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After five years of long-distance dating, my boyfriend and I called each other every day to satisfy our physical needs. When reaching the climax, Liam would always say to me, still wanting more, “Chloe, I miss you so much I’m going crazy…” So, I booked a red-eye flight back home, secretly hiding in his closet to give him a surprise. But when the bedroom door opened, Liam carried my best friend onto our marital bed. Mia rolled over and straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt one by one while saying coquettishly, “Liam, that idiot Chloe hasn’t figured out we’re together for five years. It’s so boring.” “She’s proposed to you ninety-nine times. How about we give her a surprise at our wedding next week?” I gripped the engagement ring in my palm tightly. My mind went completely blank. I saw Liam’s hand slip under her skirt, his voice lazy. “What’s the rush? I’ve already exiled her to Northern Europe, are you still worried?” Through the wood, the obscene sounds were magnified infinitely in my ears. And I, huddled in the closet covering my mouth, felt my heart completely die. … The two on the bed were stark naked, kissing passionately. Tears smashed hard onto my phone, the screen suddenly lighting up with a text from Liam. [Chloe, let’s not just do a voice call today, how about a video call?] Mia looked at the chat box and scoffed disdainfully. “Liam, it’s one thing to let her listen when we’re doing it, but today you actually dare to do a live broadcast?” Liam, biting her bra, smiled roguishly. “Guess if she dares to answer?” Before I could react, Liam’s video call was already ringing. With trembling hands, I tapped the screen several times before finally hitting decline. One was the man who had formed a human bridge in the rubble of an earthquake, protecting me underneath him, risking his life to save me. The other was the woman who single-handedly rescued me when the school bullies wanted to slash my face. And now, they were rolling in the sheets on the bed I bought for my wedding. The visual impact was too much for me. So much so that even after they used an entire box of condoms, I still couldn’t snap out of it. Liam lit a post-coital cigarette and slowly looked towards the closet. Our eyes met. My heart felt like it was viciously squeezed by someone. The next second. Liam blew a smoke ring, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “Chloe, do you have some kind of voyeuristic fetish? How long are you going to hide in the closet?” Mia, on the bed, turned pale and scared, diving straight under the covers. Three seconds later. I stumbled out of the closet, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I, I originally wanted to give you a surprise…” Liam slowly sat up and deliberately blew smoke in my face. “A surprise? The text confirmation for your flight was forwarded to my phone ages ago. What surprise could there be?” He reached under Mia’s skirt and threw a wet bunny tail plug at me. “Learn a thing or two. This is what you call a surprise.” I had proposed to him ninety-nine times, trying different methods every time. Just to repay him for saving my life. But now, all my efforts had become a joke. “Why? Why are you guys doing this to me…” Seeing my confused look, Liam said indifferently, “Why? Chloe, you didn’t think you could monopolize me, did you? Don’t be so selfish.” “Besides, every time I called you, Mia would moan. Could you really not hear it?” It turned out that every moment he said he missed me, his body was in negative-distance contact with Mia. I was trembling all over, my stomach churning. Mia pulled my nightgown over herself and put it on slowly, saying with a half-smile, “Chloe, didn’t you used to say you were willing to share everything with me?” “You’re so busy with work, I kindly helped Liam solve his physical problems. Shouldn’t you thank me?” I pushed her away hard, grabbed a picture frame, and smashed it at her. “Get out! Get the hell out!” Ironically. The photo of me and Liam in the frame had actually been replaced with one of Mia in a bikini. And Liam told me every day, that when he missed me, he could only look at my photo. Turns out it was this photo he was looking at. After a gasp. Liam blocked Mia without hesitation. The picture frame hit his forehead, and blood immediately flowed down. “Chloe, stop acting crazy, okay? It’s not like I don’t want you anymore.” “It’s not my fault I’m not marrying you. Don’t you ever look in the mirror to see where you stand?” “Mia and I are just having a wedding. As long as you don’t make a fuss, our