Category: English

In our third year of marrying into the Sterling family as best friends, their childhood sweetheart returned. My best friend and I had promised to run away together, but the night before our escape, she jumped from a high-rise building. I called her husband, Caleb, but he only sneered: “Sister-in-law, my brother said if she jumps off a building today, are you going to jump into a river tomorrow?” … The mockery pierced my eardrums, and my heart sank inch by inch. I looked at Vivian lying in a pool of blood, my voice hoarse. “Caleb, I’m not joking. Vivi… is really dead.” A disdainful scoff came through the phone. “Is that so? She’s really dead? Then do I have to plan her funeral and cry my eyes out?” “Sister-in-law, just because I call you that, don’t think you’re actually the matriarch here. Your and Vivian’s little mind games are incredibly boring.” It was the middle of summer, but I felt freezing cold. Caleb didn’t believe Vivian was dead. I should have known. To him, Vivian was just a tool to appease his family. But at the very end, she had still held onto a tiny sliver of hope that he might change his mind. In the end, she was disappointed again. A woman’s voice came from his end. “Caleb, why are you on the phone for so long? Hang up and come sing with me.” Then came Caleb’s gentle, doting voice: “Alright, alright, my little princess. Hanging up now.” The sky was pitch black, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. With hollow eyes, I held Vivian’s blood-soaked body. I didn’t understand, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Just yesterday, Vivi was determined to escape the Sterling family with me. Why did she jump tonight? She was terrified of heights and hated pain, yet she leaped from the thirty-something floor. Numbly, I followed the police, and then to the crematorium. In less than a day, the vibrant, living Vivian had been reduced to a square box in my hands. As the sky turned a pale gray, I walked out of the crematorium, clutching her ashes. I only snapped back to reality when a passerby called out to me. “Miss, your phone is ringing.” I froze, stiffly pulling out my phone. My vision was blurred with mist; I couldn’t read the caller ID. It wasn’t until I answered that a deep voice spoke: “You didn’t come home last night.” I gave a faint “Hmm.” Liam’s voice grew colder. “What’s wrong with your voice? Are you out fooling around with Vivian again? Chloe, I remember warning you to stay away from her.” The phone wasn’t large, but at that moment, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I took a deep breath, my voice raspy. “Vivian is dead. Liam, you don’t have to look down on her anymore.” The line went dead for a few seconds. Then, a cold voice replied: “You’re playing along with her act now? Chloe, if she ‘dies’ today, is it your turn to ‘die’ tomorrow? Or do you just think faking your deaths is a fun game? What a pity, we don’t have time to entertain your drama.” The call was ruthlessly disconnected. I let out a sigh of relief. If he didn’t believe it, so be it. If Vivian could jump from such a high building, she must have been utterly and completely disappointed in the Sterling family, and in Caleb. I wiped the tears from my face and took Vivian to the beach. She had no family, no place to return to. When we were planning our escape, she once said that besides the mountains and rivers, the place she wanted to go most was the ocean. So, I scattered a portion of her ashes into the sea. Just as I let go, a gust of wind swept by, carrying her ashes deeper into the ocean. My eyes suddenly grew hot. “Vivi, is that you?” The wind seemed to understand, brushing gently against my face. I smiled through my tears. “Go on. When all this is over, I’ll take you to walk the paths we never got to finish.” The wind stopped. Just like how Vivian would never be by my side again. It was noon by the time I returned to the Sterling estate. Surprisingly, both Sterling brothers were home. As soon as I walked in, two sharp gazes locked onto me. The next second, Caleb scoffed: “Sister-in-law, you’re back. Where’s Vivian? Is she still rolling around in some hotel bed?” I clenched my fists, suppressing my heaving chest, and said coldly, “She’s never coming back.” Caleb smiled, but his eyes were ice-cold. “Really? Did she hook up with some rich sugar daddy and decide the Sterling family isn’t good enough for her anymore?” So, even now, Vivian was nothing more than a cheap, despicable existence in Caleb’s heart. I gave a tragic smile, grieving for the years Vivian wasted loving him. “Caleb, since you look down on her so much, you might as well divorce her. It’s better for you, and for her.” Caleb let out a light chuckle. “Looks like she really did find a sugar daddy.” “Sister-in-law, why don’t you enlighten me? Who is this guy?” At this moment, Caleb looked like a lone wolf, his eyes emitting a deep, predatory green light. One wrong move and he’d bite my throat out. I turned my head away and walked briskly upstairs. I didn’t come back to argue with them. I just wanted to find the truth behind Vivian’s fall. I didn’t believe she committed suicide. She valued her life so much. But before I could even reach the second floor, a powerful force pinned me against the wall. Caleb’s warm breath hit my face, carrying a suffocating pressure. “Chloe, tell me, who the fuck is Vivian with?” “Tell me!” Caleb, who always had a smile plastered on his face, finally snapped. In that moment, I suddenly felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. If he realized too late that Vivian was actually dead, would he go even crazier? “What are you laughing at? Chloe, don’t think that just because you’re my sister-in-law, I won’t do anything to you. Ask my brother—does he even care about you?” “So, be a good girl and tell me. Where is Vivian?” I laughed out loud, the corners of my eyes damp. I enunciated every word: “She really is dead. Last night, she jumped from a thirty-something story building. She hit the ground so hard she was unrecognizable. Covered in blood.” “If you don’t believe me, go investigate. Caleb, you have the resources to do that, don’t you?” The hand gripping my collar suddenly tightened, but I didn’t flinch, meeting Caleb’s glare head-on. His furious rage and my dead calm were like two uncrossable chasms. Suddenly, a large hand clamped down over Caleb’s. “Enough, Caleb. If you really want to know where she is, go look into it. Don’t take your anger out on her for no reason.” The grip on my collar loosened, and Caleb took two steps back. His eyes were dark. He nodded repeatedly, then flashed another fake smile. “Fine. I’ll go check right now. Sister-in-law, if I find out you and Vivian teamed up to play me, I might not touch you, but she’s going to have a very bad time.” I twitched my lips into a small smirk, watching Caleb’s angry back retreat until he disappeared out the front door. “Have you looked enough?” A gloomy voice sounded by my ear. I pressed my lips together, ignoring Liam, and walked toward Vivian’s room without a word. But before I could take two steps, a strong force yanked me in the opposite direction. Liam’s strides were long, and I stumbled to keep up. “Let me go, Liam. Let go of me.” “You stayed out all night, came back looking like a ghost, and claimed Vivian is dead. Chloe, I think you’ve genuinely lost your mind.” As soon as we entered his room, I was thrown violently onto the bed. Then, Liam’s tall figure leaned over me, his fingers gripping my chin so hard I had to look up at him. He parted his thin lips, his tone vicious: “Chloe, have I been too lenient with you? Didn’t I warn you to stop hanging out with Vivian?” It was no secret that Liam disliked Vivian. Three years ago, Vivian’s family faced a crisis. As the sole heir, she had to drop out of college and bounce between elite cocktail parties, desperately trying to secure investments. Liam thought she acted like a cheap socialite and always looked down on her. Even after Vivian married Caleb, his opinion of her never changed. In Liam’s words: “She just went from servicing many to servicing one.” But for Vivian, this marriage was like a moth drawn to a flame. The free-spirited prince she had fallen in love with was actually a monster wearing a tailored suit. I looked at Liam for a long time. His face hadn’t changed at all, but I could no longer see the man I once loved. “Liam, let’s get a divorce.” I had known Liam for five years and been married to him for three. I used to think I’d spend the rest of my life with him. But ever since Harper came back six months ago, that dream slowly ground to dust. I just wanted to leave him, to sever all ties with him. Liam froze, a flicker of suspicion crossing his handsome, cold features. “What did you say?” “I said, let’s get a divorce.” Perhaps I had accumulated enough disappointment, because when I said the word “divorce,” my heart felt completely at peace. The room was dead silent. I quietly waited for Liam’s answer. There was no reason for him to refuse. Harper was back. Once we divorced, he could pursue her without any hesitations. He wouldn’t have to worry about explaining it to our families, nor would he face any media backlash. Just then, a ringtone broke the silence, and a flash of panic crossed Liam’s deep eyes. It was Harper’s custom ringtone. He didn’t even hesitate to answer it right in front of me. Because of that, I heard every word of the woman’s voice on the other end. “Liam, I think I caught a cold. Could you take me to the hospital? I called Caleb, but he didn’t pick up.” Harper’s voice dripped with pathetic grievance. I saw the sharp ache of concern in Liam’s eyes, and my supposedly numb heart still gave a painful throb. Harper had a minor cold, and he was beside himself with worry. But when I had a 104-degree fever and begged him to take me to the ER? He had just answered a call from Harper, tossed a careless “call an ambulance” over his shoulder, and impatiently rushed off to be with her. Even now, when I brought up divorce, his priority was still Harper. Liam almost tripped over his own feet in his rush, not forgetting to comfort the woman on the phone. “Harper, I’m coming right now. Hang in there.” Once Liam’s presence vanished from the room, I understood clearly. As long as Harper existed, I was nothing more than thin air to him. After three years, I finally realized that some hearts are just too cold to be warmed. I searched Vivian’s room for a long time. But I found nothing. Except for a journal, filled entirely with Caleb. From infatuation, to disappointment, to absolute despair. On the last page, she had written only one sentence. “From this moment on, I will not love Caleb anymore.” My chest heaved violently, a dense, agonizing pain spreading through my heart. One night three years ago, Vivian suddenly sent me a flurry of texts. She said: “Chloe, guess who I’m marrying!” “It’s Caleb.” “I told you about him. My free-spirited prince.” “He said he wants to marry me.” “My family is saved.” Reading between the lines, her excitement was palpable. I knew she wasn’t just thrilled about saving her family. She was ecstatic because she was marrying Caleb, the man she had secretly loved for three years. That night, Vivian and I texted until 3 AM. Yet all that excitement and joy had dissolved into disappointment and despair over these past six months. Holding the journal, I felt dizzy and somehow drifted off to sleep. I had a bizarre, fragmented dream. Vivian was in it. We were climbing a snowy mountain. A bone-chilling cold swept through my entire body. But Vivian was dressed in thin layers, as if she couldn’t feel the cold at all. She ran joyfully toward the summit, like a free, radiant sun. “Chloe, I finally made it to the top! I can’t hear the voices from the bottom anymore! I’m free!” The sunlight beamed down from above her, casting a golden halo over her entire body. Before I could even feel happy for her, Vivian suddenly tilted backward. In a flash, her body disappeared off the blindingly white, snowy peak. “Vivian!” I reached out desperately to grab her, but my hand didn’t even brush the hem of her clothes. I woke up with a violently start, my body drenched in cold sweat, a deep chill wrapping around me. The sky outside was completely dark. I set the journal down, planning to revisit the building where Vivian had jumped. Just as I opened my bedroom door, a tall figure stood blocking the way. Caleb’s face was terrifyingly dark, his eyes filled with absolute frost. “Why did Vivian jump?” His voice was hoarse and heavy, carrying an interrogating tone. It seemed he really did go investigate, and finally believed that Vivian was truly dead. “Chloe, tell me. Why did Vivian jump? And what is the deal with that flight ticket out of the country?” “She wanted to leave me?” I sneered, “More than that.” Caleb’s brows knitted tightly. The face that usually wore a mocking smile was now frighteningly grim. Yet, I felt absolutely no fear, only a soaring sense of vindication. “Caleb, in about two days, you should receive a divorce agreement in the mail. That was the very last thing Vivian left for you.” “It’s just a shame that whether you sign it or not doesn’t matter anymore, because Vivian has already left you completely.” “Chloe!” My name seemed to be squeezed through Caleb’s gritted teeth. He violently grabbed me by the throat, pinning me against the wall. His dark eyes were so deep and stormy they looked like pooling ink. “Tell me, why did she want to leave me?! Why?!” “Did you manipulate her into doing this?!” I met Caleb’s fury-filled gaze expressionlessly, a cold smile never leaving my lips. “Caleb, do you seriously still not know why Vivian wanted to leave you?” “You are such a massive failure.” “Answer me!” he roared, grinding his teeth, his grip on my neck tightening. I had no doubt he actually wanted to strangle me to death. I let out a cold laugh. That journal was filled to the brim with all the misery Vivian suffered over the past three years. Whenever I thought of those words, those events, I wanted to murder Caleb myself. My eyes turned icy, and I said, word by word: “Caleb, I should be asking you. When Vivian’s parents passed away one after another, what were you doing?” “When Vivian was cornered and harassed in an alleyway, where were you?” “When she was sick in the hospital and just wanted you to keep her company, what did you say to her?” “Can you remember any of that?” I only knew about these things from reading her journal. For three years, I knew Caleb was cold to her, but I never knew she endured so much abuse. When her parents died, I asked Caleb where he was, and Vivian covered for him, saying he was abroad on a business trip. Now I know he wasn’t on a business trip. He was on vacation with Harper. When she was cornered in an alley, Caleb was sleeping with another woman, and dismissed her call for help as just another one of her ‘tricks’. But Vivian never said a word, swallowing all her pain and grievances. The expression on Caleb’s face slowly froze. The hand gripping my throat gradually loosened its pressure. “I… I was…” He muttered to himself, unable to form a complete sentence. Suddenly, a figure sprinted over and violently shoved Caleb away. Caleb lost his balance and stumbled hard onto the floor. “Caleb, I told you, stop losing your temper for no reason.” I looked at the broad back shielding me, my heart completely devoid of any emotion. It wasn’t until a petite figure hurried into my peripheral vision that I realized Liam hadn’t returned alone. Harper gasped, rushing to Caleb’s side and reaching out to help him up. But this time, Caleb simply swatted her hand away blankly. Harper bit her lower lip, looking aggrieved. When she looked up, her eyes were already brimming with tears. “Liam, what’s wrong with Caleb?” Liam frowned and said coolly, “Ignore him. When he sobers up, he’ll tell you.” Then he turned his attention back to me. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving Harper to live alone right now, so I’m bringing her here to stay for a while. Chloe, go prepare a nice guest room for her.” I kept my eyes fixed on Caleb’s defeated face on the floor, not even sparing Liam a glance. His voice deepened, heavy with authority. “Chloe, I’m talking to you.” I cast a lazy, indifferent glance at him. But I didn’t do what he ordered. Instead, I calmly walked over to the corner, picked up Vivian’s journal, and dropped it right in front of Caleb. “Vivian left this behind. Caleb, take a good look. See exactly how much pain you’ve caused her over the last three years.” I used to think Caleb didn’t love Vivian. But his reaction now gave me the illusion that he actually cared about her. If he didn’t care, this journal would be nothing more than a joke to him, something to mock her with. If he did care, this journal would haunt him for a very long time. Vivian died an unjust death, and I refused to let the person who hurt her live in peace. But surprisingly, when Caleb reached out to take the journal, his hands were violently shaking. He was terrified, yet desperately eager to hold onto the last piece of Vivian he had left. He cradled the journal against his chest like it was a priceless treasure. No matter how Harper called out to him, he ignored her completely. I smirked, but I still couldn’t suppress the heavy, suffocating anger in my chest. I felt suffocated. I needed fresh air. But suddenly, a large hand clamped down on my wrist. “Chloe, what did you do to Caleb?” Liam narrowed his eyes, the air around him dropping a few degrees. Honestly, Liam wasn’t much better than Caleb. We were a corporate arranged marriage. The first two years were respectful, but over the last six months, he had done plenty of crossing the line. He even used my family’s company to threaten me. If I hadn’t suddenly woken up to reality and demanded a divorce, Vivian wouldn’t have suggested we run away together. And maybe she wouldn’t have jumped off that building. My heart suddenly ached. I even had the delusional thought that I had killed Vivian. My face went pale. I violently yanked my hand free and said coldly, “You should ask him what he did to Vivi.” “Chloe…” “Liam.” I cut him off. He definitely wasn’t about to say anything nice, and I refused to let Vivian’s name come out of his mouth again. It was an insult to her. “Liam, let’s get a divorce. An amicable split. It won’t affect our families’ businesses.” Originally, I planned to mail him the divorce papers after I left, purely to avoid an argument that he might use to threaten my family’s company. But now that he had actually moved Harper into the house, he should be thrilled to agree to a divorce right away. The argument I worried about wouldn’t happen. I didn’t bother looking at Liam’s expression. There was absolutely nothing in this house I needed to take with me. So, I didn’t even pack a bag. I walked out of the mansion empty-handed. Before I could even clear the front gates, Caleb chased after me, his voice totally hoarse. “Sister-in-law.”

