Category: English

  • Broken Petals

    My boyfriend and his childhood friend were both competing in the same dance competition. To ensure she won the championship, he actually hid razor blades in my dance shoes. My feet were a bloody mess, and I couldn’t go on stage. Afterward, he offered a fake apology. “Mia, your grades are excellent. Even if you don’t dance, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to succeed.” “But Chloe is different. She has to get first place to get into the city dance troupe.” The school administration was going to call the police, but because I loved him, I chose to give him another chance. I never imagined he would escalate. To completely eliminate any competition for his precious childhood friend, he locked me in an empty dance studio and smashed my feet with a hammer. 1 The moment the dance studio door locked, I stared at Liam Vance in absolute terror. “Dancing is my dream too, Liam. Please, don’t do this.” I begged him desperately, but Liam acted as if he couldn’t hear a word. He ordered his childhood friend to hold me down while he raised a large sledgehammer and approached me. “You’re so talented, you can have any dream you want. Why does it have to be dancing?” “Mia, don’t blame me. Blame the dance troupe for only having one opening.” I was the best dancer in the school. As long as I was competing, Chloe Sinclair had absolutely zero chance of winning. I came from a poor family. My parents died in a car crash when I was young, and my grandmother raised me. I had loved dancing since I was a child. When I found out that getting into the city dance troupe meant free tuition plus a monthly stipend, I started practicing like my life depended on it. My grandmother was getting older and could no longer support us. Since my freshman year of high school, I spent every spare moment dancing. For two whole years, all my effort was dedicated to this one audition. The first prize in the previous competition came with a ten-thousand-dollar cash reward. I had planned to use that money to buy medicine for my grandmother. The rest would have paid for my senior year tuition. But all my beautiful plans were destroyed by Liam’s selfishness. I had already lost one opportunity. If I failed this audition, I would have to drop out of school. But none of that mattered compared to my physical safety. I couldn’t become a cripple. I couldn’t become a burden to my grandmother. Before Liam could swing the hammer, I screamed. “Liam! I won’t go to the audition tomorrow! I forfeit!” Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, I pleaded earnestly. “I promise, I’ll accept your financial help. I won’t compete with Chloe anymore. Just please don’t hurt me!” Liam finally wavered. He threw the hammer aside and lunged forward, hugging me tightly. “Why didn’t you just agree earlier?” “Mia, I didn’t want to hurt you, but Chloe has sacrificed so much for me. I’ve already failed her once. Helping her achieve her dream is the only way I can repay her.” Just as I thought I had convinced Liam to let me go, his phone rang. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the name “Chloe Angel” flashing on the screen. My heart sank. While he answered the phone, I broke free from his friend’s grip and sprinted toward the door. “Help!” “Is anyone there?! Please help me!” My hand had barely touched the doorknob when I was grabbed from behind, a hand clamped over my mouth, and dragged back. Liam was still on the phone. Chloe’s voice echoed through the silent night, crystal clear. “Liam, I just found out. The dance troupe has already decided to select Mia. Her audition tomorrow is just a formality.” 2 Chloe started crying as she spoke. “Why am I working so hard if I can never achieve my dream? What am I doing wrong? Liam, tell me, am I just destined to be a loser as long as Mia is around?” “Why does everyone choose her and not me?!” Listening to Chloe’s broken sobs, Liam’s gaze toward me turned dark and ruthless. He lowered his voice and said, “Chloe, I promise you, Mia will never have the chance to dance again.” “You’re going to nail that audition tomorrow.” He hung up, picked up the discarded sledgehammer, and walked toward me again. “I’m sorry, Mia. Chloe lost her innocence trying to save me. I should have stayed with her and protected her for the rest of her life, but I rejected her for you.” “We both owe her. After this, we’ll be even.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I never knew Liam and Chloe had that kind of history. I shook my head frantically, trying to stop his insane actions. But he was completely out of his mind. When the excruciating, bone-shattering pain exploded from my ankle, my entire body convulsed into a tight ball. I opened my mouth wide but couldn’t scream. I even forgot how to breathe, how to let my heart beat. The world seemed to plunge into a dead, silent darkness. All I could see was an endless sea of blood red. When I regained consciousness, I heard Liam’s hoarse, heartbroken sobbing. He was holding me, his entire body trembling violently. “Mia, forgive me just this once. I promise I will love you and take care of you for the rest of my life.” “I’ll spend my entire life making this up to you.” I opened my eyes and looked at my twisted, shattered ankle. The crimson blood almost completely engulfed me. The pain radiated through my entire body, draining all my strength, leaving me paralyzed in Liam’s arms. My dream, my life, completely destroyed by him. What was the point of him taking care of me for the rest of my life? “Mia, if you want to cry, just cry. If you want to curse me, curse me.” “I know I wronged you, but I had no other choice. This was the only way I could repay Chloe. Only then could we be together with a clear conscience.” “A clear conscience?” I repeated those words, slowly lifting my eyes to look at Liam’s tear-stained face. “You smashed my ankle. I might never be able to walk normally again, and you’re telling me about a clear conscience?” “You pursued me. You wanted to be with me. I never asked you to give up Chloe for me. Why should I have to suffer the consequences of your guilt toward her?!” “If I had known this was the price of being with you, I would have rather never met you.” Using every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him away and began to slowly, agonizingly drag myself toward the door. Every inch I crawled tore at my soul with excruciating pain. A long, gruesome trail of blood trailed behind me. My words infuriated Liam. He yelled defensively, “Is it a crime that I love you?!” “If I didn’t love you, why would I have rejected Chloe? I already promised to take care of you forever! What more do you want?!” “You only lost your chance to dance! Chloe lost her entire future with the man she loves! You have me, isn’t that enough?! Why do you have to steal her future too?!” He was the one who committed the atrocity, yet he was having a hysterical breakdown, blaming me. Blaming me for being greedy, for being ungrateful. Right before I lost consciousness, I looked at him with profound disappointment. “Liam Vance, we are done.” “I will never, ever love you again.” 3 The way Liam and I met was incredibly cliché. During my freshman year, I was cornered and harassed by some local thugs in an alley. He swooped in like a hero, fighting them off. He took a knife wound for it—a deep gash on his arm. I was incredibly grateful and deeply admired his heroism. After that, he pursued me relentlessly. I slowly fell for him, falling deeply in love. It was only after we got together that I learned about his childhood best friend, Chloe Sinclair. Liam always maintained a clear boundary with Chloe. I thought he was just being considerate of my feelings. I never imagined they shared such a dark secret. In his own words: he couldn’t give Chloe his love, but he would give her anything else she wanted. Just because Chloe said she couldn’t win first place with me around, Liam hid razor blades in my dance shoes the day before the competition. Afterward, he carried me frantically to the hospital, begging the doctors to make sure my feet wouldn’t scar. I received over thirty stitches that night. Terrified that anesthesia would affect my future dancing, I gritted my teeth and endured it without painkillers. I passed out from the pain several times, only to be jolted awake by more agony. Meanwhile, Chloe took her friends out partying until dawn to celebrate her first-place win. She even brought the ten-thousand-dollar prize money in an envelope when she came to visit me in the hospital. While Liam was out buying food, Chloe gloated, “So what if you’re his girlfriend? I will always be the most important person in his heart.” “Believe it or not, with one word from me, he could make sure you never dance again.” I recorded her saying that and played it for Liam, demanding to know what their relationship really was. Liam angrily smashed my phone and told me to trust him. “No matter what happens, I love you.” “I only owe Chloe a debt of gratitude, nothing more. Mia, I will give you all my love.” It turned out that Chloe had confessed her feelings for Liam long before high school. But Liam only saw her as a friend and never thought of her romantically. Chloe refused to give up and followed him everywhere. To the bar, to play basketball, to illegal street races—she was always there. Once, Liam was targeted by some thugs seeking revenge. To help him escape, Chloe was sexually assaulted by them. Afterward, Chloe begged him not to go to the police. She didn’t want the stigma. Liam was consumed by guilt, but he still didn’t want to date her out of obligation. Since then, he granted her every wish, even destroying my dance career for her. It was the third day when I finally woke up in the hospital. I tentatively tried to move my foot, and agonizing pain instantly shot up my leg. I couldn’t help but groan, alerting the caretaker beside me. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?” I looked at her blankly. Just as I was about to ask what happened, I saw the TV on the wall. It was broadcasting a replay of the city dance troupe selecting dancers from a local high school. On screen, Chloe, wearing a leotard, looked graceful and slender. She smiled radiantly, her movements elegant, quickly earning applause from the crowd. To my surprise, the dance troupe had expanded their recruitment this year, accepting three students from our school. “Those girls are so lucky. I hear once you get into the city troupe, room and board are completely free.” “If they get into a good university, the troupe even pays their tuition. As long as they keep performing, they’re set for life.” The caretaker sighed sympathetically as she looked at me. “But don’t lose hope, dear. Your boyfriend said you have excellent grades. You can do scientific research or something. You won’t necessarily need to walk around a lot.” 4 “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I cut her off coldly and asked her to get the doctor. I asked the doctor about my condition. When I learned I would never walk normally again, a suffocating despair washed over me. “Doctor, I used to be a dancer. Getting into the city troupe was my dream. What about my future…” “Sigh.” The doctor sighed softly, advising me to stay positive. “You’re still young. There are many paths you can take. Don’t give up.” After the doctor left, Liam arrived. And Chloe was with him. She actually pushed a wheelchair into the room. The moment she saw me, she rushed over with fake concern. “Mia, you’re finally awake.” “You have no idea how worried Liam and I have been these past two days.” She looked deeply concerned, while Liam stood nearby, looking pleased. “Mia, Chloe knew you hadn’t been eating or sleeping well. She really cares about you.” Liam even added that Chloe had bought the wheelchair with her own saved-up allowance. “You refused the money Chloe offered you last time. You can’t refuse her gift this time.” “Yes, Mia. It breaks my heart to see your feet like this. You’ll have a lot of trouble getting around after you’re discharged, so please accept my gift.” I glared at them with pure hatred. “Since when does an abuser giving a gift to their victim mean anything good?” “Are you two trying to put on a show of eternal friendship or some tragic romance? I’m not in the mood for a performance. Get out!” My ruthless sarcasm instantly angered Liam. It also made Chloe’s eyes well up with tears. She looked at Liam, looking wronged and humiliated. “Liam, I know Mia hates me. I’ll leave.” Instead of leaving, she threw herself into Liam’s arms and started crying. “Liam, what can I do to make Mia less angry? If I could, I’d give her my spot in the dance troupe.” A flicker of heartache crossed Liam’s eyes. He pulled Chloe behind him and glared at me. “Mia, why are you taking your anger out on Chloe? I did all of this. If you want to hate someone, hate me. What’s the point of these passive-aggressive attacks?” “Chloe doesn’t know anything. She came here out of the goodness of her heart.” I was so angry I almost laughed at their sheer audacity. “If she didn’t know anything, why did she bring a wheelchair?” I pointed at Chloe. “I’m a cripple now. I can never dance again. And she says she wants to give me her spot in the troupe? Don’t you see how incredibly insulting that is?” I didn’t want to waste another breath arguing with them. I turned my head toward the window and issued an ultimatum. “Liam Vance, we are broken up. Stop acting like you care.” “And the fact that you intentionally assaulted me? I’ve already called the police. I will seek justice through the law.” Liam stared at me in disbelief. “Break up? I don’t agree to that.” “And I already told you I’d compensate you. You actually want to call the police and have me arrested? You are so heartless. I really misjudged you.” Just as he finished speaking, Chloe suddenly swayed and collapsed against him. “Liam, my heart is racing.” “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t eaten in two days and my blood sugar is low, but I feel so dizzy!” She closed her eyes and went limp in Liam’s arms. Liam quickly picked her up and rushed to find a doctor. Before he left, he threw one last threat over his shoulder. “Mia, I’m letting this go because I know you’re upset. But don’t forget, I’m paying for all your medical bills right now.” “If you break up with me, you’ll be kicked out of this hospital immediately. You won’t even have a place to sleep.” 5 My chest tightened, and a wave of indescribable bitterness washed over me. My grandmother’s health was too frail to care for me in this state, and it was true—I didn’t have the money to pay my medical bills. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him control me. After Liam left, I found an excuse to send the caretaker away. I pulled my phone from under my pillow and dialed a number. “Principal Huang, I am willing to accept your sponsorship. Can you accept a cripple as your future employee?” “Okay. My current address is… I will see you in three days.” Liam thought I was just trying to scare him, that I wouldn’t actually press charges. When the police arrived to investigate, he was still lying, claiming he didn’t mean to smash my ankle. “It was an accident. I didn’t do it on purpose.” “She’s my girlfriend, and I’ve already compensated her. I paid for her surgery.” “My friends can testify for me. We were arguing, we were both angry, and I accidentally hurt her. It wasn’t intentional.” Infuriatingly, he had destroyed the security cameras in the dance studio beforehand, and his two friends backed up his story. There wasn’t enough evidence to charge him with intentional assault. Ultimately, under police mediation, the Vance family agreed to pay me one million dollars for post-operative care. “It’s 20,087,650 dollars.” I handed the itemized bill, calculated by my lawyer, to the Vance family. “If you refuse to pay this in full immediately, we’ll see you in court.” Liam’s parents, eager to sweep this under the rug, quickly signed the settlement agreement. Liam, however, acted as if he had suffered a massive humiliation. “Mia, you’re threatening to sue me over two million dollars?” “You know I’m going to inherit the family business. I can’t have a criminal record. And you’re still trying to sue me?” I expressionlessly accepted the money from the Vance family and left the police station with my lawyer. Liam resentfully chased after me and blocked my path. “Don’t you understand? If you just stayed with me, I could give you so much more.” “But spending two million to see your true colors is worth it. Mia, I am so disappointed in you.” His tone was icy, his eyes full of mockery. “You better not regret this later. I would never accept a cripple as my girlfriend anyway.” My foot was still healing, and I was confined to a wheelchair. But right then, I grabbed the armrests and painfully forced myself to stand. With every ounce of strength I had, I slapped Liam across the face. “Don’t you forget, you’re the one who made me a cripple. What right do you have to mock me?” Smack. Liam’s head jerked to the side. Half of his face turned bright red, with five clear finger marks stinging his skin. Hearing the commotion, his family rushed out and threatened to sue me for assault. “You have the audacity to act like this right outside a police station?! Liam must have been blind to ever fall in love with a girl like you.” “Look at you, acting like a common street thug. You don’t even have a fraction of Chloe’s grace. Even if your foot wasn’t crippled, you’d never win first place.” As they were pointing fingers and yelling at me, Liam suddenly roared. “Enough!” He gave me one last resentful, humiliated look, then dragged his family away. Everyone thought I would transfer schools, or maybe even leave the city entirely. But I didn’t. I used the settlement money to move my grandmother into a top-tier nursing home. Then, I met with Principal Huang, who had come to discuss the sponsorship. When he saw me, he was confused. “You have money now. You don’t need our sponsorship at all. Why do you still…” I smiled bitterly. “That money cost me my future and my dreams. I’d rather not have it.” 6 Principal Huang was the principal of a middle school in a neighboring county. For years, he had been sponsoring outstanding students from impoverished families to attend university. But his sponsorship came with conditions. Any student who got into a top university had to return and teach at his middle school for five years after graduation. He had approached me before my junior year of high school, but at the time, I was determined to join the dance troupe, so I politely declined. Now that my dream was shattered, I couldn’t think of any other company that would hire a cripple after I graduated from college. Principal Huang was deeply sympathetic to my situation and quickly finalized the sponsorship agreement. To ensure I could focus entirely on preparing for the college entrance exams, he rented an apartment for me off-campus. “Don’t feel burdened by this. All these expenses will be deducted from your future salary.” While I was trying to find a new path for my future, someone secretly photographed me with Principal Huang and posted it online. They claimed I was a sugar baby for an older man. “Didn’t expect a cripple to be in such high demand these days.” “So what? Her foot is ruined, not her face. As long as she’s pretty and willing to put out, why not?” “Maybe cripples are better in bed.” Everywhere I went, I heard these disgusting rumors. Some people even had the audacity to ask me my nightly rate to my face. “Hey, I’m younger and stronger than that old man. Serving me is way better than serving him. What do you say? Want to try it tonight?” I didn’t want to engage with these pathetic losers, but walking with crutches made me vulnerable. While trying to dodge them, someone tripped me, and I fell hard onto the ground. Just as the guy reached out, pretending to help me up while trying to cop a feel, a cold, hard voice rang out. “Let her go.” It was Liam. Without a word, he grabbed the guy by the collar, pinned him to the ground, and started beating him mercilessly, until the guy’s mouth was bleeding and he was begging for mercy. “Liam, stop! You’re going to kill him!” Chloe was crying, trying to pull Liam away, but he was like a madman, throwing punch after punch. I watched this unfold with complete apathy. Then, I picked up my crutches and struggled to my feet, limping away step by step. Chloe rushed over to grab me. “Can’t you see Liam is defending you?! How can you just walk away without saying a word?!” I shook her off, a cold smile forming on my lips. “If someone stabs you, and then calls an ambulance right as you’re bleeding to death, are you supposed to thank them?” Liam froze. Even from a distance, I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. Hilarious. I was the one being questioned, the one being attacked. What was he so heartbroken about? I walked past Chloe and kept going. Even when I was far away, I could still hear her screaming. “Liam, please stop hitting him! Didn’t you hear what Mia said?! She hates you! No matter what you do for her, she will never forgive you!” Later that evening, police sirens echoed across the campus. Students returning from outside looked at me strangely. “Her ex-boyfriend got arrested for defending her, and she’s just sitting there calmly taking notes.” “Liam is such an idiot. They’re broken up, and he’s still fighting her battles. A heartless bitch like her deserves to be crippled.” “You guys probably don’t know this, but I heard she extorted the Vance family for over two million dollars when they broke up!” “She’s so quiet, but she’s actually ruthless.” Just another version of the rumors. I didn’t even have to guess who was so obsessively tracking my life. 7 The college entrance exams were looming, and time was tight. I didn’t have a single second to waste on these rumors. I definitely wasn’t going to argue with ignorant people. In a month, we’d all go our separate ways, and my future would never cross paths with theirs again. But no matter how aloof I acted, trouble still found me. The next day, Chloe cornered me in the restroom. Her eyes were swollen, and she glared at me with pure venom. “Mia, Liam got arrested because of you! Are you happy now?” “He lost his temper and hit that guy because of you, and you just walked away without a word.” “You have to come to the police station with me right now and testify that he was acting in self-defense.” Under Chloe’s relentless badgering, I went with her. At the police station, I was perfectly calm during the questioning. “The student who was beaten didn’t touch me inappropriately. I didn’t feel any malicious intent from him.” “Liam assaulting him has absolutely nothing to do with me. I have nothing else to say.” “Of course, I take full responsibility for my statement.” Because of my testimony, Liam’s self-defense claim was thrown out. He was charged with intentional assault. Unfortunately for him, the boy he blinded in one eye came from a prominent family, not someone who could be bought off with loose change. The Vance family spent a fortune trying to keep Liam out of jail. I heard they spent over twenty million in bribes alone. Ultimately, the Vance family decided to send Liam abroad. Chloe threw multiple tantrums in front of me, calling me a curse. She blamed me for destroying Liam’s future. “Liam promised we would go to A University together. After graduation, he would take over his family’s company, and I would be his assistant. Now, because of you, everything is ruined!” I sneered and looked at Chloe. “Are you saying that if Liam goes abroad and comes back, his family won’t let him inherit the company anymore?” “Or is it that the Vance family is only paying for Liam to go abroad, and he can’t take you with him this time? Are you afraid he’ll find someone new over the next few years and forget all about you, his ‘old love’?” Chloe’s face flushed with anger. “What are you talking about?! What new love, what old love?! Liam and I have the purest friendship!” Just as she was about to attack me, Liam appeared. He ordered Chloe away and cornered me in the study hall. “Mia, I came to say goodbye.” He said he didn’t blame me for what I said at the police station. “You were angry. You wanted revenge. I accept that.” “Mia, I’m just worried that after I leave, no one will protect you. What will you do if you run into trouble again?” I self-deprecatingly held up my crutch. “Before, I fought thugs bare-handed. Now, thanks to you, I at least have a weapon.” “Mr. Vance, if you truly want what’s best for me, why don’t you take Chloe with you? That way, she won’t be constantly harassing me and interfering with my studies.” Liam looked at me with complex emotions. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay. I promise you.” A week later, both Liam and Chloe completed their paperwork and left the country. Without those two plagues, high school felt significantly brighter. On the eve of the college entrance exams, Principal Huang was invited as a special guest speaker to give a motivational speech to the students. 8 He specifically mentioned my name on the podium. “Mia Harrison is not the first student from your school to sign a sponsorship agreement with us, but she is the most unique.” “After suffering a malicious physical attack, she didn’t give up or fall into despair. She remained resilient and continued fighting for her future.” “Students, we should all learn from Mia. No matter when or where, never easily give up. As long as you keep moving forward, you are making progress!” Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. The malicious rumors surrounding me vanished with it. After the exams, everyone exchanged contact information and formed group chats. I received many private messages apologizing to me, as well as many words of encouragement. To my surprise, there was also an email from across the ocean. Liam only wrote one sentence in the email. “Mia, if you don’t meet anyone who captures your heart during your four years of college, will you look back at me?” I deleted and blocked the email address, tossing it into the trash along with my past with him. College life was fulfilling and intense. Besides attending classes and participating in clubs, I also went to the hospital for regular physical therapy. Medical technology in our country was rapidly advancing. In my senior year, I underwent a cutting-edge bone graft procedure. It was incredibly expensive, but the results were miraculous. At the graduation ceremony, after four years, I stepped onto the stage once again. I flawlessly performed the dance I never got to finish four years ago. I became famous overnight. The video was shared across all major platforms, amassing over a hundred million views. Someone recognized me and left a comment. “I went to high school with her. If someone hadn’t broken her ankle in her senior year, she definitely would have been recruited by the city dance troupe.” “I also know her family was really poor. Just her grandmother taking care of her. She was planning to use the competition prize money to buy medicine for her grandmother, but someone hid razor blades in her shoes on the day of the competition.” The official account of the city dance troupe actually sent me an invitation. They asked if I was still willing to join them. Looking at the invitation, four years late, my eyes filled with tears. “If you want to go, go. Achieving your dream is the most important thing.” Principal Huang, whom I had invited along with my grandmother to attend my graduation, had told me from the start that he wouldn’t force me to work for him after graduation. But I couldn’t break my promise. “You were the guiding light when I was lost. Since I chose this path, I can’t go back on my word.” “Whether in life or work, you must be a person of your word. My grandmother taught me that.” I politely declined the dance troupe’s offer to be their lead dancer and resolutely followed Principal Huang back to the county to become an ordinary teacher. Every day, facing the innocent, eager faces of my teenage students, I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. Occasionally, I encountered students in early romances, and I used examples to guide them in the right direction.

