Category: English

When our old neighborhood was bought out by a luxury developer, we negotiated a deal for ten pre-construction condo units. My husband begged me to sell a few of the contracts to fund his former college mentee’s cancer treatment. “Audrey, I’m begging you to save Chloe. She’s so young, she hasn’t even had the chance to experience the beauty of the world. I don’t want her to die.” I refused. He immediately filed for divorce and walked away with five of my condo contracts. “Audrey, I love you, but my hands are tied. Once we sell the condos and cure Chloe, we’ll get remarried.” I turned and walked away, never looking back. He never expected the developer to go bankrupt and the CEO to be arrested for fraud. Until the day Chloe died of her illness, those condos were never built. 1 Carter and I walked out of the courthouse. He grabbed my hand. With a complex, tortured expression, he said to me: “Audrey, I know you’re upset, but I really had no other choice.” He pursed his lips, looking at me softly. “Chloe is barely in her twenties. She’s so pitiful, and she has no one else to rely on but me. I have to save her, and I know I can.” His eyes shone with absolute certainty. I shook off his hand and nodded. “Right. Good luck beating cancer. Goodbye.” Carter froze for a second, then reached for my hand again. “Audrey, listen to me. I don’t really want to divorce you. You refused to give me the condos, so I had to do this. We’re divorced on paper, but we don’t have to separate. I’m still going to live at home with you.” He tried to pull my head onto his shoulder, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Once the condos are built, I’ll sell them, use the cash to cure Chloe, and then we’ll have a baby, okay? Haven’t you always wanted a baby? We’ll get remarried. I know you still love me.” I gently pushed Carter away, pulled the divorce decree from my pocket, and said exhaustedly: “Carter, we are divorced. Ten condo contracts, and you took half. You got exactly what you wanted. Since your wish came true, let’s just go our separate ways. Bothering me anymore would be crossing a line.” Carter stood there, stunned. His eyes widened as if he was seeing me for the first time. He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. He answered it, his brow furrowing as he spoke softly: “Chloe, just bear with the pain for a little longer. I’m already getting the money together. We’ll get you treated soon, and you’re going to be fine.” He paused, seemingly realizing his tone had been a bit impatient, and quickly softened it to comfort her: “I’m heading over right now. Don’t panic, I’m always here for you.” Hanging up, he turned back to me. “Audrey, I need to go check on Chloe. She needs someone by her side right now. Stop throwing a childish tantrum and wait for me at home.” With that, he walked away quickly. I stood there, watching his back, and let out a long sigh. From the neighborhood buyout, to getting the ten condo contracts, to him filing for divorce—this past year had left me physically and mentally exhausted. I really didn’t want to stay in this city anymore. I wanted to find a quiet place to clear my head and leave all this garbage behind. I pulled myself together and walked toward a real estate brokerage. On the way, I passed the construction site for our new condos. The frames were already up, and they were scheduled to be finished in a few months. At the brokerage, I listed my remaining five pre-construction condo contracts on the market all at once. The agent told me that since the buildings weren’t finished and the deeds hadn’t been issued yet, selling the contracts now would mean taking a lower price. If I waited a few months, they would be worth significantly more. I waved my hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. Just sell them. I don’t care how much they go for. I’m moving out of state.” 2 I spent the whole day running errands and didn’t get home until the evening. When I opened the front door, I froze. Chloe was lying in the master bedroom, her face pale, her head completely bald. Carter was crouching next to the bed, holding a warm towel, gently wiping her face. Seeing me, Carter looked up and gave me a relieved smile. “Audrey, you’re back? Perfect. Chloe doesn’t have chemo for the next few days, and her apartment lease just ended. She has nowhere to go, so she’s going to crash with us for a bit.” Chloe shifted weakly, looking at me with a face full of guilt. “Audrey, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I dragged you into this and ruined your marriage. It breaks my heart. I shouldn’t be bothering you guys… I’ll leave right now.” She propped herself up, pretending to struggle. Carter immediately pushed her back down gently. “Chloe, don’t move. Just lie down and rest.” Carter shot me a glare, then turned back to comfort Chloe, his voice dripping with tenderness. “It has nothing to do with you. Audrey is just being petty and jealous. We’re completely platonic, we’re just like brother and sister. I’ll talk some sense into her, she’ll come around.” I stood in the doorway, watching this ridiculous performance, feeling completely drained. I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. Leaning against the doorframe, I took a breath and spoke: “Carter, the divorce settlement was crystal clear. You took five condo contracts and half our savings. This house was left to me. You and your guest are not welcome here.” Carter frowned, looking at me in disbelief. “Audrey, what is your problem? How can you be so cold-blooded? Chloe is incredibly sick! Can’t you just let her stay for a few days? She has absolutely no one else. We’re the only ones who can help her!” My voice rose slightly as I pointed at him. “I’m cold-blooded? When you sued me for divorce and stripped me of half my assets, why didn’t you call yourself cold-blooded? Now you’re bringing a stranger to live in my house, and you have the nerve to lecture me?” Chloe tugged weakly at Carter’s shirt. “Carter, let it go. I should just leave. Please don’t fight with Audrey because of me. I’ll be fine, I’ll just find a motel or sleep in my car.” Carter immediately shielded her, glaring at me with a hardened tone. “Audrey, is this really necessary? Look at the state she’s in! Can’t you just be the bigger person? I know you’re still mad at me, but Chloe is innocent! If you’re really that miserable about it, then you can move out!” 3 The tension in the room spiked. Chloe suddenly started thrashing around, seemingly losing her balance, and fell off the bed onto the floor. The back of her head hit the edge of the nightstand, and blood started to seep out. I flinched slightly, but Carter went into a full-blown panic. He threw himself onto the floor, pulling Chloe into his arms. “Chloe! Are you okay? Did she scare you?!” He pressed his hand against her wound to stop the bleeding while frantically fumbling for his phone to call 911, his hands shaking violently. Chloe leaned weakly against his chest, her face even paler than before, but she still managed to look up at me and whisper: “Carter, don’t blame Audrey… It was my own fault. Don’t be mad at her.” Hearing that, Carter snapped his head up and glared at me, his eyes filled with pure hatred. The paramedics arrived quickly. As Carter helped load Chloe onto the stretcher, he threw me one last icy look. “Audrey, I was so wrong about you. You watched her suffer and did nothing. You’ll rot in hell for this!” I stood in the empty room, watching the ambulance speed away. I didn’t move, and I didn’t say a word. Once they were gone, I called my real estate agent and told him to list the house I was standing in on the market immediately. The very next day, the agent called me, his tone practically buzzing with excitement. “Audrey, we’ve got cash buyers lined up for all six of your properties! The market is red-hot right now, and the offers are actually a bit higher than you expected. Come down to the escrow office and let’s get the paperwork signed.” I agreed, quickly got ready, and headed to the title company. After finishing the closing paperwork, I walked out and bumped right into Carter, who was staring at a real estate market ticker in the lobby. His eyes were bloodshot—he had clearly stayed up all night at the hospital. When he saw me, he immediately marched over. “Audrey, I just saw the listings. You sold all six properties?! Are you insane? Are you really throwing this much of a tantrum? You sold your own home just to keep Chloe from staying there? What kind of monster are you?” I didn’t say a word. I just turned to leave. Carter frowned and chased after me, his tone laced with frustration. “Listen to me, you’re making a massive mistake. Housing prices are skyrocketing right now. I checked the projections—if you just waited a few more months until the condos are built, every single unit would sell for hundreds of thousands more! You just took a massive loss out of spite!” When I still didn’t react, he paused, and his tone softened a bit. “Look, I still have about a hundred grand in cash right now. That’s enough to cover Chloe’s treatments for the time being, so I don’t even need to sell my condos yet. Why are you rushing this? Look… once Chloe is cured, I’ll buy us a new house, and we can go back to living a good life together.” I glanced at Carter. He genuinely couldn’t comprehend why I had liquidated everything. It was because I was leaving for good. 4 As I turned away, he panicked. He reached out to grab my arm, moving so quickly that a piece of paper slipped out of his jacket pocket and fluttered to the ground. I glanced down. It was a lab report from the hospital. It clearly stated that Chloe was two weeks pregnant. Carter’s face drained of color. He scrambled to pick it up, his fingertips trembling. “It’s not what you think, Audrey! Don’t misunderstand!” He clutched the paper in his hand, stuttering through a frantic explanation, his eyes darting everywhere as he tried to act calm. “Chloe… because of her cancer, she’s been so depressed about her treatments. She kept crying about how her biggest regret was never having a baby. I couldn’t just sit there and watch her die with regrets! And the doctor said it was medically possible for her…” He swallowed hard and quickly added: “I swear to you, I never touched her! I never betrayed you! We just went to a clinic and did an IVF procedure! Once the baby is born, it’ll give Chloe a reason to live, and maybe her cancer will go into remission! Plus, I spent the last few months prepping for this—quitting drinking, eating healthy—so I have experience now! We can use all this experience when we have our own baby, okay?” I stood there, listening to him, feeling nothing but sheer absurdity. When I didn’t respond, he panicked even more and desperately tried to change the subject. “Audrey, you sold the house… where are you going to sleep? Where am I supposed to find you tonight? We agreed we were divorcing but not separating! Don’t think you can use this as an excuse to hide from me!” I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone rang again. He answered it, sounding irritated. “Chloe, what is it now?” Chloe’s frail, sweet voice echoed from the speaker: “Carter, hurry up and come over! I picked out my wedding dress! And I picked out a tuxedo for you too! I memorized your exact measurements, it’s going to look so handsome on you!” Before she could finish, Carter violently ended the call. He looked up at me. His face was deathly pale, his eyes darting away in shame. He opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. 5 It took him several agonizing seconds to regain his voice. He grabbed my arm and practically shouted: “Audrey, don’t misunderstand! It’s really not what it sounds like!” I frowned, trying to shake him off, but his grip was like a vise. He spoke at a mile a minute: “It’s just another one of Chloe’s regrets! She’s never had a wedding, so she just wants to do a fake wedding photoshoot! I’m just helping her fulfill a dying wish!” He swallowed hard. “We are completely platonic! There is nothing inappropriate going on! It’s literally just taking a few photos to give her a nice memory! Once she’s cured, we’ll cut contact completely, I promise! You have to believe me!” I looked at his pathetic, self-deluding face, and honestly, I just felt nauseous. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, nor did I care to. I ripped my arm out of his grasp and walked away. He stood frozen on the sidewalk, his body trembling violently. For the next few days, Carter didn’t reach out. I didn’t know if he was too busy with Chloe’s chemo, or if he just couldn’t figure out how to lie to me anymore. Probably both. I couldn’t care less. The silence was peaceful. I officially resigned from my job and said goodbye to my friends. With the cash from the six properties sitting safely in my bank account, it was time to leave. On the way to the airport, my Uber drove past the construction site for the luxury condos. I noticed that the cranes had stopped moving, and all the heavy machinery had been hauled away. The site was completely deserted. I didn’t think much of it and continued to the airport. While sitting in the departure lounge, I was surprised to spot Carter and Chloe sitting a few rows away. Chloe was leaning heavily against Carter’s shoulder, holding a glossy wedding photography brochure. Carter was gently turning the pages for her, his voice soft and tender. “Look at this one, Chloe, isn’t it beautiful? You’re a little too skinny right now, but once you’re healthy again, we’ll take another set of photos.” Chloe smiled weakly. “Carter, I must have saved a nation in my past life to be lucky enough to meet you in this one. If I die tomorrow, I’d have no regrets.” Carter gently covered her mouth with his hand, frowning affectionately. “Don’t talk like that. Once we get back from our honeymoon, I’m going to sell all five condos and get you the best medical treatment in the world. Be a good girl.” Then, sensing someone watching him, he looked up and made eye contact with me.

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Yesterday, I broke up with Julian. Today, we ran into each other at the “wedding of the century” he was throwing for his childhood sweetheart. Taking in my flawless, head-to-toe styling, Julian’s voice was low and icy: “Are you here to congratulate me, or to crash the party?” “Harper, Chloe and I didn’t save a seat for you at our wedding reception.” I casually tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, flashing the diamond ring on my left hand: “Oh, there’s a seat for me. Right next to my husband.” He let out a harsh scoff, his gaze sweeping over the room full of elite guests: “Do you even know the net worth of the people here today? You’re not even fit to shine their shoes, and you dare talk this kind of nonsense?” I didn’t talk back. I just smiled and placed my red envelope of wedding cash on the reception table. It didn’t matter. In a few minutes, my husband would come out and personally escort me to the head table. When the time comes, we’ll see exactly who is shining whose shoes. 1 The red envelope was thick. Julian’s face darkened the moment he saw it. Before he could speak, Chloe stepped out from behind him. Seeing me, she covered her mouth in feigned surprise: “Harper! What are you doing here?” Her voice was overly sweet as she linked her arm through Julian’s: “It’s such a shame. Julian said he absolutely wasn’t inviting his ex, so he didn’t save you a seat.” “But that envelope is terrifyingly thick. If people didn’t know it was wedding cash, they’d think you brought a stack of your own resumes to hand out.” A chorus of mocking laughter erupted from the people standing nearby. I remained completely unfazed, responding calmly: “Since we’re all family, it’s only right to give a generous gift.” Hearing the word “family,” Chloe seemed to misunderstand. Her perfectly curled eyelashes fluttered nervously. Julian finally looked up from the envelope, his tone dropping to freezing: “Where did you get that kind of money?” “I earned it,” I replied evenly. Those three words made Julian’s face look even worse. He knew very well that two months ago, just to avenge some petty grievance for Chloe, he used his industry connections to fabricate evidence claiming my patented designs were stolen. My company furiously sued me for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Not only did I lose my job, but I was blacklisted from the entire tech industry. My university stripped me of my honors, and Julian gave orders to blackball me from even getting minimum-wage gigs. Right now, I supposedly couldn’t earn a single dime through legitimate channels. Catching onto his mood, Chloe’s eyes lit up: “Then we definitely can’t accept this! Your situation is so difficult right now…” “Julian, let’s just find her a seat. Harper came all this way to hunt for a new sugar daddy. I don’t have the heart to let her leave empty-handed.” Julian narrowed his eyes: “No wonder you’re dressed like that. So you’re here fishing for a new meal ticket.” “Are you really that desperate? You couldn’t even skip your ex-boyfriend’s wedding?” Hunting for a sugar daddy? If my husband heard that, he’d probably flip this entire hotel upside down. Thinking of this, I glanced toward the inner doors of the ballroom, but I didn’t see him yet. To Julian, however, my glance was solid proof: “Harper, give it a rest. To even get an invite to my wedding, you have to be the CEO of a publicly traded company. Anyone with a shred of dignity wouldn’t look twice at you.” My phone buzzed. Ignoring his insults, I opened the message. “Are you there yet? Are you tired? I got held up, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” “If you don’t want to wait, go inside first. Your seat is at the head table.” It was followed by a cute sticker of a serious-looking cat getting headpats. I couldn’t help but smile. I typed a quick reply, and when I looked up, I met Julian’s livid glare. “Don’t trouble yourselves. My husband has already arranged my seat.” With that, I turned to walk into the ballroom. I hadn’t taken two steps before Chloe suddenly gasped: “Ah! Why are you wearing that…” Julian immediately lunged forward, his large hand aggressively swiping at my shoulder. A sharp pain tore across my skin. I winced and turned around, shocked to see that he was holding the official bridal corsage! But I definitely wasn’t wearing that when I walked in! Julian threw the corsage onto the floor, grinding his teeth in absolute fury: “And you said you weren’t here to crash the party!” “You just have to humiliate Chloe and me, don’t you?! You just can’t stand seeing us happy!” My shoulder throbbed intensely; it felt like it was bleeding. I was about to explain that I didn’t put it there, but Chloe cut me off with theatrical sobs: “Harper, I know you’re obsessed with Julian, but today is the wedding we’ve dreamed of since we were kids. How could you…” “I never should have come back to the States! I should have just died in that plane crash!” Right on cue, Julian pulled her into his arms, comforting her softly: “Don’t cry. You still have to change into your ceremony dress soon. What if you ruin your makeup?” “I’ll kick her out right now. Don’t worry, my bride will only ever be you. Didn’t we swear during the plane crash that we would never be separated again?” Then, he glared at me viciously: “Get the hell out of here!” “Let me spell it out for you, Harper: We are broken up, and I have only ever loved Chloe! You will never, ever be my bride!” This exact melodrama had played out countless times over the last six months. In the past, I would have become hysterical. I would have smashed everything in sight, crying and screaming at him. I never did any of those things! Why do you torture me just because of a few words from her? I didn’t book that doomed flight! I didn’t send those texts cursing her to die! Why did you destroy my entire life without even listening to my explanation? But now, all that resentment was completely gone. I didn’t want to ask, and I didn’t want to fight. My heart only had room for my husband. I hadn’t seen him in two days, and I missed him terribly. Enduring the pain in my shoulder, I shook my head: “I was invited to attend this wedding. Why should I leave?” Julian was enraged. He raised a hand to signal security: “Still lying! Your name is absolutely not on my guest list!” “Harper, the biggest regret of my life is meeting you. I never want to see your face again!” 