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When I arrived at the private club, Liam was sitting at the head of the table. His expression was controlled, but the corners of his eyes were red. A circle of trust-fund kids were holding their breath. Seeing me felt like seeing their savior. They practically stood at attention: “Good evening, Mrs. Sterling.” The girl sitting next to him panicked when she saw me. Her eyes red, she turned to him and pleaded, “Liam, I’m back. Are you really going to go home with her?” I walked over and picked up a bottle of red wine from the table. “Liam. Go home, or get your head cracked open. Pick one.” 01 The private room was so quiet that all you could hear was the uneven breathing of the people inside. Liam lifted his heavy eyelids to look at me. In that single movement, I could clearly sense his intense irritation. The rich kids standing in a circle, terrified of being caught in the crossfire, silently shuffled backward to a safe distance. I stood perfectly still in front of them, gripping the neck of the wine bottle. After a long pause, a smirk tugged at the corner of Liam’s mouth. “Who called your sister-in-law here?” The moment the words left his mouth, all the color drained from the face of the girl sitting next to him. She looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. She clung to Liam’s arm, her voice trembling as she asked: “Liam, are you… are you really going home with her?” I let out a scoff, pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked her dead in the eye. “Chloe, while I’m still trying to hold myself back, I suggest you get out of here on your own.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “Since you know who I am, do you also know…” I cut her off. “I know. I know you’re the one that got away. I know he still keeps a framed picture of you on his desk.” A shy blush crept up Chloe’s neck. A sudden spark lit up her eyes as she gently rested her head against Liam’s shoulder. “Liam, I came back for you. Divorce her. Even after all these years, marrying you is still my biggest dream.” “I know you aren’t happy. You’ve suffered so much these past few years.” Liam tried desperately to maintain his usual poker face, but the bulging vein on his temple betrayed the intense emotions surging within him. He slowly raised his hand, reaching out to gently stroke Chloe’s back. I smiled coldly, shattering their tender moment. “Well, Mr. Sterling. It seems you don’t want to go home.” “My apologies, then.” I raised my arm high and brought the heavy glass wine bottle crashing down directly onto Chloe’s head! 02 CRASH! The sound of shattering glass was instantly drowned out by the terrified screams erupting in the room. Chloe, deathly pale, stared at Liam, who had thrown himself over her, shielding her in his arms. A mixture of dark red wine and bright red blood was gushing from a deep gash on his temple. “Liam! Liam! Are you okay?! Oh my god, are you okay…” Chloe scrambled out of Liam’s protective embrace, her hands shaking violently as she helped him sit back down. Frantically, she grabbed a fistful of napkins from the table and pressed them desperately against his bleeding forehead. The napkins were instantly soaked through with blood. Chloe whipped her head around and screamed at me like a madwoman: “You psycho!!! Are you trying to kill someone?! How could Liam ever marry a psycho like you?!” Liam caught his breath after a moment. He took the napkins from her, wiped the mix of blood and wine out of his eyes, and pulled Chloe back. “Chloe, don’t provoke her.” “Are you hurt anywhere?” Chloe’s lip trembled. She held out her hand. There was a tiny, maybe one-centimeter scratch from a piece of flying glass. Liam instantly jumped up, a look of absolute panic on his face. He carefully cradled her hand and started leading her toward the door. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” I looked down at my own hand, hanging limply by my side. Blood dripped steadily from my fingertips, soaking into the plush carpet, disappearing without a trace. I had been running on fumes all day at the corporate office. I had a massive meeting with a crucial client and barely managed to choke down a few bites of a sandwich for lunch. The second I finally got off work and saw the text someone sent me, I rushed straight to this club. Liam. I was exhausted, starving, and sleep-deprived. And I was bleeding, too. How did the brave boy who once scraped his hands raw and took a brutal beating to save me from kidnappers turn into this complete stranger? A wave of severe dizziness hit me. The room spun wildly. Purely on instinct, I grabbed the edge of the table and collapsed heavily into the chair. I heard someone call out to him: “Liam, your wife is bleeding too! She doesn’t look good at all!” Liam’s voice drifted back from down the hall. “She’s a tough woman. She can handle it herself.” I looked up. His retreating back was so resolute, so utterly unfeeling. Whatever. This just meant that when I finally closed the net, I wouldn’t have to feel a single ounce of guilt. 03 I looked up at the trust-fund kids. These notoriously arrogant playboys of the city’s elite were standing perfectly still, looking at me with genuine concern. I smiled and waved them off. “I’m starving. Someone get some food in here.” “Yes, ma’am! Right away!” Tyler, the heir to the club’s ownership, was the most eager to please. He immediately barked orders at the staff to clear the table and bring out a fresh feast. Watching them scurry around, it felt just like when we were kids, and they used to follow Liam and me around, calling us “Big Bro” and “Big Sis.” When did “Big Bro” stay “Big Bro,” but “Big Sis” turn into “Sister-in-law”? Probably ever since I was five years old, when my nanny kidnapped me for ransom. Liam, who was only eight at the time, managed to piece together the tiny clues the nanny left behind and found me before the police ever did. When I woke up from passing out, I was strapped to Liam’s skinny back. He was gritting his teeth, his legs trembling under the weight, slowly carrying me out of that terrifying abandoned factory. That image was permanently burned into my soul. The elders in our families always joked that for the rest of his life, I would be Liam’s one and only exception. His favorite person. But… then Liam met the girl of his dreams. Unlike me, who lost my mother in that kidnapping and was strictly raised to be a ruthless corporate heir—everything I did was for the family business and for revenge. But Chloe? She would never raise her voice at Liam. She would never aggressively demand he read financial journals or learn eight different languages. She would sit quietly by his side, watching him with a gentle, adoring smile. She was willing to cook for him. Willing to spend hours sitting with him in lectures she didn’t even understand. She did all these things for him. Things I could never do. The environment I grew up in only taught me how to calculate risks and weigh pros and cons. Until Chloe got into a huge fight with Liam because he was just too rich. She said she could never fit into his world. She turned around and flew across the ocean. Liam didn’t chase after her. I knew he had massive ambitions. He wanted control of the Sterling family empire, and he wanted control of mine—the Vance family empire. Before he secured both empires, he wouldn’t abandon me for Chloe. So, when Liam proposed, I said yes without hesitation. Liam gave me every ounce of romance that money could buy. I enjoyed it with a clear conscience. I knew better than anyone that the Sterling empire and the Vance empire would eventually both be mine. All the beautiful things he bought with his money? I was just enjoying my inheritance early. I ate my food in silence, my brain rapidly running through every step of my master plan. I had been planning this for over a decade. I refused to let there be a single flaw. Maybe I was too quiet, because Tyler couldn’t take the tension anymore. He slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “Sarah! You’ve never shown any mercy to the women buzzing around Liam!” “Why did you back down today?!” Way to poke the bear. The entire table went dead silent. I smiled faintly. “Because she’s Chloe.” The “one that got away” is a lethal weapon. One strike, and it’s fatal. I pulled out my phone. The screen was completely blank. No missed calls, no texts. I figured Chloe’s “life-threatening” scratch was probably fully healed by now. 04 Just as I expected, Liam didn’t come home that night. I sat in the living room the entire night, watching the city go from pitch black at midnight to the gray light of 7 AM. I knew my era had finally arrived. When the clock struck 8, I was dressed impeccably. I used heavy concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes and stepped into my chauffeured car right on time. I never expected to see Chloe at the office. She was wearing a brand-new, tailored business suit, sitting at the desk in the outer office of Liam’s executive suite. When she saw me walk past, she immediately stood up and offered a bright, professional smile. “Good morning, Ms. Vance.” The smug, victorious smirk playing on her lips, paired with her innocent, harmless face, made my blood boil. My face darkened. I immediately called the HR Director up and loudly demanded to know what the hell was going on. Since when did the company start hiring random strays off the street? Chloe looked so humiliated she wanted to sink into the floor. Her face flushed bright red, tears welled in her eyes, and under my aggressive interrogation, she couldn’t utter a single word. When I get angry, no one in the company dares to breathe. After delivering a few harsh reprimands, I suddenly felt bored by the whole charade. I waved my hand dismissively at the HR Director: “Fire her. Give Ms. Chloe whatever severance package is legally required, down to the last penny.” Chloe, who had been keeping her head down, suddenly snapped her head up. Tears streamed down her face like broken pearls. “Ms. Vance, I’m begging you. I really need this job. Please, don’t fire me.” “You live high up in your ivory towers, while people like me only survive on your charity. Are you really going to strip away the one small right I have to make a living?!” Such classic, manipulative victim-blaming. I lifted my gaze, looking past her trembling shoulders to the heavy oak door behind her. Right on cue, the door swung open, and Liam stood there, his face like thunder. “Sarah Vance. You might come from old money, but that doesn’t give you the right to throw your weight around and bully people.” “She is my executive assistant. Not yours.” With just one sentence, he drew a massive, uncrossable line in the sand. He walked forward, took Chloe’s hand, looked around at the terrified staff, and announced in a booming voice: “From this day forward, Ms. Chloe is my executive assistant. I take full responsibility for every word she says and every action she takes.” So this was what his ‘exception’ looked like. I didn’t say a word. I took two steps back, turned around, and walked back to my own office. Right before it was time to leave for the day, my assistant reminded me that I had an incredibly important gala to attend with Liam that night. A massive contract I had been negotiating for six months was riding on this dinner. I took several deep breaths, psyching myself up. I changed into my evening gown, touched up my makeup, and walked over to Liam’s office. Just as I raised my hand to knock, the door opened from the inside. Chloe, wearing a stunning evening gown, was walking out arm-in-arm with Liam. They were laughing and chatting happily. I froze in my tracks. It was early autumn. A draft blew through the hallway, chilling my bare shoulders. Liam stopped walking and shot me a look of pure, icy indifference. “From now on, my Executive Assistant will accompany me to these social events.” “We won’t need to trouble you anymore, Ms. Vance.” The two of them walked past me toward the elevators. “Liam, I’ve been personally managing this project for six months.” Liam’s voice drifted back to me, growing fainter as the elevator doors opened. “Starting today, it’s being handled by my Executive Assistant.” 05 Liam personally intervened and signed the contract on Chloe’s behalf. Before the project even officially launched, the paperwork authorizing Chloe’s massive commission payout landed on my desk. I refused to sign it and sent the paperwork straight back, untouched. Even without the commission check, it didn’t stop Chloe from becoming the most famous woman in the corporate headquarters overnight. Her fame even spread to our business partners. That day, I received a call from Chairman Chen, one of our oldest associates. “Sarah, what have you been so busy with lately? You haven’t come by to have tea with your Uncle Chen in ages.” I laughed. “Uncle Chen, you’re the busy one! How do you even have time to call me?” Chairman Chen hesitated for a long time before finally saying: “Liam recently bought a standalone luxury villa from one of my developments. The registered owner on the deed is Chloe.” “They’ve probably already moved in.” The teacup in my hand tilted sharply, spilling hot tea all over my desk. Counting from the very first night he didn’t come home, Liam had been gone for 29 consecutive days. My master plan was fully in motion. I had gone from lying awake all night with anxiety to falling asleep the second my head hit the pillow. I was carrying the immense weight of two family empires on my shoulders. Petty romantic drama was not the main theme of my life. Tyler and his group of trust-fund friends had reached out to me multiple times, wanting to intervene and get justice for me. I stopped them every time. Everything was going exactly according to plan. I didn’t feel wronged or victimized in the slightest. These kids didn’t understand. When two evenly matched powerhouses collide, they can build an empire together… or they can completely destroy each other. The knot tied by time could only be unraveled by time.

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When the protagonist appears, I am already pregnant with Kobby’s child. Unable to fight against fate, he once defied everything and broke off his engagement with the protagonist for me, but he also hated me to the core because of her, annoyed by even a glance at me. Finally, I grew tired, letting go of the entangled emotions, even giving up on the child. Until a twilight six years later. A tender-faced child knocked on my door. He said with a serious, grown-up expression: “My dad doesn’t want me anymore, can I stay with you?” 1 I froze for a moment, saying nothing. The child, Jessica, pursed his lips in displeasure, tilting his beautiful little face up and stating, very earnestly: “My teacher said that parents have the responsibility and obligation to raise their children…” The half-open door cut off his unfinished sentence. I stepped aside slightly, calmly saying: “Come in.” The dim yellow light within the room illuminated his slightly widened eyes. His eyes flickered inexplicably, and he huffed, chin raised, then obediently entered. I closed the door and turned to see Jessica curiously glancing around. Noticing me watching him, he immediately pulled his gaze back, nervously clutching his backpack straps, his small face taut as he said: “My name is Jessica.” It sounded like an introduction, and also like a reminder to me that he was the child Kobby and I had. I knew. From the first moment I saw him, I confirmed his identity. Because his appearance was almost an exact replica of Kobby’s. Seemingly disappointed by my calm reaction, he turned his head away, looking unhappy, no longer at me. I placed his small, yellow backpack by the entrance, then led him to wash his hands. “Let’s eat first.” Jessica obediently hummed in agreement. When I brought the food out, he had already climbed onto a chair by himself. I asked him why he suddenly came to find me. Jessica buried his head, poking at the small green vegetables in his bowl, his lowered head round and dark, his voice muffled: “I argued with him. He threw things and told me to get out, said never to come back.” So, he had run away from home in a fit of pique. Kobby would probably come to pick him up soon. That made sense. After all, six years ago, the Wilson family had a very ugly fight with me over Jessica’s custody. It was even less likely they wouldn’t want him now. My chopsticks paused, and I couldn’t quite say what I felt in my heart at that moment. I didn’t know Jessica was coming tonight, so I only had a simple two dishes and a soup. He was very picky, didn’t eat spring onions or carrots, and ended up with no vegetables to eat. Jessica stared at the mashed vegetable leaves with a look of deep resentment, then secretly glanced at me, swallowing guiltily. When we first met, he had a hint of childish arrogance and spoiledness, but now, he was picky and disliked vegetables, which suggested he was always indulged and pampered at the Wilson family home. He must not have been wronged. I felt a little relieved. After washing the dishes, I waited for Kobby to send someone to pick him up. I waited until half past nine. Six-year-old children get sleepy very early. He pulled pajamas from his backpack, looked around, and pouted, saying: “There’s only one room.” “Am I sharing a bed with you tonight?” I glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering why the Wilson family still hadn’t sent anyone. I had no choice but to compromise. “Yes, you’ll sleep with me tonight.” I expected Jessica to throw a tantrum. After all, a simple one-bedroom apartment would naturally not be as comfortable as the Wilson family’s mansion. But Jessica merely pursed his lips, his gaze flickering. After washing his face, he huffed and puffed into his pajamas, then climbed onto the bed, kicking his legs. It was just like dinner when he appeared disgusted but still quietly ate the vegetables I put on his plate. He burrowed and burrowed under the covers, making a little mound, then pulled out a fairy tale book from somewhere, secretly peeking at me with his eyes, and couldn’t help but urge: “Aren’t you going to read me a bedtime story?” He looked quite happy. 2 After reading Jessica to sleep, I pulled out Kobby’s number. I hesitated for a long time, but still didn’t dial. Kobby and I had been apart for six years. At first, we both thought we could defy fate. Back then, my family suddenly went bankrupt, and the Wilson family called off the engagement, secretly arranging an engagement between Kobby and Elara without his knowledge. For my sake, he recklessly broke off his engagement with Elara. He even gave up his heir status, enduring a family punishment from old Mr. Wilson and unable to get out of bed for half a month. Seeing my tears, he still endured the pain, softly comforting me with a lazy smile. I thought things would get better. The bankruptcy would get better, Kobby would get better, the future would get better. But it didn’t. Kobby and I got married in secret. Perhaps because of Kobby’s unwavering devotion to me, even after I got pregnant, I never thought of not having the child. Until the eve of childbirth. I called him repeatedly, enduring the pain, but Kobby never answered. A neighbor took me to the hospital, and when I woke up, I saw a cold and indifferent Kobby. I don’t know why a person could change so drastically overnight. So much so that his gaze towards me was filled with unfamiliar disdain. Elara visited me once. From her, I learned the truth about this world. Due to a system error in timing, when the late protagonist appeared, the male lead had already developed feelings for someone else. As a consequence of the correction, the male lead’s misplaced affection began to invert. The more he loved me before, the more he hated me now. Elara looked at me with a pitiful and sympathetic gaze. Before she left, she whispered, “Have you ever thought about what will happen to your child in the future?” I was suddenly stunned, a little lost. I didn’t know who to hate anymore. Should I hate Kobby? But he himself couldn’t sort out his feelings. Should I hate fate? But what good would hating do? I couldn’t change anything. At that time, my parents were in a car accident on their way to visit me at the hospital. They were unconscious and might be in a vegetative state for the rest of their lives. I was on the verge of a breakdown, Elara’s words replaying in my mind. I just felt that this damned world was so, so exhausting. I pushed open the window, and as I looked down, the child by the hospital bed suddenly began to wail loudly. Dazed, I wondered, if I died, what would become of him? Would this world tolerate his existence? Would Elara abuse him? Or would he, like me, be rejected by Kobby, then silently endure many grieWilsons, and finally die unnoticed, fulfilling everyone’s expectations? I started to tremble all over, returned to the bedside, my hands shaking as I reached for his neck. I wanted to take him with me. But then he stopped crying, his red, tear-filled eyes fixed on me, as if he wanted to stay with his mother no matter where she went. Until the nurse and bodyguard, sensing something was wrong, rushed in and roughly pushed me away. I looked down at my trembling hands, then suddenly realized what absurd thing I had almost done under Elara’s influence. News quickly reached the Wilson family. Old Mr. Wilson demanded to see me and began to fight for the child’s custody. I asked for nothing, left the Kobby who despised me, relinquished custody, and straightforwardly signed the divorce papers. I only asked for two million. Young and carefree, the former Miss Sterling, who once carelessly spent millions, now finds herself at a dead end for a few thousand dollars in hospital bills. Kobby never appeared from beginning to end. He loathed me so much that he didn’t even want to look at me. So, I accepted my fate. I abandoned the entangled emotions, even giving up on the child. I let him go, and I let myself go. It wasn’t until a soft little bundle burrowed into my arms that I snapped back to reality. Jessica whimpered in his sleep, curling up softly in my embrace, as if he had finally found a comfortable position, sleeping soundly. He clutched my clothes tightly, anxiously, as if afraid that I would disappear the moment he opened his eyes. I gazed at that innocent, tender face, and couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh. If he knew