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  • The Mind Reader’s Choice

    Everyone knows I am Weston Montgomery’s exclusively devoted, pathetic doormat of a girlfriend. If he told me to jump into a river, I jumped. If he told me to kneel in the rain all night, I knelt. I was so obedient that even when he kept a mistress on the side, I voluntarily delivered condoms to their hotel room. People in our circle praised him for raising such a good “dog,” and mocked me for doing whatever it took to marry into wealth. But when he took the initiative to propose to me at a family dinner, I shook my head and refused: “I’ve done everything I could.” “But there is no need for a wedding.” 1 The atmosphere instantly became incredibly awkward. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery exchanged nervous glances, tactfully keeping their mouths shut. Weston, who had been half-drunk and smiling, stiffened. He suddenly stood up, knocking over the dining table, and glared at me in disbelief: “You’re refusing to marry me? Harper, what kind of high-and-mighty act are you putting on now?” “Haven’t you been chasing after me all these years just to marry into my family? Now you’re playing hard to get?” I lazily lifted my eyelids to look at the furious Weston, then turned to his parents. I stood up, nodded at them, and said: “I’m done eating. I’ll be heading back now.” His parents quickly stood up, grabbing Weston by both arms to stop him from doing anything drastic. They offered me an apologetic smile. “Thank you for everything, Harper. Weston must have forgotten to take his meds. Don’t take it to heart.” “Of course, if you are willing to marry him, we would be more than happy to—” “Mom! Dad! What are you talking about?! Harper is the one begging to marry me! Why are you walking on eggshells around her?” “Let me tell you, Harper, if you don’t want to marry me, there’s a long line of women who do! If you weren’t such a good little lapdog, do you think I would have ever given you a second look?” His words were as piercing as ever, but over the past three years, I seemed to have gotten used to them. From initial disbelief to calm acceptance, and now, to complete indifference. It took me three years to accept the fact that Weston had completely forgotten me and that his personality had drastically changed. Now, we had reached the end of the line. I gave Weston one last, deep look, grabbed my coat, and walked out. The sound of things crashing and shattering echoed behind me, but I didn’t look back. Walking up to the car, I tried the door handle a few times, but it wouldn’t open. The chauffeur walked up to me with a sour expression, shoved me hard, and sneered: “This is Mr. Montgomery’s car, and I am Mr. Montgomery’s driver. Do you really think you’re someone important? Mr. Montgomery isn’t going out, so why do you think you can sit in his car?” “Get lost. Don’t be an eyesore.” The bodyguards standing nearby all looked at me with mocking eyes; a few even failed to hold back their laughter. I stood quietly in place. Looking at these people—who had obeyed my every command back when Weston and I were doing well—I only felt a deep sense of irony. When you lose your status, people show their true colors. I didn’t say another word, turned around, and walked out. 2 The Montgomery estate was in an exclusive villa district where you couldn’t hail a cab. I had to walk all the way to the main road outside. A cold, drizzling rain had begun to fall. The streets were mostly deserted. Just as I reached the side of the road, a Porsche pulled up smoothly right in front of me. I tried to walk away to hail a ride, but the car seemed to have eyes, following my every step. I frowned, bent down, and tapped on the window. A familiar face appeared before my eyes. Stella Harrington curled her lips into a disdainful smirk, mocking me: “What’s wrong? Got kicked out of the family dinner?” “Tsk, tsk, tsk. A doormat is a doormat. You’ll never get a seat at the big table in this lifetime.” I stared at her for a long moment before slowly curling my lips into a smile: “What do you think Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery would do if they found out that you were the one who tried to assault Weston years ago, which led to his mental breakdown?” Stella froze. She crushed her cigarette, stepped out of the car, grabbed me by the collar, and screamed: “How do you know about that?!” “No wonder… the last time he ordered you to bring us condoms at the hotel, you completely lost it and trashed the room to keep us apart. I thought you were just jealous, but you were actually protecting your master, huh?” “Go ahead, tell them! If you tell them, Weston might remember that night, and he’ll go insane all over again. Then no one will dare marry him, and his parents will be begging me to marry him!” She was right. The only reason Stella could show her face so brazenly in front of Weston was that she knew the Montgomery family wouldn’t dare expose the truth, even if they knew. Otherwise, Weston might be triggered into another psychotic break and attempt suicide again. A surge of pure rage shot from my chest to my limbs. I felt my blood freezing over. The woman in front of me hadn’t said enough. She chuckled and spat on the ground near my feet: “You’re just a coward!” “If you couldn’t protect your own boyfriend back then, don’t blame me!” “Now I want him again. I want to play with him, and what the hell can you do about it—” Smack! I threw all rationality to the wind and drove a vicious elbow into her, knocking her to the ground. Rage rushed to my head. I stepped forward, pinned her down, and raised my fist to strike again. In that split second, a piercing pain erupted from the back of my head. My entire body went numb, as if a pause button had been pressed. I turned my head blankly. Weston stood there, holding a blood-stained brick. His face was half-angry, his expression dark: “Are you crazy, Harper?! Who gave you the right to hit Stella?!” “Being jealous is one thing, but this is crossing the line!” I reached up and touched the back of my head. My hand came away covered in blood, and my vision instantly blurred. Stella scrambled up from the ground, hid behind Weston, and glared at me with a wicked smile: “Where did this rabid dog come from, biting people for no reason? I’ll kill you!” Saying that, Stella raised her foot and viciously kicked me with her high heel. Caught off guard, the kick landed hard. The agonizing pain from my head and my thigh made me nearly black out. In the final second before my consciousness faded, I saw Stella nestled in Weston’s arms, looking down at me with a provocative, triumphant glare, spitting on the ground one last time. 3 When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was a blinding expanse of white. There was no one by my side. I struggled to press the call button. When the nurse came in, Mrs. Montgomery was with her. Her eyes were red. She waited until the nurse finished checking my vitals and told her I needed a week of rest before profusely thanking her and seeing her out. The room was silent for a while before Mrs. Montgomery choked out a sob: “It’s all my fault. I didn’t keep a close enough eye on Wes. He ran out last night wanting to win you back, to marry you. Who could have known this would happen!” “I… I…” She wept so hard she could barely speak, turning me—the victim—into the one who had to comfort her. After a long time, Mrs. Montgomery finally stopped crying. She lowered her head and said softly: “Since things have come to this… even though his father and I desperately want you to stay by Wes’s side, it’s no use anymore. Whenever you want to leave, we’ll make the arrangements for you.” It felt like something was blocking my throat. After a moment, I managed to squeeze out a few words: “Okay.” “Seven days from now. I’ll go to Australia to study.” Mrs. Montgomery nodded silently, sighed deeply, and left the room. I stared up at the pristine white ceiling, my mind flashing through the events of the past three days like a movie reel. How did Weston and I end up like this? 4 Three years ago, Weston and I had just reached the stage of meeting the parents. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery didn’t treat me with the warm enthusiasm they did now. Instead, they looked down on me—a girl from a rural town, completely mismatched for their prestigious family. Furthermore, I had no parents, only a terminally ill grandfather. Weston hated his family’s elitism because of this and secretly planned to elope with me. But I stopped him, earnestly telling him: “Your parents are doing this for your own good. That’s why they disagree.” “Let’s take a break for a while. Once I’m in a better place, I’ll go to your house and convince them, okay?” But we didn’t make it to that point before things took a drastic turn. My grandfather, dragging his dying, withered body, went to beg Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. He even signed the papers to donate his body to the medical research hospital owned by the Montgomery family, serving as a rare cadaver for science. By the time I found out, my grandfather was already gone, his body sent to the dissection room. While I was having a breakdown over his death, another tragedy struck. Stella Harrington had recently returned from abroad. Coveting Weston, she drugged him and took him to a hotel, attempting to force herself on him. I busted into the room at the very last second and called the cops. Of course, calling the cops did nothing to the powerful Harrington family. But the trauma of the event triggered a severe psychological breakdown in Weston. He lost his ability to care for himself and forgot who everyone was. Later, with professional treatment, he physically recovered, but his personality had drastically changed. And… he forgot me. Thinking of the past brought a wave of inexplicable bitterness to my heart. If Weston and I had never met or fallen in love, none of this would have happened. My ever-smiling grandfather wouldn’t have given his life just to secure my future. But overthinking was useless. Weston’s parents suddenly became incredibly warm to me, asking me to care for Weston for three years and agreeing to our marriage. I originally thought my grandfather’s death should have meaning—that I should fulfill his dying wish and find my happiness. But I didn’t expect that these past three years would bring me no happiness at all. Now, the three-year deadline had arrived. Weston wanted to marry me, but I didn’t want to marry him anymore. Now, I just wanted to go far away and live my own life. 5 In my dreams, I saw my grandfather’s ashen face and heard Weston’s crying. When I woke up from the nightmare, it was already the next day. Half my pillowcase was soaked—I didn’t know if it was tears or sweat. I struggled to sit up and checked the time. Six days left until I departed. Weston still hadn’t shown up, which put my mind at ease. It was better not to see him; I didn’t want to argue with him anymore. But speak of the devil. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a commotion erupted outside my door. Weston’s voice came through clearly: “Are you people working for the Montgomery family? Can’t you see who I am? I’m Weston Montgomery! Let me in!” It seemed his parents had stationed bodyguards at the door, afraid he would hurt me again. However, it was useless. The door was forcefully shoved open by Weston. He froze for a second when he saw my head wrapped in bandages, a flash of awkwardness crossing his face. He took two steps forward, handed me a thermos of chicken soup, and said coldly: “I personally cooked your favorite chicken soup. Drink it.” I shook my head and smiled faintly: “No thanks.” “I’m allergic to chicken.” Weston stared at me in disbelief for a long moment, then let out a scoff and sat down nearby: “Allergic? Then how come you never said you were allergic every single time I made you cook chicken soup for me?” “You’re still mad, aren’t you? Fine, I shouldn’t have hit you that hard. But you shouldn’t have hit someone either. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? Everyone in our circle knows you are my dog. When you go around hitting people and making a fool of yourself, isn’t it my reputation on the line? How am I supposed to show my face in public?” I suddenly understood. To Weston, I was his dog, his follower, but not his girlfriend. The Weston who once deeply despised his family’s status because he couldn’t marry me now had “the Montgomery family” in every other sentence. He had changed completely. I was so foolish. I thought that by taking care of him meticulously for three years, he could go back to how he used to be. I forgot that maybe this version of him was his true self. Seeing my silence, Weston snorted coldly. Frowning, he took the soup out of the thermos and literally tried to force it into my mouth: “I made this. The least you could do is taste it!” “Drink it! Drink! I refuse to believe it’ll actually kill you!” Despite my struggling, a few drops of the broth got into my mouth. Instantly, I felt an intense itching all over my body, and my cheeks started burning up. I swatted the soup away, spilling it all over the floor and splashing it on Weston’s shoes. He looked up furiously, about to curse at me, but froze when he saw my face. He immediately screamed: “Nurse! Get in here! Someone is having an allergic reaction!” In his panicked pupils, I could see the reflection of my bandaged, swollen face, puffed up like a balloon. The bodyguards rushed in and pulled Weston out. Right before he was dragged away, he still stubbornly shouted: “How can the allergy be this severe?! You’ve cooked it for me a hundred times! You were never this delicate before!” “Suddenly acting so fragile—it’s ridiculous! Are you trying to play the victim so I’ll feel sorry for you? Disgusting!” I lay calmly on the bed, accepting the nurse’s treatment. My blood felt frozen, but my heart was completely still. I was used to it. Weston always found a way to paint me as a manipulative schemer, throwing dirty water on me just to make himself feel better. I had made chicken soup for him many times. But every single time, I took heavy-duty allergy medication beforehand just so I could taste-test the seasoning. He loved chicken soup. When we were first together, he found out I was allergic and wouldn’t even let me touch chicken. Once, a delivery place accidentally included chicken in my order, sending me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped. Weston blamed himself endlessly. After that, whenever we ordered takeout or ate at a restaurant, he would call ahead or march into the kitchen to interrogate the chef about exactly what kind of meat was in the dishes. Times had changed. People had changed. 6 After the injection, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up at night. Weston was sitting by my bed, his eyes bloodshot. His face was full of heartache. For a split second, I thought he remembered me. My heart raced, and I called out shakily: “Wes?” But the next second, his expression shifted. He looked at me coldly and nodded: “Just like Stella said. Everything you did these past few days was just to make me feel sorry for you!” “A grown woman playing these pathetic games… It’s disgusting. Even if you married into the Montgomery family, I’d feel like you stained our name!” After ranting, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an explanation. Over the past three years, whenever he yelled at me for anything big or small, I would anxiously explain myself, terrified he would have a bad impression of me when he recovered his memory. But now, I just glanced at him indifferently and said nothing. Weston clearly didn’t expect me to have zero reaction. His face turned red with anger, and he pointed at me: “Harper! What is with your attitude lately?! Do you really think I can’t live without you?” “I canceled several dates—I didn’t even go to dinner with Stella—just to stay here with you, and you’re giving me attitude?!” “Fine, I admit you got hurt badly this time, and you were wronged. Okay, we’ll let it go. Once you’re fully recovered, we’ll discuss the wedding date. We’ll get married. Consider it compensation. Happy now?” Hearing his “compromising” tone at the end, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I started laughing hysterically, laughing until I coughed. Weston’s face turned deathly pale. He stared at me intently: “What are you laughing at?” I shook my head, coughing wildly for a moment before quieting down. I looked calmly at the man who was now a complete stranger and said faintly: “I’m laughing at your confidence. Did I ever say I was going to marry you?” “I told you at the family dinner the other day: I won’t marry you. What’s the point of using marriage as compensation now? You might as well just give me five hundred thousand dollars. The Montgomery family has plenty of money, don’t they?” Weston was stunned. He stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling to the floor. He shook his head: “How did you become like this?” I didn’t answer, just looking at him with a half-smile, intent on carving the word “gold-digger” into his brain. Even now, I couldn’t bear to say cruel things to him. So let’s just make sure neither of us has a good impression of the other. That way, when he eventually remembers me, he won’t be too sad. After all, I’m just a gold-digger. Weston seemed to have suffered a huge shock. He stood frozen for a long time, then finally nodded: “Fine. You want money? No problem. I’ll have finance wire it to your card tomorrow!” “For three years, I tried to give you money to get rid of you, but you refused. I actually thought you were a good woman. I didn’t realize you just thought the price was too low. Now you’re opening your mouth like a lion!” “Disgusting!” With that, he turned and left, slamming the door violently behind him. After he left, I heard his suppressed sobs through the door. I gripped the blanket tightly, then released it, turning my face toward the window. A crescent moon hung in the sky outside. It was the third day. Five more days, and I would be gone. Some ties should have been cut long ago.