2 Once you break up, words don’t cost a thing. Gone were the days when he sobbed, thanking me for dragging him out of a burning car wreck. Gone were the days when he had a 104-degree fever and begged me never to leave him. We dated for three years. I poured my entire heart into it, genuinely believing we would make it to the end. Then, halfway through, his childhood sweetheart swooped back in, and everything went back to zero. His savior became the villain hurting his true love. He said he never wanted to see me again. But he was wrong. Whether we saw each other again wasn’t up to him. As the security guards rushed over, I quickly looked down and texted my husband. Chloe suddenly sniffled: “Forget it, Julian. While I was away these past three years, Harper did keep you company…” “Isn’t Mr. Sterling from the recycling conglomerate looking for a new wife? Why don’t we introduce Harper to him? We’d be doing a good deed…” Julian gently wiped away her tears, sighing affectionately: “Even now, you’re still trying to help her. It’s because you’re too soft-hearted that she keeps walking all over you.” While the bride and groom were putting on their sickening display of affection, someone behind them laughed out loud: “Mr. Sterling? You mean the old geezer who started out collecting scrap metal, then made a fortune importing foreign trash until his garbage dump went public?” “I heard he’s married four women to help him sort trash. He refuses to give them an allowance, and if they don’t pop out a son, he divorces them and leaves them with nothing… But Harper is young and pretty. She could probably last a few years.” It was Julian’s frat-boy buddies. When we were dating, they never missed a chance to mock me to my face. “Some small-town nobody thinks she can snag the Pierce family heir just because she saved his life? Keep dreaming.” “Chloe has always been Julian’s true love. If she hadn’t gone abroad for grad school three years ago, you wouldn’t even be in the picture.” In the past, hearing those insults, Julian would coldly demand they apologize to me, then reassure me that Chloe was just history. But today, he just gave me a complicated look and said absolutely nothing. Not that I needed his protection anymore. “I’m already married, so you don’t need to trouble yourselves.” Seeing me twirl the diamond ring on my left hand, Julian inexplicably ground his teeth. “You really went all out. Even bought a fake diamond ring.” Chloe blinked innocently: “That must have… cost a lot of money. It’s been so hard for Harper…” “Julian, let me take her to Mr. Sterling’s table first. They can chat for a bit.” With that, she walked through the doors, making a huge, dramatic show of adding a chair to the very last table in the back of the room. Taking a deep breath, I started to walk forward. But a hand blocked my path. Julian lowered his voice: “Harper, can’t you just swallow your pride for once?” “I know you love me, but Chloe and I have been through life and death together… For the sake of our past, if you sincerely apologize to Chloe right now, I’ll move you to the friends’ table.” “Mr. Sterling’s empire is massive. Someone like you could never reach his level.” I looked up at him: “Julian, if you block me right now, when my husband gets here, you’re going to severely regret it.” He narrowed his eyes, his anger flaring up again: “Still running your mouth? Then don’t blame me.” “It’s a good thing Mr. Sterling knows how to discipline his wives. I’ll let him grind that temper out of you!” By the time Chloe came back out, Julian had already grabbed my arm and forcefully dragged me to the back table. I struggled to stand up, but he shoved me back down into the chair. “Mr. Sterling doesn’t like women dressed so provocatively. Get her a change of clothes!” Julian pointed at a janitor passing by, his tone dropping to absolute zero: “That outfit is perfect. I’m sure Mr. Sterling will love it.” 3 He handed the janitor a stack of cash, and the dirty uniform was brought over immediately. “Put this on before Mr. Sterling gets here.” I sat there, refusing to move: “I came to attend a wedding. Why the hell should I wear this?” Julian looked down at me from his high horse, throwing the filthy uniform right in my face: “Because today is my wedding, and everyone here is here on my terms!” “Harper, if you put that on right now, I’ll let you leave. If you don’t, the next wedding Chloe and I attend will be yours and Mr. Sterling’s.” I tilted my head up and locked eyes with him, catching a flicker of conflict in his gaze. It was almost as if he was hoping I would obediently change, rather than fight him to the bitter end. What was this? A sick little loyalty test? Checking to see if, even after breaking up, I was still his obedient, desperate girlfriend? But that obedient Harper had vanished completely the day Chloe returned—the day he started punishing me for her sake, the day he methodically destroyed every patent I had ever worked for. Seeing us at a stalemate, Chloe pressed her lips together tightly. A bridesmaid reminded her she needed to change into her ceremony gown, but she pushed her aside and enthusiastically walked toward me: “Is Harper just feeling shy? I’ll help you change.” There were already a few dozen guests in the banquet hall, and a crowd had gathered to watch the drama. Bursting with excitement, she aggressively yanked at my collar, exposing half of my shoulder. A few men in the crowd let out sleazy catcalls. Julian shot them a glacial glare, and they instantly shut up. Expressionless, I shoved Chloe’s hands away and fixed my collar: “You two are getting married today, and you’ve decided to make me the punchline of your wedding hazing?” More and more guests were filing into the hall. I glanced at the head table. It was still empty, save for a few impeccably dressed men standing nearby chatting. If I had known they were going to be this delusional, I wouldn’t have wasted my time out here. I stood up, taking firm steps toward the front of the room. Chloe gasped dramatically, yelling loudly: “Harper, don’t go over there! That table isn’t for just anyone… You’re going to ruin Julian’s reputation!” Julian lunged forward like an arrow, clamping his hand around my wrist. All his previous mockery had morphed into explosive rage: “I warned you! Everyone here today is someone of status, and the head table is strictly for our parents and the elite titans of the city!” “Do you really think your pathetic little tricks are going to turn you into a Cinderella?!” “Harper, if I let you walk over there today, I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city!” He gripped me with all his strength; it felt like my wrist was going to shatter. I struggled a few times but couldn’t break free. Pushed past my limit, I decided to lay my cards on the table: “Julian, my seat is right over there. If you don’t believe me, go ask—” “Julian, why don’t I take Harper to the bridal suite to change? There are too many people here, it makes sense she’s shy.” Chloe smoothly interjected, stepping up to grab my other wrist. Julian let go, his tall frame blocking the view of the guests at the head table. He stopped looking at me. Instead, he stroked Chloe’s hair, his voice softening: “Chloe, thank God for you. I’m sorry you had to deal with this today. Once the wedding is over, I’ll make it up to you.” “Don’t say that, Julian. Marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life.” While they put on their sickeningly sweet PDA, my patience finally ran out. I violently yanked my wrist free, intending to call my husband. But Chloe’s bridesmaid suddenly rushed forward and snatched my phone out of my hand. “Give that back!” “Oh, don’t rush, Harper! Let’s go change your clothes first. Mr. Sterling is almost here.” They half-pushed, half-dragged me, forcefully hauling me into the bridal suite. The moment the door clicked shut, Chloe’s glam squad swarmed her to help her change into her main wedding gown. Her entire demeanor shifted. She let out a disdainful sneer and barked orders at her bridesmaids: “Strip her clothes off and take some explicit photos. Keep them as leverage so she doesn’t try any of her slutty tricks to seduce Julian later.” “I officially got my marriage license with Julian this morning, and you still think you can stand in my way? Well, you delivered yourself right to my doorstep!”

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Back in our corner of the Rust Belt, my parents and I were the undisputed bosses of the neighborhood. When I was a kid, a corrupt county commissioner tried to seize our family land. My dad didn’t even flinch—he marched into the man’s office and ruthlessly stabbed himself in the thigh three times, terrifying the commissioner so badly he confessed to everything and earned himself three years eating federal prison food. When I was in high school, my guaranteed university scholarship was given to a wealthy donor’s kid. My mom didn’t just complain; she contacted every investigative journalist in the state and sparked a media firestorm that got the nepotism kid expelled and the administration fired. As for me, I grew up being called the “Detroit Firecracker.” I fought my way through school, undefeated against any bully who crossed my path. Over time, our family built a reputation. No one dared to mess with the Vances. That was, until I married into an old-money, Ivy League academic family and tucked away all my sharp edges. I wanted to be a good, gentle wife to my husband. However, in the third month of my marriage, my sister-in-law was beaten by her husband’s family so badly she suffered a miscarriage. My mother-in-law and my husband rushed over to save her. One came back missing a tooth, and the other came back sobbing helplessly. I looked down at the floral apron I was wearing. I took a deep breath. I untied the apron, grabbed my favorite baseball bat, and dialed a familiar number. “Mom, Dad. We got a job to do.” 1 The moment my mother-in-law, my husband, and I stepped into the Dawkins house, the silence was suffocating. The atmosphere felt incredibly oppressive. Coats were hanging in the entryway. A man’s heavy jacket, an old woman’s cardigan, a strange woman’s cocktail dress… But my sister-in-law’s favorite beige trench coat was nowhere to be seen. I frowned and walked further inside. The sight in the living room made me stop in my tracks. The coffee table was a graveyard of empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. The carpet was filthy, and the trash can was spilling over onto the floor. Piles of dirty laundry were heaped on the sofa, and the dining table was covered in unwashed dishes. “Chloe? You in here, kiddo? Make a sound!” I called out. No answer. I walked straight to the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. When I pushed it open, I froze. There wasn’t a single trace of Chloe’s existence in that room. Her clothes were gone from the closet, replaced entirely by her husband Trevor’s things. Even the nightstand only held his phone charger and his electric razor. And most glaringly, the ornate wooden jewelry box she had brought as part of her dowry was missing. I backed out and pushed open the door to the guest bedroom. Instantly, the stale, musty smell of age hit my nose. The bedsheets were a faded, decades-old floral pattern. Clearly, this was her mother-in-law Martha’s room. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, and my husband, Miles, exchanged horrified looks. “Chloe just had a miscarriage. Where could she go all alone?” When Chloe got married, I had come here to help decorate this place. The Dawkins family was broke, but Chloe was so hopelessly in love she insisted on marrying Trevor. Eleanor, having no other choice, paid full cash for this two-bedroom condo so the newlyweds would have a nice place to live. But now, Chloe was in neither the master nor the guest bedroom. My heart climbed into my throat. The anxiety was building. Finally, the only door left was a locked utility closet. I raised my boot and kicked it hard. Bang! The door flew open. When I saw the scene inside, my brain buzzed, and all the blood rushed to my head. Inside the tiny, windowless eighty-square-foot closet was a rusty, narrow metal cot. And most importantly, right in the center of the washed-out bedsheet, there was a massive stain of dried blood. In that instant, my entire body went ice cold. My mind uncontrollably flashed to all those news reports of abusive husbands beating their wives to death. Eleanor saw it, let out a blood-curdling shriek, and threw herself toward the bed. “My poor baby!” Miles stiffened entirely, the boxes of nutritional supplements he was carrying crashing to the floor. I stood paralyzed in the doorway. Truth be told, Chloe and I had never gotten along. She thought I was too brash and not good enough for her sophisticated brother, and I thought she was pretentious, fake, and dramatic. During the two years Miles and I dated, we fought like cats and dogs. If she put cilantro in my food knowing I hated it, I would “accidentally” throw out her takeout. If she tossed my stuffed animal in the dog bed, I’d dump her expensive makeup down the toilet. It wasn’t until she moved out to get married that our war finally ended. But no matter how much we fought, I considered Chloe my family. She was a Bennett, which meant she was under my protection. Just as Eleanor was about to pass out from crying, a weak voice came from the front door. “Mom? Miles? Roxy? Is that you?” Chloe stood there, ghostly pale, holding a plastic bag of wilted cabbage, looking completely lost and terrified. I turned and saw that she had lost so much weight she was practically skeletal. She had only been married a few months, yet there were streaks of gray in her hair. I marched over, snatched the bag of groceries from her hand, and threw it on the floor. “Do you have a death wish? You just had a miscarriage and you’re out grocery shopping?” Chloe flinched in terror, instinctively shrinking back. “Why… why are you guys here?” I glared at her, furious at her weakness. “Are you only tough when you’re at home? You used to fight me to the death, and now you can’t even stand up for yourself?” “Look at you, acting like a beaten dog while they walk all over you!” Chloe’s tears immediately spilled over, her whole body trembling so hard she couldn’t speak. Eleanor rushed over, throwing her arms around Chloe and sobbing loudly. Right then, Chloe’s phone rang. The moment she answered, Martha’s ear-piercing screech exploded from the speaker. “Chloe! Did you slow-cook those ribs like I told you? And this house better be spotless!” “We’re almost home! And you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet. If you don’t pay up, I’m having my son throw you out on the street!” I was completely dumbfounded. Didn’t my mother-in-law buy this condo? Chloe was sleeping in a closet, and she had to pay rent? Hearing that, I snatched the phone right out of Chloe’s hand. “Chloe! Where the hell did you die to? Are you ignoring me?” Martha was still screaming. I put the phone to my mouth and fired back, “Why are you howling at my sister like a rabid dog?” “What’s the matter, did your family graveyard get hit by a mortar shell and blast you out here to wail at us?” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, in disbelief: “You…” “Don’t ‘you’ me,” I cut her off. “I’m calling to let you know your worst nightmare has officially arrived to wreck your house!” I hung up the phone with a loud click. A second later, my own phone buzzed. It was a text from my mom: [Baby girl, your dad and I are on our way.] [Hold the fort. We’ll be there in five.] 2 My husband Miles just stared at me, completely stunned. Eleanor looked at me through her tears, her eyes wide with terror, acting as if she were meeting her daughter-in-law for the very first time. After all, to marry the Ivy League golden boy, I had spent months playing the role of the sweet, accommodating angel. In the whole family, only Chloe knew my true colors. I ignored them and turned my attention back to Chloe. Pointing at the pathetic, wilted cabbage on the floor, I suppressed my rage. “This is what you eat?” Chloe kept her head down, staying silent. “You just lost your baby, and you go out to buy groceries? And you have to come back, cook for them, and clean this pigsty?” Miles couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward. “Chloe, have you been hiding this from us the entire time?” “If you hadn’t ended up in the hospital, we never would have known you were living in this hell!” Staring at the top of Chloe’s head, I took a deep breath. “Head up. Look at me.” Chloe slowly raised her head, her eyes swollen completely shut from crying. “You don’t sleep in the master bedroom. You don’t sleep in the guest room. You sleep in that rusty utility closet?” Her lips trembled. “Sleeping in the closet is one thing,” I took a step closer. “You pay them rent every month?” “Anyone looking at this would think this house belonged to your wicked mother-in-law!” Chloe sniffled, her voice as quiet as a mosquito. “Martha said… she worked hard her entire life and never had a house in her name, so…” She trailed off, her voice fading completely. “So you transferred the deed of the condo over to her?” “You absolute idiot of a sister!” I grabbed her by the shoulders, asking her with genuine disbelief: “Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Or did a mule kick you in the brain?” Chloe’s tears flowed like a broken dam. “Roxy, I’m sorry…” She wailed, “I shouldn’t have hidden it! I was just terrified you’d all be angry, that you’d be disappointed in me…” Eleanor started weeping all over again. Aside from me, the three of them were just a crying, emotional mess. I took stock of my allied forces. A cowardly sister-in-law, a passive husband, and a mother-in-law who only knew how to cry. It seemed my actual combat effectiveness was the only thing holding the line. My heart began to race with anticipation. This was right up my alley. If the in-laws were acting toxic, well, this daughter-in-law was radioactive. Chloe was still repenting: “Roxy, you didn’t laugh at me, you’re actually helping me… I used to make your life miserable, I’m such a horrible person…” I cut her off. “Don’t flatter yourself. If it weren’t for you, marrying into this family would have been boring as hell.” Chloe’s crying abruptly stopped, freezing on her face. I grabbed her hand, already shifting gears. “Alright, playtime is over. I’m going to teach you how to handle real business.” She looked at me, hiccuping. “What… what real business?” I turned and looked at the mountain of dirty laundry, empty bottles, and cigarette butts on the coffee table. “Go! Smash every single thing they own.” “Let that toxic energy out.” Chloe’s eyes went round as saucers, tears still hanging on her lashes. Eleanor was stunned. “Roxy, we can’t…” Miles was equally panicked. “Honey, you need to calm down…” I let go of Chloe’s hand and cracked my knuckles. “Calm down? Why would I calm down?” “I, Roxy Vance, married into the Bennett family, and this is the first real piece of business I get to handle.” “If I don’t let this rage out today, how can I ever call myself the Detroit Firecracker again?” Right as the words left my mouth, a violent banging erupted at the front door. “Chloe! Open the door!” Martha’s booming voice pierced right through the wood. “Is that loudmouth bitch from the phone still in there? Tell her to drag her ass out here right now!” 3 The banging on the door grew louder and more violent. “Chloe! Open up! Haven’t had a beating in a few days and you think you can rebel?” Chloe violently flinched. Instinctively, she grabbed me, Eleanor, and Miles, and shoved us toward the utility closet. I was actually getting excited—speak of the devil—but then Chloe slammed the door shut and locked us in from the outside! “Kiddo! What are you doing?!” I yelled, banging on the door. “Roxy, don’t come out…” Chloe’s trembling voice came through the wood. “They… they actually hit people. I-I’ll go open the door. Just hide…” Her frantic footsteps hurried away. Eleanor lost her mind, pounding desperately on the door. “Chloe! Come back here! Let your mother out!” Miles threw his body against the door to ram it. The frame shook, but the lock held firm. “Don’t waste your energy,” I said, pulling them both back. I looked down at the lock. Eleanor was stomping her feet in a panic. “Roxy, what do we do?! With her condition, if she takes another beating, it’ll kill her!” Miles’s eyes were bloodshot. “I’ll break the door down!” “By the time you break it down, your sister will have gone through two rounds of beatings.” I pulled a black bobby pin from my hair and crouched in front of the keyhole. Eleanor stared. “Roxy, what are you doing?” “Picking the lock.” “You… you know how to pick locks?” “My dad taught me,” I said, not looking up. “Before he stabbed himself to frame that county commissioner, he picked the guy’s front door lock.” I shined my phone light into the keyhole and listened to the chaos outside. “Careful, Mom, the floor is dirty,” a young, sickeningly sweet woman’s voice said. “Chloe? Where the hell did you die to?” Martha yelled. “Mom, Trevor, look at her! She’s just standing there!” “The trash isn’t empty, the house isn’t clean, and my ribs aren’t cooked!” “Mom, Tiffany, I’m gonna hit the bathroom first. I’ll teach this deadbeat a lesson when I get out,” a man’s voice—Trevor—grunted. I gritted my teeth, accelerating my movements with the bobby pin. Outside, Martha was scolding again. “I told you to clean! What have you been doing?” “I… I wasn’t feeling well today,” Chloe’s voice shook. “Not feeling well?” Martha sneered. “You just had a simple miscarriage. Do you think you’re a princess?” “Mom, Chloe doesn’t look sick to me. Do you think she’s faking it?” Tiffany asked innocently. “I really don’t feel good…” “Don’t feel good? I think your skin is just itching for a beating!” The moment that sentence ended, I heard the heavy thud of a shoe kicking a human body. Eleanor heard it and her legs gave out; she nearly collapsed. Miles caught her, his face ashen. Martha kept cursing. “Stop playing dead! Get up and make dinner!” I bit down hard on my lip, my hand steadying the pin. Finally, with a sharp click, the lock turned. Before Eleanor or Miles could even react, I kicked the door open and charged out. 4 In the living room, Chloe was curled up on the floor, her arms covering her head. Martha stood over her with her hands on her