relationship will never change.” I crazily grabbed everything I could reach and threw it at them. “Relationship? What relationship? The relationship where I’m the other woman?” “Get out! You pair of cheating scumbags, get the hell out of here!” The door slammed with a deafening noise. Looking at the messy bedroom, I violently threw the engagement ring clutched in my hand out the window. Then, as if possessed, I picked up a small piece of broken glass. Just like when I was a kid, I numbly pressed it against my wrist and slashed down. Chapter 2 All the love and hate spilled out along with the blood. In my haze, I thought of that earth-shattering afternoon seven years ago. The school building collapsed, and I was trapped under concrete slabs, waiting to die in despair. But Liam frantically dug through the rubble, using his bleeding hands to pull me out bit by bit. But the aftershocks continued. When a huge boulder came crashing toward us, he threw himself on top of me without hesitation, using his back to form a human bridge for me. Debris smashed onto his head, back, and face, yet he gritted his teeth and smiled at me. “Chloe, don’t be afraid. With me here, you won’t die.” After that, he was left with a hideous scar on his back. I touched that scar with trembling fingertips, weeping uncontrollably. But he smiled like a fool. “Why are you crying? This scar is the proof of my love for you.” And in high school, when I was cornered in an alley by a few bullies. They called me a fatherless bastard and threatened to slash my foxy face with a box cutter. It was Mia who charged in single-handedly, shielded me behind her, and pointed at them fiercely. “Just try and touch her!” From that day on, Mia accompanied me to and from school. She told me with absolute seriousness, “Chloe, we’re going to be best friends for life.” Waking up in the hospital. Liam’s gaze fell on the crisscrossing scars on my wrist, and he sighed softly. “Chloe, I always thought you were a smart person.” His voice was very low, like stating a long-understood fact. “What’s wrong with staying by my side?” “You know your background; I could never accept your proposal.” “All that talk about marrying you on the ninety-ninth time… was just to humor you.” Ever since my father eloped with his mistress, my mother’s mental state has been unstable. But Liam and Mia are both from wealthy New York families. Whenever someone pointed fingers behind my back, Liam and Mia would viciously slap their faces for me. I often asked myself, what did I do to deserve such a prince and princess taking such good care of me. Liam paused for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “Chloe, what do you really want? Money? Love? Or medical resources for your mother? Or…” He leaned in close, his words as light as a blade. “Do you want me to give you a child?” Motherhood as a ticket to status is a proven method. Using all my remaining strength, I slapped him hard across the face. “I want you to get lost! Don’t ever let me see you again in this lifetime!” Liam froze for a second. He slowly touched his cheek with his long fingers, then smiled, grinding his back teeth. The hospital room door was pushed open again. Mia walked in carrying a basket of mangoes, her laughter light and deliberate. “Oh my, my good best friend, playing hard to get again?” She walked over to Liam, her eyes sliding sideways over me. “Liam got tired of that seven years ago. It’s really inappropriate to play it now.” Saying that, she started peeling a mango for me. But I’m allergic to mangoes. Mia knew this from the very first day we met. She deliberately showed off the dazzling diamond ring on her ring finger. Liam once said, he would buy his future wife the biggest, brightest diamond ring. Thinking of when I accidentally gouged a piece of flesh from my palm while personally crafting a wedding ring for Liam, a dense, fine pain flared up in my heart again. Mia handed the peeled mango to me, and I just swatted it onto the floor. The juice stained her dress. Liam’s eyes darkened instantly. “Chloe, if you have any grievances, take them out on me!” “Mia has been good enough to you! She doesn’t even mind me keeping you after we’re married! What more do you want?!” Mia looked at me aggrievedly. “Chloe, do you really need to target me like this?” I was just about to kick them out, when two trending topics popped up on my phone. The first was the joyous news of the marriage alliance between the two powerful families of Liam and Mia. But the second was the record of my relationship with Liam over the past seven years. The comment section was full