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  • I Married My Murderer Again

    While ordering late-night snacks for my boyfriend, I followed a popular internet joke and messaged the delivery driver to check up on him. He quickly sent a photo: “Your boyfriend seems to be cheating; a woman opened the door.” I was furious and immediately took a taxi to catch him in the act. But on the way, I encountered a thug, was dragged into an alley, and brutally raped to death. My boyfriend was devastated and arranged my funeral. He never married and showed no signs of cheating. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the night I ordered takeout for my boyfriend. I immediately blocked that delivery driver and had a new one deliver the food. But I still received a call: “Miss, your boyfriend seems to be living with another woman…” … Hearing the delivery driver’s voice through the receiver, a violent shudder ripped through my body. In my past life, it was this exact phone call that sent me spiraling. I had hailed a cab in the dead of night, desperately rushing across state lines to the city where my boyfriend, Miles, was stationed for a work project. But I never made it to his apartment. Just steps away from his building, I was dragged into a blind alley by a group of men. I was brutalized. I was murdered. The killers left almost no evidence behind, and the case quickly grew cold. It was Miles who refused to let it go. He hired the country’s most elite private investigators, liquidating every asset he had to fund a relentless manhunt. “Claire, if I hadn’t taken that out-of-town project, you wouldn’t have missed me. You wouldn’t have come looking for me,”he had wept at my funeral, his voice shattered. “It’s my fault. I killed you.” “Even if I have to sell my house, even if I have to sell my own kidney, I will find the bastards who did this to you.” He was entirely consumed. By the time he was barely thirty, his hair had turned entirely white from the agonizing, sleepless years on the road. When the perpetrators were finally caught, Miles buried me in his family’s private estate, claiming me as his wife in death. He lived the rest of his days utterly alone, guarding my memory. There was never another woman. Never a whisper of infidelity. Remembering all of this, a heavy, suffocating ache bloomed in my chest. Miles had loved me with a devotion that transcended death, and yet, here I was, having dared to doubt him. I abruptly hung up the phone. I didn’t know why this new delivery driver—a completely different person from my past life, since I had purposely requested a change on the app—was still trying to smear Miles’s name. But in this life, I didn’t care what anyone said. I would never doubt him again. After washing my face, I curled up on the living room sofa, letting the quiet dark of the apartment wash over me as I sifted through the fragmented memories of my past life. Suddenly, the front door clicked open. My best friend, Blair, stepped inside, shaking out her umbrella. She froze when she saw me in the dim light, her eyes widening. “Claire? Why are you still just lying around?” “Should I be doing something else?” Meeting my confused gaze, Blair bit off the rest of her sentence. Her eyes darted to the side—a fleeting, almost imperceptible shift. Then, she forced a bright smile. “I just meant, with the thunderstorm outside… you know how terrified you are of lightning. I figured you’d be pacing a hole in the floor, not lounging like a cat.” Her tone was warm, dripping with that familiar, protective sincerity. But my heart turned to lead. She was lying. Blair, Miles, and I had been inseparable since our freshman year of college. We were the quintessential trio, bound by promises of lifelong loyalty. I knew Blair just as intimately as I knew Miles. That split-second eye dart? That was her tell. I opened my mouth to press her, but a piercing ring shattered the silence. My phone. It was the delivery driver again. I moved to decline it, but Blair was faster. She snatched the phone from the coffee table, swiped accept, and instantly hit the speaker button. A gruff, gravelly voice echoed through the room. “Look, lady, I’m only speaking up because I saw the ‘Happy Birthday, Hubby’ note on the cake box. The guy who took this order? He had his arms wrapped around some other girl. It wasn’t exactly friendly. Don’t let some trash guy play you for a fool.” Before I could process the words, a notification chimed. A video file from the driver in my app messages. The footage was shaky, shot from the hallway. A door opened just a crack. A man reached out to grab the takeout bags, and a woman was clinging to his bicep, pressing herself against him in a cloying, intimate way. When the man lifted his chin to thank the driver, the hallway light caught his face perfectly. It was Miles. My brow furrowed. The air in the room felt suddenly very thin. What the hell was going on? The delivery app assigned drivers at random. There was no conceivable way this stranger was in on a prank. Was Miles actually cheating on me? While my mind spun, Blair slammed her palm onto the glass coffee table, her face twisting in fury. “That son of a bitch! How dare he do this to you!” She grabbed my wrist, pulling me up. “Come on, Claire. We are driving over there right now. We are going to catch that cheating bastard and his little tramp dead to rights in that bed. He is going to look you in the eye and give you an explanation!” She was practically dragging me toward the door. I was still numb, stumbling in her wake, when Blair suddenly doubled over with a sharp gasp. “Oh my god, it hurts!” she cried out, dropping to her knees, her face draining of color. A chilling wave of déjà vu washed over me. This was exactly how it happened in my past life. Blair had been absolutely enraged by the infidelity, insisting I go confront him, promising to drive me herself. But right as we reached the front door, she was struck by a sudden, agonizing bout of stomach cramps. She couldn’t stop throwing up. So, I went alone. And I died screaming on the asphalt outside Miles’s apartment complex. A terrifying, pitch-black theory began to take root in my mind. In my previous life, the detectives eventually concluded that my murder wasn’t a random mugging gone wrong. It was a premeditated hit. I had been lured to that specific location. But the most maddening part was that the police never caught the mastermind. The thugs they arrested had taken a vow of silence to protect whoever hired them. “We did it on our own! It has nothing to do with anyone else!” they had spit at the judge. “Give us the chair, we don’t care!” So, who was the puppet master? I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the nausea rising in my throat. I didn’t want to follow this thought to its logical, devastating conclusion. Blair was still groaning on the floor, clutching her stomach, but between her winces, she was looking up at me. Urging me. Pushing me out the door. Beneath the feigned pain, her eyes glittered with a dark, impatient anticipation. Every word of outrage she had spoken on my behalf suddenly echoed in my ears not as support, but as a death warrant. I slowly looked down at her. I forced my breathing to slow, keeping my voice utterly level. “Blair, why are you so desperate for me to leave the apartment tonight?” I watched her face carefully. “Why are you so absolutely certain there’s no misunderstanding? Why jump straight to the conclusion that Miles has betrayed me?” The color vanished from Blair’s lips. She stared at me, her mouth slightly open, entirely speechless. My heart dropped another agonizing inch. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. Ring! My phone lit up again. A FaceTime call. From Miles. I answered. His face filled the screen, handsome and glowing with that soft, familiar affection. He offered me a gentle, teasing smile. “Hey, babe. Did you order me midnight snacks? Miss me that much?” He leaned closer to the camera. “I saw the weather app. It’s pouring back home, isn’t it? You hate the thunder, so I figured I’d stay on video with you. Keep you company.” Looking at his tender expression, hearing the soothing cadence of his voice… it had only been a few minutes since I woke up in this timeline, but it felt like an eternity had passed. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. I wanted to spill everything to him. But before I could even form a syllable, a woman’s breathy, teasing giggle drifted from the background of his end. “Babe, let’s do Iceland next month, okay?” I stared at the screen, every muscle in my body locking up. In the corner of the frame, just for a fraction of a second, I saw a cascade of long, golden-blonde hair. The next second, Miles’s eyes widened in sheer panic. The camera jerked wildly as he practically sprinted out of the room, slamming a door behind him. Bang! It felt like a bomb had detonated inside my skull. The ambient noise of the apartment faded into a high-pitched ringing. Through the phone, Miles’s voice dripped with manufactured concern. “Claire? Honey, your face just went completely pale. Are you okay?” Blair had crawled up beside me. She saw the whole thing. Her face flushed crimson with rage. Without asking, she snatched the phone from my hand, hung up on Miles, and began pacing the room, hurling every curse word in the English language at him. When she finally ran out of breath, she looked at me with hesitant, pitying eyes. She pulled out her own phone and let out a long, heavy sigh. “Claire… do you understand now why I wanted you to catch him with your own eyes? I… I wasn’t going to tell you this.” She unlocked her phone and pulled up her private message thread with Miles. She held the screen out to me. My eyes widened in absolute horror. The screen was filled with paragraphs of sickeningly sweet, obsessive texts. All from Miles. To Blair. [Blair, that night at the freshman mixer? You were the one I wanted to ask out. But you started talking to that guy from the football team, so I settled for Claire instead.] [I haven’t felt anything for her in years. Honestly, touching her makes my skin crawl. If it weren’t for the fact that you pulled away, and the only way I could see you was by staying close to her, I would have dumped that frumpy bore ages ago.] The timestamps were damning. Even just moments ago, while he was supposedly comforting me about the thunderstorm, he was texting his devotion to my best friend. [Blair, I’m just playing a part with her. You’re the only one I love. When I get back from this trip, I’m ending things with Claire. I’m coming for you.] My hands shook uncontrollably as I tapped on Miles’s profile picture in her phone. I checked his number, his handle, his linked social accounts. It was him. No fake accounts. No hacks. The man who shared my bed, the man who claimed to love me, had been telling my best friend I disgusted him. Thick, hot tears spilled over my eyelashes and splashed onto the screen. We had been together for almost a decade. How had I been so completely, utterly blind to the monster hiding behind his smile? But the math still didn’t make sense. If he despised me, why did he sacrifice his youth, his sanity, and his wealth to avenge my murder in the past life? Was it the butterfly effect? Did my decision to stay home tonight change his feelings? Or was he always cheating, and the tragic, devoted widower routine was nothing but an elaborate, calculated cover-up? Blair sighed, wrapping her arms around me in a tight, suffocating hug. “Claire, I didn’t know how to tell you. Stuff like this… it destroys friendships. Once the truth is out, things are never the same.” “That’s why I wanted you to see it for yourself. But if you don’t want to go confront him now… we don’t have to. Just know that whatever you decide, I am here. I will always support you.” I offered a hollow nod, murmuring something noncommittal. I pulled away from her, walked into my bedroom, and collapsed onto the mattress. I felt like every drop of blood had been drained from my veins. Too many puzzle pieces were scattered in my mind, and none of them fit. Was Miles cheating? Why did Blair lie about expecting me to be awake? Who was I supposed to trust? And the most terrifying question of all: Who was the mastermind who paid to have me butchered in the dark? Suddenly, a loud, urgent knocking echoed from the front door. Helen, Miles’s mother, bustled into the apartment, her face glowing with breathless excitement. She hoisted a massive, velvet-wrapped jewelry box in the air. “Claire, sweetheart! Look what just arrived. The custom bridal suite is finally ready. Come see!” She set it on the table, practically vibrating with pride. “Miles said the engagement ring he gave you last year wasn’t enough. He knows you grew up in the foster system, that you never had a real family to spoil you. So, he wanted to make sure you felt like a queen.” “He picked every stone himself. It’s top-tier platinum and flawless diamonds. He liquidated his entire stock portfolio to pay for this.” The box popped open. A blinding array of diamonds caught the light—a breathtaking necklace, cascading earrings, a tennis bracelet, and a massive, custom-cut ring. The craftsmanship was so exquisite it felt unreal. Miles and I had been together for eight years. He had proposed three times. But because I grew up moving between group homes, lacking any blueprint for a healthy marriage, I had always been terrified of taking the final step. I kept stalling. Before he left for this trip, he had held me tight and laughed gently. “Take all the time you need, Claire. I’m not going anywhere. But I’m buying the wedding jewelry now, and I’m getting you the best in the world. You deserve it.” In my past life, even though I died before we could say our vows, he had placed this exact, impossibly expensive jewelry suite inside my casket. Later, to fund the private investigators tracking my killers, he had sold his own home. That unwavering financial sacrifice was the anchor of my trust in him. If a man was truly betraying you, why would he willingly bankrupt himself for your memory? Seeing my resolve waver, Blair frantically grabbed my arm. “Claire, wake up! You cannot marry this man! Did you already forget what he was doing behind your back ten minutes ago?” Helen’s face drained of its joy. Insulted and determined to prove Blair wrong, she whipped out her phone and dialed Miles on FaceTime. When the video connected, the background noise was chaotic—loud music, clinking glasses. Helen’s voice turned icy. “Miles, what exactly are you doing right now?” Miles’s exhausted but cheerful face appeared. “Mom! Hey. The project wrapped up early, so we’re celebrating. I threw a little party for the team at the rental.” He panned the camera around the room. There were about seven or eight people in business casual attire holding drinks. In the corner, the blonde woman from the earlier video was draped over another male coworker, posing for a selfie. Miles rolled his eyes at the camera and lowered his voice. “She’s the new intern. Terrible at her job, completely lacks boundaries with the guys. Mom, please don’t tell Claire she’s here. You know how Claire hates girls who act like that. I don’t want her getting upset over nothing.” Hearing the explanation, Helen let out a massive sigh of relief. She hung up the phone and studied my face carefully, choosing her words. “Claire… has there been some sort of misunderstanding between you two lately?” “My son treats you like you hang the moon. He would never do anything to hurt you.” Then, her gaze snapped to Blair, hardening into a glare. “Unlike some people, who threw themselves at my son in college, got rejected, and never quite got over it. People who use the title of ‘best friend’ just to try and poison my daughter-in-law’s marriage!” I followed Helen’s piercing glare. I saw Blair’s face turn completely white. I saw the flash of raw, naked panic in her eyes. In that fleeting second, the fragments of my past life and the bizarre events of tonight slammed together in my mind. A bolt of lightning illuminated the dark. I finally understood. I knew exactly what was happening. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, who had ordered my murder. It was the one person I had never, ever suspected.

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  • Once, All My Looks Suited You