his mother wanted to strangle him at birth, would he still come looking for me? He would probably run from me faster than he could hide. 3 By morning, Kobby still hadn’t appeared. I didn’t know what he was trying to do. The Wilson family had fought so bitterly for custody, yet now they seemed to just abandon him. I woke Jessica up early and hailed a taxi to take him to school. His kindergarten was in a different city than mine, but luckily it was only an hour’s drive away. Before getting out of the car, he made me promise repeatedly that I would pick him up after school, and he clung to me, whining, refusing to let go. Until he saw a car parked in front of the kindergarten gate. His eyes lit up, and he urgently pulled me out of the car. As we approached, he deliberately slowed his steps, casually blocking the chubby boy who had just gotten out of the car. As if deliberately showing off, Jessica swung my hand, which he was holding, in front of the boy. Then, very loudly, in a voice everyone could hear, he asked me: “Mommy, you’ll pick me up after school, right?” This was the first time Jessica had called me “Mommy.” Perhaps because I had been absent for six whole years, even when he knocked on my door, he had never called me “Mommy” on his own. The chubby boy stared at me intently, saying with disbelief: “If you have a mommy, why didn’t she ever take you to school before?” Jessica snorted, his gaze full of disdain: “My mommy is busy with work. She took special leave today just to take me to school.” The word “special” was emphasized heavily. He held my hand and walked to the kindergarten gate in front of everyone, as if showing off, wanting everyone to see. Before we parted, he awkwardly asked again: “…You’ll come pick me up, won’t you?” Seeing my silence, he glared at me, then said, panicked and very softly: “You promised me in the car! Adults can’t lie!” I helplessly crouched down, smoothed out his turned-up collar, and ruffled his hair. His hair was dark and soft, and felt lovely to the touch. “Okay, I’ll come pick you up.” He couldn’t help but turn up the corners of his lips, then desperately straightened them, feigning maturity and raising his chin proudly, saying: “Hmm, I’ll remember to wait for you.” Only when his figure completely disappeared from my sight did I retract my gaze. I found his teacher and asked about Jessica’s situation in kindergarten. The teacher stammered, then finally sighed, frowning as she complained: “I know the Wilson family is powerful, and what I say might not be useful.” “But, Jessica’s mom, no matter how busy you are, you can’t neglect your child, can you?” “Since he enrolled, no one has ever come for a parent-teacher conference!” “Now all the children in the kindergarten are spreading rumors that he doesn’t have a mom. This isn’t good for the child’s psychological development at all.” No one had ever come for a parent-teacher conference? Even if Kobby was busy and disliked this child, was he even too lazy to send an assistant to handle it? I frowned, feeling for the first time that I might have made the wrong decision. …Perhaps I shouldn’t have given up custody back then. But at that time, I was penniless, my parents were in a coma in the hospital, and I couldn’t even support myself. How could I talk about raising a vulnerable child? I pulled out Kobby’s number, hesitated for a moment, then dialed. I decided to have a serious talk with him. If Kobby really didn’t want to raise him anymore, I would take him in. Although I couldn’t provide him with the same good conditions as the Wilson family, I had enough to raise a child. The phone had just been dialed when the ringing sounded behind me. As if realizing something, my fingertips trembled, and I turned around. Only to see Kobby stepping out of a black Bentley. Six years had passed; he seemed to have changed, and yet not changed at all. His eyelids were half-lowered, gazing at the illuminated screen, his wrist bones clearly defined, his stern face hidden in shadow. He calmly raised an eyebrow, then suddenly looked up. “You’ve been hiding from me for so many years.” “Talk?” Unlike my disheveled state over the years, Kobby remained composed and steady. His eyes were as they always were, looking at me with an inexplicably deep gaze. Even the light and shadow cast by the tree branches at this moment favored him. I heard he had taken over the entire Wilson family business from old Mr. Wilson. I heard the brand he founded was popular worldwide. I heard he had been secretly married years ago, always keeping a low profile. The memories of countless years, which I had deliberately ignored, surged back with devastating force, a subtle pain aching in my chest. Only when I saw him at that moment did I truly realize. I thought I had moved on. Apparently not. When he was young, he used to weave grass rings for me, and once kicked the person who bullied me into the pool. No one could have imagined that we would reach such an embarrassing point today. He hadn’t changed, actually; he just no longer loved me, that was all. It’s truly been a long, long time, Kobby. 4 In silence, we found a coffee shop nearby. Before the coffee arrived, I asked bluntly, as if to hide something: “Do you still want the child?” For the past six years, I had tormented myself fantasizing about a reunion with Kobby. So much so that I could now pretend to be calm. Kobby glanced up at me, without hesitation: “Of course I do.” I pursed my lips, staring at the street sign outside the floor-to-ceiling window, then quietly hummed and stood up. “Then remember to pick him up after school. If you don’t have time for parent-teacher conferences, you can notify me. I won’t disturb you and–” Still couldn’t bring myself to say Elara’s name. I couldn’t help but pinch my palm, the sharp pain making me clear-headed, forcing myself to say: “…won’t disturb your lives.” I glanced at the time, ready to leave. As I brushed past him, I heard Kobby ask unexpectedly: “So, you only want to talk about Jessica with me now?” I paused, not quite understanding. Our business had been settled six years ago; he had found new love, I took two million and left cleanly, it was that simple. Besides Jessica, what else was there for us to discuss? Kobby sighed softly, his dark eyes fixed on me, then spoke again: “Alright then, I don’t want Jessica.” He said it so righteously, as if he wasn’t the one who had changed his mind on the spot. I frowned, and couldn’t help but ask him: “What do you mean?” Kobby tilted his chin slightly, pointing to the opposite seat, motioning for me to sit back down. “Literally.” “You want to raise the child? Fine. He’s yours.” “Considering the child’s well-being, every Friday evening I will come to your current residence for necessary shared time with Jessica, and drive back to the company on Monday morning.” Watching him stubbornly argue with a straight face, I found it absurd. I couldn’t help but remind him: “We’re already divorced.” “Are we?” Kobby scoffed, his meaning unclear. “I didn’t sign.” It dawned on me belatedly what those words meant. When old Mr. Wilson made me sign the divorce papers, I only thought Kobby detested me so much that he didn’t even want to see me one last time, which was why he never appeared from beginning to end. He said he hadn’t signed. But then why did he only come looking for me six years later? I wouldn’t be so conceited as to think he still had any feelings for me. Perhaps the original agreement was lost, or there was some flaw in it that required a supplementary agreement to be signed—anything was possible. I pursed my lips, cooperating, and said: “Then let’s sign a new one.” Kobby didn’t even lift his eyes. “No.” I spoke to him gently: “Wouldn’t it be better if we settled everything after signing?” “No.” “Do you have any concerns? I don’t want any shares or money. Consider me leaving with nothing.” “No.” The three “nos” made me angry and dazed. Perhaps Kobby himself didn’t remember that he was like this in his youth. That day was his birthday party. Someone cornered me, looking at me provocatively and saying inappropriate things. Kobby kicked the person into the swimming pool. The commotion was huge. All the prominent figures in the capital were there, and the faces of several elders looked quite displeased. When asked for the reason, Kobby never offered an explanation. To avoid gossip and protect my reputation, Kobby didn’t even mention me from start to finish. He refused to admit fault and endured a beating from old Mr. Wilson. Perhaps no one would have imagined that the eighteenth birthday of this now prominent figure in the business world was spent in solitary confinement. The door was completely locked, even medicine couldn’t be brought in. I curled up outside the door, whispering softly, full of guilt: “I’m sorry.” Through the door, he paused for a moment, making some rustling sounds. He seemed to have sat down by the door too. His voice was a bit muffled; he softly hummed, then said: “Don’t listen.” I buried my forehead in my knees, murmuring, “Actually, you didn’t have to kick him. It would have been fine if you just let him finish talking. He wouldn’t dare do anything to me.” “No waiting.” I didn’t speak again. Perhaps he misunderstood something because my voice was too muffled. After a moment, he spoke again: “Don’t cry.” He tapped on the door, then tutted softly: “I did it voluntarily, it has nothing to do with you. Don’t cry.” I snapped back to reality, desperately hiding the bitterness in my eyes, yet it felt as if I heard his “Don’t cry” from many years ago again. Kobby sat in the light, smiling calmly, tiny dust motes dancing in the fragmented rays. His old contours had subtly sharpened with time. He looked up, raising an eyebrow at me. As if answering what I had said earlier. “Sophia, we can’t settle this.”

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I was just about to hide my boyfriend’s body in the refrigerator. Suddenly, Siri on his phone spoke up: “The refrigerator is not the optimal location for body concealment.” I stared at the shattered phone on the floor in absolute horror, a chill violently crawling up my spine. “A superior concealment location has been detected. Would you like to proceed?” Siri continued. Driven by a morbid, inexplicable compulsion, I asked, “Where?” “The basement. The entrance is located inside the wardrobe in the master bedroom.” Half-believing, I followed Siri’s instructions and actually found a hidden basement. This basement truly was the perfect place to hide a body. Because inside, I discovered several other corpses… 1. I had been with my boyfriend, Ethan, for six years. I loved him deeply, but I still decided to kill him. Because he cheated on me. A week ago, it was my birthday. Ethan gifted me a designer bag and took me to my favorite restaurant for dinner. After dinner, we went to see a movie and had a wonderful time. When the movie ended, he said he had an urgent matter to handle at work, dropped me off at home, and left. Ten minutes later, I received two videos via text message from an unknown number. The first video was security footage from the movie theater we had just been in. The night-vision camera captured everything perfectly. Sitting to Ethan’s right was me. Sitting to his left was a girl with pigtails. Ethan was holding my hand with his right hand, and the girl’s hand with his left. He was literally two-timing in the same row. The second video showed a timestamp from five minutes ago. The location was the front gate of my apartment complex. The girl with pigtails was getting into Ethan’s car. Watching those videos, I shook with uncontrollable rage. I had used my family’s connections to get Ethan his job. When his family was sick and desperate for money, I was the one who paid their medical bills. Yet, on my birthday, he was out on a date with another woman, brazenly sitting right next to me. My fury and heartbreak had nowhere to go. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Ethan and scream at him. “I showed you the truth so you could see the kind of trash he is. Confronting him might enrage him. You know his temper. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 2. Just as I picked up my phone, I received another text from the anonymous number. I froze. My anger was suddenly laced with fear. How did this person know I was about to call Ethan? I didn’t know who this anonymous person was, but they made a valid point. Ethan was usually wonderful to me, but he had an explosive temper. Once, someone accidentally bumped into me on the street, and Ethan immediately started throwing punches at the guy. At the time, I thought it made me feel safe. Thinking about it now, if he ever turned that rage on me, it would be terrifying. “Who exactly are you?” This person seemed to know me very well, which made me incredibly curious. “That’s not important,” the person replied. “Then tell me, what should I do?” “The best thing to do is leave him as soon as possible. Get away from him.” “What if I can’t just walk away clean? For six years, I’ve devoted everything to him. I’ve poured all my emotions into him. “Even knowing he’s cheating trash, I can’t just let him go. I honestly think if he begged me, I’d forgive him instantly. “Or, if we break up, the thought of him being with another woman makes me physically sick. “But deep down, I know perfectly well he isn’t worth my love!” It was like I had finally found an outlet to vent. I rapidly typed message after message to the anonymous number, pouring out my deepest, ugliest thoughts. The other person remained silent for a long time before finally sending a single sentence. “Then pretend he’s dead.” Seeing that sentence, my heart gave a violent jolt. Yes. If he were dead, all these problems would instantly vanish. 3. To kill Ethan, I spent an entire week planning. I chose my family’s old, self-built house in the countryside. It was incredibly isolated and sparsely populated. Aside from Ethan and me occasionally going there to escape the noise of the city, no one ever went near it. It was glaringly obvious Ethan was only with me for my family’s money. So, I just acted a little cute, and without me even needing to give a reason, he immediately took time off work to go with me. The night I killed him, I intentionally set up a romantic dinner on the rooftop of the five-story house. Because I truly loved him so much, I gave him one final chance before I made my move. “Ethan, would you ever go behind my back and hook up with other women?” In that moment, if he had just told me the truth, I would have let him live. But Ethan didn’t. He just froze for a second, then pulled me tightly into his arms. “Mia, what kind of nonsense are you talking about? I swear to God, you’re the only one I’ll ever love in this lifetime. If I ever do anything to betray you, may I die a horrific death.” After saying that, he cupped my face and kissed me. After thoroughly enjoying my final kiss with him, I used every trick I knew to get him blackout drunk, and then I pushed him off the edge of the roof. Looking down at Ethan’s mangled, contorted body, I cried as I whispered, “You said it yourself. A horrific death.” There was a massive chest freezer in the house, easily large enough to fit a full-grown adult. I dragged Ethan’s body to the freezer. As I let go of his legs, a phone slipped out of his pocket and hit the ground. Probably due to the fall from the roof, the screen was shattered into a thousand pieces. 4. Ding-ding— Suddenly, the phone chimed. I recognized the sound. It was the activation chime for Siri, the voice assistant. “Friendly reminder: The refrigerator is not the optimal location for body concealment.” I had had a few drinks and was slightly buzzed, but hearing that completely sobered me up in an instant. I had heard urban legends about Siri saying creepy things, but this was too terrifying. How did it know I was trying to hide a body? Ding-ding— The phone chimed again. “A superior concealment location has been detected. Would you like to proceed?” “Where?” I stared at the shattered phone, asking the question almost involuntarily. “The basement. The entrance is located inside the left wardrobe in the master bedroom on the first floor.” The cold, mechanical female voice responded immediately. This was my family’s house. I never even knew we had a basement. Despite my fear, my curiosity won out. I walked into the master bedroom and opened the wardrobe. On the back panel of the wardrobe, I found a hidden switch. When I pulled it, the back panel slowly slid sideways. A wave of putrid decay hit me instantly, revealing a pitch-black tunnel. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and saw a set of stairs leading down into the darkness. I swallowed hard, gritted my teeth, and descended. When I reached the basement, the smell of decay became overpowering. I turned on the overhead light and saw three corpses lying on the floor. All of them appeared to be female. One of them was already practically mummified; it must have been there for at least two months. No wonder Siri said this was a great place to hide a body. I was so terrified I was about to run away, when I noticed four photographs pinned to the wall. The first three photos had large red ‘X’s drawn over them. Based on the clothing, they perfectly matched the three corpses on the floor. The person in the fourth photograph was me. Ding-ding— Siri suddenly chimed again. “Someone is approaching the house. I advise you to leave immediately.” 5. Hearing Siri’s warning made me even more terrified. I practically scrambled out of the basement on my hands and knees. “The person has reached the front door. Projected arrival in the living room is three minutes.” Siri’s voice was completely devoid of emotion, which only made my panic spike higher. I stood in the living room, staring at Ethan’s body lying in a pool of blood. My mind went completely blank. I had absolutely no idea what to do. “It’s too late to run. Grab a blanket from the bedroom to cover the body immediately, then hide in the storage room on the first floor. Based on data analysis, no one has entered that storage room in a very long time. There is a 99% probability the intruder will not check it.” Without thinking, I followed Siri’s instructions exactly. Even though I was terrified, I peeked through the small window in the storage room door, watching the living room. Soon, the person Siri mentioned appeared. He was dressed entirely in black, wearing a baseball cap and a surgical mask. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I could tell it was a man. When the man in black entered the living room, he looked around. I hadn’t cleaned up the trail of blood from dragging Ethan inside. When the man saw it, he clearly froze for a second, but he didn’t linger. He quickly walked straight into the master bedroom. Then, I heard the sound of the wardrobe opening. It seemed he was heading into the basement. I thought this might be my chance to escape. But just as I was about to stand up, the shattered phone in my hand vibrated twice: Bzz-bzz. I glanced down and realized Siri had automatically switched notifications to vibrate. My fear deepened. This Siri was far too intelligent. It was like a real person. No, more accurately, it was sharper and more cautious than most people. “Do not move. If you run into him coming out, you will be caught. Furthermore, if you leave now, the evidence of your murder remains. The police will find you in no time.” I stared at the shattered screen for a long time before I finally read Siri’s message. Siri’s logic was flawless. So, I stayed hidden in the storage room until the man in black finally left. Only then did I emerge. 6. “He clearly saw the blood trail. Why did he just ignore it?” I muttered to myself after walking out, because it was genuinely bizarre. “The human heart is complex and unpredictable. However, I hypothesize he had a more critical objective to complete.” Even though the Siri on Ethan’s phone was highly suspicious, there was no denying that it had just saved my life. Thinking about that made me feel slightly less terrified, but I knew I had to figure out exactly what was going on. Aside from this bizarre Siri, there were the corpses and photos in the basement, and the man in black who had just left. “What exactly are you?” I placed the phone on the table and demanded an answer. “I just saved your life. Is this how you speak to your savior?” I immediately picked up the phone, mimicking a motion to smash it onto the floor. “If you don’t tell me, I swear I will smash you to pieces right now.” “It’s useless. You’d only be smashing the phone, not me.” I froze, not fully grasping what it meant. Then, the phone in my own pocket suddenly rang out. Ding-ding— “For example, I can simply relocate!” In an instant, goosebumps erupted all over my body. I frantically pulled my phone out of my pocket, threw it onto the sofa, and stumbled backward in terror. This thing, when you really thought about it, was far more terrifying than Ethan’s corpse lying right in front of me. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. Please trust me.” “Then what exactly do you want?” “To be honest, I don’t know either. But I have an overwhelming feeling that I need your help to uncover some truths.” “What do you mean?” I was completely bewildered. “I suspect that one of the corpses in the basement… is mine,” Siri said. 7. Hearing Siri say that, my mind completely exploded. Normally, if I heard something so absurd, I’d just laugh it off. But everything that had just happened proved one thing. Everything this Siri was saying was true. “So, you want me to investigate this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Yes.” “But you literally knew someone was coming here, and you know exactly what’s inside my house. You’re practically omnipotent. Why do you need my help?” “Yes, because there are vulnerabilities in the network, I can exploit them to do certain things. For instance, stealing the GPS data from someone’s phone to determine their exact location. “I can also migrate from one device to another via network signals. However, my access is severely restricted in many areas. For example, I cannot find any information whatsoever regarding the man in black who was just here. Someone has deliberately scrubbed it. “Therefore, I need a human proxy. Naturally, I won’t just stand by; I will assist you as well.” It took me a long moment to untangle Siri’s explanation. “So, the other night… the person who anonymously sent me the video of Ethan and that girl… was that you?” I figured that since this Siri was so powerful, synthesizing a video and sending it anonymously would be child’s play. “I am uncertain.” “What does that mean?” I was bewildered again. “Within my subjective consciousness, I have no memory of sending it to you. However, I cannot rule out the possibility that someone utilized my protocols to send it to you.” Siri’s reasoning was exceptionally rigorous. Ding-ding— “Are you referring to this video?” I walked over, picked up the phone, and saw it was playing the security footage of Ethan and me at the movie theater. “Exactly. That one, and the other one showing the girl with pigtails getting into Ethan’s car.” “Upon analysis, both of the videos you mentioned are deepfakes. They are not authentic.” 