of people scolding Mia for throwing her weight around and knowingly being the other woman. Liam’s usually unruly face suddenly turned dark. He squeezed a few words out through gritted teeth. “Chloe, you’re such a bitch…” Chapter 3 But I haven’t logged into any social media accounts since I woke up. Mia grabbed my wrist and roared. “Chloe! People need dignity to live, are you trying to force me to death?!” “Your life was saved by Liam, and your face was saved by me! Even your job in Northern Europe was introduced by us! Liam and I don’t ask you for anything in return, but how can you bite the hand that feeds you?!” During the struggle, the wound on my wrist split open. Drops of blood smashed onto the bedsheets. But Liam just looked at me with a disappointed gaze. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “It wasn’t me.” But Liam directly grabbed my phone, skillfully entering his birthday to unlock it. Then he pointed to a transfer record of ten thousand dollars and questioned me coldly. “If it’s not you, then what is this?” He didn’t know this was the medical fee I advanced for my mother’s surgery. He threw the phone at me, shielded Mia, turned around, and left. Half an hour later. Liam used his family company’s official Twitter to post his and Mia’s marriage certificate. The date was seven years ago. Which was the very day Liam and I made our relationship official. They had gone and gotten their marriage certificate. My heart ached to the point of numbness, yet I couldn’t shed a single tear. Public opinion reversed. Countless netizens cursed me for knowingly being the other woman, and even trying to sow discord between a married couple. My personal information was quickly doxxed. My work email was stuffed with abusive letters, and my social media DMs turned into a swamp of filthy insults. Even more fatally, my boss all the way in Northern Europe called to fire me directly. Liam easily crushed everything I had spent years struggling to build. And my father abandoning his wife and child back then was magnified infinitely. “Chloe’s dad didn’t want her mom, and Liam doesn’t want her either. This mother and daughter are destined to be mistresses for life!” “And she’s so smug posting chat logs, thinking that will hurt the great Miss Mia? What a clown!” “So disgusting, how do people like this still have the face to live in this world? Chloe and her mother should just go die!” My college group chat also exploded. “Wasn’t Liam’s girlfriend always Chloe? Why is the person on the marriage certificate Mia?” “You guys don’t know this, right? Actually, the person Liam has always liked is Mia. During the earthquake back then, Liam thought the person buried was Mia, that’s why he went to save her!” “So Chloe, that simp, harassed Liam for all those years? Wow, she’s been a mistress since her student days?” Seeing this message, I almost couldn’t stand up. Just as I was about to fall, Mia suddenly caught me. She looked at my deathly pale face and said with a giggling smile. “Chloe, do you know why Liam pursued you?” She lowered her voice and enunciated every word. “Because, I have a certain kink.” “Liam loves me too much, so he lowered himself to seduce you. And now, I’m bored with playing, so it’s time for you to get lost!” “Oh right, the day after tomorrow is my wedding with Liam. As my best friend, you absolutely must come.” As Mia turned to leave, she deliberately shoved a prenatal checkup report into my hand. “The crystallization of Liam and my love, four months along now.” The world crashed down around me. Liam’s past devotion, those vows that sounded better than sweet nothings. It turned out to be just a game. Liam’s call suddenly rang. But I didn’t answer. Soon he sent a text message. [Chloe, don’t believe the nonsense people in the group chat are saying. After Mia and I are married, I will give you an explanation.] I pinched my palm tightly and typed. [Every time you called me Chloe, you were actually calling out to Mia, weren’t you?] The person on the other end of the phone fell silent. The tears I had held back for so long finally fell. I don’t know how long I stood in the cold wind. I wiped my tears and dialed a long-forgotten number. “Mr. Quinn, I agree to join your Arctic project. For the three years I’m gone, please make sure to take good care of my mother.” The other party nodded crisply and responded. “No problem, I’ll send a private jet to pick up your mother right now.” As soon as the call disconnected, my mother’s caregiver called immediately. “Ms. Davis, it’s terrible, something happened to your mother!” Chapter 4 When I found my