hips, cursing a blue streak. A woman in a red dress—Tiffany—raised her foot, ready to deliver another kick to Chloe’s ribs. I crossed the room in three strides and shoved Tiffany hard. Caught off guard, she stumbled back several steps. She looked at Martha, playing the victim. “Mom—” Martha looked me up and down. “You’re the bitch who cursed me out on the phone, aren’t you?” “Perfect timing. Get on your knees and apologize to me right now!” “Otherwise, I’ll make my son divorce this worthless loser!” I couldn’t help but look at Chloe. She scrambled up from the floor, pale as a ghost, her hands unconsciously balling into fists. It was obvious she had endured this kind of verbal abuse for a long time, too terrified to fight back. Seeing this, Tiffany let out a mocking laugh and casually brushed her long hair behind her ear. In doing so, she purposefully flashed the sparkling gold bracelets, gold earrings, and gold necklace she was wearing. I narrowed my eyes. Wasn’t that Chloe’s dowry jewelry? No wonder I didn’t see it in the master bedroom. The Dawkins family had stolen it and given it to the mistress. Seeing the smug look on Tiffany’s face, a surge of pure, adrenaline-fueled excitement ignited in my chest. Ever since my parents and I got famous in our hometown, no one dared to pull this kind of psychotic garbage in front of me. Today, the trash had delivered itself right to my doorstep. I blinked innocently. “I’ll take that!” Before Tiffany could process what was happening, I reached out and violently stripped every piece of gold jewelry off her body. I shoved the jewelry into Chloe’s stunned hands. Chloe teared up. “Roxy…” “Ahhh!” Tiffany shrieked, grinding her teeth. “You psycho bitch, you robbed my gold!” She lunged at me. I pushed her back with a single finger. Martha clutched her chest, hollering dramatically. “There’s no justice! The daughter-in-law brought a gang to commit home invasion!” At that moment, Trevor finally strolled out of the bathroom. Tiffany instantly threw herself into his arms, whining. “Babe, this crazy woman stole my gold!” Trevor looked at me. He clearly didn’t take me seriously, even letting out a laugh. “Are you Bennetts lining up to get your asses kicked? Did the rest of your family die out or something?” Hearing that, Eleanor almost stopped breathing. Her husband had passed away early, leaving her to raise Miles and Chloe alone. Now I was here. That comment was designed to stab Eleanor right in the heart. I was just about to verbally obliterate him when my phone buzzed twice. I pulled it out. It was my mom: [Baby girl, your dad and I are downstairs.] [Waiting for the elevator. We’ll be there in 30 seconds. Go bold! Mom’s got your back.] Seeing me check my phone, Martha thought I was scared. She puffed out her chest proudly. “Chloe married into my family, so she belongs to us! If you try to stop us, I’ll have my son beat you too!” I slipped my phone back into my pocket and fired right back: “You crypt-keeper, with one foot already in the grave, your soul is dirtier than a sewer. You better hope your spineless son outlives you, because otherwise nobody is gonna bury your rotting corpse.” Martha clutched her chest. “You… you!” I turned to the cheating husband, continuing my barrage. “And you!” “You cowardly piece of garbage, drinking cheap beer and using it as an excuse to beat your wife. You call yourself a man?” “Trash like you is gonna get hit by a bus the second you step outside, and any kid you manage to spawn won’t even have a soul!” Trevor’s eyes went completely bloodshot, his face contorting with rage. “You bitch, you’re asking for it!” He rolled up his sleeves, raised his fist, and charged at me. Chloe screamed, “Roxy, watch out!” I took one step back. His fist missed entirely, and his momentum sent him stumbling forward. Taking advantage of his imbalance, I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face. Growing up, my mom made me do manual labor. I had serious arm strength. Not to mention, I put 100% of my power into that slap. Trevor swayed in place, completely stunned for two full seconds. When he finally snapped out of it, his face was purple, his eyes filled with absolute fury. Completely losing his mind, he looked around, then rushed into the kitchen and pulled out a gleaming meat cleaver. Martha fanned the flames. “Get her, son! Show this bitch who runs this house!” Chloe’s legs gave out in terror. Eleanor fainted on the spot. Miles panicked and screamed, “Roxy, run!” Trevor looked deranged, gripping the knife and stepping toward me. Seeing this, I wasn’t scared at all. In fact, I was thrilled. As long as he attacked first with a weapon, I could put him in a jail cell for the rest of his life. Trevor sneered darkly. “You were talking real big a second ago, you bitch! Why aren’t you talking now?” Just at that exact moment, a booming, thunderous woman’s voice rang out from the front door. “Well, look at this party! Why’d you start the fight without me?” Trevor and I turned our heads at the same time. My mom was standing in the doorway, gripping a solid wooden bat, a gleeful, feral light shining in her eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “396447”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before my wedding, I walked into my fiancé’s apartment and found him entangled with the younger sister of his so-called “savior.” The woman was wrapped in the red silk quilt I had bought for our honeymoon, the flush of passion still clinging to the corners of her eyes. I slammed my ultrasound sonogram onto his chest, my voice shaking. “Do you still want this baby or not?” He sat on the edge of the bed and chain-smoked half the night away. As dawn broke, he crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and looked up at me. “She is just an obligation. You are the one I love.” For the sake of that single sentence, and the child growing inside me, I put on my wedding dress the next morning. I decided to give him one last chance. What I got instead was his best man rushing into my bridal suite. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Miller. Mr. Vance said the wedding is canceled. Chloe went into cardiac arrest and is currently being resuscitated.” My bridal bouquet slipped from my hands, shattering against the floor along with my dignity. I chased after him, only to see the taillights of his car disappearing down the avenue. I screamed into the phone, teetering on the edge of a total breakdown. “Liam Vance! If you dare go to her today, I will walk into a clinic tomorrow and make sure your bloodline ends with you!” He was silent for a second. Then, he hung up. … Only the dial tone remained in my ear. I stood on the steps of the hotel, still wearing my custom Vera Wang gown. The guests milling around the entrance were pointing and whispering. Inside, the officiant stood awkwardly on the stage, holding the microphone, entirely out of his depth. Liam’s mother, Eleanor, hurried over and grabbed my hand tightly. “Rylee, come inside. Let’s not make a scene in front of everyone.” I looked at her, my voice eerily calm. “Mrs. Vance, there is no wedding.” “Nonsense!” She hissed, keeping her voice low. “Liam is just confused in the heat of the moment. Chloe is in a critical condition; he can’t just abandon her.” “So he can abandon me, but not her?” “You are the woman he is going to marry. You need to be the bigger person.” I laughed. A short, sharp, bitter sound. I pulled my hand out of her grip. “I am no longer interested in being Mrs. Vance.” I turned, lifted the heavy tulle skirt of my dress, and walked back toward the bridal suite. Eleanor called out behind me, “Rylee Miller! If you walk out those doors today, don’t ever expect to be welcomed back into the Vance family!” I didn’t look back. In the dressing room, I stripped off the gown and changed back into my jeans and a sweater. The makeup artist hovered nervously, reaching for my hairpins. “Ms. Miller, your makeup…” “Leave it.” I grabbed my purse and walked out. Outside the hotel, the sky was a heavy, overcast gray. I flagged down a yellow cab. “Mount Sinai Hospital, please.” My phone vibrated relentlessly in my purse. I pulled it out. It was Liam’s executive assistant, Mark. I let it ring. I knew exactly what he was going to say. Mr. Vance is handling an emergency. Mr. Vance didn’t mean to leave. Mr. Vance will explain everything later. Over the past ten years, I had learned their script by heart. Chloe Davis was Liam’s “obligation.” Because Chloe’s older brother, Tyler, had died five years ago, supposedly saving Liam’s life. That weight of obligation had crushed Liam for five years. For a long time, I actually agreed with him. I thought taking care of Chloe was the right thing to do. It wasn’t until today that I finally understood: some obligations had long since crossed the line into something else entirely. The cab pulled up to the emergency room entrance. I paid the fare and walked through the sliding glass doors. Outside the resuscitation room, Liam was sitting on a plastic waiting bench. His head was bowed, elbows resting on his knees, hands buried deep in his hair. His tailored tuxedo jacket lay crumpled on the seat beside him. I walked over. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up. When he saw me, he immediately stood up. His eyes were entirely bloodshot. “Rylee, why are you here? I am so sorry about today…” “How is she?” I cut him off, staring blankly at the closed doors of the ER. “The doctors said it was acute heart failure. They’re still working on her. It doesn’t look good.” I nodded. “Understood.” I turned on my heel, ready to leave. Liam grabbed my arm. “Rylee, please don’t be like this. Tyler died because of me. I can’t just leave Chloe to die; she has no family left in this world.” I violently shook off his hand. “Liam, I haven’t done anything. I just think it’s fascinating that our wedding, our future, isn’t as important as a ‘little sister’ you’ve known for five years.” “That’s not true! Rylee, you are the most important person in my life! But she’s dying!” “The doctor didn’t say she was dying,” I replied, my voice dead flat. Liam’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Just then, the ER doors swung open. An attending physician stepped out, pulling off his surgical mask. “Family of Chloe Davis?” Liam instantly rushed forward. “I’m here.” “The patient’s extreme emotional distress caused severe tachycardia. We’ve stabilized her rhythm. She’s no longer in critical danger. We’ll transfer her to a regular room for observation for a couple of days.” Liam let out a massive sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. He turned to look at me, a hint of reproach in his eyes. “See? Look how fragile she is. Can’t you show just a little empathy?” I remained silent. A hospital bed was wheeled out. Chloe lay on it, her face pale, eyes closed. As she passed by me, her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes opened just a sliver. When she saw me, tears instantly welled up and spilled over her cheeks. Liam immediately hurried to her side, taking her hand in both of his. “Chloe, don’t be scared. I’m right here.” I turned around and walked out of the hospital. The cold autumn wind hit my face. Only then did I realize my own heart was beating frantically against my ribs. 2 Liam didn’t come home the next day. Our newly purchased, newly furnished townhouse was dead silent. I called a real estate broker and listed the property. “Yes. Priced for a quick sale.” Liam finally returned that afternoon. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion. “Rylee, I want to apologize on Chloe’s behalf. She didn’t mean to cause a scene yesterday.” “She can’t apologize for herself?” Liam frowned, taken aback. “She’s still very weak.” “Liam, let’s stop talking about her and talk about us. What about the wedding? How are you explaining this to all our family and friends?” He fell silent for a long moment. “Let’s wait for things to cool down. In a few months, when the gossip dies, we’ll host another reception.” “Another reception?” I stared at him. “Do you honestly think this is something you can just ‘do over’?” “Then what do you expect me to do? It happened, Rylee. I know you feel wronged, but Chloe literally just stepped back from death’s door. Can we just be a little more understanding? Please?” There was that word again. Understanding. I stood up, walked into the master bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing my clothes. Liam followed me in, his brow furrowing deeply. “What are you doing?” “I’m selling this house.” His face darkened instantly. “Rylee, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” I meticulously folded a sweater and placed it in the suitcase. “I just don’t want to live here anymore.” He marched over and grabbed my wrist. “You are not selling it! This is our home!” “From the second you abandoned it for another woman, it stopped being a home.” The anger in his eyes finally ignited. “You are being completely unreasonable!” His cell phone rang sharply, cutting through the tension. He answered it, his tone softening instantly. “What’s wrong? Another nightmare? Don’t be scared, I’m coming right now.” He hung up, released my wrist, and looked at me with thinly veiled impatience. “Rylee, stop this. Chloe is emotionally unstable right now, and I need to go check on her. We’ll talk about this when I get back.” He assumed I would compromise, just like I always had. I looked at him, my voice freezing cold. “If you walk out that door today, don’t bother coming back.” His footsteps halted. He looked back at me, his gaze equally icy. “Rylee, my patience has limits.” And then, he walked out. I listened to the heavy thud of the front door closing. I placed my last blouse into the suitcase and zipped it shut. 3 I moved back into my design studio. It was a tiny loft in Brooklyn—workspace downstairs, living quarters upstairs. Liam didn’t contact me. I didn’t contact him. A week later, Eleanor asked to meet me. In an upscale café on the Upper East Side, she slid a cashier’s check across the marble table toward me. “This is two million dollars. Leave Liam.” I stared at the string of zeros. “Mrs. Vance, between him and me, it’s never been about money.” “I know.” she picked up her espresso cup, her movements practiced and elegant. “You two have ten years of history. But Rylee, you need to understand something. The Vance family needs a wife who understands the big picture, a woman who can share Liam’s burdens. Not a woman who creates unnecessary trouble.” “And Chloe Davis understands the big picture?” “Chloe is pure and kindhearted. Her brother gave his life for Liam. It’s only right that Liam protects her. As his fiancée, you should have supported him, not fought him at every turn.” I understood now. In their eyes, every single grievance I swallowed was just me “creating trouble.” I slid the check back across the table. “Keep your money. As for Liam… you can keep him too.” I stood up. “I wish him and Chloe a lifetime of happiness.” I walked out of the café and blocked the phone numbers of every single member of the Vance family. The world finally went quiet. I threw myself entirely into preparing for the upcoming Milan International Jewelry Design Competition, only three months away. Winning that was my ultimate dream as a designer. The days were exhausting, but peaceful. Until an uninvited guest showed up at my studio. Chloe. She was wearing a simple white sundress, no makeup, looking the picture of fragile innocence. “Rylee, I came to apologize.” She sat in the chair across from my drafting table, her eyes rimmed with red. “What happened on your wedding day was my fault. I shouldn’t have…” “Get to the point,” I said, not looking up from my sketchpad. She choked on her words for a second. “Liam has been in a terrible mood these past few days. He’s been drinking heavily. I know it’s all because of me.” She pulled a sleek black credit card from her designer handbag. “Rylee, this is the supplementary card Liam gave me. I haven’t spent a single cent of it. I’m giving it back to you now. Please, just stop being mad at him, okay?” I put down my pencil and looked at her. “Chloe, do you think this is a fun game?” Her expression stiffened. “I… I don’t know what you mean…” “Every single time you get ‘sick’, every time you have an ’emergency’, it coincidentally lands on a major milestone for him and me. Chloe, you calculate these things down to the minute, don’t you?” The color drained from her face. “I haven’t…” “Take your card and get the hell out of my studio.” She bit her lip, and the tears began to fall perfectly on cue. “Rylee, I know you hate me. But… if the person who died five years ago was Liam instead of my brother, how would you feel?” I stared at her, saying nothing. She stood up, leaving the card on my desk. “Believe me or not, I never wanted to ruin your relationship.” “I was just… so lonely.” With that, she turned and left. I picked up the black card and dropped it directly into the trash bin. That night, Liam showed up. He reeked of alcohol. He practically kicked the door of my studio open. “Rylee Miller! What did you do to Chloe?!” He stormed over and grabbed me by the shoulders, his fingers digging in hard. “She went home and slit her wrists! If the housekeeper hadn’t found her in time, she’d be dead! Are you happy now?” My heart plummeted. This trick again. “I didn’t do anything.” “Stop lying!” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. “She is so kind she brought all her savings to give back to you! Why did you have to push her over the edge?!” His grip was painfully tight. “Liam, do you believe her, or do you believe me?” He froze. I stared straight into his eyes. I saw a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions churning inside them. Finally, he shoved me away. “I’m taking you to the hospital to apologize to her!” “I’m not going.” “You don’t have a choice!” He grabbed my arm and started dragging me forcefully toward the door. I struggled, fighting him with everything I had. “Liam, you’re insane!” “You’re the insane one!” he yelled back, his eyes feral. “You didn’t use to be like this! When did you become so vicious, so completely unreasonable?!” He was right. I didn’t use to be like this. The old me would have believed every word he said, would have empathized with every difficulty he faced. I would have taken his burdens as my own. When did I change? Probably somewhere between the first time he abandoned me for another woman, and the hundredth. He dragged me all the way down the stairs. His SUV was parked right outside. He yanked the passenger door open and tried to shove me inside. Using every ounce of strength I had left, I broke free from his grip. “Liam.” I looked at him, my voice shockingly calm. “We’re done.” He froze, as if he couldn’t process what I had just said. “What did you say?” “I said, we’re breaking up. From this moment on, you and your precious Chloe have absolutely nothing to do with me.” His face turned a sickly shade of gray. “Rylee, don’t you dare regret this!” “My biggest regret is pulling you out of the gutter ten years ago, and spending the next ten years letting you push me back into it.” I turned around, walked upstairs, slammed the door, and deadbolted it. I leaned against the heavy wood, listening to him pound on it from the other side. Again and again. Then, the roar of a V8 engine starting up. He left. I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. A sharp, piercing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. I looked down. Blood was seeping through my jeans, pooling on the floorboards. I went to the ER alone. The attending doctor looked at my ultrasound results, his brow furrowed. “You’re seven weeks pregnant. You’re showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. Your emotional stress levels are dangerously high.” “My baby… can you save it?” “We need to admit you for observation immediately. But to proceed with interventions to save the pregnancy, we need a family member’s signature. Where is your husband?” I fell silent. “He’s… out of town on business.” “Then call another relative.” I had no other relatives. My parents died when I was very young. I was raised by my grandfather. He passed away five years ago. In this entire world, I thought I at least had Liam. Now, I had no one. I sat on the hard plastic chair in the hospital corridor for a very long time. My phone screen lit up. It was a photo sent by Mark, Liam’s assistant. In the photo, Liam was sitting by Chloe’s hospital bed, carefully peeling an apple for her. Chloe was lying against the pillows, her wrist heavily bandaged in white gauze, looking at his profile with a sickeningly sweet smile. Below the photo was a text message: [Ms. Miller, Mr. Vance said to tell you he will come see you once Ms. Davis’s condition is stable.] I stared at that photo for a long, quiet eternity. Then I stood up and walked back into the doctor’s office. “Doctor.” “Have you made a decision?” I nodded. “I don’t want to keep the baby.” The doctor looked at me, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Go to the front desk and process the paperwork.” I took the surgical consent form to the nurses’ station. The line for ‘Family Member Signature’ was blank. I signed my own name on the ‘Patient Signature’ line, and then I lay down on the cold operating table. The anesthesia pushed into my veins. In the final second before consciousness faded, I had one last thought. Liam Vance, our debts are settled.