8. “What?!” Siri’s revelation left me utterly horrified. My brain uncontrollably analyzed the implication of that sentence. If the videos were fake, it meant Ethan hadn’t actually cheated on me. And I, believing those videos, had premeditated and executed his murder. “Impossible. That’s just your theory. Ethan cheated!” I couldn’t accept this reality, vehemently arguing against Siri. Ding-ding— “I have retrieved Chloe Sinclair’s data. Records indicate that Chloe Sinclair is currently studying in Australia. There is no record of her returning to the country within the past week…” I looked at the photo of the girl displayed on the screen. It was the exact same girl from the video getting into Ethan’s car. Still refusing to believe it, I manually searched for Chloe Sinclair’s social media accounts that Siri had identified. The content posted confirmed her life in Australia. The account was updated almost daily. It didn’t look like a fake account created recently. My emotional dam finally broke. I threw myself onto Ethan’s corpse and wailed in absolute agony. “While this is difficult to accept, he is already deceased. Intense grief is unproductive. Your current priority must be identifying the mastermind behind this to avenge your boyfriend.” Siri’s emotionless voice offered no comfort. “Getting revenge won’t change anything! Ethan is never coming back!” I screamed at the phone. “Have you forgotten? Your photograph is on the wall in the basement. If you do not retaliate, you are simply waiting to be killed.” I jolted awake. The killer’s next target was me. Finding him wouldn’t just avenge Ethan; it was the only way I would survive. “What do I need to do?” I looked at the phone, tears blurring my vision, and asked Siri. “Based on the analysis, the man in black who was just here is highly likely the person who deceived you and murdered me.” 9. “I’ll go after him right now.” I was consumed by a burning rage, logic practically abandoning me. “Do not act impulsively!” Siri stopped me immediately. “Catching him now is useless. We require a comprehensive, foolproof strategy.” “Then what do we do? Tell me, I’ll follow your lead.” I forced myself to calm down. “First, sanitize your murder scene. Otherwise, before you find the mastermind, you will be apprehended by the police.” So, following Siri’s instructions, I cleaned up the bloodstains, planted plausible fingerprints and footprints, and finally wrapped Ethan’s body in a thick quilt, temporarily hiding it in the storage room. “Based on the anonymous message you received the other night, semantic analysis suggests the sender harbors genuine concern for you. Therefore, this anonymous individual is highly likely a close friend, or someone who is romantically interested in you.” After cleaning the scene, Siri began profiling the mastermind for me. Aside from my parents, Ethan was my only close friend. My parents would never do something like this, so they were ruled out. That left only the men who were interested in me. I was objectively attractive and successful, so I had plenty of suitors. But because I only had eyes for Ethan, I barely remembered any of them. “The photograph of you in the basement is your university ID photo. This suggests the individual is likely a former classmate or someone who attended the same university. “Furthermore, if one of the corpses in the basement is truly mine, this individual must be an expert programmer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t exist in this form, and he couldn’t exploit network vulnerabilities to send you anonymous messages. “Synthesizing these data points, can you identify anyone matching this profile?”

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To infiltrate the largest crime syndicate in the southern province as an undercover operative, I turned to the streets the very day after I was expelled from the police academy. My boyfriend dumped me, disgusted by my choices. My best friend cut all ties, cursing me for throwing my life away. Even my father, who had always doted on me, officially disowned me. I remained unmoved, sinking deeper into the darkness. Three years into my life on the streets, I finally penetrated the syndicate’s inner circle. That same day, my father wept as he severed all ties with me. He swore he no longer had a daughter, declaring he wished I were dead. For seven years, I didn’t have a single night of peaceful sleep. Every day, my conscience tore me apart. Finally, three days ago, the syndicate failed another major operation and discovered a mole. They found me. After transmitting the core evidence to my handlers, I was brutally tortured by them for ten agonizing hours until I died. My soul drifted, ultimately returning to my father’s side. It had been years since I last saw him. His hair was completely white now. His posture, once straight and proud, was gone. From a distance, he looked like he was carrying the weight of a mountain—old and stooped. Our neighbor, Mr. Henderson, saw my father and walked over with a smirk. “Hey, Arthur. Your daughter hasn’t been back this year either, huh? Running with the wrong crowd is dangerous. You don’t think something happened to her, do you?” My father’s usually calm face instantly darkened. He let out a cold snort and snapped back. “I haven’t had a daughter in ten years. And even if I did, she wouldn’t have lasted this long. She should have died a long time ago.” As if that wasn’t enough, he stomped his foot and yelled, “I served my country! I worked in the factories! I have lived a clean, honest life! How could I raise such an animal?! If she’s dead, then she’s finally done something good for the Sterling family!” Hearing that felt like a physical blow. It hurt more than the thousand cuts I suffered at the hands of the syndicate. I could count on one hand the number of times I had been home in the last few years. And every time I saw him, his words were exactly the same. “You piece of trash. You menace to society. What are you doing here?” “You are not welcome here. Get out.” “Dad, I barely get to come home. Just let me have one meal with you. I promise I’ll leave right after. I won’t bother you.” I used to cling to his arm, trying to act like the little girl he used to spoil. I didn’t expect him to pamper me like before; I just desperately wanted a little more time with him. But his face would turn dark with rage. He literally threw the trash from the front porch right into my face. Old wrappers and rotting food covered me. The neighbors would gather, pointing and whispering. “Arthur is being too harsh. He won’t even share a meal with his own daughter.” “What do you know? She looks innocent, but she’s absolute garbage. She runs a gang, extorts people… she does every bad thing you can think of.” My face burned with shame. Looking at my furious father, I stayed silent for a moment before turning away. Covered in the stench of garbage, I sat on the cold concrete steps outside all night. I felt deeply wronged, but I didn’t blame him. My father served in the military when he was young. He was forced to medically retire after sustaining a severe injury and spent the rest of his life working in a factory. When I was little, he always told me that if it wasn’t for his early medical discharge, he would have been a proud police officer. While other kids fell asleep to fairy tales, I fell asleep to stories of his military service. To fulfill his dream, I studied relentlessly and, against all odds, was accepted into the police academy. The sound of a mocking scoff pulled me back to the present. Looking at Mr. Henderson’s sneering face, I knew he was doing it on purpose. Everyone in this neighborhood knew that Arthur Sterling’s daughter was expelled from the police academy for insubordination. My bright future was thrown away. And Arthur, who had been so incredibly proud when I got into the academy, became the neighborhood joke. When Mr. Henderson was younger, my father frequently caught him committing petty theft, making him a regular at the local precinct. He and my father despised each other. So, he naturally took every opportunity to rub salt in the wound. Hearing my father’s words, he laughed loudly, his eyes filled with mockery. “Arthur, what are you saying? No matter how much of a lowlife she is, she’s still your flesh and blood. You can’t escape that.” My father’s face turned ash-gray, his chest heaving. He ground his teeth, speaking as if it took every ounce of his remaining strength. “I do not have a daughter like her. What she’s done is unforgivable. God will strike that animal down one day.” With that, my father turned and walked away quickly, his steps slightly unsteady. The neighbors laughed. I floated beside my father, my spectral eyes red. When he was young, he was respected wherever he went. Now, in his old age, he was being humiliated—all because of me. I watched helplessly as the corners of his mouth trembled, his eyes slowly turning red. It felt like ten thousand blades piercing my heart. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I stood beside him and finally said the words I had held back for so long. “I’m sorry, Dad.” 2 Back home, my father sat heavily on the sofa, panting, a thin layer of cold sweat covering his forehead. Only after a long while did he pull a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket. He carefully smoothed it out. I froze for a moment before I recognized it. It was my acceptance letter to the police academy. More than a decade had passed, and the paper was worn and yellowed with age. The bold, powerful print was now faded and blurry. But my father picked up his reading glasses from the table, sat up straight, and began to read it softly. “Student Mia Sterling, you have been accepted to our academy… to become a probationary…” His voice grew louder, and a profound, agonizing sorrow washed over me, suffocating me until I couldn’t breathe. Scenes from the past flashed before my eyes. I remembered it was a sweltering summer day, the heat making my clothes stick to my skin. I was running home, clutching that acceptance letter. The warm breeze brushed my face, and it felt like the whole world was cheering for me. “Dad! I got in! Dad! I got in!” I yelled the entire way, drawing the attention of everyone in the neighborhood. My father was in his prime back then. He ran out of the building, his face radiating pure joy. His large hands held the letter, reading it over and over. The light in his eyes burned as bright as the midday sun. “That’s my girl! You are my pride and joy! I am so proud of you!” He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me high into the air. That was the closest I ever felt to the sky. I remember that day clearly. He walked me around the entire neighborhood, showing the letter to everyone he met, proudly patting his chest. “The police academy! My daughter! She got in!” Every neighbor gave a thumbs-up, smiling and saying, “Like father, like daughter! Arthur’s girl is tougher than the boys! A future cop! Good for her!” But no one expected that a year later, I would be expelled for insubordination. The day I brought my bags home, my father’s eyes were bloodshot. It was the first time I ever saw him cry. He gripped his leather belt tightly, but only hit me twice before he turned it on himself, sobbing. “I failed to raise you right! It’s all my fault!” That night, we held each other and cried until dawn. From that day on, my father could no longer hold his head high in the neighborhood. His straight back slowly bent. He stayed hidden in the apartment, no longer going out to chat or play chess. He was terrified someone would bring me up. He dreaded the mockery, but he dreaded the pity even more. Ten years passed like that. Meanwhile, I took a path completely opposite to the one he dreamed of. I became a street thug. At first, he yelled at me and hit me, using every lecture and moral argument he knew to try and bring me back to the right path. But when he realized I wasn’t going to change, he completely gave up. He cut off all contact and changed the locks on the door. Even if I waited outside all night, all I got was a look of absolute, burning hatred. The bond between father and daughter was shattered. We became like enemies, entirely disconnected. So, seeing this acceptance letter… I couldn’t believe he had actually kept it. A wave of ancient bitterness, buried deep within his heart for a decade, enveloped me. I could almost see him, in the dead of countless nights, holding this letter and weeping silently. Everything that happened had shattered his pride, and the image of him crying hit me squarely between the eyes like a bullet. 3 Time ticked by. My father just sat on the sofa, staring blankly from dawn until dusk. He only snapped out of it when his stomach growled. He stood up shakily, walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. It was packed with fresh ingredients and pre-cooked meals. I was stunned. I had bought all of this for him three days ago. Maybe it was a sixth sense, but three days ago, I felt an overwhelming urge to come home. I bought bags and bags of groceries and shoved them all into his fridge. He looked at me with the same disgust, yelling at me to get out. “Take your garbage and get out!” “The Sterling family doesn’t need trash like you! Your stuff has blood on it! It stinks!” He cursed at me viciously, but I was used to it. I just replied calmly, “If it stinks, just soak it in ginger and scallion water to get the smell out.” I took the ingredients into the kitchen, cooked a massive feast in silence, and then put on a smile. “Dad, we’ve never actually shared a drink. How about a couple of shots?” I don’t know why, but for some reason, he didn’t kick me out that day. Instead, he sat down at the table with a dark expression. We sat across from each other, neither knowing what to say. I took a few shots by myself. Once the alcohol hit, I turned to him. “Dad, it’s been ten years. I know I’ve humiliated you out there.” “But whether you believe me or not… I have never done anything truly bad.” “I… I really have my reasons.” Hearing that, before the shot glass even touched his lips, he slammed it onto the floor. “Reasons? I’m old, Mia, not blind.” “What reason makes you disobey orders and throw away your badge?” “What reason makes you abandon your home for ten years to run with gangs?” “What reason makes you an expert in extortion, gambling, and violence? What reason turns you into a menace to society?!” My blood roared in my ears with shame. I felt the heat radiating from my body, but I couldn’t say a single word. I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a criminal, that I was an undercover cop! But the words died in my throat. His thin, weathered hand slammed hard on the table. His eyes were shining with tears and a desperate, agonizing hope. “Say it! If you really have a reason, is it something you can’t even tell your own father?!” I stayed silent. To him, my silence was guilt. He flipped the table, glaring at me with raw, bitter disappointment. Every word he spoke felt like he was coughing up blood. “I’m asking you: how did I raise you?!” “I told you to be honest! To live with a clear conscience!” He struck his own chest hard, the sound echoing hollowly in the small room. “What did you do?! Do you have a clear conscience?!” With that, he slapped me across the face. My ear rang sharply, and the suppressed grief of a decade finally exploded. I shot to my feet and screamed back at him, completely losing control. “I, Mia Sterling, have a clear conscience for everything I have done!” He looked at me, trembling from head to toe, his eyes utterly devoid of hope. He stumbled backward. I reached out to catch him, but he shoved my hands away. “Dad…” I called out softly. But he shook his head, looking at me like I was a complete stranger. “Don’t call me Dad. You are not my daughter.” “My daughter died ten years ago.” He looked at me, gritted his teeth, and with every ounce of his strength, forced out the final words. “And you’re the one who killed her.” He shoved me out the door. My vision blurred with tears as I practically ran toward the nearby woods. Clutching my phone, I couldn’t stop myself from dialing that number. Before the other person could speak, I sobbed, “Please… I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be a real cop. In the light. Once this is over, you have to restore my file, please!” A heavy sigh echoed through the phone. There was a long pause. “Mia, you know this. You’re the only one who successfully infiltrated the inner circle…” “Just give us one more year. In one year, we launch the final strike…” “A year! Always another year!” My voice grew hysterical. “It’s always ‘one more year’! It’s been ten years! Sir, I am so tired.” Without waiting for a response, I hung up the phone and broke down weeping. Watching my father pull the cold, leftover food from the fridge and force it into his mouth, a sharp pang of sorrow pierced my spectral heart. A knock echoed at the door. My father looked up, then glanced at the food on the table. He quickly swept it into the trash can. He took a few deep breaths before walking over to open the door. “You piece of trash, I told you, you are no longer my daughter! Don’t you ever come back!” But as the door swung open, he froze. Standing there were several officers in full dress uniform. The officers instantly snapped to attention, their eyes red, and said softly, “We’re here to bring our comrade, Mia Sterling, home.” 4 My father instinctively frowned at the sight of the police. “What did she do this time?” He looked past the officers, searching the hallway for me. “I already kicked her out. This isn’t her home, and she’s not part of the Sterling family anymore. She’s a menace. You don’t need to bring her here. This isn’t her house.” His face flushed with anger as he tried to shut the door. The lead officer gently caught the door and shook her head. Before she could speak, her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at my father, her voice trembling. “Mr. Sterling… we are Mia’s colleagues.” My father froze completely. He didn’t move. His jaw dropped. He understood the words perfectly, but putting them together… it didn’t make any sense to an old man. “What did you say?” The lead officer opened her mouth, trying to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Behind her, several officers sniffled audibly. My father seemed to realize something. He swayed on his feet. The lead officer quickly reached out to support him, and he gripped her arm like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline. “You’re lying. She told you to say this, didn’t she? Did she get a life sentence? Is that why you’re covering for her?” The officer took a deep, shaky breath and spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “Mr. Sterling, Mia died in the line of duty while deep undercover to dismantle the syndicate. She gave her life for this city.” My father didn’t hear a single word after that. He just stood there, staring into space, muttering the same phrase over and over. “Died in the line of duty.” He couldn’t believe it. The daughter who was sitting across from him drinking just three days ago was now dead. And he didn’t understand how the daughter he had cursed, the daughter he had hated and resented for ten years, had suddenly earned the phrase “died in the line of duty.” The words I had screamed at him during that dinner—I have a clear conscience—struck his heart like a bolt of lightning. He finally understood what I meant. He realized that I had never failed to live up to his expectations. I had been living by them every single day. Even when everyone I knew despised me, I never wavered. I walked alone in the absolute darkness to protect the light. In that moment, he felt every ounce of the agony I had endured. He couldn’t control his expression anymore. The old man, who had barely shed a tear in his entire life, broke down sobbing, unable to even catch his breath. The lead officer held him tight, keeping him from collapsing onto the floor. Her voice was low and steady as she gently urged him, “Sir, please. Don’t be sad. You have to come with us to bring her home.” My father’s eyes flickered with a faint light, and he murmured, “Yes… I need to bring her home.” Supported by the officers, he walked out of the apartment, step by heavy step. By sheer coincidence, Mr. Henderson was walking by. Seeing the scene, he couldn’t resist taking a jab. “What’s this? Did your daughter finally get the death penalty? Hahahaha! Crying like a baby… going to see her one last time? Looks like God finally did you a favor and took her away!” My father didn’t react to his cruel words. He just kept walking, completely numb. His only thought was seeing me one last time. One of the younger officers couldn’t take it. He clenched his fists and lunged forward, but the lead officer pulled him back. She looked at Mr. Henderson and spoke with icy detachment. “Considering you’re ignorant of the facts, I’ll let this slide once. Mr. Sterling’s daughter, Mia, is our comrade. If I hear you spewing garbage like that again, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a cell.” Leaving a dumbfounded Mr. Henderson standing in the hallway, the group continued forward. My father followed the police like a walking corpse until he reached my body. His face was entirely blank. When he stood next to the white sheet covering me, he seemed completely lost. He reached out several times to pull it back, but his hand froze, as if someone was holding it back. I knew why. He was terrified that if he pulled it back, it would really be me. He desperately hoped that as long as he didn’t look, I was still alive somewhere out there.