    After our daughter died, I removed every part of myself that my husband—head of a global arms syndicate—had despised. I stopped questioning his whereabouts. When he stayed out all night, I slept soundly. When I was injured in an explosion, the surgeon told me to notify my family. I simply said, “I have no family.” A nurse recognized me. “You’re Mrs. Ivanov, aren’t you? Roman is right next door. Should I tell him you’re here?” I shook my head softly. No. Half an hour later, Roman arrived anyway. His sharp features were tense, his presence heavy with hostility, like gunpowder smoke. His voice was low and cold. “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you call me?” I lowered my eyes. “Just a graze from shrapnel. I’ll live.” My detached tone seemed to irritate him. He was about to speak when the guards’ conversation drifted in. “The boss is really something with Miss Isabelle. She just twisted her ankle, and he called a helicopter. Carried her on and off himself, wouldn’t even let her feet touch the ground.” Roman’s heart clenched. His eyes darted toward me, expecting the storm of questions and accusations my old self would have thrown at him. But I didn’t flinch. I just leaned back against the bed and closed my eyes to rest. … The pressure in the room dropped several degrees. Roman’s voice was a low growl of an explanation. “Don’t listen to their gossip. Isabelle is a key specialist on the compound. An injury could compromise the mission. It was purely professional.” I gave a soft, “Mm-hmm,” and said nothing more. A sudden rage flashed in his eyes. “You don’t believe me?” “I believe you.” I answered every word, but my heart wasn’t in any of them. “Isabelle is your protégée, your subordinate. It’s only natural for you to look out for her.” A volatile pressure built in his chest. This was wrong. All of it was wrong. Just then, the clatter of falling medical equipment echoed from the hallway. Isabelle was clinging to the wall, stumbling dramatically right at my doorway. Roman was at her side in an instant, sweeping her into his arms. “What are you doing wandering around? I told you to stay in bed.” “I heard the Madame was hurt.” Isabelle’s eyes, shimmering with tears, fixed on me. “I came to see how she was.” Then she shrank into Roman’s embrace as if I were some kind of monster, her voice breaking. “Sera, please don’t hate me… I never meant for what happened to Lily to happen.” The old me would have been hysterical. I would have grabbed Roman by the collar, screaming, demanding to know why he was protecting the woman who killed our daughter. But now, I said nothing. I just stared quietly at the ceiling. Roman’s voice dropped to a murmur. “I’m taking her back to her room. I’ll be right back.” He turned and left, carrying Isabelle. He never came back that night. Instead, a call came from the Defense Technology Agency. “Engineer Ross, are you certain you want to join the ‘Aegis’ project? This is top secret. Once you’re in, you’ll be stationed at the research base for a minimum of twenty years, completely cut off from the outside world. That includes your husband.” “I’m certain,” my voice was flat. The person on the other end hesitated. “Understood. You have three days to withdraw your application if you change your mind. We know how much Mr. Ivanov used to mean to you…” I didn’t let him finish. “I won’t change my mind. Because I don’t love him anymore.” The words had barely left my lips when the door was thrown open. Roman stood there, his eyes chips of ice, his voice laced with danger. “Don’t love me? Seraphina, say that again.” Hearing the noise, I silently ended the call and feigned sleep, my eyes shut tight. Roman stalked closer, a frigid aura rolling off him, but he stopped short when he saw my closed eyes. She was talking in her sleep. His brow relaxed slightly, but the nameless fire inside him only burned hotter. Even in her dreams, he wouldn’t allow me to erase him. He grabbed my wrist, shaking me awake. “Sera, were you having a nightmare?” I looked down. “I dreamt of Lily.” A sharp pain lanced through Roman’s heart. He pulled me into his arms, his voice hoarse. “Sera, we can have more children. Lots of them.” I didn’t respond. My heart was a barren wasteland, too dry even for tears. My daughter was dead. Did he think another child could just replace her, as if nothing ever happened? “Roman, why are you here so late?” He stiffened, his expression turning slightly unnatural. “Sera… Isabelle’s stomach is bothering her. She was hoping for some of the calming broth you make.” My body went rigid, a chill seeping into my bones. I had just survived an explosion, with shrapnel still embedded in my skin, and he was waking me in the middle of the night to make soup for another woman. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Get me a pen and paper. I’ll write down the recipe.” Roman immediately had one of his men fetch them. But as I handed him the finished recipe, his fingers trembled. He suddenly remembered what I’d said years ago when he’d asked for it. “I’ll give it to you the day we part. As long as we’re together, I’ll be the one to make it for you.” And now, I had given it away so easily. “Sir, Miss Isabelle is in a lot of pain. She’s calling for you,” a guard reported urgently from the door. Roman frowned, then turned and strode out of the room. I was already used to it. I closed my eyes and lay back down. But I had barely drifted into a light sleep when a brutal force yanked me upright. “Seraphina, why did Isabelle start vomiting blood after she drank the broth?” Roman’s fingers dug into my chin, his gaze as cold and deadly as the barrel of a gun. “What the hell did you put in that recipe?” I lifted my heavy eyelids and gave him a faint glance. “If you think there’s a problem with the recipe, have your medics test it.” Roman’s chest tightened. His tone softened, but only just. “Sera, if you have a grievance, you can talk to me. Don’t be like this, so cold. I’m your husband, not your enemy.” I just closed my eyes again. “There’s nothing left for us to talk about.” His heart felt like it stopped. “What do you mean, nothing left to talk about?” I didn’t answer, treating him as if he were no longer there. Outside, a subordinate reported in a low voice, “Sir, Miss Isabelle’s stomach has been pumped. She’s out of danger, but she’s frightened and keeps asking for you…” “I know,” Roman bit out. He looked back at me, a long, deep look. “Sera, you get some rest. Tomorrow, I’m taking you back to the main compound.” The night was as long as an eternal winter. I stared into the darkness until dawn. The daughter I had carried for nine months, the daughter I had brought into this world, would be turned to ash tomorrow, sealed in a cold urn, and buried in the dark earth. The next day, Roman arrived on time, driving me himself back to the mountain fortress that served as their main base. I leaned on a cane, moving one slow step at a time toward the memorial hall, wanting one last look at my daughter. But as soon as I stepped inside, his mother lunged at me like a madwoman. “You venomous bitch! How dare you come back here?” She slapped me hard across the face, twice, her voice a shriek. “You killed my granddaughter! You knew Lily was terrified of heights, yet you took her to the observation deck! You did it on purpose!” An icy numbness spread through me. It was Isabelle who took Lily to the observation deck. Why was I the one being blamed? I turned to Roman. He looked away. At the same time, the other Ivanov family members in the hall swarmed forward, joining his mother in beating and cursing me. “Kill her! She murdered her own child!” “Get out! You don’t deserve to mourn Lily!” Clubs rained down on my body, stones cut my forehead, and my own cane was snatched away and used as a weapon against me. I fell to the ground, blood and dirt smearing my face. “Enough!” Roman finally roared, pushing through the crowd to shield me with his body. “Lily’s death was an accident. It had nothing to do with Sera. Anyone who touches her again will be dealt with according to family law.” His hawk-like gaze swept over them, and the crowd slowly backed away. Roman’s face softened slightly as he lifted me into his arms and carried me back to our bedroom. He took out a first-aid kit and began to clean my wounds himself. But my eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion. I stared at him coldly. “Roman, Isabelle was the one who took Lily to the deck. Why does your mother say it was me?” The gauze in his hand stilled. His voice was dry. “Sera, Isabelle is a weapons specialist, groomed by the family. Her position is… sensitive. If the family knew she was indirectly responsible for what happened to Lily, her career here would be over.” “But you are my wife,” he continued, his voice strained. “With my protection, no one will dare to truly harm you. If you take the blame this time, I’ll compensate you. I’ll transfer thirty percent of the Ivanov Corporation’s shares to your name.” He finished, looking at me with a flicker of unease. He expected me to scream, to fight, to question him. But my expression was so calm it terrified him. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. I just glanced at him. “Do what you want. I don’t care.” I had agreed. Roman should have been relieved, but his heart only twisted tighter. “Sera, don’t overthink it. My feelings for Isabelle are purely professional. She’s an asset,” he explained, though I hadn’t asked. “I understand,” I said, my gaze dropping. “No need to explain.” Explanations are for those who still love you. I didn’t. His words were meaningless noise. Frustration coiled in Roman’s gut. He opened his mouth to say more, but a guard burst in. “Sir, it’s an emergency! Miss Isabelle came to pay her respects and ran into your sister, Cassandra. They’re fighting!” Cassandra was a true Ivanov, born and bred in this world of violence. The color drained from Roman’s face. “Sera, finish bandaging yourself. I have to handle this.” He was gone in a flash. The moment he left, his mother stormed in with several of her loyalists. “Seraphina. No one’s here to protect you now.” Her eyes were filled with venom. “You killed Lily. I’m going to let you taste what it feels like to fall.” She had her men drag me to an abandoned ventilation shaft on the compound. The opening was a deep, dark maw, a cold wind howling up from its depths. “Lily fell from the thirtieth floor observation deck. Do you have any idea how hopeless that feels?” His mother grabbed my hair, forcing the upper half of my body over the edge. “You were right there. Why didn’t you save her?” Vertigo hit me instantly. The darkness below was like the mouth of a great beast. Again and again, she shoved me to the brink of falling, only to yank me back at the last second. “Breathe! Can’t you breathe?” she screamed in my ear. “When my granddaughter fell, she didn’t even have time to cry!” After several agonizing rounds, a sharp pain tore through my chest. The metallic tang of blood filled my throat, trickling from the corner of my mouth. “She could have internal injuries!” someone shouted. “She’ll die if this keeps up!” Only then did his mother let go. I collapsed to the ground, my consciousness fading. When I woke again, I was in the compound’s med bay. Roman was sitting by my bed. “Sera, you’re awake.” He took my hand, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry. I failed to protect you.” “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with the ones who hurt you. And I warned my mother. She won’t touch you again.” A profound chill settled over me. I had nearly died, and his response was to “warn” his mother, still concealing the truth. When it came to disappointing me, Roman never missed.

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  • The Canary’s Counterattack

    Julian Thorne kept thirty “canaries,” and I was one of them. He imprisoned us on a deserted island, his laughter bordering on the psychotic: “Only one of you is my true love. The rest of you must die if you want to live.” Suddenly, a black subtitle floated across my vision: [The short-haired girl in the red dress is his true love.] Instantly, the other girls lunged at her. It seemed everyone had awakened the ability to see these subtitles. I didn’t move. Because… A red subtitle flashed quickly past: [Julian absolutely hates short hair.] Because I was the only one who could see the true subtitles. 1 I woke up to the agonizing jolt of an electric shock. I was lying on the floor of a pristine, white church. Around me, other girls were beginning to stir. I did a quick headcount. Including myself, there were exactly thirty people, and without exception, we were all women. Like me, they were all girls Julian had lured to this island. The church echoed with their screams and sobs, the cacophony sounding particularly terrifying in the dead of night. Suddenly, a string of black subtitles floated before my eyes: [So pitiful. These girls have just been reduced to toys for the psycho male lead.] [If only someone could see the subtitles, I want to help them so badly.] For some reason, the crying gradually subsided. As my senses fully returned, I lowered my head and tried desperately to remember everything that had happened over the past few days. 2 I was an employee at Julian Thorne’s company, and also his secret, unofficial lover. I got involved with him right after graduating from college. The reason was simple: I needed money, and Julian happened to be the wealthiest man in City S—young, loaded, and devastatingly charming. He had a face that women found nearly impossible to resist, so even though I knew perfectly well he had many girlfriends, I really didn’t care. What good is love, anyway? Only money and a pretty face won’t lie to you. I enjoyed everything Julian provided, and within a mere six months, I was promoted to the core, most highly classified project team at Thorne Group. A week ago, the project hit a milestone, and Julian invited me to play on his private island. I was thrilled. Everyone knew the wealthiest man in City S owned an unbelievably luxurious island, rumored to be filled with exotic animals and paved with solid gold. Of course, those were just rumors. The imagination of poor people is pretty limited. Aside from gold, silver, and jade, I couldn’t really fathom what else could be described as “unbelievably luxurious.” I had curiously asked Julian about it, but he just gave me a mysterious smile and said: “You’ll see when you get there.” Filled with overwhelming excitement, I boarded Julian’s private jet three days ago and landed on this island. The moment I stepped off the plane, I was dumbfounded. Because I wasn’t the only woman Julian had brought. Over a dozen stunning women, all with completely different styles, were lined up for the security check. It was quite a spectacle. I recognized the woman standing near the front of the line; she was a beautiful maid who worked at Julian’s mansion. No wonder… Whenever I stayed the night at Julian’s place, she always looked at me with open hostility. It turned out she was also one of his kept canaries. “We can’t even bring our phones? Are we here for a vacation or going to prison?!” A sharp voice rang out from the front of the line. It belonged to a tall woman wearing black pantyhose and hot pants, her arms crossed defensively, looking thoroughly unapproachable. The security staff, however, didn’t flinch. Maintaining a blank expression, one of them gestured back toward the plane and said: “Ma’am, the island has its rules. If you find them unacceptable, you are welcome to go home.” Hearing this, the woman’s arrogant demeanor instantly deflated. Under the scorching sun, her face flushed bright red. Finally, with no other option, she sullenly surrendered her phone and dragged her luggage inside. Seeing this, the other women kept their mouths shut, obediently submitting to the inspection and handing over all communication devices. I stood at the back of the line, my right eyelid twitching violently. A deep sense of unease settled in my stomach. When it was my turn, the staff member repeated the exact same spiel: “Ma’am, if you find this truly unacceptable, you are welcome to take the plane back.” I looked back at the tarmac. After a moment of hesitation, I gritted my teeth and stepped onto the island. But later… I never would have imagined that that was my one and only chance to survive. 3 Desire is the greatest anesthetic. After two days of indulging in a lifestyle of sheer decadence, the girls completely dropped their guard. At last night’s pool party, everyone drank heavily. When I woke up, I was already in this church. Only… I frowned. Where did that electric shock come from? Suddenly, the eerie crackle of static echoed through the room, followed by Julian’s voice, bordering on psychotic glee: “Only one of you is my true love. Kill the rest, and you can live.” The moment Julian finished speaking, a black subtitle floated across my vision: [How do I tell the girls that the short-haired one in the red dress is his true love?] The girls looked at each other, sizing one another up. The next second, every single gaze locked onto the woman in red cowering in the corner. She was deathly pale, hugging herself tightly and trembling as tears streamed down her face like broken pearls. Unfortunately, there would be no pity here. Almost simultaneously, the crowd lunged at her. It seemed everyone present had awakened the ability to see the subtitles. I didn’t move. Because a distinctly different, red subtitle flashed rapidly by: [Julian absolutely hates short hair.] And it seemed I was the only one who could see this red subtitle. Should I believe it? While I hesitated, the black subtitles started scrolling again: [The girl with the pigtails is clearly Julian’s true love!] The two girls in the room sporting pigtails instantly froze. They stared at each other awkwardly, and the others stopped in their tracks as well. A red subtitle immediately followed: [Julian despises women who act overly cute.] I discreetly observed the room, noting that absolutely no one reacted to this red text. At this point, I was certain: I was the only one who could see the red subtitles! My heart pounded in my chest, a thin layer of cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Could this be… the right answer? “Julian, what you’re doing is illegal. Let everyone go, please?” A woman in an elegant, flowing dress stepped forward. I recognized her. It was Mia, a highly popular, rising star in the entertainment industry. She was Julian’s childhood friend, their lives intertwined for many years. Tears welling in her eyes, Mia gripped her dress and pleaded: “Julian, I know I’m the one you love. I’m willing to quit acting and marry you! Please, don’t drag innocent people into this! Okay?” Wait, did that mean… Mia was Julian’s true love? I exhaled slightly, feeling a wave of relief. Maybe this was all just a sick prank by Julian. We canaries were probably just props in their twisted little roleplay. But the next second, the massive church doors collapsed with a deafening crash. Sunlight poured in, illuminating Mia’s face. Weeping tears of joy, she lifted her skirt and ran toward the light: “Julian, I knew you’d listen to me! I’ll help you ask the others for forgiveness, I…” Before she could finish, a red laser dot settled dead center on her forehead. “No…” I barely had time to utter a single syllable before a deafening BANG echoed through the church. The bullet tore through her left eye. In an instant, blood and gore exploded outward. Mia froze for a microsecond. Half of her skull was gone. Her body instantly lost all tension and crumpled limply to the floor. Warm liquid splattered across my face. The searing heat of the flying shrapnel made me shudder violently, rooted to the spot. A cold, mechanical voice echoed across the island: [Mia eliminated. The game continues.] After a long, suffocating silence, one of the pigtail girls was the first to snap back to reality. She smirked mockingly: “Tch, ‘true love’? Where did she get that confidence?” Hearing that, I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. I looked around the room, numb. The other girls’ eyes were filled with either terror or pure contempt. That’s when I realized there were far more people like the pigtail girl than I thought! They simultaneously rejected the identity of the “true love” while ruthlessly guarding the title against anyone else. Even Mia, who had stepped forward offering to save everyone, couldn’t earn an ounce of their sympathy. “I despise repeating the rules. It makes me feel like… you’re all incredibly stupid. Look closely, this is what happens to stupid people.” “So…” Julian’s tone shifted, becoming aggressively enthusiastic: “My darlings! Show me what you’ve got! Show me your passion! On my island, abandon everything and slaughter to your heart’s content! There’s no time limit, it’s 1 against 29! Oh, wait… it’s 1 against 28 now! Let’s see which side gets wiped out first! Simple, right? Alright, darlings, the first supply drop has been deployed to the church plaza. A friendly tip: there’s only one gun! First come, first served!” Before his voice even faded, the crowd scrambled over Mia’s corpse, frantically rushing outside. Halfway to the door, a red subtitle drifted gently by: [At nine o’clock, the green backpack contains the gun.] I instantly changed direction, but just as I reached for it, a brunette with tight curls beat me to it. She pulled the gun out, laughing maniacally, and swept a murderous glare over everyone in front of her. Shit! I’m the closest to her! I immediately executed a combat roll, tumbling behind her. Snagging a khaki supply bag on my way up, I bolted away from the crowd, diving into the dense woods nearby and sprinting into the depths. Faster! I kept urging myself! Run faster! Behind me, the agonizing sounds of crying, gunshots, and terrified screams pierced the air, endless and horrifying. I gasped for breath, branches tearing at my arms and face, leaving a web of bloody scratches, but I couldn’t afford to care about the pain! I didn’t dare stop for a single second! It wasn’t until the sounds faded into the distance that I finally collapsed against a tree, utterly exhausted. Terror robbed me of my voice. My stomach churned violently, and I couldn’t stop dry heaving, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. I wiped the sweat from my face. The sweat-drenched redness on my palm served as a constant, horrifying reminder—just minutes ago, I had witnessed a girl’s head explode. Bzz. Bzz. A tingling sensation crawled up my arm. The sudden vibration from inside my jacket almost made me scream. It was the supply bag. I cautiously scanned my surroundings… This was terrible. The woods looked dense from the outside, but once inside, the trees were spaced too far apart, leaving the area dangerously exposed. Especially in broad daylight; there was nowhere to hide. Calm down. Renee, calm down. No one is coming here right now. I desperately tried to compose myself. Praying silently, I opened the supply bag with trembling hands. Unfortunately, God wasn’t listening. My weapon was a dull knife, barely the size of my palm. The tip wasn’t sharp, and the blade was already chipped. Forget killing someone; I probably couldn’t even cut grass with it. But thankfully! God hadn’t entirely abandoned me! Because the bag also contained a smartphone, a canteen of purified water, two packets of compressed biscuits, and… a coil of rope! For someone hiding in the woods, rope was undeniably the most useful tool. Without hesitation, I secured the supply bag, chose a thick, sturdy tree, and threw the rope over a high branch. Using the momentum, I hoisted myself up into the canopy. Everything has pros and cons. I was hidden up here, but if I were discovered, I’d have no escape route. If they had ranged weapons—even just a handful of sharp rocks—I’d be a sitting duck. Because I had absolutely no way to fight back. A dull knife wouldn’t even let me commit suicide quickly and painlessly. The thought made me laugh bitterly. Bzz. Bzz. Two more vibrations. I pulled out the phone Julian provided. It only had two functions: a map and a chat app. Opening the app, the pinned conversation was a massive group chat titled: “Julian and His Canaries.” Hah. He really does see us as nothing more than toys. I practically ground my teeth to dust, suppressing my rage as I tapped on it. The announcement board showed four more people were dead. Followed by—The game continues! Anxiety and terror surged back into my heart. I licked my dry, cracked lips and gripped the phone tightly. In less than twenty minutes, five people had died! This wasn’t a reality show, and it wasn’t a prank. It was a genuine, brutal Battle Royale! Looking at the grayed-out avatars in the group list, my feelings were incredibly complex. Should I cry for them? It didn’t feel like we were close enough for that. We had merely crossed paths, all knowingly enjoying the benefits provided by the same man. Should I feel relieved? Relieved that I wasn’t the one who died. I clicked on their profiles, enlarging their photos one by one. I realized that the two pigtail girls were among the casualties of that initial bloodbath! It was probably the work of the curly-haired girl, considering she had the only gun. The fact that she didn’t shoot me—the closest person—immediately meant she probably used those bullets to test the validity of the black subtitles. And that gun, exactly as the red subtitle predicted, was in the green backpack at nine o’clock. All of this proved that only the red subtitles were accurate. And I was the only person who could see them. Having a “cheat code” right from the start should have made me optimistic, but feeling the sting of the countless scratches on my body and staring at my pathetic supply bag, I really couldn’t muster any optimism. I pulled out the canteen and stared at it for a long time. 300ml. That wasn’t even enough to cover an adult’s daily hydration needs. Even if my only goal was to avoid dying of thirst, this wouldn’t last me more than a few days. After agonizing over it, I just pressed the spout against my cracked, peeling lips to moisten them, then reluctantly screwed the cap back on. Bzz. Bzz. A new announcement! This time, it wasn’t a death notice! It was a public clue about Julian’s “true love”! [She’s like a fluffy little animal.] Animal? I remembered… Julian once described me as a cat—a black cat in the dead of night. Dangerous, mysterious, and an expert at landing a fatal blow. My eyes darkened at the thought. I immediately opened the phone’s notepad and started organizing all the information I had so far. [Julian hates short hair.] [Julian dislikes women who act overly cute.] [Julian once described her as a fluffy animal.] Uh… how should I put this? These were all incredibly broad, practically useless concepts. [True Love?] I slowly typed a question mark in the notepad. Would the “true love” even know she was the “true love”? Thinking back to three days ago, on the night I arrived, Julian had whispered in my ear: “Baby, you’re the only one I love.” I just brushed it off as him flirting. But now… could that have been a clue he gave me? I was overwhelmed with anxiety, the excessive stress making me nauseous. Honestly, Julian and I were absolutely not some deeply passionate, star-crossed lovers. At best, it was a transactional relationship. He wanted me for my youth and beauty; I wanted him for his money and status. Calling me his “true love” was a ridiculous stretch. But then again, if she really was his true love, why would he make her a target in a death game? Rather than calling her his “true love,” it was more like she was the unlucky bastard who drew the Joker card. In that case, it wasn’t entirely impossible that I was the… ugh… true love. Okay, those two words actually made me sick to my stomach. I decided to refer to the target as “Joker” from now on. Trying to decipher Julian’s thoughts using normal human logic was completely delusional! And searching for the Joker among the remaining twenty-four people was like finding a needle in a haystack. Not just for me, but for everyone else, because none of us knew each other. I could count the people I vaguely recognized, like Mia, on one hand. So, the real question was… did we actually need to know who the Joker was? My answer was—no. Julian’s objective was to make us slaughter each other. He wanted us to show our “passion” and deliver a perfect performance for his entertainment. The absolute best-case scenario of finding the Joker was that slightly fewer people would die. It would also allow the survivors to form an alliance instead of fighting alone. But the cruel reality was, we weren’t just fighting the rules of the game. We were fighting… this incredibly harsh environment! We were stranded in the wilderness with severe supply shortages. Even meeting our most basic physiological needs was nearly impossible! Furthermore, a brutal firefight had already broken out. The fragile balance of trust had been completely shattered. The arrow had left the bow; achieving a mutually beneficial outcome was practically impossible now. Rather than risking everything to find the Joker, it was much safer to simply kill everyone. That was the most secure strategy, and the one both the Joker and the regular players would ultimately choose. What better way to ensure your own survival than shooting anyone you see on sight? Unfortunately, I raised my dull, rusted knife and sighed softly. That “safest route” was completely unavailable to me. Right then, a third announcement popped up in the group chat: [A clue about her identity is hidden at these coordinates.] I clicked on the GPS pin for the clue. My heart instantly seized, terror shooting through me like an electric current. Massive drops of sweat fell onto the screen, blurring the text that clearly read: [Distance from your current location: 800 meters.] 4 It seemed the clue regarding the Joker was hidden right here in these woods. This meant that everyone else was currently en route to my location. Right now, I had two choices. First, I could stay hidden in the tree and pray no one spotted me. Second, I could relocate, abandoning this area as fast as humanly possible. Both options were incredibly dangerous. The red subtitles floated by right on cue: [The True Love has amber eyes.] Reading that, I gritted my teeth and made a third choice. I was going to get that clue! Because… I locked my phone, the dark screen reflecting a pair of amber, almond-shaped eyes. Who the Joker was didn’t matter to me, but if it was me… that changed everything. If this new, localized clue wasn’t just another vague concept, but precisely targeted like the red subtitle… once the others checked the group roster, wouldn’t I instantly become public enemy number one? The announcement was posted two minutes ago. I should still be the closest person to the drop zone. With that thought, I strapped the supply bag to my chest, used the rope to rapidly rappel down from the tree, and sprinted toward the coordinates. When I was a hundred meters away, I spotted the blue box hanging from a tree branch. I was right! I was the first one here! Overjoyed, I picked up the pace! Eighty meters! Fifty meters! Thirty meters! When I was mere feet away, my body went rigid and I slammed on the brakes. A gentle breeze blew, and the leaves a short distance away rustled ominously. Shit… I slowly lowered my head, a profound sense of dread washing over me! I never expected Julian to be this psychotic! I focused all my attention on listening, not daring to move a single muscle, only raising my eyes to look for an opening. Suddenly! An arrow whistled through the air like lightning! With a sickening thwack, it drove straight through my shoulder! Blood erupted from the wound, the coppery scent of iron instantly filling the air. “Haha! Chloe, your aim is slipping!” “What’s the fun in a one-shot kill? The real entertainment is playing with your food!” “Can’t believe someone actually beat us here! And we were just complaining about not having a target to practice on!” I turned my head. Four women were laughing and joking together, looking like they were genuinely enjoying this Battle Royale. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, sighing: “Idiots!” Hearing that, they froze for a second. The woman called Chloe, humiliated and enraged, instantly drew another arrow, aiming to teach me a lesson! But before she could loose it, the ground began to shake! The arrow slipped from Chloe’s grasp! A pack of wolves came surging forward! Over a dozen wolves swarmed them, knocking them to the ground! Amidst the violent tearing and snarling, one of them ripped off Chloe’s left arm. “AHHHHHH!” Her agonizing scream tore through the sky. Ignoring the gaping wound in my shoulder, I gritted my teeth and sprinted toward my objective—the clue box. By the time I grabbed the box, two wolves had already broken away and were chasing me! They were incredibly fast. With a few terrifying snarls, their powerful, razor-sharp claws ripped away half my skirt. Agony crashed over me like a tidal wave, invading every nerve in my body. But I didn’t dare stop! Running entirely on adrenaline, I pushed myself faster and faster! But how… how could a human outrun a wild beast? In mere seconds, they were right on my heels! I glanced back and saw the larger of the two leaping toward me, its jaws opened wide! Now! Judging the distance, I locked my eyes on the nearest sturdy tree and threw my rope with everything I had! Using the momentum, I launched myself into the air! Ignoring the excruciating pain of the impact, I wrapped my arms around another thick branch and scrambled upward, using both hands and feet! Below me, the two wolves kept slamming into the trunk, desperately trying to knock me down! Once I reached a high enough point, I quickly pulled up the rope and lashed myself securely to the tree! At that exact moment, the four women’s location erupted in the horrifying sound of wolves howling! The two wolves below me immediately abandoned my tree and sprinted back toward the commotion! Only then did I finally let out a long, ragged breath! I survived! My clothes were completely soaked in sweat, clinging to my body as if I’d been thrown into a lake. I looked absolutely pathetic. Ultimately… I only escaped the jaws of those wolves thanks to those four women! If they hadn’t drawn the pack’s aggro, there was no way I would have made it out alive. I had no idea if I’d be this lucky next time! Bzz. Bzz. The death announcements arrived exactly on time. But unlike what I expected, only the archer, Chloe, had died from that group. This meant… the other three possessed some serious firepower. Not that it mattered to me anymore. I shook my head, dismissing thoughts of their survival, and opened the clue box I had literally bled for. Inside was a single card that read: [She has a head of flowing black hair.] Combining this with the previous clues: long black hair, amber eyes, and fluffy like a small animal… a mature woman. Speechless, I realized I met every single criteria perfectly! I checked the group roster. There were five other people who fit this description. If you didn’t factor in hair length, over half the remaining girls had black hair. So this clue… wasn’t entirely impossible to share. But… I needed to wait for the perfect moment. Hiss. As I raised my arm, the movement pulled at the wound in my shoulder, making me wince in pain. Once the adrenaline wore off, the agonizing pain became impossible to ignore. Stranded in the wilderness, I had no choice but to pull the arrow out with my bare hands. As I gripped the shaft of the arrow, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. With this level of exposure, hoping to avoid infection was a complete fantasy. Pray. Pray to my God. You’ll protect me… right? I’ll survive this… right? Until I—find you. My consciousness began to slip away, my eyelids growing impossibly heavy. The next second, I pitched forward uncontrollably. Right before I completely blacked out, I thought I… saw… my God waving to me. Wait for me, please. I will survive this! After all… I chose to come here, didn’t I?

    🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391803”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

  • The Spare Daughter

    When my parents divorced, they both fought tooth and nail for my younger sister, treating me like a plague they couldn’t wait to escape. Ultimately, I was awarded to my father. My mother held my sister’s hand, watching gleefully from the sidelines as my father slapped me across the face. “Hit her harder! Beat her to death so you don’t have to raise her! It’ll save you so much trouble!” The stepmother who had just walked through the door picked me up. “From now on, I am your mother. Do you understand?” Years later, I bought my stepmother a mansion and a luxury car. Meanwhile, my biological mother, who hadn’t shown her face in years, lay in a hospital bed, crying and begging me to save her life. I smiled as I peeled her fingers off my arm. “You can go ahead and die now. Rest assured, I won’t save you.” 1 Less than six months after the divorce, my father remarried. The woman was a divorcee, three years younger than my father. On the day of their wedding, I was locked in a storage closet. My father warned me, “If you dare cause any trouble today, I’ll beat you to death!” That evening, as the guests departed and the house gradually fell silent, I sneaked into the kitchen. While trying to cook some instant noodles, I accidentally knocked over a thermos. Boiling water splashed all over me, and I couldn’t stop a scream of agony from escaping my lips. The door across the hall creaked open, and a woman rushed in after hearing the noise. “What happened? Where did you get burned?” The woman picked me up. She had a faint, very pleasant fragrance. “You must be Mia, right?” I nodded, staring hungrily at the dried fruits on her bed and swallowing hard. She brought me a bunch of snacks, but I hesitated for a few seconds, afraid to take them. “Please don’t tell my dad, okay?” “Why not?” “I broke the thermos. He’ll beat me.” The woman let out a soft “Oh” and said, “I won’t tell him.” I was still anxious. “Pinky promise?” “Okay, pinky promise.” I ate like a starved bandit king. The woman watched me and started to laugh. “Do you know who I am?” I didn’t say a word. “From today on, I am your mother.” I froze mid-chew, my brain rapidly scrolling through all the fairy tales I knew: Snow White and the Evil Queen, Cinderella and the Wicked Stepmother… I was doomed. I was absolutely doomed! I stared blankly at my new stepmother. She frowned and asked, “How did your pants get dirty?” My heart seized. I quickly scrambled off the bed, only to see that a large stain had already soiled the clean bedsheets. Head down, I scrambled frantically toward the bathroom, but my stepmother grabbed my arm. “You’re on your period. Why aren’t you using a pad?” My entire face flushed crimson, as if I had been slapped. “Don’t say that word!” My stepmother looked confused. “Which word?” “That… that word.” “What ‘that’ word? You mean period? Has no one ever taught you about this?” I remained silent. The look in my stepmother’s eyes grew increasingly complex. The day I got my first period, I soiled my pants at school. A classmate’s mother comforted me, saying it was a good thing, proof that I was growing up, and told me I should ask my parents to make me a nice meal to celebrate. I ran home excitedly, but before I could even open my mouth, a vicious slap landed on my face. My mother stood with her hands on her hips, kicking me until I fell to the floor. Her booming voice assaulted my eardrums: “Have you no shame?! Swaying your ass around outside all day, afraid people won’t know you’re prime whore material?!” “If you’re so desperate, why even go to school?! I’ll tell your homeroom teacher tomorrow, and you can just go stand outside a nightclub! Let’s see which blind idiot picks you up!” I covered my pants, slowly getting up, stuttering as I tried to explain to my mother, but she immediately cut me off. “Your pants are dirty, so who’s going to wash them for you?! Who?! Do you think I’m a maid, that this whole family exists just to serve you?! You literally can’t go a single day without acting like a slut!” I was ten years old. Because I got my period, I was forced to kneel on the bathroom floor for an entire day. “Mom, my pants are dirty, and I’m still bleeding…” “Let it bleed! What’s the point of telling me?! Get back to your room, you disgraceful little bitch!” I had never used a sanitary pad. Every month, getting my period felt like a massive, humiliating test. If I bled, I had to use toilet paper to pad my underwear. If I used too much, I was scolded for being selfish. When my pants inevitably got dirty, the boys in class would whistle and jeer at me. My mother would just mock me: “Stop pretending! You want to be a whore but still want a monument to your chastity? I think you’re just a slut!” Later, I found out that my sister had a cold sore on her face that day, which might have affected her video shoot the next morning. My mother was angry and anxious, so she used me as a punching bag. My stepmother was the first person to teach me how to use a sanitary pad. She told me there was absolutely nothing shameful about it. She picked me up and looked me in the eyes. “From now on, I am your mother. Do you understand?” 2 My sister was beautiful, with big eyes and pale skin. Even though we were biological sisters, we looked absolutely nothing alike. She started working as a child model when she was very young and made a lot of money. She was the apple of everyone’s eye. My parents often sighed, “If only our precious baby had been born first, then we wouldn’t have needed the older one.” Even our names were worlds apart. When my sister was born, my parents practically wore out the dictionary and even hired a fortune teller to name her Lily, symbolizing happiness, perfection, and a smooth life. My name was Mia. It didn’t have any special meaning; it just meant I was the extra, unnecessary one in the family. So when they divorced, my parents each grabbed one of my sister’s arms, physically fighting over her custody. “Be a good girl, Lily. Stay with Mommy. Mom will buy you the most beautiful princess dresses and take you to France!” “Don’t listen to your mother’s nonsense! Daddy loves you the most. I’ve already bought a house just for you!” They argued endlessly. The judge, holding my hand, asked somewhat awkwardly, “Which of you is willing to take the older daughter?” In an instant, both my parents took a half-step back. One wailed that they were too poor to afford raising me, while the other claimed they were too careless and unsuited to raise a child. Ultimately, custody of my sister was awarded to my mother. She smiled so wide her mouth almost ripped. My father, furious at losing, slapped me across the face. “You jinx! I should have strangled you or drowned you when you were born!” My mother gloated from the sidelines. “Hit her harder! Beat her to death so you don’t have to raise her! It’ll save you so much trouble!” All I could do was curl myself tightly into a ball and keep my mouth shut. As long as I didn’t argue or open my mouth, I’d suffer a little less physical pain. After my stepmother arrived, my life actually improved. She combed my hair, made me breakfast, took me to school, and bought me several new sets of clothes—enough so that my hands wouldn’t be covered in frostbite during the dead of winter. My mother’s side of the family scoffed at this. My grandmother said stepmothers were all evil, calculating bitches who were just putting on an act to get their hands on my father’s meager assets. I defended my stepmother a little, and my grandmother was so furious she hit me with her cane. “You dead girl, you ungrateful little wretch! That woman has only been here a few days, and you’ve already forgotten your own mother?! You deserve to be unwanted!” Once, my stepmother took me shopping. I ran off on my own and ended up getting hit by a car, needing five stitches on my head. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, my biological mother—who hadn’t sent me a single message in a year—was hugging me, wailing loudly. “My poor daughter! It’s all Mommy’s fault, it’s Mommy’s mistake…” I pushed her away. A flash of embarrassment crossed her face before she pointed at my stepmother and began hurling abuse. “You bitch! How dare you abuse my daughter?! Do you think our family is dead?! You’re not leaving here today without giving us an explanation!” The relatives who had come with her were all filled with righteous indignation, spitting as they shouted, demanding my stepmother explain herself. I stood in front of her to shield her. “I tripped on my own. It wasn’t Auntie’s fault.” My mother grabbed me, desperately trying to twist me around to face the crowd. The cheap perfume she wore was so overpowering it made me want to throw up. “Look at this, everyone! Look how terrified this woman has made my poor Mia! She even taught her to lie!” I forcefully broke free from her grasp. “Are you done acting?! How long are you going to keep filming this?!” My mother’s face froze, and she cast a panicked glance at the crowd. The photographer had already slipped away. She was only doing this because my sister had recently been scouted by a talent agent. My mother was clearing away any potential obstacles to her career, which naturally meant she didn’t want the reputation of having abandoned her older daughter. Instead, she wanted to use my stepmother to craft an image of herself as a loving, victimized mother. She just hadn’t expected me to refuse to play along. “You child, I’ve just been so busy lately, but of course, you’re always in my heart…” “Is that so? Then pay my medical bill. It’s six hundred dollars.” My mother wrung her hands and started crying about how incredibly hard it was to raise my sister alone, and how ungrateful I was as an older daughter. In the sunlight, the jade bracelet on her wrist sparkled brightly. My stepmother, who had been silent until now, stood up, slapped the receipt onto my mother’s face, and glared at her sharply: “I already paid the bill. Get the hell out!” My mother immediately shut her mouth. 3 In truth, my stepmother wasn’t wealthy. If she were, she never would have married a useless loser like my father. My father held tight control over the family finances. Whenever I needed money for school supplies, he would glare at me darkly, pull a few crumpled bills from a stack, and throw them at my head: “Study, study, study! You study so much you’re practically dead, and all you know is how to ask for money! I’d be better off raising a pig!” “Why should I spend my money on you?! Figure it out yourself next time! If you can’t afford it, get out and go work in a factory!” I spent my days stressing over living expenses. That was when Julian approached me, waving hundred-dollar bills. “Hey, wanna make a deal?” Julian was a year below me, a notorious delinquent. At first, teachers tried to call his parents in, but Julian just started hitting people in the office, even causing a pregnant teacher to miscarry. His parents didn’t care either; they just paid a settlement of seventy or eighty thousand dollars, and the matter was swept under the rug. Julian became infamous—his family owned a company; they had money, so they could do whatever they wanted! Julian liked my sister, but they had recently fought and hadn’t spoken for days. Julian wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend to make her jealous. I glanced at the money in his hand and estimated it to be over a thousand dollars. To me, that was a massive sum. Julian watched me crouch down to pick up the money, looking at me like I was a dog being thrown scraps. “Well? It’s easy money.” “What do you want me to do?” Julian thought for a moment. “Write a few apology letters for me—they need to be poetic. Then write ‘I love you, Lily’ ten thousand times and fold them into paper cranes. And have lunch with me sometimes…” “That costs extra.” “Huh?” I shoved the thousand dollars into my pocket and negotiated terms with him. “Apology letters, paper cranes, having meals—those are all separate items and need to be billed accordingly.” Julian was hesitant at first, but after I mocked him with a few choice words, he grew furious. “Who says I don’t love Lily enough?! Here!” He angrily threw another three thousand dollars at me. Within a few days, my sister predictably lost her cool, especially when she saw Julian chatting with me. She looked like she wanted to lunge at me and claw my face off; she bit her lip until it bled. One afternoon, my father called me incessantly, ordering me to deliver something to Lily. Her classroom was empty, so I shoved the item into her desk and left. The next day, Lily ran to the teachers’ office, sobbing hysterically and demanding to know: “Sister, I don’t care if you hate me, but how could you steal money?!” 4 Lily was the class treasurer. Three thousand dollars she had kept in her desk—money for the entire class’s textbooks—was missing. I demanded they check the security cameras, but the teacher told me the school’s electronics were undergoing maintenance and couldn’t be viewed. Lily’s eyes were red. “It’s okay, sister. As long as you have the courage to admit your mistake, I’ll pay the money back for you. But you really need to stop hanging around Julian so much. What if you do something truly shameful…” The office fell silent. My biological mother was the first to arrive. Upon hearing this, she charged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You dead girl! If you want to go around seducing men, fine, but don’t drag your sister down with you! I’ll beat you to death!” Lily retreated to the side in a panic, looking utterly innocent. “Ah? Did… did I say something wrong? But I clearly saw my sister and Julian in the woods yesterday…” “Don’t be afraid, my precious! Your sister is a born slut, and her father refuses to discipline her, so today I’m going to teach this little bastard a lesson!” I struggled to my feet, laughing wildly. “Yes, I’m a slut! I’m a bastard! I have a mother who gave birth to me but never raised me—my mother died a long time ago!” “What did you say?! You little bitch, how dare you curse me!” My mother shrieked in fury. Just as the office descended into absolute chaos, the door banged open. My stepmother pulled me behind her, shouting fiercely: “I am Mia’s guardian! If you have a problem, take it up with me! An adult who only bullies a child—have you no shame?! Aren’t you afraid of karma?!” “Fine! Let’s settle this! How are we handling this accusation that Mia stole money?!” My stepmother touched my face, looked down, and asked gently, “Is what they’re saying true?” I shook my head. My biological mother flew into a rage. “Still pretending?! It was clearly you! Birds of a feather flock together—you two are both bitches!” “Where is the evidence?” Lily immediately interjected. “Auntie, I saw it with my own eyes…” My stepmother stared at her meaningfully for a few seconds. “So whatever you say is the truth? Well, I say you stole the money! Little girl, being too scheming isn’t a good thing. Don’t treat everyone else like an idiot.” “Also, laying a hand on my daughter without a shred of evidence—I can sue you for that! Are the teachers here dead?! You just stand there watching them cause a scene and don’t even try to stop it?!” The homeroom teacher smiled tightly, attempting to smooth things over. “You said yourself there’s no evidence. Maybe we should just let this go…” “I have evidence.” 5 I played the video, watching as my biological mother’s face cycled from green to red, inflating like a balloon before finally exploding with a pop. The person in the video was my sister. Although the lighting was dim, it was easy to see that she was acting intimately with a boy. Ten minutes later, Julian was standing in the doorway, looking casual and indifferent. My mother was furious; she marched up, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped him. “You little animal! Is your entire family dead?! How dare you target my daughter!” Julian retaliated by punching my mother in the face. The artificial implant in my mother’s nose flew out and hit the homeroom teacher in the face. The situation became incredibly awkward. Lily threw herself onto Julian. “Mom, if you dare touch him, you might as well beat me to death! I don’t want to live anyway!” My mother almost choked on her own breath. I couldn’t help but laugh. My mother finally noticed me, her tone instantly softening. “Mia, can we just pretend this didn’t happen today? Your sister can’t have any negative press right now.” I drawled slowly, “But what about her framing me for stealing the money…” Before I could finish, Lily very conscientiously began slapping her own face. The force was weak; it hurt less than when my mother pinched me. I didn’t say a word. My mother gritted her teeth and slapped Lily on both sides of her face, her curses growing louder and louder. After the beating, Lily’s fake crying turned real. She was practically wailing, her face swollen like a puffy steamed bun. My stepmother grabbed my hand, turned around, and walked away. That night, my stepmother applied ointment to my bruises under the light of a desk lamp. She glanced at me. “If you want to cry, just cry. There’s no one else here. What if you hold it all in and make yourself sick?” My biological mother was incredibly heavy-handed. That kick to my chest still ached. I blinked. “I actually feel pretty badass. Lily got beaten way worse than I did, and she won’t be able to shoot any commercials for days. I’m too busy laughing to cry!” As I was getting ready for bed, my stepmother came to tuck me in. Two shallow dimples appeared on her face. “You’re right, you really are badass. Goodnight!” But my smile didn’t last long. My father suddenly cut off my tuition and ordered me to go work in a factory. I had been accepted into a prestigious high school, but my father absolutely refused to pay the tuition. He contacted a recruiter, packed my bags, and told me I could leave at any time. I remember kneeling for a very long time that day. I said everything I could think of. I kowtowed until my forehead bled. I promised that I would be a hundred times more filial, that I would repay him in full, if only he would let me go to school. I wanted to study. It was my only way out. My tears didn’t move my father. He threw an ashtray at me, cursing my delusional dreams and insisting I wasn’t cut out for studying. I realized later that this was Lily’s revenge. She was our parents’ cash cow. The moment she complained, my father inevitably sacrificed me to appease her. I was fifteen that year. I dragged an empty suitcase and followed a stranger to the factory. I worked day and night, losing track of time. The calluses on my hands tore open, but I couldn’t feel the pain. All I could see were the numb, exhausted eyes behind the surgical masks around me. Barring a miracle, I was going to be buried there, becoming just another walking corpse. My stepmother was that miracle. She appeared at the door of my dorm and slapped me hard across the face. It was the first time she had ever hit me. She looked thinner and darker. Her hands were shaking. She yelled at me: “Mia, what do you think you’re doing?! If you don’t go to school now, what are you going to do with your future?! If I hadn’t come, were you planning to live like this for the rest of your life?! You told me you wanted to go to the elite high school!” I was momentarily dazed. The elite high school… that felt like a lifetime ago. I hugged her and sobbed hysterically. I wanted to go to school, but fate loved to play jokes on me. This path was destined to be treacherous. My stepmother wiped away my tears. Her eyes were resolute. “Be good. Stop crying. I have money. I’ll pay for your schooling!” She took me home. My father was unhappy about it, but when he heard my stepmother was willing to pay, he shut his mouth. Entering the honors class, I clearly struggled to keep up, constantly hovering around twentieth place. That rank was enough for a good university, but far from my goal of an elite Ivy League-tier school. So, my stepmother hired a private tutor for me. I had no idea this would be the beginning of my nightmare.

    🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391819”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

  • Married to a Cop: Our Life Felt Like We Were Long-Distance Online Friends

    Our texts read like a chatbot conversation: [Gotta make an arrest today. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] [Suspect got away. Still pursuing. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] [Making an arrest. Lock the doors.] 1 Finally, unable to bear the loneliness any longer, I hit up my best friend to go out and have some fun. I took the initiative to text him: [Are you making arrests today too?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Yes] Awesome. If he’s catching bad guys, he can’t catch me cheating. The next second, while I was happily watching a male dancer grind his hips, the door burst open: “Vice squad! Hands where I can see them!” My vision went black. Turns out, the person he was arresting today was me… 1 Day 32 of being newlyweds. My best friend sent me ten thirst-trap videos. I stared at the rows of abs on my phone, swallowing hard. “How do these bodies compare to your Officer Cole?” I stared at the ceiling in a standoff: “I’ve never seen him without his clothes on…” She was shocked: “No way? If you don’t jump his bones soon, his gun’s gonna rust.” I wanted to! After all, I was pretty thirsty for him too. Cole Anderson and I met through a blind date setup. The first time I saw him, I shamefully fell hard. A broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, long-legged physique wrapped in a police uniform, plus a face that screamed “alpha male.” He was handsome, wild, and basically walking testosterone. “Miss Miller, I hope you don’t mind that police work is demanding?” “Not at all, not at all!” I swallowed hard and shook my head frantically back then. So what if he’s busy? I love a man with ambition. It was only later I realized that when he got busy, I’d turn into a stone statue waiting for her husband’s return. On our first day as newlyweds, before our lips could even touch, he got a call and shot out of bed: “Emergency. Gotta go make an arrest.” I waited up for him all night, going crazy. The next day, my period arrived before he did. Cole was either making an arrest or on his way to make one every day. Usually, by the time I went to sleep, he’d get back. By the time I woke up, he was gone. I get grumpy when I wake up, so to avoid disturbing me, he’d sleep in the guest room when he got home. One month into our marriage, we were like long-distance internet friends who barely knew each other. But the speed at which he replied to messages was like waiting for reincarnation. Our chats were like talking to a bot. (Monday) Barely Alive: [Coming home today?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Gotta make an arrest tonight. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5210] Server’s #1 Assassin: [I’ll grab it on my way back.] (Tuesday) Barely Alive: [Did you catch the guy?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [He ran. Still pursuing. Won’t be home. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5456] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] (Got it) (Wednesday) Barely Alive: [Coming back?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [Making an arrest. Lock the doors.] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 5678] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] Server’s #1 Assassin transferred $10,000 to you. Memo: Paycheck (Thursday) Barely Alive: [?] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] Barely Alive: [Amazon Locker: Pickup code 6785] Server’s #1 Assassin: [1] I really… Even Batman couldn’t make this many arrests. I felt like I had married a heartless package-retrieval machine. 2 I pressed the two pimples popping up on my chin, feeling hot and bothered all over. My best friend forwarded me an article: [How Terrifying is a Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex in a Long Time?] Reminding me: [If you don’t break your fast soon, this fresh flower is gonna turn into dried weeds.] Attached was a video showcasing a talent: opening a bottle cap with abs. “I called over those streamers you like the most.” “Get over here now! My treat!” With the words “my treat,” what little wifely virtue I had instantly vanished. “Fuck it!” I ripped off my pajamas and threw them on the bed. Time for the miniskirt and crop top: “Mama’s gonna be an outlaw tonight!” Just in case, I sent Cole a message: [Are you making arrests today too?] This time, he replied pretty fast: [Yes] Awesome. If he’s catching bad guys, he won’t have time to catch me cheating. [Okay, I’m going to sleep then~] Today was my best friend’s birthday party. She was gorgeous and well-connected, and she had invited a bunch of male models and influencers. As soon as I walked in, my eyes were met with a sea of half-dressed pretty boys. “Hi, you’re so pretty.” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “I can dance for you.” “Wanna touch my abs?” When the Nth boy with abs came over to hit on me, I finally understood the joy of being a hedonistic king. “Wanna feel?” A silver-haired bad boy lifted the hem of his shirt, his eight-pack glistening under the lights. “Just worked on my V-lines…” I swallowed hard and shrank back, but my fingers moved forward uncontrollably. Damn it, us strong independent women need to enjoy days like this after a tiring day. The abs peeking through the unbuttoned shirt made me dizzy: “Why are your hands shaking a bit?” No kidding. The hands my husband uses to arrest people are currently gripping a gun. And here I am, touching another man’s waist. Just as my heart was blooming with joy from being sweet-talked… The VIP room door was kicked open with a bang. “Vice squad! Hands on your heads, get down!” 3 That voice was so familiar it made my scalp tingle. I looked up and saw Cole standing in the doorway, his police uniform buttoned to the top, his belt cinching his lean waist. When his gaze swept over my little crop top and miniskirt, his Adam’s apple bobbed hard. Our eyes met, and my hand subconsciously shrank behind my back: “Honey, listen… let me explain…” “They ordered them all, I didn’t order any…” “I didn’t even dare touch them, I didn’t even dare look…” The rookie cop beside him couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Captain Anderson, here’s the surveillance footage…” The rookie handed over a tablet. I watched helplessly at the stupid look on my face on the screen, frantically swallowing as I stared at those abs. I felt so hopeless I wanted to reincarnate on the spot. What was even more suffocating was… Cole actually pressed pause. He zoomed in on my paw that was about to touch the male model’s abs. “Miss Miller.” He tapped his knuckles on the screen, his wedding ring making a crisp clinking sound. “Care to explain this action?” My legs went weak, and I almost slid to my knees: “Honey, listen to me! This is art appreciation…” Cole gritted his teeth: “Take her away.” His long legs, wrapped in police trousers, strode with murderous intent. I remembered during our blind date, staring at his police uniform, my mind filled with dirty thoughts about handcuffs and forced love. Now karma had come; he really did use handcuffs to force me. Congratulations to me on getting a pair of silver bracelets. Boohoo. 4 Inside the interrogation room. Cole stared at my little crop top. With a dark face, he took off his police jacket and wrapped it around me. I shrank into the chair, silently pretending to be a quail. “Name?” “Your wife…” The pen slammed onto the table with a “thud.” Cole loosened his collar and raised his voice: “Take this seriously.” I stared at his bobbing Adam’s apple and whispered: “Maya Miller.” He kept a straight face: “Motive?” “Left alone in an empty room for thirty-two days.” I started counting on my fingers to complain. “Fell in love with a man who never comes home…” The rookie cop taking notes in the corner let out a snort of laughter. Cole shot him a glare like a throwing knife. “Detail everything. What exactly did you do during the entire process?” “I didn’t do anything, just drank a glass of juice…” He tapped the table, warning me: “Providing false statements carries legal consequences.” “Well, maybe there was some dancing…” “How were they dancing? What happened?” “Just, maybe, I accidentally brushed against his abs…” “How many times did you brush against them?” “What does this have to do with the case?” I couldn’t help but ask. His face tightened, his tone serious: “Every single detail must be accounted for.” I braced myself and spoke: “Twice? Three times?” Cole’s face instantly turned a shade of green, his voice terrifyingly dark: “How many times exactly?” I looked down guiltily: “I was wrong, honey…” A few cops were peeking through the window at the door, eating up the drama: “Ahem, Captain Anderson, per regulations, we need to clarify the contact area with the suspect—were the abs specifically the upper, middle, or lower abs?” Cole’s gaze shot poison darts: “Are you guys really that free?” “Well, you taught us this!” A few of them started making a ruckus while slipping away. “Last week during the vice raid, you even said evidence collection must be specific to…” “That was for prostitution!” “But sister-in-law just said she touched the V-lines.” The rookie taking notes tried hard to suppress his laughter, pulling out his phone. “Captain Anderson, look, the criminal investigation group chat is discussing how you broke the record for response time tonight. Everyone is asking if you used a 100-meter sprint dash…” Cole grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and tossed him out the door. The rookie peeked his head through the crack in the door: “Um, if sister-in-law needs some art appreciation of abs, our squad…” “Don’t want to get off work?” The rookie chuckled apologetically: “Yes, yes, yes! You two continue with the law enforcement.” “Oh right, Captain Anderson, remember to sign the family member section so you can take sister-in-law home.” Cole signed his name with a dark expression. Then he raised his hand and tightened the police jacket draped over my shoulders. 5 On the way back, he drove in silence. I was both well-behaved and cowardly: “Cole, are you… angry?” He was expressionless: “No.” Saying one thing and meaning another. I stole a quick glance. The man’s jawline was tight, his narrow, deep-set eyes lowered, his thin lips slightly pursed. His long fingers gripped the steering wheel, the cuffs of his blue uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms with prominent veins. Simply amazing, even when he’s angry he’s so handsome. I was just thinking about how to coax him. My phone suddenly vibrated. I answered, and my best friend’s loud voice blasted from the receiver: “Maya Miller, your husband arrested all eight models I called over! You got to feel them up, but I’m still burning up over here!” “But I gotta say, his squad is full of long legs. Seeing them in those police uniforms got me all hot and bothered. Officer Cole’s waist is definitely better than any male model’s!” What kind of wild talk is this… I panicked and hurriedly hung up. But I accidentally hit the speakerphone button: “I heard Officer Cole went home with you. Doesn’t that mean you guys are gonna go at it hard tonight?” “Having gone without for so many days, his pants must be on fire, right?” Cole turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable. My hand trembled, and my phone accidentally dropped under the seat. “You said he never comes home every day, could it be his hardware isn’t up to par?” “I sent you a macho man evaluation chart! You have to send me a battle report…” “I’ll buy you a victory battle outfit too, you definitely have to handcuff him to the bedpost…” Cole reached down, picked up the phone, and calmly spoke: “Miss Smith, regarding the $20,000 VIP membership you bought at the Nightfall Club, do you need us to come to your door for some legal education?” Violent coughing came from the other end of the line: “Heh, um… Captain Anderson, we were just doing some art appreciation…” The call disconnected. The car was dead silent. Passing a convenience store, he stopped the car with a cold face. He came back shortly after getting out. He had two small boxes in his hands. “What did you buy…” I asked curiously. He didn’t speak, just shoved them into my hands with a cold face. I looked down. The box clearly displayed “0.01”. Oh my, and it’s extra large.