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After my maternity leave ended, my mother-in-law proposed we split childcare 50/50. But she was only covering the man’s share. Out of 24 hours a day, she would take the day shift, and I would take the night shift. She made lunch, I made dinner, and we took turns with breakfast. To keep things “fair,” she strictly forbade my husband from helping me. Later, my daughter spiked a terrible fever in the middle of the night. My mother-in-law physically blocked my husband from grabbing his car keys. “You’re not going!” she snapped. “I already covered your shift today. The night shift is her responsibility.” I had no choice but to order an Uber to the hospital. I never expected the exhausted driver to crash on the way there. My baby girl and I were trapped in the wreckage and burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very last day of my maternity leave. “Chloe, sweetie, I need to talk to you about something.” My mother-in-law Brenda’s voice rang in my ears. I opened my eyes and saw her fake, sugary-sweet smile. Without waiting for my answer, she just kept talking: “You young people are all about going 50/50 these days. “Talking about money ruins relationships, so we won’t talk about money. “We’re just going to talk about how we split taking care of the baby.” Before I could get a word in, she continued, “Here’s what I’m thinking. “Out of 24 hours, I take the day, you take the night. “We set the hours, so nobody gets taken advantage of. “You leave for work at 7 AM, so I’ll watch her from 7 AM to 7 PM. “From 7 PM to 7 AM the next morning, she’s all yours. “I’ll cook lunch, you cook dinner, and we alternate breakfast. “How does that sound?” Her words were exactly the same as I remembered. At first glance, it almost sounded fair. But in my past life, Brenda genuinely believed she was stepping in to cover her son Mark’s half of the parenting. “I already did Mark’s share,” she would say. “He doesn’t help me during the day either. “So to keep it fair, he can’t help you at night.” From then on, Mark practically vanished when it came to chores and childcare. I worked from 8:30 AM to 5:30 PM. But the office was far, and my one-way commute took an hour and a half. Whether I had an early morning meeting or had to work late, Brenda didn’t care. She would physically block the door in the morning so I couldn’t leave a minute early. If I wasn’t walking through the door right at 7 PM, she would blow up my phone with back-to-back calls. It made my managers despise me. My performance reviews tanked every month. If I hadn’t still been pumping, I would have been fired immediately. Meanwhile, Mark didn’t lift a finger. In the mornings, while Brenda was holding me hostage at the front door, he was snoring in bed like a pig. In the evenings, while I was rushing to cook dinner in the kitchen, my daughter Lily would sit on the floor, clinging to my leg and crying. Mark and Brenda would be out in the living room, watching TV and chatting. I could hear their laughter from the kitchen. But somehow, they were entirely deaf to Lily’s screaming. One night, I just wanted to take a quick shower and asked Mark to watch Lily for five minutes. Brenda practically leaped off the couch. “You’re cheating!” “How am I cheating, Brenda?” I asked, furious. “I even take Lily to the bathroom with me during the day.” Brenda wiped away fake tears. “Well, nobody helps me during the day either!” “Mark isn’t home during the day,” I explained. “But he’s home right now.” “Doesn’t matter. We agreed on 50/50, and nobody is breaking the rules,” she said, crossing her arms. “Besides, Mark worked hard all day at his job. “I already covered his shift for him. “Stop trying to exploit him.” Mark pretended he was too scared to help me, lounging on the couch and playing video games. Brenda even sat there feeding him little pieces of cut-up fruit. I had to wait until Lily finally fell asleep to rush into the shower. I never dared to shower for more than ten minutes. I was terrified she would choke in her sleep, roll off the bed, or wake up crying for me. After weeks of this, I was on the verge of a total breakdown. I tried reasoning with Mark. “Can I ask my mom to come stay with us and help?” “Where is your mom going to sleep?” he asked, clearly annoyed. We only had a two-bedroom apartment. I offered a solution: “My mom can share a room with your mom. “If she doesn’t want that, I’ll buy bunk beds. “Your mom can have the top or bottom, whatever she wants. My mom is fine with it.” “Absolutely not!” Brenda suddenly burst into our bedroom. She had been eavesdropping at the door the entire time. I sighed. “Then maybe you should go back to your hometown, Brenda. “My mom can take over entirely. “She doesn’t care about going 50/50, and she definitely won’t overwork your precious son.” “No way.” Brenda’s face hardened, her jowls shaking. “If I go back without my granddaughter, the whole church congregation will laugh at me.” I was an only child, and both my parents were retired. When I got pregnant, they immediately offered to help raise the baby. But Brenda fought it tooth and nail: “Her paternal grandmother is still alive and well! “Why on earth would the maternal grandparents raise the child?” Mark and I weren’t from this city. We met in college. After graduation, we found jobs, bought a house, and settled down here. Mark’s father had passed away in a car accident a few years prior. Brenda used his life insurance payout to cover the down payment on our place. When we were buying it, my parents offered to split the cost. That way, our monthly mortgage would be much lower. But Brenda refused. “The man’s family provides the house. “If word gets out that the bride’s family paid for half, we’ll be the laughingstock of our hometown.” So, my family didn’t contribute to the house. The deed only had Mark’s name on it. It was legally considered his pre-marital asset. There was no diamond ring, no fancy wedding paid for by his family. Instead, my parents gave me their entire life savings as a nest egg. They told me to use it however I saw fit. Mark and I had been together since freshman year. Back then, he treated me better than anyone else. We were inseparable. He was attentive, caring, and sweet. He worked odd jobs during summer breaks just to buy me gifts and take me on road trips. He remembered every little thing I said. Once, I casually mentioned I wanted to see a beluga whale. The very first day the local aquarium opened, Mark took me. Those two tickets cost him his entire food budget for the month. When we got there, we found out the belugas hadn’t arrived yet. Six months later, when they finally got them, he saved up and took me again. The whales were beautiful. Mark loved me. After six years together, I truly believed we were going to grow old together. So I didn’t care about whose name was on the deed. I used a huge chunk of my parents’ money to fully renovate and furnish our bare-bones house. I used the rest to buy a reliable commuter car. Because Mark’s office wasn’t near a bus route, I let him take the car. I squeezed onto the subway every single day. Because he only put down the bare minimum for the house, Mark’s entire paycheck went strictly to the mortgage. Every single household expense fell on my shoulders. That was exactly why I couldn’t afford to quit my job after having the baby. My parents lived several states away. Their pensions were modest, and they couldn’t afford the high rent and cost of living in our city. My salary wasn’t enough to hire a nanny, nor was it enough to rent my parents an apartment nearby. And since Brenda refused to let my mother stay with her, we were stuck. Under Brenda’s protective wing, Mark rapidly regressed into a massive mama’s boy. The man who was so wonderful before the wedding vanished entirely. When I was sobbing in the middle of the night from sheer exhaustion, his “comforting” words sounded exactly like Brenda’s: “This is just what being a mom is like. Deal with it. “It gets easier when they’re older. “Lily only wants you anyway, there’s nothing I can do to help.” Of course she didn’t want him—he never held her! Sometimes she would even cry just looking at him. Afraid of worrying my parents, I kept my nightmare a secret from them. They would even send Brenda gift baskets and call her, saying, “Thank you for working so hard for our daughter.” Brenda would immediately use the opportunity to play the martyr. “Oh, babies this small are just so difficult. “I’m all alone in the house during the day. “When she cries, I get so anxious I break out in a sweat. “I’m so busy I barely even have time to eat!” Then my mom would call me: “Your mother-in-law is working so hard taking care of the baby alone all day. “You need to be patient and treat her well.” It wasn’t just my parents. Brenda complained to anyone who would listen. The neighbors in our complex, her relatives back home—everyone thought she was a saint. They all thought I should be on my knees thanking her. I won’t deny she kept Lily alive during the day. But her hygiene was appalling, and she point-blank refused to do a single household chore. She believed that watching the baby was her absolute limit. She never cleaned up the kitchen after using it all day. Pots, pans, and dishes were piled high in the sink, waiting for me to wash them at night. Forget about sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, or organizing. The floors would be coated in dust, and she’d act like she couldn’t see it. When I mopped on the weekends, she complained I was blocking the TV. She never put Lily’s dirty clothes in the wash. But the second I started a load of laundry, she would hit pause and sneak her own dirty clothes in. I even found the muddy shoes she wore outside tossed into Lily’s toy bin. When I politely asked her to be more hygienic, she immediately went crying to Mark about how hard she worked and how ungrateful I was. Mark would tell me, “Chloe, my mom works hard enough during the day. “Older people just aren’t as clean as you are. “She can’t change her habits overnight. “Just let it go. You need to be more grateful.” “Grateful for what?” I shot back. “Is she just my child? “Your mom works hard during the day. “Do you think I don’t work hard going to the office all day, and then doing all the chores and taking care of the baby all night?” “You work hard too, honey,” Mark would say, giving me a half-hearted hug. But it was all lip service. He never actually did anything. Before Brenda moved in, I cooked, and Mark washed the dishes. I washed the clothes, and Mark folded them. Objectively, Mark used to do his half of the chores. But once Brenda arrived, she couldn’t bear to see her precious son lifting a finger. Whenever I asked him to do something, she shielded him with her 50/50 rule. “I already did Mark’s half today! He doesn’t have to do anything tonight.” So I just had to grit my teeth and bear it alone. Months later, Lily spiked a terrifying fever in the middle of the night. Her little body felt like a furnace. I shook Mark awake. “Get up, Lily is burning up.” Mark felt her forehead. “Pack a bag, we’re going to the ER.” I dressed Lily and grabbed the diaper bag. Mark threw on his clothes. “I’ll go warm up the car.” It was December. We parked in an outdoor lot. The windshield was entirely iced over and needed to be scraped. I put on my backpack and carried Lily toward the front door. Brenda heard the noise and came out of her room. “Where are you going at this hour?” “Lily has a fever, we’re taking her to the hospital,” I explained. Brenda peered into our bedroom and yelled, “Where’s Mark?!” “He went down to warm up the car.” “Wait for me,” Brenda said, retreating to her room to grab her coat. I assumed she was coming with us to help. But when we got downstairs, Brenda reached into the ignition and yanked the keys out. “Mom, what are you doing?” Mark asked, confused. Brenda glared at us. “You’re not going! “I already covered your shift. The night shift is hers.” Holding Lily, I stared at her in total shock. “Brenda, the baby is sick!” Brenda gripped the keys tightly, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “Kids get sick all the time. “When Mark was little, I carried him to the doctor all by myself.” Mark got out of the car. “Mom, stop causing a scene.” “A scene?!” Brenda screamed. “I’m doing this for you! “You have to work tomorrow! What about your health? “Besides, it’s Chloe’s turn to watch her. “You’re not a doctor, going to the hospital won’t do anything anyway. “She can take her by herself.” Lily, already miserable from the fever, started shrieking from Brenda’s yelling. I rocked her, begging, “Brenda, please just let Mark come with me. “I can’t do this alone.” “You’re a mother now. You have to,” Brenda sneered, grabbing Mark by the arm and dragging him toward the apartment building. Mark gave me an apologetic look but let himself be pulled inside. I had a spare car key in my bag. But Lily was thrashing and crying so hard she couldn’t sit safely in her car seat alone. My only option was to call an Uber. It was a freezing December night. There were barely any cars out. The app just kept spinning, searching for a driver. I tried calling Mark, but his phone was turned off. Standing at the entrance of our complex, holding my burning child, I broke down and sobbed. I eventually offered a huge cash tip on the app, and a driver finally accepted. After another 15 minutes, we got in. But I never could have guessed the driver was exhausted from driving a double shift. He crashed on the highway. The car was crushed, and the EV battery caught fire. Lily and I were trapped in the backseat and burned alive. My mind snapped back to the present. I could still feel the phantom, agonizing pain of the flames on my skin. Brenda was still standing in front of me, running her mouth. I picked up my phone and checked the calendar. It really was the last day of my maternity leave. “I’m tired,” I said, standing up and walking to my room. “You think about it! I’m doing you a favor! “You need to learn to be grateful!” Brenda yelled after me. I slammed the door, shutting her out. Lily was sleeping soundly in her crib, sweet and quiet. She looked like a little angel. But the sound of her agonizing screams from the fire still echoed in my head. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I leaned over, trembling, and picked her up. “It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s here. “We don’t need Daddy anymore, okay?” That evening, Mark came home from work. At the dinner table, Brenda brought it up again. “Mark, I talked to Chloe today about splitting the parenting 50/50. “She didn’t seem to like the idea.”