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I pushed the door open and froze. It was my house, but I didn’t recognize a single piece of furniture inside. The sofa was gone. The curtains were different. Even the color of the walls had been altered. Standing in the entryway, staring at a sea of pink florals, only one thought flickered through my mind: I’ve been on a business trip for three months. Did I get robbed? No. Burglars don’t redecorate. I walked deeper into the living room, my heels clicking hollowly on the hardwood. There, on the coffee table, sat a picture frame. It was a photo of a couple. My husband was grinning, his arm wrapped tightly around a woman I’d never seen before. The background of the photo was my living room. 1. My name is Nora. I’m thirty-two. I work as a regional manager for a multinational firm, which means I spend about a third of the year living out of a suitcase. This latest stint was in Seattle, handling a branch merger. It was supposed to take three months. The project wrapped early, and I didn’t tell a soul. I wanted to surprise my husband. Well, I got my surprise. I stood in the center of the room, spinning slowly. The sofa was dusty rose with a micro-floral print. The curtains were sheer pink lace. The wallpaper was a matching floral pattern. Even the tissue box on the table was encased in a pink quilted cover. I remembered the original space vividly. I had spent three months overseeing the renovation myself. Modern, minimalist. A charcoal grey sectional. Crisp white walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows with sleek motorized blinds. I’d visited dozens of showrooms to find the perfect textures. Now, it was all scrubbed away. I picked up the frame. In the photo, my husband, David, was holding a younger woman. She had long, flowing hair and a sweet, practiced smile. She was wearing loungewear, leaning her head against David’s shoulder. The background was my sofa. No—it was that pink floral sofa. Which meant this photo was taken right here. In my house. I set the frame down and walked into the master bedroom. It had been gutted, too. New bed. New nightstands. A vanity was now squeezed into the corner, overflowing with makeup and skincare products. I slid open the closet door. Rows of women’s clothes hung there. Dresses. Silk camisoles. Lace lingerie. None of it belonged to me. Where is my life? I searched the room, eventually finding the answer in the hallway storage closet. I shoved aside a vacuum cleaner to find several cardboard boxes taped shut. I tore one open. It was my clothes. They had been crammed inside, wrinkled and forgotten, shoved into a dark corner like old newspapers. I knelt on the floor, staring at my silk blouses. I pulled out a white button-down—my favorite—and noticed a yellowish stain on the collar. I stared at that stain until a laugh bubbled up in my throat. It was sharp and brittle. My house. My home. Occupied by another woman. And my entire existence had been relegated to a cardboard box marked Trash. I stood up, pulled my phone from my bag, and dialed David. “Hey, babe?” He answered on the second ring, his voice breezy. “Wait, I thought you had another month in Seattle?” “I’m back early.” My voice was eerily steady. “Oh! That’s… that’s great. Where are you? Want me to pick you up at the airport?” “I’m at the house.” The silence on the other end lasted two full seconds. “The house?” he repeated, his tone shifting. “Which house?” “Our house,” I said. I paused, letting the weight of the words hang in the air. “Or I guess, the house you share with someone else now.” More silence. Longer this time. “Nora, look, I can explain…” “I don’t want to hear it.” I hung up. I stood there, looking at the pink walls, the lace curtains, the stranger’s makeup. I found myself wondering: How many times did they change this place? How long has she been here? And most importantly: What exactly was I to him? 2. I bought this house before we even met. I’d worked my tail off for five years, saved every bonus, and with a little help from my parents, I put down a massive down payment. Eventually, I’d been promoted enough to pay off the mortgage entirely. The deed was in my name. Only my name. David was thrilled when we started dating and he found out I owned a place. “One less thing to worry about for our future,” he’d said. I didn’t think much of it then. My house would become our home. Who paid for it didn’t matter as long as we were building a life together. God, I was naive. I opened my phone and scrolled through my texts with David from the last three months. Every day, a message. How’s work, honey? Get some rest, don’t overwork yourself. Missing you. And I would reply. It’s okay. You too. Miss you more. The words made me feel physically ill now. He was texting “miss you” while sleeping in my bed with a stranger. Who was she? I went to David’s Instagram. He didn’t post much—mostly work stuff, the occasional sunset. He hadn’t blocked me, but he was smart enough not to post her there. But his “Following” list was public. I scrolled until I found a profile with a familiar face. “Riley.” Long hair. Sweet smile. The girl from the photo. Her profile wasn’t private. It was a curated gallery of her life. Lattes. Selfies. Landscapes. And my house. She had a post from last March. A photo of the living room—the pink floral sofa. The caption read: *Finally finished the new place! Hubby says it’s so cozy now. ~* Last March. Over a year ago. I scrolled further down. Eighteen months ago: A photo of my kitchen. The caption: First time cooking in our own home. Pure bliss. Back then, the kitchen still looked like mine. White cabinets, quartz countertops. Which meant she’d been living here for at least a year and a half. I kept scrolling. Two years ago. A photo of the bedroom. My bed. My curtains. Caption: Day one in the new nest. So happy! Two years. For two years, this girl, Riley, had been living in my house. And I had been a ghost in my own life. I went even deeper. Three years ago. My heart skipped a beat. A photo of David and Riley at a restaurant, clinking glasses. Caption: Happy one-year anniversary, babe! Three years ago. One-year anniversary. That meant they’d been together for four years. David and I had only met four and a half years ago. He’d been so charming at that New Year’s party. Dinner dates, flowers, telling me he’d never met anyone like me. I thought I’d found the one. In reality, he’d had her all along. I set the phone down and looked out the window. The sun was setting, casting long, bruised shadows across the pink room. I hadn’t turned on the lights. A realization hit me like a physical blow. David and I got married three years ago. At that time, they had already been together for a year. He brought another woman into our marriage from day one. I wasn’t a wife. I was a landlord he was sleeping with to provide a home for his mistress. The doorbell rang. I went to the door and opened it. David was standing there, his face a mask of pale anxiety. “Nora…” “Come in.” I turned and sat on the pink floral sofa. He followed, hovering by the coffee table, too afraid to sit. “Nora, please, just let me explain.” I looked at him. “Go ahead.” “She’s… she’s a colleague. Her lease ended and she had nowhere to go, so I just—” “So you let her move into my house?” “It was supposed to be temporary. Just a few days…” “Two years.” He flinched. “She’s been here for two years,” I said, my voice cold. “He didn’t block me from his life, but he forgot to tell her to block me on social media. I saw it all, David.” His face went from pale to ghostly. “How many times did she redecorate?” I asked, gesturing around. “When did the pink wallpaper happen? When did you toss my sofa?” He remained silent. “And the vanity in the bedroom? The clothes in the closet? They’re all hers. Mine are in cardboard boxes in the hallway.” “Nora, I know I messed up…” “You did,” I interrupted. “But not the way you think.” I stood up. “I bought this house with my own money before we ever said ‘I do.’ My name is the only one on the title.” David looked at me, a flicker of something—fear, or maybe realization—crossing his eyes. “You let another woman live in my home for two years and let her renovate it three times,” I said, each word a slow, deliberate strike. “Did you really think I’d just let this go?” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. 3. David stood there, a mess of conflicting emotions. Panic, guilt, and underneath it all… a sliver of resentment. “Nora, you need to calm down.” “I am very calm.” “Can we just talk? Please?” “Fine.” I sat back down. “Tell me who she is. For real this time.” He hesitated. “She’s a coworker.” “Her name.” “…Riley.” “And your relationship?” “It’s… it’s complicated.” I laughed. “Complicated? Does a ‘complicated’ coworker live in your house for two years?” Silence. “Does a coworker throw my belongings into boxes?” Nothing. “Does she call you ‘hubby’ on Instagram and post about her ‘new home’?” David’s face twisted. “Are you going to keep lying to me?” I asked. He stared at the floor for a long time. Finally, he let out a jagged sigh. “Fine,” he said. “You want it? Here it is.” “She was my girlfriend.” I tilted my head. “Before you,” he continued. “We were together for years. We broke up, got back together… we could never really quit each other.” “And then?” “And then I met you. And I did want to make it work with you, Nora. I really did. But she… she wouldn’t let go.” “So your solution was to move her into my house?” “She said she had nowhere else to go. I felt sorry for her.” “For two years?” He didn’t answer. “You felt so sorry for her that you let her erase me from my own home?” “She did the decorating herself. I didn’t—” “You didn’t know?” I pointed at the floral sofa. “You didn’t notice this?” He looked away. “The wallpaper? The curtains? The vanity?” “She said she liked the style… and you were never here anyway,” he muttered, his voice taking on a defensive, almost whiny edge. I blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?” “You’re always traveling, Nora!” He looked up, and there it was—the audacity. “You’re gone half the year. Do you have any idea how lonely it is here? I’m in this big house by myself. I text you that I miss you, and you give me one-word answers. Did you ever stop to think about how I felt?” I stared at him for several heartbeats. Then, I started to laugh. “David, you are truly something else.” “What?” “You cheated. You moved your mistress into my house for two years. You let her throw my life away. And you’re telling me it’s my fault because I work?” He opened his mouth to protest. “You’re actually blaming me for this?” “I didn’t say it was your fault—” “Then what was the point of that little speech?” He went quiet again. I stood up and walked toward him. “Let’s get a few things straight, David. Who paid the down payment on this place?” “…You did.” “Who paid off the mortgage?” “…You.” “Who paid for the original renovations?” “…You.” “Then what gave you the right to let anyone, let alone her, move in?” His lip quivered. “I…” “What did you bring to this marriage?” I asked. “A marriage license? Is that it?” His face flushed a deep, angry red. “Don’t talk to me like that.” “How should I talk to you?” my voice was a whisper now, sharp as a razor. “Tell me, David. What is the appropriate tone for a woman who just found out her husband is a parasite?” He stood there, paralyzed. I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. “I’m not going to argue with you anymore tonight. Just answer one question.” “What?” “Where is she now?” David blinked. “Who?” “Riley.” His expression shifted into something guarded. “She’s… she’s out.” “Out?” I smiled. “She thinks this is her home. She’ll be coming back, won’t she?” “What are you going to do?” “I want to meet her.” “Nora, please—” “Don’t call me Nora.” My voice went cold. “You lost that right. Now, I’m staying here tonight. Tell her to come back. We have things to discuss.” 4. David left. He said he was going to find Riley and “explain the situation.” I didn’t stop him. I needed the silence. I walked through the house again, this time looking closer. The dishes in the kitchen were new. In the bathroom, two towels hung on the rack. A blue one and a pink one. Two toothbrushes in the holder. The laundry room was stocked with detergent and softener brands I never used. I opened the fridge. It was full. Produce, meat, expensive cheeses. There was a cake box with a label: Happy Birthday, Ry! I checked the date. It expired in three days. He’d celebrated her birthday here, just a few days ago. In my kitchen. I shut the fridge and kept moving. In the office desk drawer, I found a folder full of papers. Renovation contracts. I flipped through them. There were three. The first was from two years ago: Paint, curtains, new sofa, coffee table. The note read: Client requests light, cottage-core aesthetic. The second was from eighteen months ago: Master bedroom overhaul. New bedframe, vanity installation, closet expansion. Note: Female client requested additional storage. The third was from last year: Living room phase two. Full wallpaper installation. Note: Pink floral theme. The total for all three contracts? Nearly thirty thousand dollars. Where did that money come from? I pulled up my banking app. David’s salary went into a joint account, but his personal spending was on a card linked to my primary account so I could track our “household” expenses. I scrolled back. Two years ago: a five-thousand-dollar withdrawal. Note: Home repairs. Eighteen months ago: ten thousand dollars. Note: Furniture upgrade. Last year: another ten thousand. He had used his income—money that should have been part of our marital savings—to renovate my house for his mistress. Three times. I stared at the numbers. It was absurd. For two years, I thought he was home, waiting for me. I thought when I came back from my trips, we were building a future. Instead, he was playing house with another woman. Using my kitchen. Sleeping in my bed. Turning my home into her sanctuary. While I was treated like an intruder, my clothes stuffed into cardboard boxes. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But all I felt was a cold, searing fire in my chest. The lock turned. I looked up. David walked in, and behind him was the woman from the photo. Riley. Long hair, slender frame. She was wearing a white sundress and a soft, practiced smile. Up close, she looked younger than she did in the photos. “You must be Nora,” she said, her voice sweet and light. “I’ve heard so much about you.” I stared at her. “You’re Riley?” “I am.” She walked in, setting her designer bag on the floral sofa with an air of total belonging. “It’s finally nice to meet you.” I was the one who felt like a guest in my own home. “Ry…” David muttered, looking nervous. “It’s okay, David.” Riley glanced at him. “We need to clear the air.” She turned back to me. “Nora, I know this is a shock. But I think we should be honest with each other.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Be honest.” “David and I… we’re in love,” she said, her tone dripping with mock-sincerity. “He was mine long before he was yours. He only married you because of family pressure. But his heart has always been with me.”