mother, she was pinned to the ground by several maids, barely clinging to life. Her back was already lacerated and bloody, yet she continued to glare fiercely at Mia. “I’m going to kill you! Kill you!” Mia had three bloody scratches on her face, clearly from my mother. She gripped the whip in her hand and said through gritted teeth, “Tomorrow is the wedding! How am I supposed to see anyone with this face?” “You old hag! There are still 99 lashes left! I’m going to beat you to death today!” Realizing what was happening, I immediately rushed forward to protect my mother. But the doctors clearly said my mother’s condition had been improving over the years. Why did she suddenly go crazy? Crack! The whip lashed fiercely across my body. I cried out in pain. Mia, however, looked down at me from above with a triumphant sneer. “Hahaha, Chloe, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and look now, you can’t compete with me either.” My body stiffened. “What did you say?” My gaze followed to the family portrait in her hand. My father, who had abandoned his wife and child, was lovingly holding another woman’s waist. It turned out Mia’s mother was the mistress from back then! Mia’s laughter echoed in my ears. “Serves you right. Who told your mother to call my mother a mistress back then! Now that you’ve become a real mistress, I’ve finally vented my mother’s anger!” “Let me tell you the truth, I approved the day you and Liam made your relationship official. You were willing to be a simp just because Liam treated you slightly well. Have you never been loved by anyone? Pathetic worm.” “Now, either you take these 99 lashes for this old hag, or I start a livestream right now and tell the whole world that both you and your mother are mistresses hahaha…” Every word was like a poisoned needle, piercing into my deepest wounds. Anger rushed to my head, and I charged at Mia like a madwoman. But just as my fingertips touched her sleeve, Liam’s furious voice suddenly erupted from behind. “Chloe! Don’t you dare!” He kicked me viciously aside, his eyes fixed on the sharp scissors on the ground. “Crazy! If you want to die, go die yourself! Don’t touch Mia!” Holding my bloodied mother, I wept silently. Liam paused slightly. Instinctively, he moved to help me. But Mia stumbled and threw herself into his arms, crying a river of tears. “Liam, Chloe said her mother is crazy and won’t have to pay with her life for murder!” “It doesn’t matter if something happens to me, but the baby in my belly…” The sliver of pity on Liam’s face towards me abruptly vanished. The bodyguards immediately understood, grabbed the whip from the floor, and lashed me fiercely. Agonizing pain instantly swept over my entire body. I screamed in agony. But Liam refused to spare me another glance. At that moment, my mother, who had been on her last breath, suddenly shielded me tightly in her arms. Her cloudy eyes were full of tears as she whispered in my ear, “My sweet girl, it’s Mom’s fault for being useless and letting you suffer so much. This time, let Mom protect you…” Listening to her increasingly faint breathing, I cried and begged Liam for help. “I admit my mistake, I apologize, please, I beg you, save my mom!” But no matter how much I pleaded, there was no response.

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I’m a cake decorator. One day, I received an online order from a girl who wanted me to make an “apology cake.” “Could you hide a pair of handcuffs inside the cake?” she asked. “I went to a bar last night without telling my boyfriend first. He’s upset with me. I want to make it up to him tonight.” I thought of my own fiancé, Adrian—cold and emotionally distant. We only had sex once a month and never played games like this. I couldn’t help but envy this girl a little. That evening, I delivered the cake to the address she’d given me. The moment the door opened, I froze. Standing there was my fiancé—the one who’d told me he was going back to his hometown for a relative’s funeral. Adrian. The air felt like it had been sucked out of my lungs. The cake box in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp. The shock in Adrian’s eyes lasted only half a second. The next moment, his face returned to its usual cold detachment. Ruby poked her head out from behind him, her eyes darting curiously between Adrian and me. “Babe, do you know this delivery girl? Why is she staring at you like that?” Adrian wrapped his arm around Ruby’s waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles at the small of her back. He took the cake from me, frowning slightly. “No. Never seen her before.” Ruby