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After our wedding, Arthur was recruited by Columbia University with a multi-million dollar tenure-track package. I gave up everything to move to New York with him. But three years passed, and I still hadn’t even received my temporary resident card. Meanwhile, the female assistant who had relocated to the US with us had already secured her Green Card through Arthur’s connections. Furious, I demanded to return home to Toronto. For the first time ever, the always-calm Professor Arthur Vance had red, teary eyes. He held my hand, begging me to stay. “I’m providing for you, so there’s no rush for these documents. Besides, immigration is a formal process. My status is highly scrutinized right now, and I have to avoid any conflicts of interest.” “As for Chloe, she left her hometown to follow me to New York for work. Helping her settle down first is what a good boss should do.” My heart softened, and I ultimately let go of my suitcase. That was until the day I went to the bank to handle some business. When I pulled out my marriage certificate for verification, the teller told me: “Ma’am, the federal system shows that you are not legally registered as Mr. Vance’s spouse. Please verify your documents.” I froze on the spot. From the very beginning, I was never his legal wife. So how could there ever be a spousal visa sponsorship or a job arrangement for me? Without a word, I packed up all my belongings and quietly booked the fastest flight back to Toronto. Some farewells don’t require saying goodbye. … When I returned to the apartment, I tried the fingerprint lock three times. Each time, it beeped: “Verification Failed.” That was when I finally snapped out of my shock. I double-checked the door. I hadn’t gone to the wrong apartment. It was just that the smart lock was no longer the one Arthur and I had installed together when we first moved to New York three years ago. I called Arthur. “What’s wrong?” He answered quickly. “Why was the door lock changed?” It was perfectly fine when I left the house this morning. The other end of the line was silent for two seconds. “Oh, this afternoon Chloe said the lock on her apartment broke. She said she was used to the model we have, and ordering a new one online would take too long. So I took ours off and installed it on her door for now.” “I bought a new lock for our place, but I haven’t had time to register your fingerprint yet.” “Just find a hotel for tonight. I’m working late, so I won’t be coming home.” Chloe’s lock broke? So he uninstalled our front door lock and gave it to her… And told me, the lady of the house, to go stay in a hotel? I thought I had misheard him. I instinctively wanted to argue. But when the words reached my lips, all that came out was a single, “Okay.” What else was there to say? It was supposed to be our home, yet it held the fingerprint of an outsider like Chloe Bennett. Didn’t he say that when she moved to New York, he even kept a spare bedroom for her in our apartment just in case? Wasn’t it only natural that she was “used to” our lock? I hung up the phone. I booked a room at a cheap motel down the street from our luxury complex. It was $150 a night. When I swiped my card, the balance was almost empty. When we first moved to New York, Arthur had given me an unlimited American Express card. Later, Chloe started handling a lot of his personal shopping. His suits, his watches, even the insulated coffee mug on his desk—they were all bought by her. Gradually, he handed the Amex over to her. Instead, Arthur would deposit a $2,000 allowance into my debit account every month. He said she was better at shopping than I was, that she had a better eye for fashion and coordination. She claimed she was simply fulfilling her duties as an executive assistant. I didn’t feel like I had the right to argue. That was until our third anniversary. Arthur and I were having a romantic candlelit dinner at home. Just as the mood was getting intimate, the doorbell rang. Arthur went to open it. Chloe stood outside, panting slightly as she handed him a box of ultra-thin condoms. “Professor Vance, it’s your special night! I specifically went out to buy these!” She glanced past him at me, smiling naturally. “You always say this brand feels the best. Aren’t I thoughtful? Don’t I deserve a reward?” Arthur took the box, muttering an awkward “Yeah.” She waved and left. The door closed. He walked back to the dining table holding the box and casually tossed it aside. I stared at the box. I didn’t say a word. I never knew which brand he preferred… Because we had been trying for a baby, so we rarely used protection. That candlelit dinner felt like pure torture. Finally, he said he had something to handle at the university, grabbed his coat, and left. The moment the door shut, I suddenly understood. I hadn’t realized an assistant’s duties could be that intimate. That night, I dreamt of my first day arriving in New York. I had walked out of JFK airport dragging two massive suitcases. Arthur was waiting for me right at the arrivals gate. Back then, he was still the man who would tear up with guilt because I had given up everything to run to him. He was the man who would carry my luggage and let me lean on his shoulder when I was exhausted. But then Chloe arrived. Arthur said she had left her entire life behind to follow him, so he had to help her out. So he helped her get her Green Card. He helped her secure a cushy job at the university. I just never expected that, in the end, he would even help her take the lock off my front door… Early the next morning, I went to book my ticket back to Toronto. As I stood at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change, my phone rang. It was a friend back in Canada. “Eleanor, about that background check you asked me to run…” She paused, her voice hesitant. “I pulled some strings, but I could only see the basic registration info. The privacy laws down there are strict, so I can’t get the full file.” “It’s fine,” I said. “Just tell me what you found.” The other end of the line was dead silent for two seconds. “Arthur’s legally registered wife in the US… her last name is Bennett.” I gripped my phone, speechless. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I whispered. “Thank you.” I hung up. The light turned green. The crowd surged past me, and a new wave of people stopped beside me. I stood frozen in place, staring at the glass facade of the building across the street. The sunlight stung my eyes, making them water. Bennett. Chloe Bennett. It turned out his real family had been by his side this entire time. Standing on the bustling New York street, I suddenly let out a laugh. For the past three years, I had exhausted myself trying to prove my worth, desperate not to be just a housewife, that I had ignored so many glaring details. Like how every weekend, he claimed he had “university business” and would disappear for the entire day. When I asked what it was, he would always brush me off: “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.” Or the time he forgot his documents, and I brought them to his faculty apartment, only to see two toothbrushes on the bathroom sink—one blue, one pink. But I had never dared to think too deeply about it. … Pulling my thoughts back, I continued walking. I crossed two streets, turned three corners, and arrived at the airline ticketing office. As I stood in line, I remembered how long the customs line was when I first landed in New York three years ago. Because I was about to see the man I loved, I was acting like a lovesick fool. I didn’t feel tired at all. When Arthur picked me up, he spun me around in his arms. Until a young woman waved at him from nearby: “Professor Vance! What a coincidence, Eleanor and I were on the same flight!” It was Chloe Bennett. Arthur smiled, taking her suitcase, and explained to me: “I forgot to mention, Chloe is coming over to continue being my assistant. It’s tough for a young girl to move to a new country all by herself.” Chloe smiled sweetly. “Eleanor, I look forward to your guidance.” My smile stiffened slightly, but I nodded politely. On the ride to the apartment, I quietly watched them chat. When she spoke, Arthur would turn his head and listen intently. When she pointed at the skyline, he would follow the direction of her finger. That unwavering focus, which used to belong solely to me, was quietly being shared with her. I felt a sting of jealousy. But I was also happy for him. Good assistants were hard to find, and having someone he trusted by his side would make his transition at Columbia much smoother. During my first few months in New York, I tried to find a job. But because my major was incredibly niche, I couldn’t find anything in my field. Hundreds of resumes either vanished into the void or were met with automated rejections. Growing up, I was an honors student. My path had always been smooth. I had never tasted the bitterness of rejection. During that time, I tossed and turned every night, wondering if I just wasn’t good enough. Eventually, out of desperation, I asked Arthur for help. After dinner one night, I sat down next to him. I stuttered, “Um… could you maybe… ask around at Columbia for me?” “Since you have that spousal sponsorship quota… I was hoping, maybe they could arrange a position for me…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I had never asked anyone to pull strings for me in my entire life. Even though employment assistance was a standard perk in his multi-million dollar recruitment package for spouses, my face burned with shame when I asked. It felt like I was doing something dirty. “Yeah,” he kept his head down, flipping through a research paper. “If you want to work, I’ll ask around when I have time.” I felt a wave of relief. But I waited for three months. When I asked him again, he said he was too busy and told me to wait a little longer. Yet, from what I knew, Chloe had been officially hired by Columbia ages ago. An administrative role, weekends off, excellent benefits. Arthur explained it was just standard recruitment. And I believed him. Looking back now, her degree and experience were nowhere near mine. She wasn’t fluent in foreign languages, and she even stumbled over basic local professional jargon. Why was it that I, who had submitted the exact same resume to the university, didn’t even get a single interview? The answer had been right in front of me all along. I just didn’t want to see it… The line moved forward a step. It was my turn. I handed my passport to the agent. The staff member typed on her keyboard, her brow furrowing. “Ma’am, the system won’t let me issue your ticket.” “Why not?” She turned her monitor slightly toward me. “The federal system shows you have overstayed your visa.” I froze. “Overstayed?” “Did your recent extension application get denied?” She glanced at me. “There is no valid legal status for you in the system.” I stood at the counter, completely silent. Three years. I had lived in New York for three years, and I didn’t even have valid legal status? “Then what do I do now?” “You need to go to USCIS to process the paperwork, pay the penalty fine, and obtain a departure clearance waiver before you can buy a ticket.” She slid my passport back to me. “Next in line, please.” I stepped aside, making room. The person behind me pushed forward, quickly filling the space. I stood there, staring at my Canadian passport. It turned out I wasn’t even legally allowed to be here. Then what were these past three years? Outside the ticketing office, I called the immigration consultant we used. “Mrs. Davis, I wanted to ask, for a case like mine, why has my visa extension never been approved? Now they’re telling me I have to pay a massive penalty.” Mrs. Davis’s voice was as cheerful as ever: “Mrs. Vance! Well, about your situation… logically, it shouldn’t be an issue. Your husband is a tenured professor at Columbia. Spousal dependent visas are usually rubber-stamped. Did your husband file the sponsorship paperwork?” “He did.” “Then that doesn’t make sense…” She paused. “Give me a moment, let me check the system.” The other end of the line went quiet. When she spoke again, her voice was much lower: “Mrs. Vance, forgive me for overstepping, but when your husband sponsored you… did he apply through the spousal family-reunification channel?” I gripped my phone, silent. “The system shows…” she weighed her words carefully, “that the individual approved under your husband’s spousal quota is a Ms. Bennett.” “He did sponsor you, but not as his wife. He used a different, secondary channel.” “However, that specific secondary channel was suspended over a year ago by the government. That’s why your status was never approved.” I took a breath. “I understand. Thank you, Mrs. Davis.” I hung up. Standing on the sidewalk, a lot of details started flooding back. When we first arrived in New York three years ago, Arthur said he was going to handle my paperwork and took all my identification documents. Later, he told me it was all sorted out, so I never asked again. It turned out that the move I thought was for love had just turned me into an undocumented immigrant… I stood on the street corner for a long time. I went to every federal office I could. Finally, I discovered there was only one way to resolve this. My former sponsor—Arthur—had to sign a sworn declaration. He had to state that he failed to inform me of the sponsorship channel change, proving that my visa overstay was not intentional. Only then could I pay the fine, apply for a short-term exit waiver, and legally leave the country. It was simple. It just required one signature from him. But how could I ask? Say, “Since you gave your spousal quota to someone else, can you sign this so I can leave?” If I did that, wouldn’t we have to settle the score for the past three years as well?

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I watched my husband’s award ceremony on a tablet propped up in the kitchen, chopping pork ribs with a heavy cleaver. The host asked him who he wanted to thank the most at this pinnacle of his career. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice smooth and gentle: “I want to thank my late wife, Evelyn. She was the one who taught me the true soul of literature.” The cleaver slipped in my hand, nearly taking off my finger. A splash of bloody water from the cutting board hit my apron, blooming like a rotting red flower. Eight years. I am his legally wedded wife. I am the 24/7, live-in caregiver for his paralyzed mother. But in his acceptance speech, I am nothing but thin air. Chapter 1 At seven o’clock that evening, Arthur Sterling returned home with his star students and a few colleagues. The heat in the house was turned up high. They took off their heavy winter coats, revealing elegant suits and sleek cocktail dresses. Arthur’s mother was in good spirits today. She sat in her wheelchair in the center of the living room, graciously accepting the students’ greetings. “Your mother looks wonderful, Professor Sterling. You take such meticulous care of her.” “Seriously. Your first wife passed away so young, and you’ve had to balance academia with caring for your elderly mother all by yourself. It’s truly inspiring.” Everyone was marveling at Arthur’s deep devotion and resilience. I walked out of the kitchen carrying a heavy pot of slow-simmered beef bourguignon that had been on the stove for three hours. The steam billowed up, the rich aroma drifting into everyone’s noses. A young female student turned her head and flashed me a sweet smile: “Excuse me, ma’am? Could you grab two more sets of silverware and some extra napkins?” The living room fell dead silent for two seconds. No one corrected her. Arthur was pouring tea for another student and didn’t even lift his eyelids. “Go get them. And be quick about it.” In that exact moment, I felt like an unevolved primate that had accidentally stumbled into a gathering of civilized humans. I looked down at the faded, oversized sweatpants I was wearing, and the cheap plastic slippers stained with cooking grease. I really did look like the hired help. Worse than the hired help, actually. A housekeeper gets paid by the hour. I only got a fixed monthly “allowance” of five hundred dollars to cover groceries. I turned back to the kitchen. The bitterness rising in my throat tasted like sour dishwater. When I came back out with the silverware, Arthur was standing in the doorway of his study, lighting a memorial candle in front of Evelyn’s portrait. In the photograph, Evelyn wore a black evening gown, sitting gracefully at a Steinway piano like a beautiful swan. I walked over to set the plates down on the adjacent table. When Arthur turned around, he bumped right into me. Crash. A bowl of scalding hot stew tipped over, spilling perfectly onto the edge of the memorial table. I knew how fiercely he guarded this space, so my first instinct was to block the spill with my bare hands. The hot liquid splattered everywhere, but a few drops still managed to hit the bottom edge of Evelyn’s picture frame. “What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He violently shoved me back. I stumbled, my shoulder slamming hard into the doorframe. The back of my hand was searing red, blistered from the boiling stew. But Arthur didn’t spare me a single glance. Looking panicked, he pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and began carefully wiping the picture frame, his movements as tender as if he were caressing a lover’s face. “You’re so incredibly clumsy. Can you do anything right?” He shot me a vicious glare over his shoulder, his eyes looking like they wanted to swallow me alive. “Today is a huge milestone for me. Did you purposely decide to ruin it?” My scalded hand was burning in agony, but my heart turned entirely to ice. The students exchanged awkward glances. The girl who had called me ‘ma’am’ whispered, “The Professor loved his first wife so much. He can’t even bear to see her photograph get dirty.” “Yeah. It’s true, undying love.” The room once again erupted into quiet murmurs praising his earth-shattering romance. I stood in the shadows of the corner, clutching my red, swollen hand. I looked at the man I had served hand and foot for eight years, pouring all his devotion into a photograph of a dead woman. I looked at the highly educated elites who treated a living, breathing human being like an invisible piece of furniture. Suddenly, I realized that my life for the past eight years had been nothing but a pathetic joke. I was the Sterling family’s live-in maid. I was his mother’s personal nurse. I was everything except Arthur Sterling’s wife. The string that I had kept pulled taut for eight years finally snapped. I’m done serving them. Chapter 2 I didn’t eat dinner. I went straight to my bedroom. I call it a bedroom, but it was actually a storage closet that had been converted into a guest room. Arthur slept in the master bedroom alone—or rather, he slept there with his “memories” of Evelyn. He only came to my room when he had physical needs. When he required me to fulfill my obligations as a wife. I looked at myself in the mirror. My complexion was sallow, the corners of my eyes were lined with wrinkles, and my hair was as dry and brittle as straw. I didn’t look thirty-five. If someone said I was fifty, they’d believe it. The girl who used to be the prettiest in her small hometown had withered into a dying weed. I remembered the first time I came to the Sterling house. It was messy, smelled awful, and Arthur was standing there, handsome but utterly helpless. After his mother had a stroke and became paralyzed, her temper turned vicious. She verbally and physically abused the nurses; no one lasted more than three days. Then I arrived. I became the exception. Because I felt sorry for him. Because when I tried to quit, his face was full of desperate pleading. And because, when I finally agreed to stay, the unmistakable joy in his eyes hooked me. Later, my family called, demanding I come back to my hometown to settle down and marry a local guy. I handed in my resignation again. Arthur said, “Marrying a stranger off some app is a gamble with your life. You know this house, and you know me. I’ll marry you.” Thinking of the deep, devoted way he looked at his late wife, something possessed me to say yes. Because I wanted him to look at me that way, too. I thought if I waited long enough, I would get it. The noise outside slowly died down. The guests had left. Arthur pushed my door open, holding a plastic package in his hand. “Here.” He casually tossed the item onto my bed. It was a pair of compression knee sleeves. Thick, wool-lined ones. My heart did a sudden leap. Was it because he saw me scald my hand and felt guilty? Or was it because today was our wedding anniversary? He had never remembered it before, but maybe, subconsciously, he wanted to do something nice for me? For a split second, that pathetic, desperate, feminine delusion bubbled up again. I reached out to touch the knee sleeves, opening my mouth to say something soft. Arthur loosened his tie, his tone deadpan: “Mom’s arthritis flares up whenever the weather gets like this. These sleeves are good quality. Put them on her before she goes to sleep.” “Also, get up more often during the night. Don’t let her wet the bedsheets again, the house is starting to smell.” My outstretched hand froze in mid-air. I felt like a clown who had just been publicly slapped across the face. It wasn’t for me. It was a tool for his mother. And I was just the tool responsible for applying it. “One more thing,” Arthur said, turning toward the door without even looking at me. “That stew spilled earlier. Make sure you mop the hardwood floors again first thing tomorrow morning. Don’t leave a lingering smell. And from now on, you are strictly forbidden from touching Evelyn’s memorial table.” I wanted to laugh, but all I could manage was an expression far uglier than crying. “Arthur.” I called out to him. He stopped, looking back with a frown. “What now?” “I want a divorce.” Four words. I said them quietly, but with absolute clarity. Arthur paused for a second, then let out a cynical scoff. Looking at me like I was a child throwing an unreasonable tantrum, he pulled a stack of cash from his wallet. It was about two or three hundred dollars. Smack. He slapped it onto the nightstand. “Are you throwing a fit because the students embarrassed you earlier? Fine. Take this, go buy yourself a couple of new dresses. I’m exhausted. Don’t start drama over nothing.” With that, he walked out without looking back. I followed him out into the hall. He didn’t go to the master bedroom. He went to his study. The study door was left slightly ajar. I never went in there alone. Even when I cleaned it, I had to watch his mood carefully. Through the crack in the door, I saw Arthur sitting at that Steinway piano. It was Evelyn’s favorite instrument when she was alive. His long, elegant fingers gently traced the keys. His eyes were so tender they looked like they were melting, as if he were caressing the skin of the woman he loved. In eight years, I had never received a look like that. Not even for a single second. He spoke to the empty air, murmuring softly: “Evelyn… I won the award today. If you were here, it would be perfect…” I pushed the door open and walked in. Arthur snapped his head around. The tenderness instantly shattered into jagged ice. “Who told you you could come in here? Get out!” I looked at the gleaming black piano, and then at the man who was supposed to be my husband. “I’m serious. I want a divorce.” This time, Arthur couldn’t even be bothered to turn his head. He pressed down on a single piano key. A crisp ding echoed through the room. “Clara, I transferred your monthly allowance to you yesterday. If you need a raise, just say so. Don’t use these cheap manipulation tactics. It’s beneath you.” In his eyes, every emotion I ever felt could ultimately be converted into a dollar amount. I looked at his handsome, refined face. A wave of intense nausea rolled over me. It was more repulsive than looking at his mother’s soiled bedsheets. “I’m deadly serious. The divorce is happening tomorrow.” I turned, walked out, and closed the door, locking the man drowning in the memories of his dead wife inside his own personal graveyard. Chapter 3 At 2:00 AM. A dull thud echoed from his mother’s bedroom. I shot out of bed purely on muscle memory and sprinted into the room next door. I yelled for Arthur. His bedroom was completely empty. He had probably driven out to the cemetery in the middle of the night to visit his beloved ex-wife again. His mother was having a seizure. Her entire body convulsed like a fish out of water, white foam bubbling at the corners of her mouth, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Turn her on her side. Clear her airway. Prevent her from biting her tongue. Apply pressure to her philtrum. I had performed this exact routine for eight years. It was carved into my bones. Once she stabilized slightly, I hoisted the 130-pound elderly woman onto my back. I weigh 95 pounds. But I gritted my teeth and carried her down three flights of stairs, even as my calves shook violently with the effort. I hailed a cab and rushed straight to the ER. I tried calling Arthur from the backseat. No answer. I had to settle for sending him a text. At the ER, I handled the registration, tracked down the attending doctor, and wheeled her in for a CT scan. I was still in my pajamas. My feet were crammed into my plastic slippers. My hair was a tangled mess, and my shirt was stained with the vomit his mother had coughed up earlier. This was my everyday reality. “Where is the family? Someone needs to pay the cashier,” the doctor said, eyeing my disheveled appearance with hesitation. “Are you… the hired nurse? Can you contact her immediate family?” “I am…” “I’m her son!” Rushed footsteps echoed behind me. Arthur had finally arrived. He was wearing a perfectly tailored wool overcoat, his hair styled immaculately. I could even smell his cologne. It was a scent called “Chance.” Reportedly, it was Evelyn’s absolute favorite. Noble, elegant Arthur, and pathetic, filthy me. We looked like two entirely different species. The doctor immediately switched to a bright, respectful smile: “Ah, Professor Sterling! You’re such a devoted son, rushing over in the middle of the night.” Arthur offered a humble, modest smile. He played the part of the refined intellectual flawlessly. As soon as the doctor walked away, Arthur turned his head and finally noticed me. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by his habitual look of reprimand. “What happened? Why did she have a seizure? Did you feed her something wrong at dinner? How are you watching her?!” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried perfectly through the quiet ER hallway. This was his logic. If she got sick, it was my fault. If she got better, it was because of his filial devotion. I didn’t say a word. I just silently lifted his mother from the gurney onto the hospital bed, adjusted her pillows, and tucked her in. Arthur just stood there, watching. Since the day I moved in, he hadn’t lifted a single finger to do a chore. He had never even poured his own mother a glass of water. Because, as he said, that was my job. A middle-aged woman in the neighboring bed couldn’t help but chime in: “Oh my, this lady is so capable. Her hands are so quick! You must be the family’s hired maid, right? You’re so professional. I wish I could hire someone like you.” My hands, which had been wiping his mother’s mouth, froze. Arthur stiffened slightly. I just looked at him. All he had to do was say, “This is my wife,” or even just mumble a vague agreement to brush it off. But instead, after three seconds of agonizing silence. Arthur nodded and said flatly: “Yes. She is very professional.” Boom. The very last thread of sanity holding my mind together completely snapped. Those three seconds of silence were ten thousand times more venomous than him actively screaming at me. It murdered the absolute last shred of delusional hope I had left for him. It murdered every single sacrifice I had made over the last eight years. I took the wet towel in my hand and threw it directly at his chest. “I officially resign. You can serve her yourself!” I turned around and walked out. Arthur hissed furiously behind me: “Clara! Are you insane?! We are in a hospital!” I didn’t look back. My pace only got faster. When I walked out the hospital doors, the freezing night wind hit my face, and I realized my cheeks were soaked with tears. But inside, my heart felt an unprecedented, absolute thrill of liberation. Chapter 4 I went back to that so-called “home” and started packing my things. There wasn’t much to pack. Aside from a few changes of cheap clothes, there was almost nothing in this house that truly belonged to me. In his study, hidden at the very bottom of a locked drawer, I found our original “marriage agreement.” It wasn’t a prenuptial agreement; it was a literal employment contract. It was written in black and white: Party B (me) is responsible for all daily care and living requirements of Party A (Arthur’s mother). Party A (Arthur) will pay Party B a monthly living stipend. During the duration of the marriage, Party B shall not interfere with Party A’s private personal space… I ripped it into a hundred pieces. Next to it was a small leather ledger. It was a meticulous accounting of his expenses over the last eight years. He was a man of habit; he recorded every single transaction. I had never paid attention to it before, but opening it now was like taking a knife to my own chest. April 2018. Landscaping for Evelyn’s grave. Memo: Dedicated fund for my beloved wife. $500. June 2018. Clara’s dental appointment. Memo: Labor maintenance expenses. $80. … So that was it. In his eyes, I was no different than a washing machine that occasionally needed a repairman. Staring at those entries, one by one. My blood ran completely cold. My stomach churned violently, and I rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet for ten minutes. I took off the heavy winter coat I was wearing, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it twice. Because embroidered on the inner lining of the coat was the letter E. Evelyn. I took everything he had designated in his ledger as “Labor Supplies” and left them behind. Including the paper-thin, two-gram gold wedding band. When we got married, he bought it, claiming he didn’t like ostentatious displays of wealth and preferred things simple. It turned out he didn’t dislike ostentatious displays; he just disliked spending money on me. When I finished packing, all I had was a single, battered canvas duffel bag. This was the sum total of my eight years. The front door unlocked. Arthur was back. Seeing the chaotic mess in the apartment, he furrowed his brow, his eyes filled with extreme displeasure. “Clara, are you done throwing your tantrum? Mom is still lying in a hospital bed! What are you doing running back here? Pack a bag and get back to the hospital!” I was still wearing my cheap thrift-store clothes, but this time, my spine was ramrod straight. I took the slightly warped gold ring and placed it on the glass coffee table with a sharp clink. And then, I smiled. It was the first time in eight years I had smiled so freely, so recklessly in this house. “Professor Sterling, your unpaid maid, Clara Hayes, is officially off the clock.” “Oh, and I threw that coat in the trash. Wearing a dead woman’s clothes is bad luck. It was making me sick.” Arthur’s face changed drastically, as if he had just been slapped brutally across the face. “What did you just say?” “I said, I’ll see you at the county courthouse at 8:00 AM tomorrow for the divorce papers. Also, since I am a professional maid, remember to wire my eight years of back wages to my bank account. Don’t try to stiff me, or I’ll really look down on you.” With that, I ignored him, picked up my duffel bag, and stepped over the dried stain of the spilled stew, walking out the door.