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  • Contract Marriage: The Hidden Devotion of a Cold CEO

    Following my family’s arrangement, I married a stern, dull man. On our wedding night, I suggested sleeping in separate rooms. Christian unbuttoned his shirt right in front of me, his eyes dark and deep: “But I have needs.” 1 Christian and I were in a marriage of convenience, prioritizing interests over feelings. He was my brother Carter’s friend, groomed as an heir since childhood—stern, dull, handsome, noble, polite, yet aloof. When I heard him agree to this marriage at the dinner table, I was completely stunned. But then I thought, since I had to marry someone for an alliance anyway, and the partner was Christian, I might as well not be picky. We had just finished our wedding in Beverly Hills. He was a bit drunk, got into the stretch limo, closed his eyes, and didn’t speak. Exhausted from the long day, I suddenly woke up to the realization of what might happen tonight. The ten-minute drive was agonizing, and my breathing grew tense. He shouldn’t be able to do much if he’s drunk, right? I called out to Christian, but there was no response. He must be heavily intoxicated. My hanging heart suddenly dropped. The car stopped, and the man spoke, his voice slightly hoarse: “We’re here.” “You’re awake?” He nodded, picked up my designer clutch, and opened the door to get out. “I can carry it myself.” The thick stack of checks gifted by the guests tonight was all in there. He refused outright, his voice light: “No need, it’s a bit heavy.” In the elevator, it was just Christian and me, standing one behind the other. Neither of us spoke, and the atmosphere was somewhat awkward. Watching the numbers slowly rise, I broke the silence first: “Are you drunk? Do you want me to get you a glass of ice water to sober up?” “No, I’m not drunk. We still have proper business to attend to tonight.” Understanding the meaning behind his words, my cheeks flushed slightly as I repeatedly mentally prepared myself. The elevator stopped. We entered the penthouse, changed into slippers, and pushed the bedroom door open. I froze. A custom “Just Married” banner hung on the wall, the champagne balloons were blinding, and the floor was covered in white and red rose petals. Christian stood behind me at some point, his voice cold: “You’re tired today, get some rest early.” “Do you want to shower first?” “I have some things to take care of, you go first.” Christian went to the study to work. So this was the “proper business” he mentioned. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, found a relatively conservative pajama set in the closet, and came out after a shower with my hair tied in a bun. My skin had a natural blush from the steam. I applied my skincare routine and dawdled for an hour and a half. Christian had finished his work at some point. He was looking down, unbuttoning his shirt. His Rolex watch and tie were placed on the table. “……Should we sleep in separate rooms?” Christian frowned, remained silent for a moment, and slowly asked, “Why.” “We…… aren’t close.” “We took our vows at the church and it’s legal now. You need to slowly adapt to your identity as Mrs. Pierce.” “Besides, I have needs.” As soon as he said that, the roots of my ears instantly became burning hot. I looked at him in surprise. I didn’t expect him to be so blunt. His eyes darkened, and he softened his tone: “But if you’re not willing, I respect your choice. Let nature take its course.” Anyway, what needs to be done will be done sooner or later. I bit my lip: “Okay then, let’s not sleep in separate rooms.” The pattering sound of water came from the bathroom, and a subtle, strange feeling spread in my heart. My heartbeat quickened. I patted my chest, calming myself down. Stay calm, stay calm. It’s not like I haven’t seen this in movies before. About ten minutes later, the water stopped. Christian wore loungewear, his hair slightly wet. The edge of the bed sank slightly, and I could smell the faint scent of cedarwood on him. I tried to make my voice sound natural: “Do you want to blow-dry your hair?” “No need. My body runs hot, it’ll dry quickly.” “Olivia—” “Hmm?” I looked up to meet those dark eyes. I didn’t know if it was my illusion, but there was a strong aggressiveness in those pitch-black pupils. “I’m turning off the light.” The room instantly plunged into darkness. There was only a small nightlight, casting a warm glow over a small area. I shrank back, creating some distance between us. Before I could react, I was already confined in Christian’s embrace. Having just showered, the man’s body was a bit cool, yet carried a strong sense of intrusion. Even through a thin layer of fabric, I could feel the heat of his skin. I was completely uncomfortable and didn’t dare to move recklessly. My mind was a mess. We looked at each other, both well aware of what was going to happen next. His voice was husky: “Go to sleep.” Unexpectedly, after lying there for a long time, the man next to me didn’t make a move until the sound of even breathing came from beside my ear. He fell asleep? The arm around my waist was firm and strong, our bodies pressed tightly together without a gap. It was hard to fall asleep in this position. Christian was usually cold and aloof towards people. It was rare to see him so passionate tonight. He must have been truly drunk. 2 Christian was very busy with work and went on a business trip abroad on the third day after our wedding. He sent me a simple text message. [On a business trip to France.] I typed in the chat box: [When are you coming back?] Feeling like I was asking too much, I deleted the message. During the week Christian was away, we neither video-called nor texted. I almost forgot I was married. I took a shower at night, and when I reached for my clothes afterward, I grabbed empty air. I forgot to bring my pajamas and only brought my underwear. I was the only one home now, so I stepped right out of the bathroom. I stood in front of the closet for a full eight minutes, picking out a style I had never tried before. Since Christian wasn’t home, I could wear whatever I wanted. No one would see me anyway. Faintly excited, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror after changing. At first, I was a bit uncomfortable and shy, but I let go later on, eager to try on the next set. Just as I opened the closet, the bedroom door lock clicked open. Caught off guard, I quickly dove under the covers, leaving only my head exposed. I met Christian’s gaze in a panic, frowned, and complained, “Why did you come in without knocking?” My face was burning red. He must have seen everything just now. I really wanted to dig a hole and hide. Christian’s face was impassive, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, and his voice betrayed no emotion: “Sorry, I’ll pay attention next time.” “Then get out quickly, I need to change.” The door closed, and I quickly changed back into my original pajamas. My face felt burning hot, and I splashed some cold water on it. My lower abdomen suddenly cramped with a dull pain. My period was here. I was a restless sleeper and easily stained the sheets. There were no period panties at home, and I was too lazy to go out and buy them late at night. I was hesitating whether to sleep in the guest room tonight, so even if the sheets got dirty, it wouldn’t be embarrassing. Christian came in. His hair was still damp with steam, and he had changed into loungewear. He obviously just finished showering, his gaze dark and deep. “Something wrong?” I pursed my lips: “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” “Why?” “The central AC in this room doesn’t seem to be cooling well. I run hot.” “I’ll go sleep next door too.” “Christian, why are you following me.” His voice was cold: “I run hot too.” I looked up at him: “It’ll be even hotter with two people sleeping together.” Christian met my gaze and said seriously: “Then let’s turn the AC temperature down a bit.” “……” “Forget it, I’ll just sleep here.” I slept fitfully that night, anxious and afraid. When I woke up the next day and saw the clean sheets, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness I didn’t stain them. After washing up and going downstairs, Christian was sitting upright at the dining table, breakfast already laid out. He looked up, his voice light: “Morning.” “It’s already nine o’clock, aren’t you going to work today?” “Grandmother asked us to go back to the estate today.” “Then I’ll change clothes later.” “Drink this soup before it gets cold. Martha made it this morning.” I took a look. It was a bowl of nutritious hot soup made with organic ingredients and high protein…… “Why did Martha make this?” “To supplement your nutrition, it’s good for your body.” “Does your stomach hurt?” “I’m fine, I don’t have those reactions.” Changing the subject, I blinked and stared straight at him: “Christian, you care about me so much. Do you have a secret crush on me?” I could never figure out why Christian agreed to marry into my family. He had a perfectly good marriage prospect right beside him—his childhood friend, the socialite Blair. They were a match made in heaven, and everyone agreed they would end up together. His dark eyes looked at me, and he refused bluntly: “No.” Then he added: “I’ve always been openly in love.” “Oh.” Turns out I was overthinking. “I brought back a batch of haute couture dresses from France. They’re on the third floor, go try them on.” My eyes instantly lit up, and the disappointment from a moment ago was swept away. A marriage of convenience, no feelings, treating each other with respect, not bothering each other. This was pretty good too. 3 When we arrived at the Pierce family estate, it was just in time for lunch. At the dining table, the conversation turned to the Smith family having a new grandson. “When do you two plan to have one?” I was drinking soup and almost choked on those words. I put down my spoon, feeling a bit awkward, and secretly pinched Christian’s thigh. “Olivia is still young. It’s not appropriate to consider having a baby right now. Besides, we just got married. Having kids is a bit too fast.” “That’s true, but you should start taking good care of your bodies now. You’re almost thirty, getting older. Take care of your health, don’t stay up late working all the time and ruin your body.” “Mom, you don’t need to worry about these things. I’ll take care of it myself.” “There’s still some premium slow-cooked bone marrow broth at home. I’ll have them bring it out for you two later to nourish your bodies. Just stay at the estate tonight, the rooms are already prepared.” The family kept a sheepdog. After dinner, I took the dog out for a walk. “I can walk the dog by myself, you don’t need to follow me.” I wasn’t very close to Christian, and sometimes being alone with him felt a bit awkward. “If he goes crazy outside later, you won’t be able to hold him.” “Buster looks pretty well-behaved.” “Let’s go.” Christian put his hands in his pockets. Taking advantage of his long legs, he walked at an unhurried, slow pace. I deliberately quickened my steps to widen the distance between us, walking one in front of the other. Buster was full of energy. After walking for nearly half an hour, I was almost dead tired. “You hold him, I need to rest.” Christian smiled: “Tired already? You were walking too fast just now.” Panting slightly, I took out my phone. “Look, I’ve already walked over ten thousand steps. I really don’t want to walk anymore.” “Then let’s sit here for a while.” There were no benches around, but there was a large rock nearby. I was getting ready to sit on it and rest a bit. “Wait a minute.” He took off his suit jacket and placed it on the rock. “Sit on this.” The top button of his white shirt was undone, faintly revealing the outline of his shoulder muscles—lean and powerful, exuding a strong sense of pressure. My heartbeat accelerated a bit. Christian’s physique was surprisingly good, very attractive. “Sit here for a while, I’ll go buy some water.” “Okay.” “Olivia—” Hearing someone call me, I looked up and froze for a moment. It was Noah, my crush from high school. He used to be my neighbor. I was going to confess to him after the high school prom, but I accidentally heard the news that he was going to study in Europe. That feeling died before it even started, and I sulked at home for two months over the summer. “Noah, when did you get back to the country?” “I just came back recently.” “Are you living around here now?” “No, I came to visit a friend.” “Have some water.” Christian came back from buying water and handed me a bottle of room-temperature water. “Is this your boyfriend?” Christian’s expression remained undisturbed. He reached out his hand politely and said, “Hello, I am Olivia’s husband, Christian Pierce.” Noah froze slightly, looking surprised: “You’re married?” “Just recently. I hadn’t had the time to tell you yet.” After chatting briefly with Noah, we ended the conversation. On the way back, Christian was a bit strange, quieter than ever before. Once through the door, I couldn’t hold it in and asked, “Christian, are you a little unhappy?” He looked at me for a moment and pondered: “He’s the guy you had a crush on in high school.” I was a bit bewildered: “Who?” “Noah.” My eyes widened in surprise: “How did you know?” Only my brother and I knew about this. At that time, my parents thought I was depressed because I didn’t get into an Ivy League school. He silently loosened his tie, his tone low: “I guessed.” “Then you’re quite the psychic. But I stopped liking him a long time ago. We haven’t been in touch for years.” “Why?” “……International calling rates were too expensive.” He curled his lips and laughed out loud. I had sweat a little outside, and my body felt sticky and uncomfortable. I went to the room to take a shower first. After coming out, I searched around and finally found Christian in the study. I didn’t bother him and went downstairs to watch TV for a while. Grandmother was busy with something in the kitchen. After a while, she brought out a large bowl of thick soup. “Olivia, you and Christian drink this slow-cooked bone marrow and seafood bisque. I had someone simmer it all afternoon, it tastes delicious.” “Thank you, Grandmother.” “I’m going to sleep first. Make sure you watch Christian finish this bowl. He has dark circles under his eyes, he needs the nourishment.” I licked my lips. The walk earlier had just burned some calories, and I was a bit hungry now. I served myself a bowl. The hot soup slid down my throat into my stomach with a sweet aftertaste, making me feel much better. I carried the remaining soup to find Christian. He was taking a shower. The pattering sound of water came from the bathroom. Christian showered quickly and came out in a few minutes. I looked down, scrolling through my phone, not looking at him, and said lazily, “Drink the soup. Grandmother had someone make it.” “Did you drink any?” I nodded and looked at him: “I just had some.” “Do you want more?” I licked my lips: “A little, but that’s saved for you.” “I’m not hungry.” “I don’t like eating the meat in it.” “You drink the soup, leave the meat for me.” I hesitated for a second, picked up the spoon, and smiled: “Then I won’t be polite.” After finishing the rich soup, I brushed my teeth and lay in bed, feeling uncomfortable all over. “Could you…… move over a bit? It’s a little hot being this close.” Even though the AC was on in the room, my body still felt burning hot. I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, making restless noises. Christian sat up and turned on the light. “Are you not feeling well?” I frowned and groaned: “It’s so hot.” I wished I could take all my clothes off. “Aren’t you hot?” “It’s probably because I drank too much of that high-protein soup.” “Can you pour me a glass of ice water?” The pajamas I was wearing were simply too hot. I found a silk camisole in the closet. After changing into it, I felt much cooler. Christian pushed the door open and came in. He stood frozen in place for a moment before bringing the water over. His voice was husky: “Drink more water to lower your internal concentration.” “Why is it warm?” “You’re still on your period, you can’t drink ice water.” “I’m going to take a shower. Call me anytime if you feel unwell.” I blinked and said bluntly: “Didn’t you just take a shower?” He pursed his lips and pretended to say casually: “I’m a bit hot too.” I felt much better after drinking the water, not as restless and hot. Christian took a really long shower. The sound of the water splashed on and on, seemingly never stopping. Worried something might have happened inside, I approached the door and softly called Christian’s name. Silence. Then, faint, subtle panting sounds came from inside. I called out again. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” “Why are you showering for so long?” His voice was a bit low: “Coming out right away.” A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Christian had changed into a set of pajamas, buttoned all the way to the top, tightly covered. I furrowed my brows: “Aren’t you hot? Buttoning it so tightly.” Maybe I had nourished myself too much tonight, and it fried my brain. I stood straight up, moved close to Christian, and unbuttoned his shirt one by one. With his pajamas half-open, I could faintly see the bulging lines of the man’s muscles and his increasingly taut abs. I instantly held my breath. My fingertips trembled as they glided across his skin. I bit my lip and asked somewhat nervously, “Can I touch them?” Christian didn’t speak for a long time. He looked down at me from above. Because of the shower, his gaze was deeper than before. I felt inexplicably flustered. Just as I was about to pull my hand back, Christian grabbed it. The palm of his hand was boiling hot. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his voice low and hoarse: “You can—” My entire palm rested on the man’s muscles. They were hot and hard. I traced upward along his abs, inch by inch. “Enough.” Christian’s gaze turned scorching, his throat tight: “I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 4 I tossed and turned too late last night. When I woke up, it was almost eleven o’clock. Christian had gone to work. I said goodbye to the elders and went home. I had been unemployed and resting for half a year. Recently, I sent out my resume on LinkedIn and had an interview scheduled for the afternoon. The whole process went smoothly. I applied for a receptionist position. The work was simple, allowed for slacking off, and killed time. Christian’s company was nearby, just a few steps away. He sent a message half an hour ago: Wait for me a bit, we’ll go home together. I pressed the button. The moment the elevator doors opened, I saw a familiar face. “Noah, you work on this floor too.” Seeing me, Noah smiled: “This is my startup company. Just a few years old.” I opened my mouth in surprise: “What a coincidence! I just finished my interview here today. I start next week.” There were other people in the elevator, and Noah seemed to have other things to attend to, so we just exchanged a few brief pleasantries. “I haven’t had the chance to treat you to dinner since I got back. Let me treat you when you’re free.” “Sure.” When I got to the ground floor of Pierce Group, I sent Christian a message asking if he was done. A few minutes passed without a reply. He was probably still busy. This was my first time at his company, and I wasn’t familiar with it. I called his assistant. Five minutes later, his assistant David came down and brought me up to the executive office. I pushed the office door open. The man was on the phone, a cigar clamped in his mouth, his long legs crossed. I was a bit surprised. This was the first time I had seen this side of Christian. He glanced up at me, then continued conversing with the person on the phone. His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. I sat on the sofa, casually picked up a copy of The Wall Street Journal nearby, and flipped through it. It was all business information, absolutely no entertainment, quite dry. The phone call ended. Christian flicked the cigar ash, put it out in the ashtray, and picked up his suit jacket from the chair. I yawned: “So you’re done.” “Yeah, we can head back.” “How was the job hunt?” “I’m very satisfied. Do you know who our boss is?” “Who?” “Noah! I only found out after finishing the interview.” Christian’s face was devoid of emotion as he spoke slowly: “You’ve chosen this company?” I introduced it enthusiastically, beaming: “Hehe. Four days on, three days off. 10 AM to 5 PM. Plus afternoon tea and team building. I could work in this position until I retire.” “Do you want to come to my company? Same benefits, double the salary.” I shook my head, rejecting it instantly: “No, no. You’re a big corporation. The workload is more than double. Besides, everyone in the company knows me. I wouldn’t have any freedom.” He didn’t say anything more. On the way back, he continued recommending other companies to me, all of which I turned down. “Noah and I know each other. He’ll take care of me at work, so you can rest assured.” Christian scoffed internally. “Commute together from now on?” “No need. You start at nine, I start at ten. The times are different. I can sleep in a bit longer.” “Pull over at the Target ahead. I need to buy something.” Walking into the daily necessities aisle, sanitary pads were on sale. I planned to stock up more this time, as we didn’t have many left at home. Christian stood behind me, asking seriously: “It hasn’t ended yet?” I froze for a moment, then understood what he meant. My ears felt hot as I explained quietly, “It ended a few days ago. I’m just stocking up.” His eyes lit up a little, and his mood visibly improved. After grabbing what I needed, I walked ahead. Christian followed behind, tossing a few more items into the cart. I didn’t look back, and he tossed a few more in. As we headed for the cashier, half the cart was filled with those little boxes. My brain stalled for a moment as I looked up at Christian. My voice was quieter than a mosquito: “Why did you buy so many?” “Is it a lot?” “If this isn’t a lot, what is? What if someone sees?” “Then let’s use the self-checkout.” Christian led me out to the self-checkout. There were small shelves nearby filled with those little boxes, and he grabbed a few more. I glared at him, threatening: “Stop grabbing them, that’s enough.” He pursed his lips, his voice deep: “These are a different type from the ones just now.” “……”

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  • The Double Standard Couple

    Henry had a female “buddy.” Their bond was so tight they’d share a bed, even scoop ice cream from the same bowl. I insisted they keep their distance. He grew impatient: “If anything was going to happen between us, it would’ve happened ages ago. Can’t we just trust each other?” Fine. I turned around and found myself a male best friend.