said “Oh” and eagerly tore open the cake box. The handcuffs I’d carefully selected tumbled out. The silver metal gleamed harshly under the entryway lights. “Wow, these look high quality!” Ruby exclaimed. She held up the handcuffs, playfully waving them near Adrian’s wrist. “Mr. Hotshot Lawyer, are you my prisoner tonight?” Adrian’s eyes held an indulgent affection I’d never seen before. I opened my mouth, my throat dry and aching. “Adrian, you—” Before I could finish, Adrian grabbed a few bills from the entryway table and tossed them at me. The money hit my face lightly before scattering at my feet. “Thanks for the delivery. That’s your tip.” His voice was cold as ice, his eyes carrying a warning. Ruby was still laughing. “Babe, you’re so generous! Come on, pick it up! That’s a few hundred dollars right there.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I wanted to smash that cake in his face. But I couldn’t. I thought of my brother, Cameron, still in prison, waiting for Adrian to help overturn his case. He’d been caught up in an art forgery scandal and was facing ten years. I crouched down and picked up the bills one by one. I turned and left, not even having the courage to look back. Behind me, I heard the door lock click shut. Then came Ruby’s teasing voice, dripping with pleasure. “Ooh, careful… the handcuffs are so cold…”

I returned to our cold, empty apartment. On the wall hung a photo from our engagement. In it, I smiled—gentle and compliant. Adrian was expressionless. Darkness swallowed me like a rising tide. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed lead—heavy and painfully tight. At three in the morning, I heard the electronic lock beep. Click. The living room lights blazed on. The sudden brightness stabbed at my eyes. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark like some kind of ghost?” Adrian frowned, his voice dripping with displeasure. He loosened his tie and tossed his jacket onto the couch. “Sitting there like a damn phantom. Bad luck.” He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and knocked it back. “Since you already saw, I’m not going to bother hiding it anymore.” He leaned against the cabinet, his posture lazy. “Ruby’s young. She’s vibrant. Being with her, I can actually relax.” “And you…” He looked me up and down. “We’ve been together too long. So long that when I’m having sex with you, I find myself distracted, counting how many new wrinkles you’ve developed.” My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my voice steady. “So that’s your excuse for cheating?” “Adrian, let’s break up.” Adrian stopped mid-sip. He set down his glass and walked toward me, step by deliberate step. He bent down, hands braced on the armrests of the couch, caging me in. “Break up?” He let out a low laugh. “Summer, get your head straight.” “Cameron’s case goes to trial next week.” “All I have to do is twitch a finger, and that crucial forensic report will conveniently go missing.” His tone was gentle, but his words were vicious. My pupils constricted sharply. Rage erupted inside me like a volcano. I shot to my feet and shoved him away. “Adrian! You’re disgusting!” Adrian grabbed my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Shh. Be good.” “You’ll still be Mrs. Bennett.” “I need an obedient wife to take care of the house and deal with my family.” “Men need a little excitement, you know.” I jerked my head away and dry-heaved. Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He released me with disgust. “You’re killing the mood.” He grabbed the jacket that reeked of Ruby’s perfume and threw it over my head. “Wash this. I need it tomorrow.” “And remember to visit Cameron at the detention center tomorrow.” “Make sure you tell him his brother-in-law is working ‘day and night’ to clear his name.” “If you don’t behave, I might need to take a few days off.” With that, he turned and headed toward the bathroom. Just then, his phone on the table lit up. A message from Ruby flashed on the screen. [Adrian, you’re amazing. Does she enjoy it this much too? My legs are still shaking~] Adrian paused and glanced at the screen. Not only did he not hide it—he actually chuckled. “That girl. So naughty.” His tone was like a knife plunging into my chest. I grabbed the ashtray from the table. Adrian, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, said coolly: “Cameron’s case file is still on my desk in the study.” My hand froze mid-air. The ashtray felt impossibly heavy. Finally, I let my hand drop, and the ashtray rolled onto the carpet. Despair wrapped around my throat like vines, choking me.

