, a look of cold, calculating greed flashed in the eyes of every single member of the Miller family. It was the primal, ferocious instinct of a pack of animals hunting together. Even though their prey was the very person who had dragged them out of poverty and completely changed their lives. In the second I recognized this, the last remaining shred of expectation and warmth I held for this family was extinguished. Ten years of devotion, five years of marriage. If I had fed my heart to dogs, it would have been more rewarding than this. “Liam Miller, have you really thought this through?” I turned my gaze squarely on him. Perhaps because he had never seen me look so cold and indifferent, Liam’s eyes flickered with a moment of uncertainty before he nodded firmly. “It doesn’t matter if you agree. As the eldest son of the Miller family, the actual legal representative, and the CEO of ApexTech, I have the right to dispose of your shares according to the initial stock agreement.” “Take the buyout money and walk away. This is the most dignified exit you’re going to get.” “Otherwise, you will end up with nothing.” As he spoke, he gestured to his secretary downstage. The secretary immediately brought up a document and handed it to me. Back when I helped the Miller family start ApexTech, I was fully aware of the small loop-hole in the stock agreement—it was enough for Liam to kick me out at any time. But back then, I believed love was worth more than gold. I didn’t believe the day would ever come when my partner would pick up a weapon against me for profit. I see now how naive I was. According to the document, all the equity I held in ApexTech was to be transferred unconditionally to be shared among the three Miller siblings: Liam, Caleb, and Mia. Furthermore, the estate registered in my name and the Maybach were all to be unconditionally “gifted” to Liam’s parents. The clauses even stated that I voluntarily waived all rights to any future claims and would not interfere in any way, shape, or form with any Miller family affairs, including the management of the company. I really hadn’t expected them to have prepared all this. It meant Tiffany’s sudden attack wasn’t a spontaneous whim at all; it was a carefully calculated plot they had all agreed upon. Perhaps for a very long time, they had been plotting how to legitimately steal everything in my hands. 3 After flipping through the last page, I put the document back on the table and looked up, scanning the faces of the people in front of me. “Have you all thought this through? Are you sure you want me to sign this?” My mother-in-law was the first to speak. “Chloé, this is how it should have been. The Miller family didn’t marry you so you could hoard the family assets.” “Just sign it, and we can still be one big, happy family in the future. Wouldn’t that be nice?” My father-in-law nodded, coughing once before adding, “Yes, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other in a family. These things should have belonged to the Miller family from the start. Give them back, and you’ll still be our eldest daughter-in-law. No one will think ill of you.” Mia kept her head down, muttering softly, “Sister-in-law, just sign it. You’re so rich; these things are nothing to you.” “But they are different for us. We need this.” Caleb rushed to chime in, “Exactly, Chloé. You have your own massive family business; why do you care about this small stake? Just think of it as helping us out. We’ll definitely remember your kindness.” Tiffany scoffed next to him, crossing her arms and looking at me disdainfully. “You hear them, right? The whole family says so. Stop putting on an act and sign the damn paper.” “Don’t ruin our wedding reception and spoil everyone’s mood.” Finally, my gaze fell back on Liam. He looked at me, his tone softening slightly, as if he were coaxing a child, yet delivering an ultimatum. “Chloé, sign it. We’ve been married for so many years; don’t we have at least this much trust?” “If you really love me, sign this to prove to me that you didn’t stay with me just for the Miller family’s money.” When I heard that sentence, I finally couldn’t hold it back. I burst into laughter. Apparently, loving someone meant handing over my entire net worth to their family, letting them take whatever they wanted, and still being accused of only wanting them for their money. I laughed for a long time before stopping. I looked at Liam. “Liam, these things are indeed worthless to me.” “But are you sure you can handle them?” Liam’s face instantly darkened. He thought I was provoking him, that I was looking down