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My husband, Silas Thorne, was having an affair. To get back at him, I spent six months making the nightlife scene my permanent address, partying at clubs every single night. Silas couldn’t care less. He just kept throwing money at me to shut me up. The day I finally asked him for a divorce, I got another incoming wire transfer notification for two hundred thousand dollars. Then, a text: “Mrs. Thorne, the little thing is quite demanding tonight. I won’t be home.” I stared at the screen calmly, then made a U-turn and headed to the exclusive club where I knew he’d be. Stepping up to the private room, I heard one of his friends joking inside: “Silas, man, how many is this now? Aren’t you afraid of pushing Rylee too far? She might actually run off with one of those boytoys she’s been seeing at the clubs.” Silas fiddled with the cigar between his fingers, giving a careless, arrogant smirk. “Rylee loves money. As long as I compensate her well enough, she’ll never let go of the title of Mrs. Thorne.” The room erupted in laughter. As I pushed the door open and walked in, Silas immediately reached out to wrap an arm around me. “What, two hundred grand wasn’t enough? You had to chase me down here for more? Rylee, playing hard to get has its limits.” I dodged his touch and held out the manila envelope containing the divorce papers. “The girl outside is making a scene. You need to sign this right now so I can give her an answer.” … As soon as I spoke, the VIP room fell completely silent. Silas’s smirk vanished inch by inch. He leaned back into the plush leather sofa, staring at me coldly. “Rylee, I didn’t care how hard you played on the outside before. But this act today? It’s a bit over the line, don’t you think?” “Or did those club kids develop a bigger appetite, forcing you to come back to me for an upgrade?” A round of snickers went around the room among his friends, their eyes raking over me with crude curiosity. Everyone in this circle knew how wild I had gone over the past six months to retaliate against Silas’s infidelity. I wasn’t just hitting the most expensive clubs every night; I was spending money like water, surrounded by attractive men. Silas never lifted a finger to stop me. He just thought I was throwing a tantrum, using this method to fight for his attention. I calmly pushed the envelope forward on the low table. “I’m serious. Sign, Mr. Thorne.” Just then, a head popped out from behind Silas. It was a girl with a short bob haircut, a lollipop dangling from her mouth. She looked incredibly young, maybe barely twenty-one. “So this is the wife? She looks so uptight and refined. How’d she get such a explosive temper?” She spoke casually, leaning her entire body weight onto Silas like she had no bones. “Si, I told you you can’t spoil women, right?” “See? You spoil them, and they develop issues. Threatening divorce the second they don’t get their way.” Her name was Chloe Davis. She was the “little thing” Silas was currently infatuated with. She wasn’t the glamorous, seductive type I had expected, nor a weeping willows type. But Silas was clearly eating up her act. “Hear that?” Silas said, glancing at Chloe. “Even the kid knows you’re just being unreasonable. Come on, Rylee. Just say it. How much more do you want?” Chloe giggled, took the lollipop out of her mouth, and shoved it directly into Silas’s. “Have some candy, Si. Cool down.” “The wife is probably just on her period. Hormonal imbalance.” Silas frowned slightly at the shared candy, but he didn’t spit it out. Instead, he kept it in his mouth, looking at me with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Rylee, take your garbage papers and get out.” “I’ll pretend tonight never happened. Don’t make me say it twice.” Watching this scene play out, a wave of revulsion washed over me. “If you won’t sign, fine. I’ll file the papers and we’ll go to court.” With that, I turned on my heel to leave. Behind me, I heard the crash of a heavy crystal glass shattering against the floor. “Rylee Croft! If you push this too far, there’s no coming back. Think long and hard before you walk out that door.” I didn’t even pause. My hand was just settling on the brass door handle when I heard Chloe’s exaggerated, high-pitched gasp: “Oh my god, Si, don’t be mad! The wife is just way too stiff. Unlike me—I just want to make you happy.” “Tell you what, you should stop giving her money. Cut off her credit cards for two months, let’s see if she still dares to be so arrogant with you.” Silas gave a cold laugh. “You’re right. Some people do need a little discipline to learn their place.” I had barely walked out of the club when my phone started vibrating incessantly. Notifications from various credit card companies were popping up one after another, informing me that my accounts had been frozen. Yet, my heart remained surprisingly calm. Just as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a familiar Ferrari roared to a halt right in front of me. The passenger window rolled down. Chloe blew a bubble with her gum, then popped it, jerking her chin at me with a smirk. “Hey, Mrs. Thorne. No ride home? Want us to give you a lift?” “Though this car only has two seats. Guess you’ll have to crouch in the trunk, huh?” Her shrill laughter filled the quiet street. Silas gave me a cold, indifferent look from the driver’s seat. “Rylee, it’s not too late to admit you were wrong.” “Just apologize for ruining everyone’s night back there, and I’ll take you home.” 2 I tightened my trench coat around me. “No thanks. I don’t want to get dirty.” Chloe gasped dramatically, slapping the leather steering wheel. “Si, look at her! I was being nice, trying to offer her a ride, and she calls me dirty!” “I don’t care, I’m upset. Does your wife think it’s embarrassing that I’m friends with you?” Silas chuckled and ran a hand through Chloe’s short hair. “Rylee, I’ve really cleaned up my act since the last time you made a scene.” “I’m just taking care of the kid because she’s spunky and naive. She’s like a little sister. We haven’t slept together!” Right, they hadn’t slept together. But they had done everything but that in public. Five years ago, when I first caught Silas cheating, I had thrown a massive fit. I even forced the woman to get an abortion. He hadn’t gotten angry at me back then. He let me scream, let me hit him. He promised he would never sleep with another woman again. The very next month, I caught him getting intimate with his female secretary. That was when I became truly cold toward him. That was when I started my six-month bender, drowning my sorrows in clubs and other men. He thought I was just copying him, trying to get revenge, forcing him to come back to me. But this time, he was dead wrong. Seeing my silence, Silas turned to one of his bodyguards who had followed us out. “Since Mrs. Thorne thinks my car is dirty, she can walk back.” “Watch her. Make sure nobody gives her a ride.” With a roar of the engine, the Ferrari sped off. The bodyguards immediately flanked me, motioning away a few curious onlookers. I sighed, took off my high heels, and started walking home barefoot in the chilly night air. I walked for nearly three hours. By the time I reached our gated community, my feet were covered in blisters, each step causing a sharp, stinging pain. The sky was already turning gray with the coming dawn when I pushed open the front door. Chloe was lying sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, wearing my expensive silk robe, resting her head on Silas’s lap. “Look who it is! The wife’s back,” Chloe chirped. “Nice endurance. Are you training for a marathon?” Silas looked down at my feet, which were covered in dirt and dried blood. He looked stunned for a second. “Do you know your mistake now?” He gestured to the coffee table. “There’s a bowl of oatmeal there. The kid made it special for you.” “Eat it, and we’ll put this behind us.” I looked at the living room. The bowl of oatmeal on the table was a disgusting mess, mixed with cigar ash, spilled whiskey, and the half-eaten lollipop Chloe had been sucking on earlier. I ignored them both and headed straight for the stairs. Silas’s voice went instantly cold. “I said, eat it!” Chloe jumped up from the sofa, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. “Hey, I made this with my own two hands! I don’t usually go in the kitchen, but I wanted to be nice.” She was giggling as she shoved the bowl toward my face. The sour, rancid smell hit my nose immediately. I jerked my head away to avoid it. Chloe’s hand twisted, and she dumped the entire bowl over my head and trench coat! “Oops! Oh my god, I’m such a clutz. My hands must be sore from taking care of Si earlier. He just wouldn’t let me go.” “Si, it’s your fault. You took so long earlier. Come blow on my poor hands!” Silas strode over, shoving me hard. I was already unsteady on my painful feet, and I went crashing into the foyer cabinet behind me. He didn’t even glance at me. Instead, he actually started gently blowing on Chloe’s hands with a tender expression. “Rylee Croft, the kid left food for you out of the goodness of her heart. If you don’t want to show gratitude, fine. But who are you trying to depress with that dead look on your face?” “Apologize. Right now.” 3 I looked at him calmly. “I’ll apologize, as soon as you sign the divorce papers.” Silas was pushed completely over the edge. “Rylee! Are you giving me face and refusing it?” “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re a damn nobody from the middle of nowhere. Without Silas Thorne, what the hell are you worth?” Chloe hid behind him, making a face at me, her mouth forming silent words: “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. Die mad about it.” I smiled, casually peeling off the filth-covered trench coat and dropping it directly into the trash can next to the foyer. “If you hate looking at me so much, sign the paper. You think I want to look at the two of you?” A resounding slap landed squarely on my face. One side went completely numb instantly. Silas withdrew his hand, pulled a crumpled, signed envelope out of his pocket—the one I had given him at the club—and threw it directly into my face. “You’ve been trying to control me for too long. Did you really think I had no temper left?” Chloe was bouncing up and down with excitement. “Whoa! Go Si! Hardcore! A true man’s man!” Ignoring the throbbing in my cheek, I bent down and picked the divorce envelope up off the floor. Since he had actually signed it, the slap was worth it. I dragged my painful, blistered feet out of that house and never looked back. I had no money on me, no ID, nothing but the phone in my hand. I debated calling him. He would probably lose control, come over here, and tear Silas Thorne to pieces. Before I could decide, Chloe’s malicious call came through. “Hey, Rylee. Si was so angry after you left. He actually threw that fluffy ragdoll cat of yours into the alligator pond.” “Oh my god, the sound… it was so bloody. I was terrified. I actually cried.” My hand started to shake violently, and the phone almost slipped from my grasp. “What did you say!” 4 That Ragdoll cat was named Marshmallow. It had been my mother’s absolute favorite. On her deathbed, she had entrusted it to me, saying that looking at it was like looking at her. For seven years, Marshmallow had been my constant companion through countless lonely nights. To me, it wasn’t just a pet; it was family. On the other end of the line came Chloe’s heartless giggle, and I could even hear faint, sharp animal shrieks in the background. Then, Silas’s cold voice came through: “Rylee Croft, Marshmallow is just the beginning. Tomorrow is Chloe’s birthday bash. If you don’t get your ass back here and beg for forgiveness…” “The next thing going into the alligator pond will be your grandmother, the vegetable in the nursing home.” My entire body was shaking. “Silas Thorne! The divorce is final! Why won’t you let me go!” But the line had already gone dead. I scrambled to the nursing home, heart hammering in my chest. When I burst into the room, it was empty. Medical equipment lay overturned on the floor, IV tubes were ripped out, and there were shocking smears of blood on the ground. A nurse was cowering in a corner, terrified. “Miss Croft, Mr. Thorne sent men here. They said they were transferring her to a different facility.” “We couldn’t stop them… they had guns…” Everything went black, and I almost fainted. She was my only remaining family, my life! By the time I rushed back to the estate, the sound of laughter and cheering filled the air. A group of rich, young socialites were gathered around something, cheering. Seeing me enter, Chloe clapped her hands with excitement. “Look, Si! I told you this trick would work, right? Didn’t she come rolling right back here to admit her mistake?” Grandma was tied into a wheelchair, which had been pushed right to the edge of the alligator pond in the backyard. The protective iron railing had been lowered. I was shaking from head to toe. “Silas Thorne, what do you want? Come at me! Leave them alone!” Silas lazily raised his eyelids, looking at me with total indifference. “Rylee, your attitude last night made me very unhappy.” “Want to save her? Then from right there, get down on your hands and knees. Crawl all the way to everyone’s feet, kowtow to the ground, and beg for forgiveness.” The group around us immediately erupted in jeers. “Silas, man, Rylee pushed you to sign the divorce papers. Did she really have someone else on the outside?” “She’s been sleeping around. Don’t let her bring some dirty disease back here. Forget her, Silas. Chloe’s great. Why not make her the new Mrs. Thorne?” But Silas stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “A little woman throwing a tantrum, that’s all. Rylee, as long as you admit your mistake, we’ll go remarry first thing tomorrow morning.” “But if you don’t know what’s good for you…” The bodyguard standing by the alligator pond gave the wheelchair a violent kick. The wheelchair instantly rolled toward the water’s edge, half of one tire already hanging in the air over the snapping reptiles! “No!” I screamed, my voice raw. My legs gave out, and I dropped directly onto my knees on the pavement. Silas gave a satisfied smile. “Good girl. Everyone’s watching, Rylee. You’ve held my face under water for so long; I need to regain some pride.” “If you don’t like Chloe, after you admit your mistake, I’ll let you slash her face myself to make you feel better.” As he spoke, Silas planted his foot onto my back, pressing down, forcing me to bow my head to the ground. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to take a knife and murder every single one of these animals. But in the distance, the wheelchair wobbled again. All my rage instantly turned into absolute despair. “Fine. I’ll kowtow. I’ll admit my mistake.” The group cheered with excitement, some even pulling out their phones to film it. “Holy shit, Silas! You’re a beast! Masterclass in wife-taming! No woman is too tough for you!” “Rylee, hurry up and kowtow! Make sure we can film it clearly!” Just as I was about to touch my forehead to the dirt, there was a deafening crash as the front gates of the estate were rammed open. A booming voice filled the yard: “You Thorne piece of trash. You’ve got a lot of nerve.” “Touching my wife?”