Days of stress and humiliation finally broke my body. My acute gastritis flared up while I was in the kitchen preparing honey water for Cameron. A sharp pain hit me, and everything went black. When I woke up, I was on a gurney in a hospital hallway. People rushed past. The noise was deafening, like a marketplace. A nurse walked over with a cold expression and slapped a payment notice onto my blanket. “Summer Lincoln, right? Pay up now, or we’re cutting off your IV.” I pulled out my phone to transfer money, but it showed insufficient funds. Adrian had transferred all my money out of my account! With trembling hands, I dialed Adrian’s number. No answer. I called again. He hung up. My stomach throbbed with pain. I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and shuffled toward the payment desk, clutching my abdomen. As I passed the VIP ward section, I heard a familiar voice. “Does it hurt? Let me blow on it. There, all better.” It was Adrian’s voice. So gentle it could melt sugar. I turned stiffly and looked through the half-open door at a scene that made my chest tighten. In the spacious, luxurious single room, Ruby sat on the bed wearing a pink hospital gown. Adrian sat beside her, peeling an apple. “Babe, I’m so clumsy. I burned myself making soup.” “No more kitchen for you. Just tell me what you want—I’ll make it.” Adrian sliced a piece of apple and fed it to her. “I already had the head of the hospital call in the best surgeon for a consultation. I promise you won’t have a scar.” I shoved the door open, clutching my cramping stomach, my face deathly pale. “Adrian, what gives you the right to freeze my account?” Adrian’s hand jerked. The apple slice fell to the floor. He turned around. The moment he saw me, the warmth in his eyes turned to ice. “Are you following me?” “Summer, have you no shame? Faking illness and chasing me to the hospital to make a scene?” Ruby shrank behind Adrian with a little gasp. “Oh my God! Your face is so scary, like a ghost…” Adrian patted her hand soothingly, then turned to glare at me. “Look what you did! You scared Ruby!” “She’s already timid—she can’t handle this kind of shock!” The cramping in my stomach intensified. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. I was doubled over in pain, gripping the doorframe just to stay upright. “Adrian, what right do you have to take my money? That was for Cameron’s legal fees!” Adrian sneered. “You’ve been a little too defiant lately. Consider this a lesson.” He shoved me aside. Already weak, I crashed hard onto the floor. My stomach hit the ground. The pain made me curl up like a shrimp. I couldn’t even scream. My vision blurred. Adrian stepped over my body and scooped Ruby into his arms. “Did you hurt your wound just now? Let’s switch rooms and have the doctor check you again.” I lay alone on the cold floor, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. “That guy’s brutal.” “His wife’s in so much pain…” A family member from a nearby bed finally called for help. When I woke up again, I was in the emergency room. My phone held a message from Adrian. An invoice. [Ruby suffered psychological trauma from the scare. Her wound tore open again and she’s experiencing mental distress.] [VIP room fees plus emotional damages: $50,000 total.] [Deducting it from your brother’s legal fees.] Then Marcus called. He was Cameron’s gallery owner—and the only friend who knew what I was going through. “Summer, we have a problem.” Marcus’s voice was urgent. “Cameron’s forensic report came back, but… Adrian’s withholding it unilaterally.” “He says it needs re-examination and can’t be submitted to the court yet.” “If we don’t get the original by tomorrow morning, Cameron’s going to be taken into custody.” My phone slipped from my hand.