on them. “Chloé Vance, what is that supposed to mean? I’m the one who runs ApexTech. I’ve been handling all the company’s business operations these past few years. Without you, we can still make this company thrive. Don’t think too highly of yourself.” “Fine.” I nodded and picked up the pen to sign my name. As I finished the last stroke, I threw the pen back onto the table and pushed the signed document forward. Tiffany was the first to pounce on it. She picked up the file and flipped through it, her face filled with excitement. She quickly handed the document to Caleb, telling him to put it away safely, as if she were afraid I would regret it. The tension on Liam’s face finally relaxed slightly, and a look of unreadable emotion appeared in his eyes as he looked at me. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I simply said in a cold voice, “Liam, I’ve signed it. I’ve given you everything you wanted.” “From this day forward, nothing concerning the Miller family has anything to do with Chloé Vance.” With that, I turned around and walked straight toward the exit of the reception hall. Sitting in my car, I took out my phone and called my father’s special assistant, Mr. Henderson. “Mr. Henderson, as of this exact moment, ApexTech has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “Withdraw every single resource associated with the Vance family immediately.” “Within one month, I want this supposed commercial ‘miracle’ to become nothing more than a permanent joke.” Mr. Henderson was stunned for a second, but without asking a single question, he immediately responded with cool professionalism. “Understood, Miss Vance. I will see to it immediately.” I hung up the phone and leaned back against the seat, looking at the imposing ApexTech tower across from the hotel. I curled my lip in a smile. Let the wildfire that is about to destroy everything burn as brightly as possible. 4 The very next morning, Liam had barely sat in the CEO’s chair, not yet having the chance to fully savor the feeling of absolute power, when the building’s property manager pushed the door open and handed him a new rent notice. Liam looked at the number on it, and his face instantly turned pale. “What is the meaning of this? Wasn’t the previous rent two hundred thousand a month? Why has it suddenly jumped to eight hundred thousand? This is highway robbery!” The head of property management crossed his arms, his tone flat. “Mr. Miller, you can’t say that.” “Your previous VP, Mrs. Vance, has a close personal relationship with our owner. That’s why we were giving you the friends-and-family rate. Now that she has been removed from your management team, we naturally have to adjust to the market rate.” “Other comparable office buildings in this area go for this price. We aren’t asking for a penny more.” Liam froze in place, utterly speechless. The property manager looked at him and added one more thing: “Oh, and my boss said, either you pay one full year’s rent upfront at the new rate, or you move out by the end of this month.” “The choice is yours.” With that, the property manager turned and left. Caleb and the others rushed in as soon as they heard the news. “Liam, eight hundred thousand a month! That’s nine point six million a year! Where are we supposed to get that kind of money?” Caleb’s voice was shaking. Tiffany, however, was very calm. She had been the star of the show at the wedding reception yesterday, and today she had specially dressed up to come to the company as the legitimate second Mrs. Miller. She took the notice and glanced at it, then scoffed, throwing the paper back on the desk. “I thought it was some massive catastrophe. It’s just a rent increase. What are you panicking for?” “Eight hundred thousand is eight hundred thousand. We are the owners of the company now; we can’t come up with this small amount? Isn’t it just over nine million a year?” “We’ll make that back easily with one big contract. It’s no big deal. We’ll accept the increase; it’s just rent, we can afford it.” As soon as she said this, Caleb and Mia seemed to find their backbone again and nodded. “Yeah, Tiffany makes sense. It’s just a rent hike. We own the company now; why are we afraid of this small amount of money?” “Exactly. The company made so much money every year before; this rent is nothing.” Liam also breathed a sigh of relief, thinking Tiffany was right. Before he could fully relax, Caleb’s phone rang urgently. Caleb listened for only two seconds before his face went entirely pale. His legs actually buckled, and he fell to the floor. “Liam! It’s a disaster! Something major happened with the supply chain!”