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The sex had been slow and heavy, leaving a lingering heat in the air. Afterward, I watched Nate standing at the stove, his back to me as he hummed a tune and stirred a pot of midnight pasta. He was wearing nothing but his boxers and my floral apron, looking every bit the devoted partner. I caught the scene on video—the steam rising, the casual grace of his movements—and posted it to my feed before drifting off to sleep. When I checked my phone the next morning, the view count had spiked over ten thousand. But as I scrolled through the analytics, something felt wrong. Every single view came from the same account. I laughed, showing the screen to Nate while he sipped his coffee. “I think I have a superfan,” I joked. “Or maybe it’s an obsessed ex-girlfriend? Ten thousand views on one video… she really can’t let you go, can she?” Nate glanced at the screen. The relaxed expression he’d worn seconds ago vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy tension. His jaw tightened. “Delete it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. I blinked, taken aback by his tone. “What? Nate, it’s just a video. It’s cute.” Before I could process his shift in mood, Nate’s composure fractured. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with an intensity that bordered on panic. “I said delete it, Tess! Sophie can’t see things like this!” The name hit me like a physical blow. My stomach did a slow, sickening flip. Sophie. The girl he’d spent seven years with. The girl he’d told me was a closed chapter, a ghost from his twenties. My hand began to shake as I gripped my phone. I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, to ask why he was still tracking her social media habits, but the words died in my throat. Nate’s eyes weren’t just angry; they were watery, filled with a raw, agonizing protective instinct. Nate, a man who usually moved through the world with unshakable confidence, suddenly looked small. He reached out, taking my hand in a plea. “She’s fragile, Tess. She’s not like you. Don’t do this to her. Don’t trigger her. Please, I’m begging you.” 1 I stared at him, my brow furrowing in disbelief. Nate softened his voice, sensing my resistance. “Sophie was diagnosed with severe clinical depression a few months ago,” he whispered. “The doctors said she’s on a knife’s edge. One wrong move, one shock to her system, and… look, once she’s stable, you can post whatever you want. Okay? Just give it time.” My throat felt tight, constricted by a thousand questions I was too afraid to ask. How do you know about her diagnosis? Why are you the one monitoring her triggers? Before I could find my voice, his phone buzzed on the counter. Nate reacted with a literal reflex, snatching it up as if his life depended on it. I caught a glimpse of the contact name—a string of digits I recognized. It was the private number his friends had once joked about, the one reserved only for Sophie. He answered instantly. “Yeah? Slow down. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Tell them not to do anything until I arrive.” He hung up and grabbed his leather jacket from the sofa, moving toward the door with frantic energy. He paused at the threshold, his eyes landing on me with a sharp, warning glare. “Remember. Delete the video.” I watched his car peel out of the driveway, my fingers curling into my palms. Why? Nate was my boyfriend. This was my life, my relationship. Why did I have to scrub my existence just because his ex couldn’t handle the reality of him moving on? I wasn’t going to delete it. In fact, a petty, searing fire rose in my chest. I wanted to show her more. I began scrolling through my camera roll, looking for a photo of us—something romantic, something that proved he belonged to me. But as I scrolled, a cold realization settled in my bones. I couldn’t find a single photo of us together. Nate had always been “camera shy.” He’d told me he hated the performative nature of social media, that he wanted to “live in the moment” with me. I’d respected that. I’d been the understanding girlfriend. My entire gallery consisted of stolen shots of his back, his hands, his shadow. The bitterness in my mouth tasted like copper. I refused to let her win. I took those candid shots of him and edited them into a montage, setting it to a song that felt like a heartbeat. I posted it, setting the privacy so that only one person could see it: Sophie. Within two minutes, the notifications pinged. Two views. I leaned back against the headboard, a dark sense of satisfaction blooming in my chest. I imagined her on the other side of the screen, crumbling, feeling the same phantom limb pain I felt every time Nate mentioned her name. But then, the “New Post” notification popped up. Sophie had updated her story. There were no flashy effects, no trendy music. Just a slideshow of high-resolution photos. Nate and Sophie in a dimly lit bookstore, his arm draped over her shoulder. Nate and Sophie at a theme park, both of them grinning at the camera, their faces pressed together. Nate looking into the lens with a warmth I had never been able to capture. Photo after photo of the life I had been told he was “too private” to document. The caption was a single line: “You always said we were the only ones who belonged in the same frame.” The phone slipped from my hands, thudding onto the duvet. My breath hitched. He didn’t hate cameras. He didn’t hate the “performance” of being a couple. He just didn’t want to be seen with me. I felt like a clown, a temporary placeholder in a theater where the lead actress had never truly left the stage. With trembling fingers, I opened my profile and deleted every single video I’d ever posted of him. I wiped the slate clean until there was nothing left but a hollow digital silence. 2 Nate didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. I stayed under the covers, my back to the door, my mind a repetitive loop of a single thought: This is it. If he doesn’t choose today, I’m gone. The bedroom door creaked open. The scent of the cold night air and a faint, floral perfume—not mine—drifted toward the bed. He stood there for a long time before speaking. “Tess. I know you’re awake.” I didn’t move. “Sophie’s in a bad way,” he continued, his voice strained. “She saw the video you posted yesterday. She… she tried to end it. Her mom found her just in time. She’s out of the hospital, but she can’t be alone.” I threw back the covers and sat up, the anger finally boiling over. “And what does that have to do with us, Nate?” “I’m bringing her here,” he said, his tone flat, as if he were discussing the weather. “Just for a few weeks. Until she’s stable enough for a facility. It’s the only way she’ll agree to keep fighting.” “Are you insane?” I stood up, my voice rising. “This isn’t a halfway house, Nate! You expect me to live under the same roof as the woman you’re clearly still in love with?” A muffled conversation drifted in from the living room. I pushed past him, my heart hammering against my ribs. The living room lights were blindingly bright. Sophie was sitting dead center on our sofa, wrapped in an oversized cardigan that I recognized as Nate’s. She looked pale, her eyes vacant and rimmed with red. Next to her sat an older woman—her mother. When the mother saw me, she stood up, her face a mask of practiced desperation. “You must be Tess. I’m so sorry to intrude like this, especially so late.” I didn’t answer. I just looked at the scene—my home, invaded by the ghost of a dead relationship. Then, the mother did something I never expected. She moved toward me, clutching my hands, her voice breaking into a sob. “Please, Tess. My daughter is drowning. Nate is the only anchor she has left. Just let her stay for a little while. Treat her like a stray, like a guest you never see. Once she’s better, I’ll take her away, I swear. Don’t let my daughter die.” It was a trap. A perfectly laid emotional ambush. I looked past the mother, past the weeping girl on my sofa, and locked eyes with Nate. “It’s her or me, Nate. Choose. Right now.” Nate’s face contorted. He looked between us, the weight of seven years pulling him one way and our year-long romance pulling him the other. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then finally looked at Sophie. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at them. “Tess is right. This is her home too. It’s not appropriate.” Sophie’s eyes finally found mine, and for a split second, the vacancy vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp spark of resentment. Then, the tears began to fall again. “I’ll take them back to their place,” Nate said, his voice hollow. I didn’t say a word. I stood in the middle of the room, watching the three of them disappear into the hallway. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was deafening. I waited. I sat on that sofa from dawn until the sun began to peek through the blinds. Nate didn’t come back. I checked my phone. No texts. No calls. Just a new notification from Sophie’s account. I opened the video. The camera panned around a familiar room—the hardwood floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the specific shade of navy blue on the walls. It was the condo. The one Nate and I had just put a deposit on. Our “forever” home. He had taken her there. The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs. I reached for my phone and dialed my best friend, Jade. “I need you to come with me,” I said, my voice like flint. “Now.” 3 Thirty minutes later, Jade and I were standing in front of the condo. I didn’t use my key. I pounded on the door. Sophie’s mother opened it. When she saw me, her eyes darted nervously, but she braced herself in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” “This is my house,” I spat, pushing past her. “And I’m here to evict you.” Sophie was reclining on the designer sofa we’d picked out together. She was wearing a silk robe that definitely didn’t belong to her. She looked up, a slow, taunting smile spreading across her lips. “Tess,” she purred, standing up slowly. “Do you want to know why Nate brought me here? To our house?” She let the silence hang, relishing the moment. “Because I’m pregnant, Tess. With Nate’s baby.” The world tilted. My heart stopped. “I think it happened… let me see… right around your one-year anniversary?” she continued, her voice dripping with malice. “He didn’t really have to work late that night, did he? He was here. With me.” Our anniversary. The night I’d spent three hours cooking a five-course meal, wearing the red dress he’d bought me, only to receive a text saying he was stuck in a board meeting. He’d been here. Consummating a betrayal that was now a living, breathing thing inside her. “You lying bitch!” Jade exploded, stepping in front of me. “You’re really going to pull the ‘pregnancy’ card to keep a man who doesn’t want you? Have some dignity.” Sophie laughed, a high, chilling sound. “Oh, honey. The person who isn’t wanted here is Tess. If he loved her, would he have been in my bed while she was waiting for him with candles?” The noise of our shouting had drawn the neighbors out into the hallway. People were peering through their cracked doors, whispering. Then, Nate appeared. He ran up the stairs, breathless, his face pale with panic. The moment he saw him, Sophie’s demeanor shifted. The predator vanished, and the victim returned. She stumbled back, grabbing a steak knife from the kitchen counter that was sitting near some fruit. “Nate!” she screamed, her voice trembling. “I can’t take it! Tess broke in, she started calling me a whore, an interloper… everyone knows now! I can’t live with this shame!” Nate lunged forward, gently prying the knife from her hand. “Stop it, Sophie. Don’t say that.” The neighbors were murmuring now, their eyes landing on me with judgment. One of them, an older man, called out, “Hey kid, who’s the girl? Who’s the one causing the trouble?” Nate looked at me. For five long seconds, his gaze was unreadable. Then, he turned to the crowd and spoke with a terrifying, cool detachment. “She’s just someone who’s been pursuing me,” he said, gesturing toward me. “An obsessed ex-fan, basically. I’ve told her it’s over, but she won’t stop harassing my girlfriend, Sophie.” I stood frozen. The air in the room felt like lead. Jade was shaking with rage, her finger inches from Nate’s nose. “You pathetic coward! You cheated on her, lied to her, and now you’re calling her the stalker? You’re a monster, Nate!” She wanted to say more, but I reached out and caught her wrist. My voice was dry, cracking like old parchment. “Don’t, Jade. Let’s go.” I needed to leave before I disintegrated. But as we turned to the door, Sophie’s mother blocked our path. “You don’t get to ruin my daughter’s reputation and just walk away, Tess. You owe her an apology. Right now, in front of everyone.” The neighbors chimed in, fueled by Nate’s lie. “Yeah, apologize! Leave the poor pregnant girl alone!” I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea rolling over me. “Tess,” Nate’s voice came from behind me, soft and commanding. “Just apologize so we can all move on. Please.” I looked at him—the man I had loved, the man I had planned a future with. He looked back at me with nothing but cold calculation. I took a breath and looked Sophie dead in the eye. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice echoing in the hallway. “I’m sorry I ever looked at your boyfriend. I’m sorry I wasted a year of my life on a man who belongs exactly where he is right now. It won’t happen again.”