I yanked the IV from my arm. Blood backflowed, staining half my hand red. I took a cab through the pouring rain to Adrian’s private villa. Adrian was celebrating Ruby’s birthday there tonight. The forensic report was in the study. I was soaked to the bone, looking like a beggar as I burst into the villa. The main hall was ablaze with lights, music pounding loud enough to hurt. A crowd of well-dressed men and women were partying. At the center were Adrian and Ruby. Ruby wore a pristine white evening gown, nestled in Adrian’s arms. It was the dress I’d worn at our wedding reception. “Adrian and Ruby are such a perfect match!” “That Summer Lincoln is nothing.” Adrian stroked Ruby’s hair affectionately. I stood in the doorway, rainwater dripping from my hair onto the carpet. “Adrian. Give me the report.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the brief pause between songs, it rang clearly through the hall. Everyone turned to look at me. Their eyes glittered with anticipation, eager for the drama. Adrian swirled his wine glass lazily, looking down at me. “Summer, you’re getting more and more out of line.” “This is Ruby’s birthday party. Why are you dressed like you’re attending a funeral?” Ruby lifted her skirt and walked over, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, don’t be mad! I just thought this wedding dress was so beautiful—I wanted to try it on.” “Adrian said I look way better in it than you do. Why don’t you just give it to me?” I stared hard at Adrian. “I just want the report. Keep the dress. Keep Adrian. I don’t want any of it.” Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He slammed his glass down on the table and pointed at the broken glass scattered on the floor. Someone had knocked over a champagne tower earlier. “You want the report? Fine.” “Crawl over here on your knees. Hold up Ruby’s train so the dirty glass doesn’t stain her wedding dress.” “If you make her happy, I’ll give you the report.” The room fell silent. Then erupted in even louder laughter. “Crawl! For your brother, what’s a little crawling?” “Adrian really knows how to have fun!” I looked at the sea of broken glass, the sharp edges glinting coldly. Then I looked at Adrian’s emotionless face. For Cameron. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped to my knees. The moment my knees touched the glass, searing pain shot through me. Blood instantly stained the white carpet. I bit down hard and crawled forward, one agonizing movement at a time. Every inch I crawled left a trail of blood behind me. The room filled with jeers and whistles. I crawled to Ruby’s feet and lifted her train with shaking hands. Adrian watched the scene, a flicker of something complicated crossing his eyes—but it was quickly replaced by satisfaction. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and tossed it in front of me. “Take it. That’s what you wanted.” I grabbed it like a lifeline, my hands trembling as I opened it. But the moment I saw what was inside, my blood ran cold. This wasn’t the forensic report. It was a confession letter! Written in a forgery of Cameron’s handwriting, admitting to all charges! “Adrian…” I looked up at him, rage blazing in my eyes. Adrian smiled lightly. “Cameron entered the same national competition that Ruby competed in. I think this confession suits him better.” “I’ll help him get a reduced sentence. He’ll only have to serve three to five years.” Ruby crouched in front of me innocently, her big eyes blinking. “Sorry, sis. I made a bet with my friends that I’d win that competition. Your brother’s just going to have to stay inside for a while.” Every shred of sanity I had left shattered in that moment. I grabbed a steak knife from the table and lunged at Ruby. Ruby stumbled backward in panic. “Help! She’s trying to kill me!” She flailed wildly, knocking over a massive candelabra on the table. The burning candles rolled off and ignited the flammable drapes. Flames shot up, racing along the carpet. “Fire! Run!” The crowd screamed and scattered. The fire spread with terrifying speed, thick smoke billowing everywhere. Adrian’s face changed. Without hesitation, he scooped Ruby into his arms. “Ruby, don’t be scared. I’ll get you out!” He charged toward the door. On his way, he kicked over a storage shelf that was blocking the path. The heavy wooden frame crashed down and pinned both my legs. Crack. The sound of bones snapping. I screamed. I was trapped. Through the flames, I watched Adrian carry Ruby out the front door. Smoke choked my lungs. My chest burned. The temperature around me climbed higher. My skin began to blister. I looked down at the fake confession in my hand, pulled out a lighter, and set it on fire. The flames reflected in my tear-filled eyes. If I’m going to die, I’ll die completely. A massive explosion shook the villa. Everything went dark.