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After seven years of marriage, my husband finally agreed to accompany me back to my parents’ house for the holidays. But once again, the car pulled to a stop outside his first love’s apartment building. “I accidentally took a wrong turn.” He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Since we’re already here, let’s just eat here today.” His first love’s mother came out to greet us with a beaming smile, immediately grabbing his wrist. “My dear son-in-law, you’re finally here!” When she saw my son, her smile grew even wider. “Leo! Did you miss Grandma?” My son greeted her sweetly. I was the only one left standing in the entryway, still holding the gifts I had bought for my own mother. This was the seventh time he had “accidentally taken a wrong turn.” Suddenly, I felt a profound sense of clarity. It was time for me to take a different road, too. … “Claire, you came too?” Mrs. Davis looked at me, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossing her eyes, though she maintained a polite smile. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. Why are you still following your brother around everywhere?” My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that they ached. When you think about it, it was actually quite hilarious. I had been married to Arthur Sterling for seven years. Yet every year, on the second day of Christmas, he brought me to his first love’s house. He even told her mother that I was his sister. Right in front of this woman, my own son, Leo, was forced to call me “Auntie Claire.” “Mom, don’t worry about her,” Arthur chuckled softly, walking into the house with the ease of someone who truly belonged there. “Where’s Chloe?” Right on cue, Chloe Davis emerged from the bedroom and naturally linked her arm through his. “Husband.” When Leo saw her, he immediately ran over and hugged her leg. “Mommy! I missed you!” Arthur looked down at the two of them, the corners of his mouth curling up into a gentle, tender smile—a smile I had never seen him direct at me. My chest tightened as if squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe. Mrs. Davis went into the kitchen. I looked at Arthur, hesitating for a moment before keeping my voice low. “Didn’t you say… you were going to accompany me to my parents’ house this year?” He still didn’t look at me, replying casually, “I’m just so used to driving this route, I made a wrong turn by mistake.” Leo, playing with blocks nearby, heard us and piped up in his sweet, childish voice: “Mommy is here! I like it here. I don’t want to go to your house.” I froze. That sweet, innocent voice hit my ears like a sharp knife. Chloe quickly stepped toward me, her face full of guilt. “Claire, kids just say whatever pops into their heads. Please don’t take it to heart.” She sighed, her eyes already turning red. “I’m so sorry… If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to suffer this kind of humiliation.” Arthur immediately frowned and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “What did you do wrong?” He reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, then turned his head to glare at me, his brow heavily furrowed. “Claire, stop picking fights over nothing.” I lowered my eyes. On the console table sat a framed photograph—a picture of the three of them smiling together. Arthur and I had never taken a single photo together. Because he said he didn’t like taking pictures. Just like me—Arthur Sterling never liked me. But I loved him. I had loved him for fifteen years. Back then, he and Chloe had a massive misunderstanding and broke up. In a fit of anger and rebellion against his family’s arrangements, he agreed to marry me. I was ecstatic. But on our wedding night, he simply looked at me coldly and said: “I don’t love you, and I never will.” I didn’t believe him. I stubbornly continued to love him. The day our son was born, he stood at the door of my hospital room, looked at me, and said, “You’ve worked hard.” That was the very first gentle thing he had ever said to me. I felt like everything I had endured was finally worth it. I thought our future would only get better. But then Chloe came back. She threw herself into Arthur’s arms, crying hysterically. “Arthur, you have to help me.” “My mom has terminal cancer. Her dying wish is to see me marry you.” “Could you please… just pretend for her sake?” He was silent for a long time, but finally, he nodded and said yes. Every year after that, he tricked me into coming here using the excuse of a “wrong turn.” But anyone with eyes could see that Mrs. Davis was perfectly healthy. It was Arthur who was a willing participant in this charade. Looking at that framed photo, my eyes suddenly felt incredibly dry. Seven years. I didn’t want to play along in his play anymore. 