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  • Ashes to Ashes: The Billion-Dollar Revenge on My Cheating Father

    My father crashed his sports car while street racing. As he lay dying, he tried to write a will leaving his entire fortune to his mistress and his unborn illegitimate child. My mother, who had served him like a slave her entire life without a single complaint, suddenly rushed forward. Weeping hysterically, she slapped the pen right out of his trembling hand. “Honey, I won’t let you write a will! You’re going to pull through this! You’re going to live!” I, the son he had ignored for over two decades, dropped to my knees, snatched the half-written document, and ripped it to shreds. “Dad! Don’t you worry! I’ll take over the company and run it perfectly!” My dad was so furious he couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes rolled back, efforts to resuscitate him failed, and he died right there on the spot. By the time his mistress rushed to the hospital, cradling her eight-month pregnant belly and screaming about how the new inheritance laws meant her bastard child was entitled to a cut, it was too late. My dad had already been pronounced dead, rushed through a direct cremation, and his estate was locked down. Fight for the fortune? I wasn’t leaving her a single cent! 1 My father, Richard Sterling, was a deadbeat playboy who sowed his wild oats wherever he went. When he was young, he used his movie-star looks to con my mother into marrying him without spending a dime on a ring or a wedding. According to my mom, he made all these grand promises. He swore he would work hard, build a life from the ground up, and take care of his little family. But three years into the marriage, he was either drinking, gambling, or sleeping around. He was never home. We practically never saw him. My mom tried to talk sense into him a few times. In response, fueled by cheap whiskey, he pinned her to the sofa and beat her. Blood stained the couch in our tiny rented apartment, and the landlord forced us to pay a $500 damage fee. That just threw our already poverty-stricken family deeper into the abyss. My mom cried every single day. Once, after a few drinks with a friend, my mom had a moment of pure clarity and decided to file for divorce. But right at that critical moment, she found out she was pregnant with me. She didn’t want her child to be born into a broken home. Plus, whenever my dad screwed up bad enough, he would drop to his knees and give a tearful, Oscar-worthy apology. Ultimately, for my sake, she decided to endure it. The fact that she married him for nothing, combined with her refusal to fight back, made my dad feel invincible. He truly believed she couldn’t live without him. And so… the domestic violence escalated. Not even her pregnancy or nursing phases were spared. The most ruthless incident was when my dad stepped on my mother’s head, looked down at her, and spat in her face. “I didn’t even pay a dime for a ring! You’re a worthless, cheap bitch!” “Even if I bring my women home and sleep with them in our bed, you’re going to watch, you’re going to listen, and you’re going to wash our laundry and cook us breakfast!” Then I was born. My mom shifted her entire focus onto me and stopped paying attention to him. As far as she was concerned, as long as I knew I had a father and didn’t feel inferior to other kids, that was enough. She expected nothing else from him, and relied on him for nothing. And he lived up to that. From the moment I formed memories, my dad never once held me. Forget teaching me how to ride a bike or buying me toys. My mom and I were outsiders in his life. We were the closest people in the world to each other, surviving against the odds. My dad was just a background character. If we saw him today, we probably wouldn’t see him again for a week or two. As for child support or living expenses? My mom never saw a single penny. Mrs. Higgins, the old lady in the apartment upstairs, was a saint. She knew our situation and knew my dad was a piece of trash. Taking pity on me, she would give me her grandson’s old hand-me-down toys. She also hired my mom to clean her apartment and cook her meals, paying her under the table. Because of Mrs. Higgins, my mom and I didn’t starve. But the good days didn’t last. My dad found out. He interrogated my mom, demanding to know how much cash she was making. When she refused to speak, he beat her black and blue. If I tried to shield my mom, he’d beat me too. With one arm, he could effortlessly throw a five-year-old me across the room. Eventually, my mom compromised. She agreed to give him a $1,000 cut of her earnings every month. I remember Mrs. Higgins asking my mom why she didn’t just call the cops. She told her domestic abuse was a felony. My mom’s response is burned into my memory to this day. With tears in her eyes, she whispered: “If I divorce him, he’ll kill me and my son. He’s crazy enough to do it.” Later, a massive tragedy struck our family. My maternal grandparents were killed in a horrific crash. An 18-wheeler ran a red light—total liability on the trucking company. Because my mom was an only child, she received a $1 million wrongful death settlement. That period was the most terrifying, despair-filled time of our lives. Not only were we grieving, but we had to guard ourselves against my dad. He threatened us. He said if we didn’t hand over the settlement money, he would murder us. That was the moment my mom finally called the police. But it’s hard to gather evidence behind closed doors, and since my dad hadn’t physically acted on the death threats yet, the cops just mediated the dispute and gave him a stern warning. For over a month, my mom and I lived in a cheap motel, terrified. Then, one night, my dad kicked the motel door in. We screamed, but he just calmly sat down on the armchair, staring at us with dead eyes, and delivered an ultimatum. “Give me the money. I’m starting a business. I am going to change my destiny. If I don’t get it, my life is meaningless anyway. I’ll just kill myself and take the two of you down to hell with me.” Then he left. He didn’t hit us. He didn’t yell. It was the first time I had ever seen him so cold and calculated. My mom told me that in that state of mind, he really would pull the trigger. She stroked my hair, crying, apologizing to me. She promised that once I graduated high school, she would file for divorce. “With that money, your father probably won’t hurt us anymore,” she reasoned. And just like that, through extortion and death threats, he took the million-dollar settlement. He got incredibly lucky. He rode the wave of a booming real estate and logistics market, and his very first startup became a massive success. The first thing he did after becoming a multi-millionaire? He asked my mom for a divorce. But this time, she refused. As she put it: she had suffered through decades of a miserable life, swallowing her pride, taking beatings, and living in squalor. Now that he was rich, why should he get to cast her aside? My dad felt his authority was being challenged. Money had inflated his ego, making him even more arrogant and ruthless. He grabbed my mom by the hair, preparing to beat her into submission. But I was older now. I rushed him, punching him as hard as I could, screaming that I was going to call the cops, call the press, and send him to a federal penitentiary. For the first time in his life, my dad backed down. He was no longer fearless. He had a weakness now. His precious corporate empire. As a newly minted “successful entrepreneur,” a massive domestic violence and extortion scandal would utterly destroy his public image and his business. He tucked his tail between his legs and ran. That was the day my mom realized we finally had a shield. That million-dollar settlement wasn’t a total waste after all. From then on, we demanded an exorbitant allowance. If he refused, we cried, screamed, and threatened to hold protest banners outside his corporate headquarters. To save face, he paid up. It was more than enough for us to live comfortably. He never brought up divorce again, but he also never came home. He spent his days at galas and his nights in luxury penthouses. He spent his time sleeping with his secretaries and female executives. Living the high life. When he was feeling particularly smug, he’d even bring his mistresses back to our house to hook up. Whenever those disgusting noises echoed from the master bedroom, my mom would cover my ears. But it had been a very long time since she shed a single tear over him. As I grew older and understood how the world worked, I finally asked her the question that had been burning inside me. “Why keep this charade going? A father’s love like this… what’s the point of maintaining this legal marriage?” The seeds of hatred and pain had been planted in me since childhood. As for fatherly love? I didn’t possess a single ounce of it. My mom teared up, looking at me with deep guilt. But her answer is something I have engraved in my mind to this very day. “I used to be stupid. I thought keeping the family whole mattered. But you’re right, a father like him is worse than no father at all.” “But now, I have to think about your future.” I pondered that sentence for nearly a decade. Until I was twenty-two. My mom and I were making dinner when the hospital called. My dad had been in a horrible accident. In a flash of lightning, I finally understood what my mom had meant all those years ago! We dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. On the way, we exchanged dozens of glances. There was no grief. No pain. Just intense anticipation and wild speculation. When we arrived, our deepest hopes were confirmed! The doctor said my dad had been street racing and crashed. His condition was critical, and they needed us to sign the surgical consent forms immediately. We were escorted to the ICU. Seeing my dad covered in blood and hooked up to a dozen tubes, I didn’t feel a shred of sadness. Instead, I noticed he was struggling desperately to write something on a clipboard. My mom’s reflexes were faster than mine. She lunged forward, slapping his hand hard, sending the pen clattering to the floor. She wailed with theatrical devastation: “Honey! I won’t let you write a will! You’re going to pull through! You have to live!” I peeked at the clipboard. The bastard was trying to leave his entire corporate empire to his mistress and her unborn child. His handwriting was a jagged, illegible mess. It had taken all his remaining strength just to scribble a few lines. Without missing a beat, I dropped to my knees, snatched the paper, and tore it into confetti. “Dad! Don’t worry! You still have me! I’ll step up and run the company! I won’t let your life’s work go to waste!” Outside the glass doors, the nurses and doctors were wiping away tears, whispering about how lucky my dad was to have such a devoted wife and son. My dad’s face turned purple with absolute rage. He choked around the intubation tube, unable to speak, making furious, muffled groans. He tried to blindly reach for another pen. I casually kicked the clipboard into the biohazard bin, completely severing his hopes. Finally, the sheer rage and spike in blood pressure caused him to pass out. The doctors rushed in with a defibrillator. I held up a hand, stopping them. I let out a heavy sigh, my eyes shimmering with fake tears. “My father just signaled to me… he doesn’t want to live without dignity. Please, pull the plug. Let him go in peace.” Perhaps my dad could hear me in his comatose state, because the heart monitor spiked violently before flatlining into a solid, continuous beep. The doctor checked his vitals, looked at us with a heavy expression, and pronounced him dead. I nodded, vigorously rubbing my eyes as if wiping away tears, while internally, I was doing backflips. We didn’t even bother with the morgue. The moment we got the death certificate, my mom and I hired a transport service, took him straight to the crematorium, and had him burned to ash. Before the ashes had even cooled down, I scattered them in a drainage ditch. Armed with the death certificate, I hired a high-powered proxy lawyer. By throwing an obscene amount of money at the problem, I had the inheritance paperwork expedited and finalized within hours. In a single day, I transformed into a multi-millionaire CEO. 2 We went back to the hospital to finalize some billing paperwork and were just about to happily head home. Suddenly, a woman caked in heavy makeup, clutching a massive pregnant belly, stormed into the main lobby. “Where is Richard Sterling?! Where is he?!” “The CEO of Sterling Enterprises! I’m asking you, where is Richard?! What room is he in?!” I knew this woman. She was the Chief Financial Officer at my dad’s company. Her name was Serena Vance. My dad had brought her to our house multiple times while flaunting his affairs. She knew exactly what the dynamic was in our family, so she treated my mom like absolute garbage. The first time she came over, she was somewhat restrained. By the second time, she was barking orders, treating my mom like the hired help. My mom got angry and told her to check her attitude. In response, emboldened by my dad standing right next to her, Serena slapped my mom across the face, leaving five red fingernail scratches. “Don’t you raise your voice at me, you washed-up hag. Don’t you know your place?” Seeing my mom get hit, I charged forward, aiming a kick straight at Serena’s ribs. But my deadbeat father intervened, kicking me squarely in the chest and knocking me to the ground. He’d rather assault his own flesh and blood than let his precious mistress get a scratch. Seeing her again today, waddling around the hospital lobby, gave me a profound sense of karmic justice. Tsk, tsk. Looking at that belly, she had to be at least eight months along. Ready to pop any day now. What a shame. The kid is going to be born without a father. Oh, wait, not just fatherless—an unrecognized, illegitimate bastard with absolutely no legal standing. My mom and I exchanged a wry look. We were just about to slip away when Serena spotted us. Like a madwoman, she screamed and charged at us. “Stop right there! Both of you, stop!” She jogged over and grabbed my mom’s jacket. I stepped in, forcefully shoving her hand away. “Lady, running around like a maniac at eight months pregnant? Aren’t you afraid of having a miscarriage?” “Where is Richard?! Where is he!” My mom looked at her coldly. “Don’t you have your own man? Why are you looking for my husband?” As soon as she said that, the nurses, patients, and visitors in the lobby all turned to stare. Serena must have sensed something was terribly wrong. Throwing all care for her reputation out the window, she shrieked: “I am carrying Richard Sterling’s child! Why don’t I have the right to know where he is?! Tell me where he is right now!” “My husband died in a car crash. He’s currently burning in hell.” “And why would you be carrying his child? Is this some kind of sick joke?” Serena only heard the first sentence. The rest of the words flew right past her. She looked like she had been hit by a truck, stumbling backward a few steps. Then, snapping out of it, she lunged forward again. “I’m carrying his flesh and blood! I want his assets! I want half of everything he owned!” “Heh…” I let out a cold laugh. “Lady, my father was incredibly devoted to his family. He would never do anything to betray my mother. Stop joking around.” “If you keep slandering my late father’s good name, I won’t be so polite.” 3 Serena looked incredibly confused, staring at us as if she had never met us before. “What act are you two putting on?! I’ve been to your house multiple times! You know exactly who I am and what my relationship with Richard is!” “The baby in my belly is his! Now that he’s dead, I want my share! I demand my child’s inheritance!” Wanted a cut of the fortune? She wasn’t getting a single dime. Why did my mom and I rush to have him cremated and his ashes scattered in a ditch? Exactly to prevent mistress number three, four, five, and six from showing up and demanding DNA tests! As for his reputation? Dad, to secure the bag, I’m defending your honor! You were a paragon of marital fidelity! Because of Serena’s screaming, a massive crowd had gathered. They were pointing fingers and whispering about this shameless woman. But Serena didn’t care. Her brain was completely consumed by dollar signs. “Don’t think you can screw me out of this! Richard and I have been together for over two years! I’m eight months pregnant; the baby is coming in a month. If you don’t give me my cut, I’ll take you for everything you have!” “Since when do mistresses have the guts to show up and demand an inheritance?” a bystander muttered. “Don’t you know? Under state law, an illegitimate child has inheritance rights if paternity is proven!” “Tsk, tsk. She looks like a professional, but she willingly became a homewrecker.” “Sterling Enterprises is worth hundreds of millions! A baby could secure a massive bag. If it’s his biological kid, why shouldn’t she take the money?” “What is wrong with your morals? You think destroying someone’s family is justified?” “What’s wrong with my morals? The man is the one who stepped out! She went for the money, it was consensual, who did it hurt? People live and die for money, what’s the big deal?” “I spit on that! So the legal wife just deserves to get screwed over?” The crowd started arguing amongst themselves. Serena took advantage of the chaos to raise her voice. “I didn’t do it for the money at first! I didn’t even know he was married until after I got pregnant! But what was I supposed to do? Get an abortion? The baby is innocent!” “Now that he’s dead, I can’t just walk away with nothing! I’m just fighting for what rightfully belongs to my child! Is that a crime?!” Serena completely flipped the script, painting herself as the tragic victim. A good chunk of the crowd began to murmur in agreement, seemingly swaying to her side and whispering insults about my dad. Right then, I put on a pained expression and decided to reveal the “truth.” “After my dad and mom had me, my dad was in a horrific accident. He lost his fertility.” “Lady, whose bastard child are you really carrying?” 4 Since the dawn of time, spreading rumors regarding a woman’s chastity is a despicable way to ruin her. But using it on this vile mistress? I felt absolutely zero guilt. When my dad was younger, he did slip and fall while blackout drunk, requiring a hospital visit. There were medical records of the ER trip. As for losing his fertility? Completely made up. But it didn’t matter. It completely shifted the crowd’s perception of Serena. Their eyes practically screamed: Are you trying to pin another man’s bastard on a dead billionaire just to steal his money? Serena trembled with fury. In her panic, she ripped her phone out of her Prada bag. She pulled up dozens of intimate photos of her and my dad, threatening to read their explicit text messages out loud. “Look at this! We were deeply in love! Here are photos of us living together in his penthouse!” “He wasn’t devoted to anyone! He was a serial cheater who slept with half his office!” “Oh…” “Miss, didn’t you just say you didn’t know he had a wife?” I didn’t even need to speak. A sharp-eared bystander immediately called out her lie. “I meant I found out after I got pregnant! Are you all deaf?! And what does that have to do with any of you anyway?!” Serena completely lost her mind, screaming profanities at the crowd. The crowd, obviously not taking kindly to being cursed at, fired back with every insult in the book. My mom and I exchanged a look. The scene was getting way too chaotic. Time to bounce. We grabbed our paperwork and casually strolled out of the hospital.

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