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For eight long years, I loved Wyatt Hayes. Yet, we never wed. Our Western Frontier has a sacred tradition: a couple wishing to marry must climb the snowy peaks to seek a blessing from the Mountain Oracle. Usually, it takes a couple only a try or two before the Oracle grants them a Winter Rose, a rare bloom symbolizing divine favor. But for eight years straight, Wyatt came back empty-handed. I became the laughingstock of the Frontier’s ruling family, but Wyatt never left my side, treating me with doubled devotion. This time, I secretly followed him up the mountain. I decided that if the Oracle refused to bless us again, I would give up my title as the Governor’s daughter and elope with him. When I saw a Winter Rose finally placed into his hands, I was so ecstatic I nearly fainted. But Wyatt’s expression was agonizingly cold and indifferent. “It is you I love,” he whispered, “but I cannot betray Hazel after her eight years of companionship.” Then, the man who had looked at me with tender devotion only this morning took the sacred flower and forced himself upon the Oracle! The petals were crushed under his rough movements, the crimson juice of the rose staining the Oracle’s snow-white skin. “This is our last time…” he groaned. “Once you are sent to the Eastern Coalition as a treaty bride, I will cut my ties and marry her.” It turned out, he hadn’t delayed marrying me for eight years because of a curse. He was simply addicted to his once-a-year tryst with the Oracle. Numb and hollow, I stumbled back to the grand estate and knelt before my father. “The Frontier cannot survive a day without its Oracle. I will take her place as the treaty bride. Let me marry the Eastern Heir.” 1. Beatrice, the sister who always hated me, was the first to laugh out loud. “Have you lost your mind, sister? Your engagement to General Hayes is already the biggest joke in the family!” “If we send an unwanted old maid to the East, aren’t you afraid they’ll see it as an insult?” A bitter, humiliating emotion rushed up my chest, suffocating me so much I couldn’t speak. Once, I was hailed as the brightest pearl of the Western Frontier. But after Wyatt failed to get the Oracle’s blessing for eight consecutive years, I became the embodiment of bad luck and disaster. Thinking of how Wyatt had unhesitatingly crushed that Winter Rose—the flower I had dreamed of—against the Oracle’s skin, I bowed my head deeply to my father again. “I am not destined for General Hayes. Let me serve our land through this marriage and secure peace for the Frontier.” My aging father looked toward my older brother, Arthur, the man slated to be the next Governor. “Arthur, what do you think?” My heart clenched tightly. Arthur had always doted on me. If he refused to let me go… “I think this is an excellent idea, Father.” The moment my brother spoke, the blood in my veins froze. Before I could recover from the massive wave of shock, my brother continued, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. “The Oracle is the guiding star of our Frontier. How could my sister ever compare to her?” “Besides, she is a jinx who couldn’t secure a marriage for eight years. Sending her to the Easterners might just bring a curse upon them!” Large tears rolled from my eyes. I trembled so violently I could barely sit up straight. Was this still the brother who protected me at every turn, who never allowed anyone to mock me? First Wyatt, then Arthur. Why was all this happening? My father’s eyes grew dark. He dismissed everyone else, leaving only me in the room. “Although you are a more suitable bride for the East than the Oracle, I do not feel safe leaving her here in the West.” I looked up, stunned, as my father brought up a chilly early spring from eight years ago. Wyatt and I had privately pledged ourselves to each other. Arthur, who had always been close friends with him, was furious and attacked him. In Arthur’s eyes, the best man in the world wasn’t good enough for me. The two men brawled on the plains, fists striking flesh. Just then, the Oracle came down from the mountain. Dressed in her pure white ceremonial robes, she used her fragile body to stand between them. Without saying a word, her expression calm and merciful, she bandaged their wounds. Then she drifted away, returning to the untouched snows to be the immaculate Oracle. But that beautiful silhouette had permanently rooted itself in the hearts of both my brother and Wyatt. It turned out, the signs were always there. Since that was the case, I would ride alone to the East and let them have exactly what they wanted. 2. Seeing me emerge from my father’s study, Arthur quickly came to meet me. “Did Father agree to let you go…” I interrupted him coldly, “Arthur, did you really want me to leave that badly?” Or was it just that he couldn’t bear to part with the snow lily in his heart? A flash of panic crossed Arthur’s eyes before he regained his composure. “Didn’t you want to go? I only said those things to Father to help you get your wish.” Ridiculous. He threw me to the wolves to shield his sweetheart, and he had the nerve to say he was helping me. If that was how he wanted to play it, I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. I shook my head. “Father said no.” Right then, Wyatt came galloping toward us from a distance, unconcealable guilt plastered across his face. “I’m sorry… I still couldn’t get the Winter Rose.” “Next year…” I stared blankly at the blue sky and the circling falcons. “There’s no need.” By this time next year, I would probably already be living in the Eastern Capital. Wyatt let his hand drop in a daze, a fleeting look of deep regret in his eyes. “Don’t say such foolish things. Next year… I will definitely get it.” The Winter Rose was granted every single year. It was just my weight in his heart that grew lighter with each passing season. This double betrayal was like a raging fire, burning all the hope and expectation in my heart to ashes. That night, I was helping Arthur prepare the ceremonial items for the annual Harvest Moon Festival. I watched him stare vacantly at the Oracle’s ceremonial robes. I finally couldn’t hold back my mockery. “Arthur, the Oracle you’re so obsessed with has already been claimed by Wyatt.” “I saw it with my own eyes today. He crushed the Winter Rose against her thigh…” Before I could finish, a powerful arrow whistled past my cheek. After a sharp pain, bright red blood flowed down my neck and into my collar. “You can’t get the blessing because of your own lacking morals, and yet you dare invent such filthy lies to defile the Oracle!” “If there is a next time, I will shoot your head clean off.” Arthur’s eyes held a furious, boiling hatred I had never seen before. He slung his bow over his shoulder and left, dropping one final sentence. “Why couldn’t the one being sent to the East be a useless waste like you!” I covered my bleeding face and laughed at myself, laughing until the tears streamed down. I finally understood completely. In the hearts of Wyatt and Arthur, the Oracle would always be holy and beautiful. She was their faith, and their deepest, darkest desire. And compared to her, I was just the most insignificant grain of sand. Wyatt found me and brought me back to my tent. He touched my arrow-grazed cheek, looking utterly heartbroken. “Who did this!?” Looking at his seemingly genuine distress and deep affection, my heart felt like it was being pierced by thousands of needles. Everything today was his fault. What was he pretending to be so deeply in love for now? Years ago, he saved me from the jaws of a wild wolf, and I fell in love with him at first sight. From then on, the proud daughter who never bowed to anyone began to chase him relentlessly. He was the bravest general on the Frontier, so I learned martial arts from scratch. My palms bled, my skin tore from falling, but I never backed down. But now, looking at his hypocritical face, I suddenly realized I couldn’t love him anymore. I looked quietly into his eyes. “Wyatt, let’s call off the engagement.” 3. Wyatt’s face instantly froze. He stared intensely into my eyes, as if trying to find a shred of reluctance on my face. I looked back at him calmly. “The Oracle hasn’t granted us a flower in eight years. I suppose we truly aren’t meant to be.” Since that was the case, it was better to part ways and find our own happiness. Wyatt grabbed my hand, his tone tinged with guilt. “Hazel, don’t worry. Next year, I promise I’ll get the Oracle’s blessing.” I closed my eyes wearily. Marrying him had once been my biggest dream. And now, if I just pretended nothing had happened, he could smoothly marry me once the Oracle was sent away to the East. I opened my mouth. “I…” From outside the tent came the shout of Wyatt’s lieutenant. “General, the sacred artifacts for the Harvest Moon Festival have arrived!” Wyatt’s expression hardened. Without sparing me another glance, he ran out. I gave a self-deprecating smile, which instantly turned into tears. He was willing to ruin my reputation just to indulge in his taboo, once-a-year affair. How could he ever truly settle down and spend the rest of his life peacefully with me? It wasn’t that we didn’t get the Oracle’s blessing; it was just that I had bet on the wrong man’s heart. That was all. Wyatt returned quickly, gripping my hand tightly. “Hazel, the Harvest Moon is almost here. Let’s do the bloodletting quickly this year.” “The heavens will be moved by our sincerity, and next year we can marry!” To pray for good fortune, I would donate my blood every time he failed to get the flower. But now that the truth was out, doubts sprouted wildly in my mind. If seeking the blessing was a lie, why was he in such a rush to get my blood? I drew my dagger and unhesitatingly slashed my left wrist. Bright red blood dripped steadily into a white porcelain bowl. The guilt on Wyatt’s face deepened. “Thank you for this… Just wait one more year, and we can be together forever.” The very last ounce of affection I had for him drained away with that blood. I desperately wanted to tell him that there would be no ‘forever’ for us. After Wyatt left, I quietly followed him. And then I watched helplessly as he submerged the sacred artifacts into my blood! I remembered the legend: only the blood of a virgin could nourish the holy relics. The Oracle had lost her purity to him long ago. So, his refusal to touch me all these years wasn’t out of chivalry—he just needed me as a blood bank for the Oracle! The world spun around me. My riddled heart was pierced by a sharp blade once again. The night wind of the plains chilled me to the bone, much like these past eight years that had turned me from a vibrant girl into a lifeless shadow. I returned to my quarters like a wandering ghost and packed my bags for the East. Aside from my clothes, I only took the silver locket my mother left me. Then, I gathered everything related to Wyatt from all these years and threw it into the fire. The flames illuminated my tear-streaked face, burning away the absolute last trace of hesitation in my heart. I turned and walked out toward the plains. The old woman who helped raise my hunting falcon ran toward me. “Miss Hazel… Young Master Arthur is trying to take your falcon!” I frowned and rushed to the mews, arriving just in time to see the Oracle, dressed in her pure white robes, bowing gracefully to my brother. “I have nothing left tying me here as I leave for the East. I simply cannot bear to see my own falcon sacrificed tomorrow.” “Thank you, Young Master, for swapping the birds… I will remember this kindness.” My falcon had been hunting and riding with me since I was eight. I absolutely refused to lose it. Storming into the mews, ignoring the shocked looks of everyone around, I drew my bow and shot an arrow right through the chains holding my falcon! The bird circled me reluctantly, then let out a piercing cry and bolted into the dark night sky. As Arthur pinned me to the ground in a rage, I looked up at the sky and laughed until I cried. “Every single one of you hurts me just for the Oracle. But why can’t you win a single war?” “If you hadn’t been beaten back by the Easterners time and time again, you wouldn’t need to send the Oracle away as a bride!” This decaying, absurdly rotten Frontier was no longer my beautiful homeland. Then I would go over the mountains and find a way to save this country myself! 4. Arthur locked me in an empty barn. In the distance, the sound of war drums echoed. The current Oracle was completing her final sacrifice. Servants walked past me in twos and threes, making no effort to hide their contempt and hatred. “Why wasn’t this useless girl the one sent to the East? The heavens are blind!” “The Oracle ruined her health praying for the Frontier. What if she dies on the journey…” I closed my eyes, blocking out the tidal wave of malice. After a shrill, agonizing scream, the Oracle’s falcon was sacrificed. Wyatt rushed to the front of the barn, his eyes full of disappointment and fury. “Why did you purposely release your falcon last night!? The Oracle is about to leave, she just wanted to preserve a memory, and you couldn’t even grant her that?” Looking at his face, twisted with anger, I suddenly looked forward to seeing his expression when he realized I was the one going to the East. “What about me? She wanted to keep a memory, but do my feelings not matter?” His beloved was about to leave, and he couldn’t even bother pretending anymore. Wyatt’s chest heaved violently. “You haven’t hunted in years. What use do you have for a falcon?” He must have forgotten that I used to be the greatest huntress on the Frontier. I only stopped killing because our marriage was never blessed, and I thought sparing lives would earn us favor. I looked at the complete stranger standing before me and suddenly smiled softly. “Wyatt, you all will get your wish very soon.” Wyatt looked confused, but was suddenly pulled away by one of Arthur’s men. “The ritual failed! Something happened to the Oracle!” The Oracle had to be a pure virgin. Since she had slept with Wyatt just that morning, how could the heavens not punish them? It was getting late, and the guards were distracted. It was time to leave. After Wyatt left, I easily climbed out of the barn and snuck back to my tent to grab my luggage. But my most important possession, the silver locket, was gone! That was my mother’s heirloom, meant to keep me safe! My hands shook with panic, until I overheard the servants whispering. “The Young Master really cares for the Oracle. For this trip, he prepared seven or eight protective amulets for her.” By the time I snapped out of it, my face was covered in tears. I knew the Oracle was precious to him, but I never imagined he would strip me of my mother’s only heirloom! He felt my selfishness had killed the Oracle’s falcon, so he took half my life to compensate her. But from start to finish, I was the only one losing everything! The guards had discovered my escape. I had no time left. I threw on a red riding cloak and let out a sharp whistle. My falcon dove down from the sky and landed on my shoulder. My warhorse broke its tether, jumped the fence, and lowered its head to me. Dressed in crimson, a falcon on my left shoulder, I grabbed the reins with my right hand and galloped furiously toward the Capital! If there was no road left for me here, I would forge my own path in the wider world! This time, I didn’t look back. Meanwhile, on the Frontier, crowds fell to their knees around the altar, surrounding the Oracle, who was spitting blood with an agonized expression. “The heavens are furious! This is a disaster!” “Tens of thousands of cattle froze last winter, we are losing the war with the East…” “The Oracle represents the Frontier… Could it be the Oracle… Ah!” Arthur shot an arrow straight through the throat of the man who spoke. For a moment, everyone was dead silent. Wyatt’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink. “For centuries, the West has been protected by generations of Oracles.” “Anyone who dares slander her purity will be killed on the spot!” But the crowd wasn’t suppressed; they boiled over even more violently. “Then who angered the gods? We must cut them to pieces and burn them alive to calm the spirits’ wrath!” “Exactly! Give us peace!” Arthur and Wyatt knew better than anyone that they needed a scapegoat to bear the people’s fury. They looked at each other simultaneously and closed their eyes in pain. “Go bring Hazel.” Less than fifteen minutes later, my aging father, draped in a heavy coat, stood in the center of the crowd. “Hazel volunteered to go to the East as the treaty bride. She left the Frontier thirty miles ago.” 5. As soon as my father’s words fell, Wyatt lunged forward, his handsome face twisted in pure disbelief. “Impossible! Why would Hazel actually go? She explicitly promised she would only ever marry me.” Arthur’s fists clenched tightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His voice was frantic yet insistent. “Father must be lying to us. No matter how angry she is, she wouldn’t joke about the rest of her life.” They exchanged a look, both finding the same stubborn denial in each other’s eyes. They practically ran off the altar, Wyatt still muttering to himself. “She’s just punishing me. She’s saying this to scare us.” Arthur nodded in agreement, though his feet moved faster and faster. “Let’s check her room. She’s probably hiding inside, crying.” But when they burst into my quarters, they found only an empty bed and cold ashes in the hearth. Everything related to Wyatt had been burned to dust, scattered across the floor. Arthur’s heart plummeted. He turned and sprinted toward the grassy ridge I loved. “She loves watching the falcons from there. She has to be there!” Wyatt followed closely, clinging to a thread of hope. He remembered how I used to rest on his shoulder, my eyes shining as I said: “Wyatt, when we get the Winter Rose next year, we’ll have the grandest wedding.” Those words were still echoing in his ears. How could I just leave? They ran to every place I frequented. The valley of bluebells where I taught him to weave crowns; the clear stream where we sailed paper boats; the old oak tree where I hid my love letters to him. But at every spot, there was only the wind. No sign of me. “Where is she? Where did she go!?” Arthur’s voice started to shake, his composed facade entirely shattered. Wyatt’s face grew paler and paler. His fists were clenched so tight his fingertips were freezing. “Impossible. She couldn’t have left. We’re getting married next year.” This was his obsession, his unwavering certainty. Why would I suddenly give up? Just then, my father’s personal guard hurried over, carrying a wooden lockbox. “General, Young Master. This is the letter breaking the engagement that Hazel left behind, along with the silver ring the General gave her years ago.” The box was opened. The handwriting on the letter was neat but absolute. The ring still gleamed, carrying the faint warmth of having been worn by me for years. Wyatt shuddered violently, as if struck by lightning, and stumbled backward. “Breaking the engagement? She really wants to break it off?” He muttered to himself, his heart feeling as though it was being crushed by an invisible hand, hurting so much he couldn’t breathe. Arthur snatched the letter. After one glance, his eyes went entirely red: “She really left… She really went to the East…” Father stood behind them without them noticing, his eyes deep and unreadable. “The bridal escort left early. They will meet up with her tomorrow and head straight for the Capital.” “She prepared for this long ago. You two… simply hurt her too deeply.” Arthur suddenly spun around, staring at Wyatt with bloodshot eyes, his suppressed emotions exploding. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t failed to get that flower for eight years, she wouldn’t have been mocked! If you hadn’t treated her terribly, she wouldn’t have been so determined to leave!” 6. He grabbed Wyatt by the collar, pulling his fist back to strike. “We depended on each other since we were kids. How could she leave on such a massive journey without telling me? She must hate you!” Wyatt was stunned by the yelling, a flash of panic crossing his face before he, too, grew furious. “Blame me? How are you any better? For the Oracle, you said those vicious things to her, and you shot an arrow at her face!” He shoved Arthur away, his voice dripping with accusation. “You’re her actual brother, yet you were crueler than a stranger!” With weapons almost drawn, right as they were about to tear into each other, a figure in pure white quietly appeared. The Oracle stood between them, maintaining her sorrowful, merciful expression, and gently pulled at their sleeves. “Please, do not fight because of me. I bandaged your wounds years ago, and I don’t want to see you turn on each other today.” Her voice was soft, as if their fierce argument was entirely about her. Arthur and Wyatt both froze. Looking at the Oracle’s holy face, their expressions grew incredibly complicated. Wyatt took a deep breath, his tone freezing over: “Our fight has nothing to do with you.” Arthur shook off the Oracle’s hand, his eyes filled with exhaustion and deep regret. “We are talking about Hazel. We are talking about my sister.” The Oracle’s face stiffened. She clearly hadn’t expected this response. She stood frozen, looking at the suffocating anxiety and remorse rolling between the two men, suddenly at a loss for words. Arthur turned back to Wyatt, his gaze sharp as a knife. “Hazel loved you since she was a girl. For you, she learned to fight, and never complained no matter how much she suffered.” “She wouldn’t inexplicably abandon you and go to the East.” He stared intensely into Wyatt’s eyes. “Did you do something unforgivable to her?” All the color drained from Wyatt’s face. His eyes darted away, afraid to meet Arthur’s gaze. On the snowy mountain that morning, he had crushed the flower and told the Oracle that I was just a temporary companion. He used my virgin blood to nourish the artifacts. When I asked to cancel the engagement, he had just brushed me off. All these memories collided, leaving him entirely unable to defend himself. Seeing him like this, Arthur knew the answer, and his rage ignited once more. “I knew it! You bastard! What exactly did you do to her?” He drove his fist into Wyatt’s face, knocking him into the dirt. “She loved you so much, how could you bear to hurt her?” Wyatt didn’t fight back. He let Arthur’s fists rain down on his body. The physical pain was a fraction of the agony tearing apart his chest. He covered his face, letting out a stifled sob from his throat as the tears finally broke free. “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have lied to her… I shouldn’t have used her…” He regretted it. He truly, deeply regretted it. The two men brawled in the dirt, kicking up dust, until all their energy was spent and they collapsed on the ground. Arthur gasped for air, looking into the distance, his voice hoarse: “We can’t let her go to the East. Absolutely not!” Wyatt pushed himself up, his eyes hardening with resolve: “We’ll ride after her. We’ll bring her back.” The Oracle walked over and spoke softly. “This was originally my duty. Since this happened because of me, I am willing to go with you to take her place and bring Hazel back.” Her tone was incredibly righteous, as if she were saving the world. Arthur and Wyatt exchanged a look and didn’t refuse. Right now, as long as they could bring me back, they would do anything. The three immediately mounted their horses, took a squad of elite cavalry, and galloped frantically toward the Capital.