2 The sound of sizzling food drifted from the kitchen. Arthur and Chloe had both gone in to help, and Leo stood on his tiptoes, peering over the counter as Mrs. Davis laughingly fed him a piece of spare rib. The room was filled with laughter and joy. Leaving me standing alone in the living room, completely isolated. It felt like a boulder was pressing down on my chest, making my eyes burn. When I looked up, I saw Arthur walking out of the kitchen with a stack of bowls. I stepped forward and blocked his path. “I want to go home now.” He stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing. “We haven’t even eaten yet. Where are you going?” “You can’t leave. If you leave now, her mom will think she was a bad host.” With that, he turned sideways, trying to walk past me. I grabbed his arm, insisting, “I don’t want to stay here.” He looked down at my hand gripping his sleeve, the crease between his brows deepening. “Why are you acting so dramatic? Haven’t you gotten used to this after all these years?” “Just sit down and behave. I’ll take you home after we eat.” I didn’t let go. “I want to leave.” Seeing my unusual persistence, Arthur’s face darkened completely. The air grew silent for a moment before he let out a short, cold laugh. “Fine. Leave.” I froze for a second, genuinely surprised he agreed so easily. But I didn’t hesitate. I turned around and pushed the front door open. The freezing winter wind hit my face, and I took a deep, sharp breath. Keeping my head down, I opened my phone to order an Uber. The loading icon spun twice. [Sorry, insufficient funds. Payment failed.] My entire body went rigid. I turned around. Arthur was standing in the hallway, just a few feet away, watching me quietly. He did it on purpose. He told me to leave because he knew I physically couldn’t. He had frozen my cards. I didn’t have a single cent to my name. “Are you done throwing a tantrum?” He walked toward me, his voice flat. “If you are, come inside. Dinner is ready.” Arthur’s perfect calmness made me feel like I was just humiliating myself. “Daddy!” Leo pushed the door open and ran out, glancing at me briefly. “Grandma says it’s time to eat.” Chloe followed right behind him. Her gaze darted back and forth between me and Arthur. “What’s wrong?” “Claire, did I do something to upset you?” “I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault… Please don’t be mad…” Seeing Chloe lowering her voice to beg me, Leo immediately rushed forward and stood protectively in front of her. He looked up at me and yelled: “You mean lady! Don’t you dare bully my mommy!” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they almost broke the skin. A bitter wave of sorrow washed over me. This was the child I carried for nine months. Initially, Arthur didn’t want a child with me. But his family pressured him relentlessly, and because I had been actively preparing my body for pregnancy, it eventually happened. My pregnancy was brutal. I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum to the point of severe dehydration. I had to go to the emergency room alone and lie in a hospital bed at 3:00 AM. Arthur never came to see me. But I didn’t care about the suffering. I just prayed and prayed for this baby to be born. To ensure a healthy pregnancy, I even quit my job, leaving myself without a single penny of my own income. I never imagined that he would end up hating me this much. I never imagined he would stand in front of Chloe and call me a “mean lady.” “Let’s go. Get inside.” Arthur gave me a final glance, his tone leaving no room for argument. For once in my life, I wanted to hold my ground to the bitter end. “I’m not going in. Arthur, I want to go home.” The air went dead silent. Arthur stared at me for a long time, his gaze growing colder by the second. “Then walk home yourself.” With that, he and Chloe took Leo’s hands and walked back inside. The door was left slightly ajar. I could hear Chloe’s voice drifting through the crack: “Arthur, is she going to be okay out there alone?” “She’s fine. Let her cool off by herself.” “Yeah, Mommy! Don’t worry about that mean lady!” Right on cue, it started to snow. I stood frozen in place, the bone-chilling cold piercing through my coat. From here to our house was thirty miles. And he told me to walk. I lowered my head, my vision blurring completely. The scalding hot