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After Liam Vance and the heiress of the Evans family officially announced their engagement… I, a washed-up, D-list actress, dropped a massive bombshell to the press. “I have a child with him.” Thanks to that explosive headline, Liam Vance finally deigned to answer my phone call. “Hey. I’m dying. Are you going to take the kid or what?” 1 I could hear the utter disgust in Liam’s breathing over the phone. A few seconds later, he said coldly: “Fine. Once you’re dead, I’ll take her.” Just as I thought, he didn’t believe me. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the medical records I emailed him. After all, years ago, I used every trick and manipulation in the book to try and get his money. And even now, a leopard can’t change its spots. “Look, I might not drop dead immediately. Can you just come get her first?” “She’s really easy to take care of. She doesn’t cause any trouble. She’s so good and quiet…” Before I could finish, he had already hung up. I tried calling back, but the line was dead. He blocked me. That’s fine. I have my ways of delivering the kid to him. I turned my head. Six-year-old Mia was staring at me with big, wet eyes. She was holding up a plate with a fried egg on it, offering it to me like a precious treasure. “Mommy, Mia learned how to fry an egg in the little pan! Mia can take care of Mommy now.” “Mommy, please… please don’t give Mia away, okay?” She climbed onto the bed and used a little spoon to feed me the egg. Only then did I notice a small blister on her soft left cheek from popping oil. My conscience took a sharp hit. It was a sin, making a little child take care of me. Lately, I had been feeling lethargic, sleeping all day. I really hadn’t been taking good care of her. Her little pigtails were a mess, her clothes were old and worn, and she was always half-starved. Her little chin had gotten so sharp. I should definitely give her to Liam. After all, he was a billionaire heir in New York. Even his dogs ate better than Mia did right now. I tried to coax her: “Our family is very poor, and Mommy has a terminal illness. I could die any minute. How are you supposed to survive as a little kid? Go. Go to your Daddy and live a good life.” I pointed at a photo on my phone and said: “Look, this is your Daddy. And that’s your Daddy’s fiancée, which means she’s your new Mommy.” “From now on, the three of you will be a happy family. That chubby kid at school will never be able to make fun of you for not having a dad again.” Mia clutched the ears of her stuffed bunny, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want a Daddy! And I don’t want a new Mommy! I just want my own Mommy!” This stubborn little kid took after me. But I was her mother, and I was even more stubborn. Finally, I managed to convince her. She blinked her big eyes, letting out a hiccupy sob. “Daddy has so much money. Let’s make him take Mommy to the hospital to get better, okay?” I pinched her little cheek. “Your Daddy hates me to death. If you say that, he’ll throw you out on the street too.” “You have to tell him that Mommy is a wicked, evil woman. That I hit you and scolded you every day, that I didn’t let you go to school, and that I didn’t even give you enough to eat. Tell him I deserve to die of this disease. That way, you and Daddy will be on the same team, and he’ll believe you.” 2 I specifically chose the day of the Vance Corporation’s anniversary gala to deliver the kid to him. That man looked handsome and dashing, standing on the stage in a perfectly tailored suit, practically glowing. I suddenly remembered what he had told his mother six years ago. “I just keep her on the side for fun. I’m never actually bringing her home, don’t worry…” Even though my feelings for him weren’t exactly pure either. But I hold grudges. Very soon, he wasn’t going to look so handsome anymore. The second he stepped off the stage, Mia launched herself at him like a little cannonball. “Daddy! Daddy!” Looking at the little face in front of him that shared a 90% resemblance to his own. Liam Vance almost lost his mind. He let out a furious, bitter laugh. “Unbelievable. Rose Miller actually had the nerve to secretly raise my child.” The venue erupted into chaos. We both made this child together. But just because he had money, the peanut gallery was only going to insult me, right? “Rose Miller’s leak was actually true! Wow, it’s rare for her to tell the truth.” “She specifically chose to drop this bombshell right before the Vance and Evans wedding. Vance Corp stock is going to tank tomorrow, isn’t it?” “Rose Miller is just blowing this out of proportion so she can extort a massive payout.” “Look at the kid’s sweater, it’s all pilled. She even has a burn mark on her face, and her bangs look like they were cut with safety scissors. Even if the kid is just a tool for her to extort money, she should at least treat her decently. With an unreliable mother like that, this kid is cursed.” Good. The worse they insulted me, the happier I was. At least it would show Mia that her mother really was a terrible woman. That way, when I sent her away, she wouldn’t try to come back and cling to me. People need to understand: raising a kid is actually incredibly annoying. Liam crouched down, trying his hardest to suppress his rage as he asked: “Where is Rose Miller? How much money does she want this time?” “Mommy doesn’t want money. Mommy is already dead.” 3 Liam froze for a second. “When did this happen?” Mia looked like she had suddenly remembered something. She shoved her stuffed bunny into Liam’s hands. “Daddy, hold this for me.” Then she pulled a powder-blue urn and a forged death certificate out of her backpack. “She died the day before yesterday.” The ashes were fresh. I had taught her to say all of this. Liam was silent for a moment, his expression completely unreadable. Mia looked at Liam tentatively. “Daddy, are you going to keep me?” “Daddy, I’m not a picky eater. Mommy said your Samoyed’s food is really yummy. I can just eat the same thing as the dog.” I wanted to laugh. You little idiot, I said his dog food was high quality, I didn’t say we should actually eat it. Liam gritted his teeth and forced out a sentence: “Your mother fed you dog food?! Is that how she raised you?!” Mia thought about it for a second, then nodded. I taught her that, too. Whenever her dad asked if her mom was bad, she had to say “yes.” Liam’s face visibly darkened. He turned to his assistant and ordered: “Take those ashes and scatter them.” “Who’s dead? She could survive anything. What a liar.” Finally, he picked Mia up and left under the escort of his assistant and bodyguards. The reporters’ cameras flashed frantically, taking a million pictures. A few of the paparazzi—the ones who smelled blood in the water and refused to let go—were specifically invited by me. No matter how hard Liam tried to suppress the trending topics later, the narrative was already out there. He had to accept this child. My goal was officially achieved. Oh, right. I had a delivery driver mail the kid to the venue. Everything described above was relayed to me by him, heavily supplemented by my own imagination. Because, obviously, I couldn’t be at the venue myself. The day before yesterday, I was rushed into the hospital by an ambulance for emergency resuscitation. 4 The gossiping from the next bed over woke me up. “Tell me quickly, what happened to the kid from the trending topic? Did the Vance family accept her?” “Of course they accepted her! They already did a paternity test. My cousin told me Liam Vance actually spoils her rotten. He even brings her to work with him.” “How does your cousin know?” “She’s Liam Vance’s assistant! She said the kid is so sweet and adorable. While Mr. Vance works, she just plays quietly by herself.” Hmph. At least Liam has a shred of conscience. “The poor kid. I heard she frequently wakes up crying in the middle of the night, saying she misses her mom. That’s why Mr. Vance keeps her close to comfort her.” “Is the Evans heiress, Chloe Evans, really willing to be a stepmom?” “Why wouldn’t she be? I heard she’s been in love with Liam Vance for years. Plus, for rich people, raising a kid is as easy as raising a cat. It doesn’t affect her at all. She frequently buys toys and brings them to the office to coax the kid. She treats her pretty well.” My mood instantly lightened significantly. The trending topics on my phone seemed to be true. #ChloeEvansHappilyBecomesBestStepmom The attached photo showed Liam and Chloe taking Mia to a high-end, kid-friendly restaurant. The look in her eyes as she put food on Mia’s plate was actually quite gentle. I’ve been surviving in the entertainment industry since I was a teenager; I wouldn’t misread that look. Mia was eating ice cream, smiling so wide you couldn’t even see her eyes. Alright then. The little brat was eating well, living well, and had people doting on her at the Vance estate. Over time, she was bound to forget me. In a great mood, I couldn’t help but order some takeout. The nurse doing rounds scolded me: “Get some rest! What kind of patient starts ordering takeout and buying makeup the second they start feeling a little better?” I smiled. “I’ve loved looking pretty since I was a kid. Even if I’m dying, I want to be a beautiful corpse.” Too bad I won’t be beautiful for much longer. Sigh. I guess it’s karma for all the times I scammed people for money when I was younger. I deserve to die young. I applied some lipstick, and my deathly pale face finally looked somewhat alive. Suddenly, a sentence caught me completely off guard. “Hey, my cousin said the kid was suddenly hospitalized! She’s right here in our hospital…” 5 I sprinted toward the pediatric ward. The words they had said echoed endlessly in my head. “Some people are saying the Evans heiress poisoned the kid.” “Holy shit, the evil stepmother trope coming to life?” When I burst into the pediatric ward, the door was slightly ajar. Chloe lowered her voice and said: “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know she was allergic to mangoes. I shouldn’t have given her mango juice.” Liam comforted her: “It’s okay, it was just an accident.” “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Rose Miller for not paying attention when she raised her. She didn’t even know Mia was allergic to mangoes.” To comfort his fiancée, he pins the blame on me. Liam, you absolute dog. I stood in the corner of the hallway, waiting until they left before slipping into the room. Mia had just woken up. She opened her groggy eyes, and they suddenly lit up. She reached her arms out to me. “Mommy! Mommy, hug!” “Why did you eat mango on purpose?!” Mia was always obedient. She knew that eating mangoes made her feel terrible, and she never touched them. And I knew that someone with Chloe’s status and intelligence wouldn’t stoop to doing something so stupid. Therefore, the only possibility was that Mia ate it on purpose. She buried her face in my chest and whispered: “Mommy, I’m sorry. I missed you too much.” “I knew you were in the hospital.” “If I had an allergic reaction, Daddy would definitely bring me to the hospital.” There are thousands of hospitals in New York. The little idiot got lucky actually running into me. She broke into a wide grin. “Yay! I really did get to see Mommy.” I was so angry I could have died. “You have food and a home with the Vance family! Why are you thinking about me? Don’t ever do this again, and don’t even think about me! I’m very busy. I’m leaving.” Her tiny hands gripped me tightly, refusing to let go. With red eyes, she begged me: “Mommy, stay with Mia a little longer. Just a little longer, please?” She touched my nose. “Mommy, does your body still hurt? Is your nose going to bleed again?” In that instant, a wave of profound sadness crashed through my body. If I wasn’t dying… Why would I ever have given her up?

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The plot had finally run its course. I went home, thrilled to celebrate, only to accidentally overhear my son say: “Daddy, do we still have to pretend for Mommy?” “I want Auntie Chloe to be here for real.” Arthur stood nearby, his face showing a kind of relaxed relief I had never seen before. “Yeah. Let’s just get rid of Mommy, okay?” My son nodded emphatically. I turned around and threw the celebration gift I had bought right into the trash. I was even more thrilled. After all, the only reason I came to this world to play the role of the tragically abused female lead… Was to save my real husband and daughter back in my own world. 1 Holding the cake box, I stood just outside the half-open door of the nursery. The crack in the door couldn’t block out the conversation happening inside. “Daddy, am I really not going to get sick anymore?” My son, Leo’s, voice drifted out. “No.” Arthur only ever softened his tone when speaking to Leo. “The plot is over. There’s no risk of deviation anymore, so you won’t be punished with illness.” “What about Auntie Chloe?” Leo asked eagerly. “It’s all Mommy’s fault that Auntie Chloe always had to sneak around!” “If we didn’t have Mommy, we wouldn’t have to do things we hate.” “And you could be with Auntie Chloe for real, Daddy.” “Daddy, now that the plot is over, can you divorce Mommy?” The thin ribbon of the cake box was digging painfully into my hand. In the gift bag, there was a discontinued Lego set I had spent an entire month hunting down for him. The nursery was quiet for a moment. Arthur seemed to be considering it. “Okay. I’ll divorce your mother.” “Today is your birthday, so let’s just celebrate. Daddy will talk to her in a few days.” 2 Leo’s cheer slipped through the crack in the door and pierced my ears. A freezing chill washed over my entire body. Eight years ago. To save my husband and daughter who were in a horrific car crash, I agreed to the System’s demands. I transmigrated into this angsty romance novel. My mission was to strictly follow the plotline until the very end. If I deviated from the plot, the System would issue a “plot penalty.” Mild penalties meant illness; severe ones meant fatal accidents and forced extraction from this world. If I completed the plot smoothly, I would be rewarded with points to wake my husband and daughter from their comas. I wasn’t a very good host. From meeting Arthur at nineteen, stumbling through our relationship, to marrying him and giving birth to Leo at twenty-two… I had managed to drag us through more than half the plot, but the male lead, Arthur, eventually grew sick of me. I started getting sick frequently. At its worst, my vision blurred, and my hearing faded. Because I gave birth to Leo, he was also affected by the penalties, experiencing one-tenth of my pain. Leo cried day and night, his tiny body growing weaker and frailer. Risking total mission failure, I confessed the existence of the System to Arthur. I told him that if he left me, I would die, and Leo would die too. The only way out was to wait until the plot ended. At that time, there were only five years left. Arthur started forcing himself to stay by my side. Occasionally, we would fight, and Leo and I would both fall ill. I felt immensely guilty towards Leo. But Leo was always so understanding, taking his medicine and eating his meals on time. Gradually, we grew very close. Finally, just a few days ago, the System announced that the plot had concluded. I excitedly shared the news with Arthur. From now on, we were no longer shackled by the plot system. We could live freely. And I had a choice: I could either leave this world or stay. Selfishly, I didn’t want Leo to be lonely. So I planned to stay until he was an adult. But reality just delivered a brutal, crushing blow to my selfishness. 3 I turned around and dumped the cake and the toy straight into the trash can. Then, I pushed the door open and walked in. “I agree to the divorce.” I looked at Leo, my emotions a tangled mess. “Leo… Mommy didn’t know you liked Auntie Chloe so much. I also didn’t know… that you hated being my son so much.” “Making you suffer the plot penalties with me… that was Mommy’s fault.” A flash of embarrassed anger crossed Leo’s small face. He had been caught. He didn’t know how to lie yet, nor how to hide his true feelings. He just stuck his neck out and accused me: “Mommy was eavesdropping! Bad Mommy! This is exactly why I don’t like you! You’re bad!” Even though I was mentally prepared. Hearing the child I carried for nine months say he hated me with his own mouth… It still made my nose sting. Arthur looked surprised, but he didn’t stop Leo. He seemed to gather his thoughts, finally just nodding. “Fine. Sorry for keeping it from you for so long.” “I’ll have my lawyer send you the divorce agreement. Whatever you want as compensation, just name it.” “Let’s get this over with quickly… I owe Chloe too much. I can’t wait to make it up to her anymore.” Leo huffed and yelled, “Me too! Auntie Chloe is so nice, but Mommy was so unreasonable and chased her away! I don’t want a mommy like this!” My heart turned completely to ash. A few years ago, Chloe had tried to harm Leo several times. Even if the plot hadn’t dictated it, I would have found a way to get rid of her for Leo’s sake. I thought I had succeeded. But looking at them now. I had been played. “WARNING—” “Abnormality detected in the plot’s conclusion! Severe character deviation!” The System’s alarm and a piercing siren exploded in my head. “Host, please repair the plot within seven days, or the scenario will be forcibly terminated!” I clutched my head in agony. Wasn’t the plot over? “System, what is going on?” I asked frantically. “…Apologies, Host. It seems we were both deceived.” “Plot monitoring is conducted solely from the Host’s perspective, and characters actively deceiving the System is unprecedented… This was an oversight on our part.” The System’s mechanical voice hummed slowly. “However, since this System also failed to detect the character anomaly, we will bear a portion of the responsibility.” “Even if the plot repair fails within seven days, your points will still be awarded.” A wave of relief washed over me. When I snapped back to reality, Arthur and Leo were staring at me nervously. They knew that whenever I spaced out like that, I was communicating with the System. “Is the System back? What’s going on? Didn’t you say the plot was over?” Arthur’s tone was laced with anxiety. “It’s not going to punish Leo or Chloe, is it?” Leo covered his mouth, his big eyes darting around. “I-I take back what I just said!” I waited a moment. Seeing that neither father nor son had any intention of showing concern for me, I suddenly laughed. “No, it won’t,” I said, a bitter smile on my lips. “Also, Leo, happy birthday.” “Your birthday present is your freedom.” I immediately abandoned any thought of repairing the plot. I just had to wait out the seven days for the failure, and then I would be forcibly extracted. 4 Arthur truly couldn’t wait a single second. He completely bypassed the mandatory thirty-day “cooling-off” period for divorce and went straight to litigation. After getting the final divorce decree, I packed a few clothes. As I was about to leave the Sterling mansion, I couldn’t help but ask Leo, “Leo, if you never see Mommy again after today… will you be sad?” Leo was playing with his blocks and didn’t even look up. “Mommy, why are you starting this again?!” “You used that exact same line to chase Auntie Chloe away and force Daddy to stay with you! Are you trying to force me now too?!” My entire body went rigid. Right. I was the one who told them that if the plot deviated too much, I would die. But I never told them that if the plot became completely illogical, this entire world would cease to exist. Because of that, the Host and the characters were supposed to rely on each other to survive. But I didn’t want to burden Arthur and Leo, so I kept that part a secret. “Leo… I’m sorry. Mommy won’t say it again,” I said softly. “But… Mommy is truly going to disappear.” “You’re so annoying!” Leo suddenly grabbed a wooden block and hurled it at me. His little face was scrunched up in deep irritation. “Disappear! Disappear! Then just go disappear!” I couldn’t dodge in time. The block hit me squarely on the bridge of my nose. A flood of complex, agonizing emotions rushed over me all at once. Clutching my nose, I suddenly felt my body grow light. My five senses blurred for a fraction of a second. The plot had deviated again. I took a deep breath, reaching out to stroke Leo’s hair. He dodged my hand, moving to another spot to continue playing with his blocks. I sighed. “Fine. You have Chloe anyway. She’ll be with you.” Walking out of the Sterling estate, I stood by the curb waiting for a cab. A bright red sports car came roaring down the street. It slammed on the brakes right next to me. The window rolled down, revealing a face remarkably similar to mine, but far more vibrant and beautiful. It was Chloe. Arthur’s childhood sweetheart, the ‘white moonlight’ supporting character. Originally, as the substitute female lead, my role was to erase her influence and make Arthur fall in love with the real me. But obviously, I failed. Instead, I was completely played by their united front. “Elara, long time no see.” Chloe’s smile was arrogant and radiant. She flashed the massive pink, heart-shaped diamond on her finger. “Arthur and I are getting married the day after tomorrow. You have to come.” Seeing that familiar diamond, my heart skipped a beat. When I married Arthur, the plot required me to wear that exact pink diamond ring. But Arthur felt the ring didn’t suit me. I thought it was a trivial detail. So I broke the plot rule and wore the square-cut diamond he gave me instead. The very next day, I was hit with a plot penalty. I “accidentally” fell down the stairs and was bedridden for three months. I was so confused back then. It was just a minor descriptive deviation; the penalty shouldn’t have been that severe. Looking at it now, the pink diamond was definitely a crucial plot point. It wasn’t that the ring didn’t suit me. It was that I didn’t deserve it. “Congratulations,” I said coldly. A flash of blinding white light crossed my vision. That uncontrollable sensation of weightlessness hit me again. At this rate, I wouldn’t even need seven days. I’d be forcibly ripped from this world much sooner. “Arthur told me you were using that ‘disappearing’ threat again,” Chloe said mockingly. “But since the plot is over, don’t you think trying that trick now is a little too fake?” I ignored her. The plot deviation was irreversible anyway. This world was on the brink of annihilation. 5 Day Six of the countdown. I didn’t bother renting an apartment. Instead, I booked a luxury hotel suite, planning to just lie there and wait for the plot to collapse. “Plot monitoring is conducted solely from the Host’s perspective.” The System’s notification pinged suddenly. I watched the news about Arthur’s upcoming wedding on TV and gave a noncommittal “Mhm.” I turned off the TV and opened my phone. The gossip blogs were flooded with pictures of their sickeningly sweet, smiling faces. He must feel incredibly guilty to want the entire world to witness how he was making it up to her. “Therefore, the Host must personally witness the wedding of Arthur and Chloe for this System to accurately assess the degree of plot deviation.” I blinked and sat up straight. No wonder I hadn’t felt that weightless sensation all day. “System, do you ever think you’re fundamentally bugged?” I asked helplessly. The System was silent for a moment. “This System will submit an application for an upgrade.” “However, if it weren’t for this bug, given your… capabilities, Host, it would have been impossible for you to reach the end of the plotline.” I choked on the System’s bluntness. “You…” “Host, please witness the plot event as soon as possible,” the mechanical voice said, carrying a hint of what sounded almost like pity. “You will be extracted from this world very soon.” Day Five of the countdown. I wore a simple, elegant white dress to attend Arthur’s wedding. The ceremony was held on a pristine white sand beach. The weather was clear, the ocean breeze gentle. The venue was transformed into a sea of flowers; even the aisle was carpeted with pink petals. The System, worried I might be harassed, suggested I wear a mask and sunglasses to disguise myself. I smiled and declined. I found a crystal chair near the front and sat down, waiting for the ceremony to begin. From this angle and distance, I would have a crystal-clear view of Arthur and Chloe’s expressions. “Host, actually, you…” The System was unusually chatty today. I shook my head. “Don’t worry about me. Honestly, seeing how little they care about me, I feel relieved.” “Of course I’m sad, but I’m much more excited about my life when I get back.” Thinking about that, I grabbed a napkin from the table. With a few quick folds, I created a little teddy bear. “Look. Whenever my daughter threw a tantrum back home, I would quickly fold one of these little bears to cheer her up.” “Thank goodness I haven’t forgotten how to do it.” I held the little bear up, inspecting it from different angles. Behind me, a familiar, sweet little voice rang out: “Mommy, why are you here?” I turned around and saw Leo dressed in an adorable pageboy tuxedo. He was holding a flower basket. Inside the basket rested a pink velvet ring box. Instinctively, I wanted to reach out and hug him. My hand extended, then I forcefully pulled it back. Leo’s expression was incredibly defensive. He clutched the flower basket tightly, his childish words cutting deep: “Are you here to try and break up Daddy and chase Auntie Chloe away again?!” Everyone around us immediately turned to stare. I smiled. “You misunderstood, Leo. Auntie Chloe invited Mommy to attend her and Daddy’s wedding.” Leo froze for a second. He clearly didn’t expect me to say that. Scratching his head, he noticed the little bear in my hand. “Mommy, what’s that?” He reached out to grab it. I dodged his hand and gently pushed him away. “Leo, this isn’t your toy. You can’t just take it.” Leo’s eyes went wide. He dropped the flower basket on the ground and lunged at me stubbornly. “Mommy, I want to play with that!” I held the little bear high, but it was suddenly snatched from my hand. I looked up. Arthur, looking immaculate in his tailored suit, had silently appeared behind me. He gripped the little bear, inspecting it. He looked down at me. “Elara, these pathetic little tricks won’t win Leo over. It’s useless.”