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “396450”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I resigned, a coworker set his sights on the Apple Pro Display XDR I had bought with my own money. I ignored him and packed it up to leave. The next day, that same coworker reported me for embezzling company property. My manager immediately called the police on behalf of the company: “Ethan, the company has nurtured you for years. How could you do something so illegal? Hand the monitor over right now, and we can handle this internally without putting a felony on your criminal record.” I calmly pulled a stack of documents from my briefcase and slid them across the table to the mediating police officer. “Here are the official Apple store purchase records, the digital receipts, and my personal credit card statements for the Pro Display XDR and the Pro Stand. The total comes to exactly $6,998.” Later, during the company’s multi-million dollar Series A funding press conference, I legally revoked the core algorithm patent I had previously allowed them to use for free. A project worth hundreds of millions of dollars completely collapsed because of it. 1 Friday at 3:00 PM. I pressed Enter, sending the final handover documentation to the department’s shared email. A “Sent Successfully” notification popped up on the screen. I took off my glasses and massaged the bridge of my nose, preparing to pack up the 32-inch Pro Display XDR sitting on my desk. Two years ago, I couldn’t stand the terrible color accuracy of the cheap monitors the company provided. It was ruining my design rendering work, so I spent $6,998 of my own money to buy this one. Now that I was leaving, I was naturally taking it with me. Click. I unplugged the Thunderbolt 4 cable from the back, and the screen instantly went dark. Suddenly, a thick-knuckled hand slammed down on the edge of my desk. “Packing up, Ethan?” Brad Miller leaned in, his eyes glued greedily to my monitor. “Yeah,” I replied flatly, not looking up. I continued to untangle the messy cables on my desk, tying them neatly with velcro straps. “Ethan, this monitor…” Brad swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I didn’t see it on the handover inventory list. Didn’t Manager Davis say all equipment from departing employees has to go back to IT to be reallocated?” He deliberately emphasized the word reallocated. The entire open-plan office instantly went dead silent. The clatter of keyboards from the surrounding cubicles ceased. I could feel several pairs of eyes peering through the gaps between their computer screens, quietly watching the drama unfold. Brad’s desk was usually covered in cheap, plastic anime figures. He used the standard, heavily color-distorted, hundred-dollar monitor the company bought in bulk. He had been coveting my equipment for a long time. Over the past six months, he had made countless excuses to “sync up” or “align our deliverables,” just to hover by my desk and drool over this screen. “It’s not on the company’s asset list,” I said, picking up a microfiber cloth to meticulously wipe down the aluminum bezel. “Not on the list?” Brad’s voice jumped an octave, sounding like a rat whose tail had just been stepped on. “Come on, Ethan, don’t be like that. We’re all wage slaves here. You’re leaving, but if you leave the equipment, the rest of the team can still use it. Taking everything with you isn’t exactly a class act, is it?” He turned his head, throwing his hands up to address the rest of the office loudly: “Everyone, be the judge here! The company spent big money to get this top-tier equipment, and now that he’s quitting, he’s trying to swipe it. Isn’t that stealing from the company?” A few muffled snickers drifted over from the corner. I stopped what I was doing, turned around, and looked at him coldly. “Brad.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the silent office, it was crystal clear. “First, on my very first day here, I bought this monitor with my own money because the company equipment was trash. Second, keep your eyes off my property.” Brad’s face stiffened, then flushed a bright, angry red. He stuck his neck out and argued back, “Just because you say you bought it means you bought it? Everyone knows this thing costs thousands of dollars! Like a regular employee would drop that kind of cash. Besides, you’ve had it plugged into the company’s wall, using the company’s electricity every single day. That makes it public property!” His bottom-feeder logic was truly breathtaking. I couldn’t be bothered to waste another breath on him. Reasoning with a fool is a waste of a life. From under my desk, I pulled out a custom aluminum flight case I had prepared in advance. I detached the heavy Pro Stand and nestled it securely into the foam groove. Then, I lifted the monitor panel. Before sliding it into the case, I ran my long fingers lightly over the bottom right corner of the back panel. Right there, completely hidden from plain sight, was a tiny holographic security sticker. Printed on it was an independent serial number that only I knew. Clack. I closed the case, the metal latches snapping shut with a crisp sound. Brad stared at the silver case, his eyes a toxic mix of greed and resentment. He pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying furiously across the screen. I didn’t even need to look to know he was in the department Slack channel, dramatically exaggerating my “crimes” of stealing company assets. I picked up the heavy case, grabbed my tailored briefcase, and walked straight toward the elevators. Behind me, Manager Davis’s signature, nasal cough echoed as he stepped out of his private office. “What’s going on? What’s all this noise?” Davis asked, holding his Yeti thermos. “Manager Davis! Ethan just took that seven-thousand-dollar monitor! That’s the most expensive piece of hardware our department owns!” Brad yelled, tattling like he had just caught a bank robber. The elevator doors slowly slid shut. Through the narrowing gap, I saw Manager Davis’s chubby face twist in outrage, and the malicious gleam shining in Brad’s eyes. 2 Saturday, 9:00 AM. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow on the Persian rug in my living room. Compared to the formaldehyde-scented, backstabbing cubicles of my former employer, the air here felt incredibly free. Buzz—Buzz— My phone vibrated aggressively. An unfamiliar local landline number flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer. “Hello, is this Ethan Hayes?” A stern male voice came through the receiver. In the background, I could hear the clatter of keyboards and chaotic chatter. “Speaking.” “This is the local police precinct. We received a report from your former employer claiming you are suspected of corporate embezzlement and the illegal misappropriation of high-value company assets. We need you to bring the item in question to the precinct immediately for an investigation.” The officer’s tone was strictly business, entirely devoid of emotion. I picked up my coffee and took a sip. The bitter liquid slid down my throat, making my mind instantly razor-sharp. They actually called the cops? I originally thought Brad’s greed and ignorance were just loud barking, and that Manager Davis’s corporate posturing was just a way to flex his authority in front of the team. But I had underestimated the sheer insanity of low-level opportunists. To claim something that wasn’t theirs, they were willing to easily cross legal boundaries. “Understood, Officer. I’ll be right there.” I walked into my walk-in closet and changed into a perfectly tailored, dark gray suit. Then, I opened my safe and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside was the complete set of purchase records for the monitor, the shipping invoices, and a printed copy of the “Declaration of Personal Work Equipment” email I had sent to HR on my first week. I grabbed the heavy aluminum flight case and headed down to the underground garage. “Attorney Sterling,” I said as the Bluetooth connected in my car. “Good morning, Ethan. What can I do for you?” Robert Sterling’s voice was as steady and professional as always. “I’m heading to the local precinct. My former employer just reported me for corporate embezzlement.” I watched the red light countdown at the intersection, my tone completely flat. There was a second of silence on the other end, followed by a light chuckle. “That has to be a joke. Do you need me to come down there?” “Not yet. Using a sledgehammer to crack a nut,” I said, tapping my fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel. “But I need you to draft two documents. First, a cease and desist and a defamation lawsuit against an individual named Brad Miller. The second…” I paused, my eyes turning ice-cold. “Draft a legal notice to revoke a patent license. Yes, the core image-rendering algorithm they are currently using for their flagship project. I licensed it to them for free back then to speed up the development timeline. Now that I’ve resigned, that authorization is officially revoked.” “Understood. I’ll have them in your inbox in thirty minutes.” I hung up. The light turned green. The Porsche Panamera let out a low, guttural roar, shooting forward like a waking black panther toward the police station. 3 Local Precinct. Mediation Room. The air smelled faintly of bleach and old paper. When I pushed the door open, Manager Davis and Brad were already sitting across the long table. Brad had deliberately worn a slightly cleaner polo shirt today. He was sitting up straight, but his shifty eyes betrayed his nervous excitement. The moment he saw me walk in carrying the silver flight case, his eyes lit up like a vulture spotting rotting meat. Manager Davis sat back in his chair, clutching his chipped thermos, looking like a man who had already won. Officer Chen, the mediator, pointed to the empty chair in front of me. “Have a seat. Mr. Hayes, your former company is accusing you of embezzling a professional monitor worth around seven thousand dollars. What do you have to say for yourself?” “Officer, why are you even asking him? The stolen property is right there in that box!” Brad jumped up eagerly, pointing at the case by my feet. “That’s the stolen goods! He secretly packed up equipment our company purchased. If that’s not theft, what is?” Manager Davis coughed and pressed a hand down in the air, signaling Brad to sit. He put on a look of deep, theatrical disappointment. “Ethan, your performance at work was always solid, and the company valued you. But you can’t let your emotions about resigning push you to do something this foolish. As long as you return the property to the company and apologize right now, I’ll personally beg the CEO to handle this internally. We won’t press criminal charges. After all, if this goes to trial, your life is ruined.” What a masterful display of manipulative blackmail. Looking at Manager Davis’s hypocritical face, I suddenly felt a bit nauseous. I ignored them completely. Instead, I placed the manila envelope on the table and unwound the string closure. “Officer Chen, I purchased this Apple Pro Display XDR entirely with my own funds two years ago when I first joined the company, because the hardware they provided could not meet my professional color-calibration needs.” “Bullshit!” Brad slammed his hand on the table, rattling Davis’s thermos. “Seven thousand dollars! Do you even know what your monthly salary is? You couldn’t afford that! That monitor was specifically approved through a special procurement process for that massive project last year! Manager Davis signed off on it himself!” Brad turned to Davis for backup. Davis nodded without blinking. “That’s right, Officer. This equipment is absolutely fixed corporate property. Because the project was an emergency, IT didn’t have time to put an asset tag on it, so it was placed directly on Ethan’s desk.” “Oh? Is that so?” I sneered. From the envelope, I pulled out a copy of an invoice bearing an official red stamp and slid it over to Officer Chen. “This is a printed copy of the official Apple digital receipt. Purchaser: Ethan Hayes. Date of purchase: April 15th, two years ago.” Next, I pulled out a bank statement. “This is the billing statement from my personal Chase credit card. The charge is exactly $6,998. Merchant: Apple Inc.” Officer Chen picked up the documents, carefully matching the names and dates. He frowned slightly. Brad’s face dropped. He shot up from his chair, leaning over the table trying to look at the papers. “Impossible! He forged those! You can use Photoshop to fake anything these days!” “Forging financial documents and bank statements is a federal crime, Brad. Do you know anything about the law?” I stared at him coldly. “If you think they’re fake, you can call the IRS and report me right now.” Brad shrank back under my icy glare, but he still wasn’t willing to give up. He turned to Davis in a panic. “Manager, you… you said the company bought this!” Fine beads of sweat began to form on Manager Davis’s forehead. He set his thermos down, his fingers nervously tapping the table as he scrambled for an excuse. “This… perhaps I misremembered. But Officer, even if he bought the machine, he used it at the office for two years! What about the desk space? The electricity? This is a blending of personal and corporate resources, the boundaries are completely blurred!” “The boundaries are blurred?” I pulled the final document from the envelope. “This is a printed copy of an email I sent to the HR department and Manager Davis on my third day of work. The subject line is: ‘Declaration of Personal Work Equipment for Office Use.’ The attachment clearly lists the model and serial number of this exact monitor. Furthermore, HR replied to this email stating: ‘Approved for record.’” I slammed the piece of paper heavily onto the table. The sharp smack echoed in the room. “Manager Davis, do you need me to log into my email and show it to you live in front of the officer?” The mediation room fell into a deathly silence. Brad collapsed into his chair like a deflated balloon, his face ashen. Manager Davis stared wide-eyed at the printed email, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word. Officer Chen closed the case file, his expression turning severe. “Manager Davis, Brad Miller. Do you realize what the consequences are for filing a false police report and wasting police resources?” Davis shot up, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. “A misunderstanding! Officer, this is an absolute misunderstanding! It was a failure in our internal communication, a mistake in our asset inventory. We are so sorry. We withdraw the complaint immediately.” “Withdraw the complaint?” A mocking smile crept onto my lips. “You think the law is a revolving door you can just walk in and out of whenever you please?” I stood up, looking down at them from across the table. “Officer Chen, I’m done presenting my evidence. Now, I want to file a report.” I pointed directly at Manager Davis and Brad. “First, citing an ‘incomplete handover process,’ my former employer has illegally confiscated three Montblanc fountain pens, an Hermes tie, and several private design drafts that were in my desk drawer. The total value exceeds $15,000. That is the illegal embezzlement of private property.” “Second, without verifying any facts, Brad Miller publicly fabricated lies in a 150-person company Slack channel, defaming me as a thief. This has caused severe, malicious damage to my personal reputation. I have already had the chat logs notarized.” I looked into Brad’s suddenly terrified eyes and enunciated every word clearly: “Brad, expect a letter from my lawyer. I’ll see you in court.” 4 Monday, 10:00 AM. Former Company HQ, Conference Room 1. Today was the critical day my former employer was supposed to sign a Series A funding agreement with Sequoia Capital, one of the top venture capital firms in the country. As long as the agreement was signed, the company’s valuation would double, and Manager Davis would finally be able to cash out his long-awaited stock options. At the front of the conference room, a massive LED screen was running the company’s pride and joy—an AI-based dynamic image rendering engine. The VC representatives sat in leather swivel chairs, nodding frequently, clearly impressed by the engine’s rendering speed and color accuracy. Manager Davis stood by the screen in a sharp suit, his face glowing red with excitement. He was rambling endlessly about the company’s “technological moats” and “future blueprints.” Brad, acting as one of the department’s “key players,” stood in the corner, tasked with clicking through the PowerPoint slides. Even though he had been terrified out of his mind at the police station over the weekend, today, in this setting, he had regained his arrogant, sycophantic swagger. “Investors, what you are seeing now is our company’s proprietary, in-house rendering algorithm. This algorithm leads the industry in…” Before Davis could finish his sentence, the giant LED screen behind him flickered violently. Instantly, the smoothly running, high-definition 3D model froze, and the image tore apart into thousands of pixelated, mosaic blocks. “What’s going on? Brad! Switch the screen!” The smile froze on Davis’s face as he hissed under his breath. Sweating profusely, Brad mashed the keyboard and furiously clicked the mouse. “M-Manager, I can’t switch it! The system is throwing an error!” The screen went completely black. A few seconds later, a cold, white line of code appeared in the center of the display: Error: License Expired or Revoked. Auth Key Invalid. The air in the conference room instantly solidified. The investors looked at each other, their previously admiring gazes turning into suspicion and scrutiny. “Tech department! Get the CTO in here right now!” Davis panicked completely, screaming at an assistant by the door. Three minutes later, the CTO ran into the conference room, sweating bullets, carrying a laptop. He took one look at the error code on the screen, and his face turned whiter than a sheet of paper. “Mr. Davis…” The CTO’s voice was shaking. Davis grabbed the CTO by his collar. “What the hell is going on? Did the servers crash? Reboot them, now!” The CTO swallowed hard and closed his eyes in despair. “It… it’s not a server issue.” “The license for the base algorithm has been revoked. Our core rendering module… the underlying architecture calls an API from Ethan Hayes’s personal patented code.” “What did you just say?!” Davis looked like he had been struck by lightning. He abruptly let go of the CTO’s collar. “Back then, to meet the project deadline, the company didn’t have time to develop the base logic from scratch. Ethan let us use an image processing patent he registered in college for free. The licensing agreement clearly stated that the authorization automatically terminates the moment he resigns. Unless…” “Unless what?!” “Unless the company buys it out, or he agrees to renew it. Five minutes ago, I received an official letter from Ethan’s lawyer. He has unilaterally revoked all patent authorizations and demanded we cease usage immediately, or he will sue us for intellectual property infringement.” Clatter! The laser pointer in Manager Davis’s hand dropped to the floor, shattering into pieces. The lead representative from Sequoia Capital stood up. He adjusted his suit jacket, his tone freezing cold. “Mr. Davis, it appears your ‘proprietary technology’ and ‘tech moats’ have severe legal flaws. Until these intellectual property issues are resolved, today’s signing ceremony is canceled.” Without another word, the investors turned and walked out of the conference room without a shred of hesitation. “It’s over… It’s all over…” Davis collapsed into his chair, his eyes glazed over. That was tens of millions of dollars in funding! All because of a monitor. Because of one stupid, petty scheme, the entire future of the company went up in smoke. He violently whipped his head around, glaring murderously at Brad, who was shivering in the corner. “This is all because of you, you absolute moron! Out of everything in the world, you just had to covet his damn monitor! Now look! You killed the entire company!” Davis charged forward like a rabid boar and slapped Brad across the face with all his might. Smack! The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the empty conference room. Brad clutched his face, too terrified to even breathe.

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