tears I had been fighting back finally fell, leaving trails of ice on my cheeks. Just then, my phone rang. 3 “Claire? Didn’t you say you were coming over today? Why aren’t you here yet?” My mom’s voice came through the speaker, full of concern. “Your dad and I have been waiting. Is everything okay?” I bit down hard on my lower lip, desperately trying to swallow the sob rising in my throat. “Everything is fine.” “It’s just… Arthur took a wrong turn by mistake, so we won’t be able to make it today…” The line went dead silent. Then, a forced, lighthearted chuckle came through. “Oh, that’s fine, that’s fine…” “After the holidays, your dad and I can find some time to come see you.” “Don’t worry about us over here. Just make sure… make sure you aren’t suffering too much.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. But the tears kept falling, drop after drop, splashing onto the back of my hand. The snow was falling heavier now. Arthur and Chloe’s laughter faintly echoed through the crack in the door. I hung up the phone and crouched down in the snow, freezing from head to toe. The Davis family lived in the suburbs. It was the day after Christmas. The surrounding shops were all dark, and the streets were completely deserted. I couldn’t even find a place to take shelter from the snow. I don’t know how much time passed. Footsteps stopped right beside me. Arthur frowned, bent down, and scooped me up into his arms. For once, his voice was surprisingly gentle: “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” “Are you freezing?” I kept my jaw clamped shut, letting the tears stream silently down my face. I didn’t want to say a single word to him. He sighed and placed me in the passenger seat, blasting the heater to the maximum. As the warmth slowly filled the car, my frozen fingers began to throb with pain. He turned his head to look at me. “Leo wants to stay the night with Chloe. I’ll pick him up tomorrow.” “He grew up with you, but he doesn’t like being around you. Sometimes… you really need to reflect on why that is.” A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. The reason my son didn’t like me was incredibly simple. It was because I disciplined him every day, while Chloe let him get away with murder. And who knows? She probably whispered plenty of poison about me in his ear. I had absolutely nothing to reflect on. Seeing that I remained silent, Arthur’s tone softened. “I only came to spend the holidays with Chloe because I feel sorry for her sick mother. There’s no other reason.” “Stop being mad, okay?” As he spoke, he suddenly pulled a velvet jewelry box from his pocket and set it in front of me. “I bought you that necklace you were looking at the other day.” “Consider this an apology. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I looked down. Inside the box lay a diamond necklace, an exclusive limited edition. It was the exact one I had happened to see in a magazine a few days ago. I had only mentioned it in passing, yet he remembered. I looked up, staring at his profile, realizing I could never truly understand this man. He forgot almost everything about me, yet he remembered a random page I flipped to in a magazine. He didn’t love me. But he knew exactly how to make my heart soften. “Are we good now?” Arthur let out a soft chuckle and reached over to ruffle my hair. “You’re so easy to please.” “Since we have some free time today, how about I take you shopping? We can buy whatever you like. How does that sound?” My fingernails dug into my palms. Before I could even open my mouth, his phone rang. Arthur answered it. Chloe’s tearful, pathetic voice came through the speaker: “Arthur, I just… I just accidentally twisted my ankle. It hurts so much…” “Could you come back and take me to the hospital, please?” Arthur’s expression changed instantly. Without a second of hesitation, he whipped the steering wheel around. When the car pulled to a stop in front of Chloe’s house again, he seemed to finally remember I was sitting there. He said in a low voice: “Be good. She’s delicate, she needs me with her.” “I unfroze your cards. Go shopping by yourself, buy whatever you want.” With that, he hurriedly got out of the car and scooped Chloe, who was waiting by the door, into his arms. She buried her face in his chest. My son stood next to them, mimicking his father as he patted Chloe’s arm consolingly. His mouth moved as he spoke. Through the glass, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But I knew. They were both comforting her. One was the husband I had loved for fifteen years; the other was the son I had