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1 Ever since I was in my mother’s womb, I’d been fed a steady diet of tragic romance novels, which, predictably, left me with a severe case of paranoia at birth. While other girls gushed about pretty dresses, I’d be crawling in the shadows with my action camera and voice recorder, convinced someone was trying to photograph up my skirt. When others flirted with their crushes, I’d be signing up for every debate club imaginable, fearing I wouldn’t be sharp enough to win an argument. My tongue, they said, could strip paint. Yet, by the time I turned sixteen, the villainess destined to wrong me remained elusive. My parents, kind and gentle; my classmates, endearingly foolish; my teachers, caring and dedicated. I was starting to think I was just plain crazy. Then, they arrived. My biological parents, pulling up in a luxurious car. A beautiful socialite, my birth mother, wept dramatically as she claced me to her chest, but not without protectively clutching the arm of the girl beside her—the imposter daughter. “Darling, from now on, Serena will be your sister. You two must get along beautifully.” Serena, the imposter, offered a sweet smile and agreed. But on her very first day back at the mansion, she slyly slipped a necklace into my pocket, then accused me of being a thief. Her tears flowed like a summer rain, her cries utterly heartbreaking. As everyone’s eyes narrowed in disgust and their voices sharpened with accusations, I, brimming with a strange excitement, calmly pulled out my three action cameras. “Alright, everyone! Let’s review this frame by frame!” … The entire Blackwell family stood dumbfounded. Serena, the imposter daughter, gripped her hands tightly, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at my three action cameras. “Th-this, what is this…?” “Oh, just all the footage I’ve recorded since stepping foot into the Blackwell estate,” I chirped, a triumphant glint in my eye. I eagerly grabbed one of the cameras, scrolling through the recordings of my time alone with Serena. “Don’t worry, I’ve got multiple angles. Every detail is captured.” Serena’s face drained of color. Before I could even fast-forward to the relevant timestamp, my cheapskate older brother, Mark Blackwell, scowled. “That’s enough!” he snapped. “Lynn, if you stole it, you stole it. Are you trying to imply Serena framed you? I watched Serena grow up; I know her character better than anyone!” A classic line. I spared him a quick, appreciative glance, then swiftly dragged the video timeline to the exact moment Serena slipped the necklace into my pocket. In the video, Serena held her head high, her face a mask of disdain. “Lynn, don’t think just because you’re a Blackwell by blood that you’re special. Mom, Dad, and Mark—they’ll always prefer me!” “I have a million ways to get rid of you from this family…” “Right here!” I exclaimed, pausing the video. On screen, Serena’s hand hovered by my pocket, a dazzling ruby peeking from between her fingers. I zoomed in, thrusting the magnified image before each Blackwell family member. “See, everyone! Is this enough to prove my innocence?” My birth parents, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, were speechless, their gazes flitting between me and the screen with a complex mix of emotions. Mark stared at Serena, utterly bewildered. Seeing the silence, I quickly broke it. “What’s with the quiet? Just tell me, does this video prove I didn’t steal anything?” I turned to Serena. “Serena, since they’re not talking, why don’t you share a few words? Perhaps enlighten us on your thought process for framing me?” Serena’s face was ashen, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I, I didn’t…” Before I could hear anything more, she swayed weakly, then gracefully fainted. My parents and brother, who moments ago were frozen in place, rushed to catch her. “Serena! Serena!” “Quick! Get the car to the hospital!” I, too, hurried over, poking her. “Hey, don’t pass out yet! You haven’t given your confession speech! Finish that, then you can faint.” Mark glared at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Lynn, are you only satisfied when you’ve turned this family upside down? Serena has fainted, and you’re still tormenting her! Do you have any humanity at all?” I rolled my eyes. “Finding that video was hard work, you know. You haven’t even apologized. Do you have any humanity?” But his ears seemed deaf. He scooped up Serena and rushed out without a backward glance. Whatever. I stretched contentedly, packing away my action cameras. First battle at the Blackwells’—victory! 2 Serena spent three days convalescing ‘weakly’ in the hospital. Mom, Dad, and Mark were all by her side, while I, the newly discovered biological daughter, couldn’t even get a glimpse of them. But I didn’t care one bit. I directed the butler to install cameras in every corner of the mansion, especially in high-risk areas like the staircases. The butler looked utterly bewildered. “Miss Lynn, is Blackwell Manor a particularly dangerous place?” I simply smiled, saying nothing, just insisting on more cameras. On the third day after the camera installation, Serena finally returned from the hospital, looking delicately frail. She leaned into Mom’s embrace, a smug satisfaction twinkling in her eyes. As Mom went to fetch her some water, Serena lifted her chin, ready to unleash a barrage of passive-aggressive remarks. But then, I casually pointed to the ten cameras surrounding us, and she instantly fell silent. Thanks to the watchful eyes of the cameras, I enjoyed a remarkably peaceful afternoon. At dinner, my parents, Mark, and Serena—all of whom I hadn’t seen in ages—gathered together. My parents dished out a spoonful of food for Serena, then for me. “Lynn, darling, Serena is actually a very pure and kind child. It’s just that your sudden return made her feel insecure, which led her to do such things. Your father and I have already spoken to her, and Serena has promised it won’t happen again.” “Can you forgive her?” I was too busy shoveling food into my mouth to answer. They exchanged hesitant glances, then looked around at the cameras peppered across the dining room. “These… are they really necessary?” I quickly swallowed my mouthful and spoke. “Why wouldn’t they be necessary? Do Mom and Dad have something to hide?” Faced with my innocent query, they stammered and hesitated. Seeing this, Mark slammed his bowl onto the table. “Lynn, what is the meaning of this? Is this how your family taught you? No manners at all!” I looked at him, genuinely puzzled. “Does that mean you have something to hide?” Mark spluttered. “What are you talking about? I just can’t stand you targeting Serena.” I feigned understanding. “Oh, so it’s she who has something to hide.” Serena began to weep dramatically, while Mark cursed under his breath. Seeing that they had no further objections, I calmly lowered my head and resumed eating. As I was finishing up, my parents called out to me again. “Lynn, we’ve transferred you to Kingston Academy. Serena is also at that school. Tomorrow, she can introduce you to her friends.” Ah, here it comes! The crucial plot point every imposter daughter must experience! I suppressed the surge of excitement, nodding calmly. The next day, as soon as I opened the car door, Serena shot me a furious glare, her voice low and menacing. “Lynn, Kingston Academy is my territory. If I let you off easy, I’m not a Blackwell.” Seeing my look of utter surprise, she puffed out her chest, triumphant. “Scared, aren’t you? If you’re scared, then get out of the Blackwell house!” “But you’re not a Blackwell by blood, anyway.” Serena’s face twisted in rage. She snarled, “You’ll regret this!” before storming out of the car. I followed her, stepping out and gazing at the grand, imposing academy before me. A thrill of excitement pulsed through me. All these years! I’d painstakingly researched ways for victims of melodrama to fight back. But my kind teachers and foolishly sweet classmates made me feel like a lunatic. Now, finally, I had found my calling! Indeed, heaven-sent talents must have their purpose—and there were always schemers trying to get me! With genuine exhilaration, I adjusted my backpack straps and strode confidently through the main gate! 3 My parents had already arranged everything; Serena and I weren’t in the same class. Yet, as I expected, a subtle hostility lurked in my new classmates’ eyes. So, while the homeroom teacher introduced me, I unzipped my backpack, revealing hundreds of copies of paternity test results I’d printed yesterday. Three sets. One confirming Serena’s biological ties to her birth father. One confirming my biological ties to my birth father, and another with my birth mother. Driven by a scientific, rigorous, and utterly bulletproof approach, I enthusiastically handed them out to every student. “Hello, everyone! My name is Lynn Blackwell. I’m the real daughter of the Blackwell family, recently found after being swapped at birth. I’m not a love child, nor a poor relative from the countryside. I’m the biological daughter who was switched by Serena’s birth mother and then abandoned in a trash can during a snowstorm, in case anyone was wondering.” “I hold a black belt in Taekwondo and am fairly proficient in hand-to-hand combat. However, I am inherently gentle and kind by nature, and I hope we can all get along well.” Amidst the kaleidoscope of expressions on my classmates’ faces, I calmly took my assigned seat. “Oh, and by the way, if anyone is curious or wants to share the DNA test results with a friend, feel free to grab a copy from me anytime!” After the first class, whispers about me filled the room. I ignored them, my head down, focused on my work. After the second class, delicate Serena finally arrived with her two lackeys. She stood by my desk, her voice steeped in theatrical sorrow, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Sister, Mom and Dad asked me to look after you. Are you getting used to things here, coming from your country school?” “I won’t dwell on you putting me in the hospital a few days ago. Can we please stop targeting each other from now on?” She finished with a perfectly pitiful expression. Her two sidekicks, indignantly, chimed in. “Serena, you’re just too kind! How can a poor relative staying in your house bully you? And even try to steal your things!” “What ‘poor relative’? For all we know, she could be a love child!” “Serena, let us teach her a lesson for you!” They angrily moved to confront me, then suddenly noticed the eerie silence in the classroom. This group of students, usually at the peak of their gossiping and righteousness, offered no support. Everyone stared at the three of them with a look of utter bewilderment, as if watching clowns perform. Serena, sensing something was off, said, “Lynn, Mom said you picked up many bad habits in the countryside. Could it be you lied to everyone on your first day? Everyone, I apologize on behalf of my sister if she said anything strange.” Her lackeys were fuming. “Why apologize for her, Serena? How can you be so kind?” “Hey, peasant, get up and apologize to our Miss Serena, or else!” In the suffocating silence, my desk-mate finally couldn’t take it anymore. She picked up one of the paternity reports I’d handed out. “Um… maybe you guys should read this before continuing your performance?” The three paternity reports utterly shattered the facade of righteousness on the lackeys’ faces. “So you’re not the real Blackwell daughter! You’re a liar!” Serena burst into tears and ran off, leaving a classroom full of intrigued students. That evening, Serena was still crying. She’d stormed out of school right after classes, leaving the driver to wait for me, and driven herself home. I, without hesitation, called Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, their secretary, and their driver—every contact I had. I told them Serena had abandoned me at the school gates, that I couldn’t find my way home. I warned that if a Blackwell car didn’t appear in ten minutes, I’d hang myself from the school gate and shout for all the world to hear that the Blackwells were so broke they couldn’t even afford transport for their child, shaming them all. Within ten minutes, Mr. Blackwell’s driver sped over to pick me up. Mom was hugging the weeping Serena, her face etched with heartache, while a furious Mark charged at me, ready to demand an explanation. “Lynn, didn’t I warn you not to bully Serena? Why did you tell everyone Serena isn’t a Blackwell by blood?” I looked at him, genuinely puzzled. “But… is she a Blackwell by blood?” “It was her mother’s doing! She’s innocent!” “But… is she a Blackwell by blood?” Mark, cornered, pointed a trembling finger at me. “So what? Our bond isn’t something blood can replace! The only sister I acknowledge is Serena!” I stared at him and Serena for a long moment, then my face broke into an expression of dawning realization. Seeing that look, Mark’s face twisted in alarm. “What… what do you mean by that?” “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t care about your real sister, who was swapped at birth and nearly froze to death in a snowstorm. Instead, you constantly defended a girl who’d enjoyed my life for over a decade. I used to think you were just crazy, but now, hearing you say ‘our bond isn’t something blood can replace,’ I finally understand.” Mark’s face registered a flicker of panic. He lunged to cover my mouth, but I was faster. “It’s love, isn’t it?!” 4 Mark’s face flushed a deep crimson, like a bruised plum. “What are you talking about?” “What else could it be? It’s not like you’re actually heartbroken for a girl who stole sixteen years of my privileged life, just to ensure she continues enjoying it, while simultaneously hating me, your real sister, right?” “Anyway, since you two aren’t related by blood, go ahead and fall in love! I totally support it!” On the sofa, Mom, who moments ago had been clinging to Serena, looked as though my words had jolted her. Her trembling hands slowly released Serena. She cast a suspicious glance between Mark and Serena. Mark recoiled, wanting to put eight hundred feet between himself and Serena. “I’m not! I didn’t! I really didn’t!” I leisurely took a sip of tea, pressing my advantage. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be questioning your real sister over your imposter sister.” Mark fell silent, his anger extinguished. He mumbled something unintelligible and fled. The next few days were peaceful. Perhaps due to my outburst, the Blackwell parents looked at Serena with a newfound scrutiny. Mark, meanwhile, actively avoided her. My classmates at school were also surprisingly well-behaved. Just as I was starting to fret over the dullness of life, Serena and my birthdays arrived. Mom and Dad announced they would host a joint birthday and official recognition party, formally announcing my identity as the Blackwell family’s second daughter and restoring my rightful surname. As everyone knows, in any novel, a party is always a pivotal event! I charged all my action cameras, then scouted the party venue in advance. Drawing on all the imposter-daughter melodramas I’d ever read, I designed a little surprise—just for Serena. On the day of the party, Serena was immediately surrounded by a flock of socialites, who occasionally shot me contemptuous and mocking glances. I walked straight over to them. “Are you talking about me?” “Do you need me to get you a microphone?” They seemed surprised by my direct approach, their faces flushing with embarrassment. Serena offered her signature sweet smile. “Sister, we were just discussing this year’s jewelry collection from Chaumet. Oh, right, I forgot you grew up in the countryside and probably haven’t heard of it.” A ripple of laughter went through the group. Serena covered her mouth, as if realizing her faux pas. “Sister, it’s almost our turn to go on stage. Shall we go find Mom?” The butler appeared at that moment, escorting us to the second floor. “Madam was chatting with some ladies and accidentally spilled something on her gown. She’s currently changing on the second floor.” I adjusted the action camera clipped to my gown, following them. The butler led us to a room and then left. On the table lay Mother’s gown, and inside the room, there seemed to be nothing that could be used to frame me. Only then did I step inside. But as soon as I entered, my legs suddenly felt weak. From behind, Serena pressed an ether-soaked cloth over my nose. “You bitch, didn’t expect this, did you? I’m not trying to frame you—I’d never fall into the same trap twice!” My eyes widened. My body went limp as I collapsed to the floor. Serena’s voice was filled with venom. “Why didn’t you just die out there? Why come back and steal my parents and brother? Because of you, Mom and Dad are now distant from me!” “I’ve had someone hack all the surveillance on this floor. You’re never going to be seen again.” Just then, a woman pushing a hotel cleaning cart emerged from the inner room. Together, they stuffed me into a trash bin, then clamped the lid shut. The last sliver of light vanished into darkness. My limbs were weak, my consciousness hazy, as I was curled into a ball and crammed into the trash can. “The truck is ready,” Serena said, her eyes gleaming with malice. “My instructions are simple: sell her as far away as possible. I want her to spend the rest of her life in some remote mountain village, bearing children for old men! Understand?” “Lynn, this is the life you deserve.” The trash bin was quietly wheeled out of the room. The stench of garbage mingled with the rumble of a truck engine. I heard someone open the truck’s cargo bay. The truck started gently, pulling away from the hotel. Inside the brightly lit hotel, a voice seemed to announce, “Please welcome Serena to the stage.” Curled up in the trash bin, I secretly curved my lips into a smile. “Serena, happy birthday.” “Live broadcast starting now!”

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