carried for nine months. Both of them were comforting her. I suddenly felt an overwhelming, crushing wave of exhaustion. My finger hovered over the screen of my phone for a long time. Then, I typed out a message, word by word: [Have a divorce agreement drawn up for me.] 4 It was past midnight when Arthur finally returned home. The moment I saw him, I was about to bring up the divorce. But the next second, Chloe walked in, holding Leo’s hand. “Chloe twisted her ankle, she’s not feeling well.” “She’ll be staying with us for a few days so I can take care of her.” Leo cheered excitedly, “Mommy! Can you stay here forever?!” He turned his head and glared at me. “I don’t like her!” “I like you as my mommy!” Arthur let out a soft, indulgent chuckle. It took him a moment to notice the look on my face. He lowered his voice: “She’s just staying for a few days. Don’t be so petty.” “Besides, this is my house. Whoever I want to stay here, stays here.” My heart had gone numb from the pain a long time ago. Hearing these words now, I felt surprisingly calm. “Okay. If she wants to stay, she can stay.” “Do you want all three of you to sleep in the master bedroom? I can take the guest room for the next few days.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Arthur’s face darkened drastically. “What did you just say?” Chloe’s tears fell on cue, her voice trembling: “Claire, please don’t say that…” “If you… if you really don’t welcome me… I can just leave…” Leo immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Mommy is staying here! You mean lady! Don’t you dare bully my mommy!” Looking at the three of them, I felt a wave of sheer exhaustion. From the very beginning, I hadn’t said the word “no” a single time. I took a deep breath, trying to make my tone as sincere as possible. “I said, she can stay if she wants to. And you’re right, this is your house. You can do whatever you want.” Without waiting for their reaction, I quickly grabbed my blankets and headed to the guest room. “I’ll sleep in here tonight.” Arthur stared at me, completely frozen in place. I closed the door, completely shutting out the noise. I could hear Leo happily cheering as he hugged Chloe. But Arthur, his brow tightly furrowed, knocked on my door. “Claire, what’s wrong with you?” I opened the door, looked at him, and gave a faint smile. “Nothing is wrong.” “Are you mad?” “Chloe is just crashing here for a few days, please don’t make a big deal out of it.” I smiled at him and just gave a small nod. “I know. I’m not making a big deal out of it.” Arthur’s frown deepened, his eyes locking intensely onto mine. After a long pause, he sighed. “I know. You must still be angry.” “How about this… didn’t you want me to go to your parents’ house with you? I’ll go with you tomorrow, okay?” I was stunned. I genuinely didn’t know how to react. Seven years of marriage. Every year on the day after Christmas, he took me to his first love’s house. Every year when my mom called to ask, he was suddenly “busy.” Seven years, and he hadn’t visited them once. And now, he was actually willing to go. “No need,” I smiled faintly. “You should stay home and take good care of Chloe.” Seeing my reaction, Arthur became even more insistent: “I said I’m going with you.” I met his eyes but didn’t say anything. In the silence, I finally spoke: “I have a gift for you tomorrow.” Arthur was slightly taken aback. “What is it?” “You’ll see tomorrow. Anyway… you should like it.” Arthur stared at me for a long time. Suddenly, he pulled me into his arms. “Alright, stop throwing your little tantrums.” “I promise I’ll go with you tomorrow. Just be a good girl and get some sleep.” The next morning, when I woke up, the house was completely empty. Arthur was gone. My phone buzzed. A text message from him popped up. [Chloe was feeling sick, so I took her to the hospital.] [Wait for me at home. I’ll go with you as soon as I get back.] [Be good, get ready. I should be back in about an hour.] I locked my phone, feeling absolutely nothing. I had waited for him for so many years. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I packed my things and placed the divorce agreement on the dining table. This was a gift he had probably been wanting for years. This time, I was finally willing to let him go. I took a deep breath and looked back one last time. And then, I completely walked away from the “home” I had mistakenly walked into for seven years. I walked away from Arthur Sterling, the man I had loved for fifteen years. For the rest of my life, I never want to see him again.

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