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When the billionaire who kept me as his sugar baby was exposed as a “fake heir,” he was driven to slit his wrists in a dingy basement by the real heir. I stole the sugar baby contract we had signed years ago, planning to tear it up and make a run for it. Suddenly, countless glowing comments started scrolling across my vision like a holographic live-stream. [The side character is a gold-digger after all. Her running away perfectly clears the path for our female lead!] [If she knew that leaving him means she’ll find a psycho sugar daddy who tortures her to death, while the male lead bounces back in just six months to become the youngest tech billionaire in the country and lives happily ever after with the female lead, she’d probably die of regret!] My hand trembled. I completely ripped the agreement in half. Without a second thought, I rushed into the bathroom and saw Elijah Montgomery already bleeding from a deep cut on his wrist. I threw myself at him, grabbing his arm, crying without caring about how I looked. “Baby, don’t die! Without you, who’s going to pay my bills? I still want to renew our contract!” His gloomy gaze fell on the shredded agreement on the floor. He spoke softly. “Is that so?” 【Chapter 1】 1. “You were only with me for my money, and now you see the reality.” His eyes shifted mechanically across the dark, damp basement apartment. His usually flush lips were deathly pale. I pressed my hands hard over his bleeding wrist, but the crimson drops still splattered onto the floor tiles. “I was kicked out of the Montgomery family. I have to hide in this cheap underground studio. I can’t even afford to feed myself, let alone you. So just go. I don’t blame you.” The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I couldn’t stop a shudder from ripping through me. I had been with Elijah for eight years. To outsiders, he was the gentle, refined heir apparent. But I was the only one who knew he was a venomous snake wearing human skin, a man who sought vengeance for the smallest slight. He easily said he didn’t blame me, but his hidden hand was clenched so tight his knuckles were white. I was skeptical of the floating text that had magically appeared before my eyes, but my survival instincts kicked in, and I made a split-second decision. I absolutely could not leave. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even have to wait for some psycho to torture me to death—Elijah would destroy me first. I leaned forward decisively and crashed my lips against his pale ones. Elijah instantly took control, kissing me so fiercely I could barely breathe. When I finally managed to push him away, I was panting. I picked up the shredded pieces of our sugar baby contract from the floor, and under his stunned gaze, tore them into even smaller pieces. I cupped his face and looked at him seriously. “Elijah, I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore.” A flash of ruthless, desperate killing intent crossed Elijah’s eyes. The floating comments filled my vision again, mocking me. [I thought the side character actually changed her mind! Turns out she’s just here to twist the knife. Just wait. You abandon the male lead now, and when you’re being tortured later and beg him for help, he won’t even look at you.] [Once she leaves, the female lead will rush in and save him. From then on, he starts his epic comeback and revenge arc!] I ignored their filthy words. My voice was soft and gentle, carrying a barely detectable hint of nervousness. “I know you might get mad at me for saying this now… but since we’re finally on the same level, will you be my boyfriend?” Elijah’s eyes widened slightly. Before I could hear his answer, my vision went completely black. Right before I lost consciousness, I saw one last glowing sentence. [So what if she changes her mind? Anyone who deviates from the plot will only suffer!] A surge of pure rage boiled in my chest. Follow the plot? The plot was literally telling me to go die! Why the hell should I? In the darkness, it felt like a fire was constantly burning me. I ran and ran until I finally snapped my eyes open. I sat up violently. I was lying in a hospital bed, drenched in cold sweat, my internal organs throbbing with a piercing pain. A groan escaped my lips. An ice-cold hand pressed against my forehead, and Elijah’s voice, thick with lingering terror, rang out. “Aria, are you feeling better?” The pain was torturing me every second. Having been with Elijah for eight years, he had always given me whatever I wanted and never let me suffer a single scratch. I had long been spoiled by him, and I couldn’t help but cry out, “It hurts… it hurts so much.” He stood up, utterly helpless, and ran out to find a doctor. The ER doctor shot me an impatient look. “If you don’t have the cash for the scans, discharge her. Don’t take up a bed here. What can I do if she’s uncomfortable? No money, no treatment.” Elijah let out a furious, low growl. “Give her the best full-body scan! I have—” His voice cut off abruptly. His usually straight spine bent, and he lowered his head, not daring to look at me. The doctor scoffed sarcastically. “Just leave. If you stay any longer, you literally won’t have a single thing left on your body to pawn off.” It was only then that I noticed the platinum signet ring was missing from his pinky finger. Fighting through the agonizing pain, I forced myself out of bed, grabbed Elijah’s hand, and dragged him out of the room, comforting him endlessly as we walked. “Honestly, the pain goes away as long as I’m with you. You’re my painkiller, baby. You really can’t ever leave me.” A scalding tear dropped onto our intertwined hands. Elijah’s voice was hoarse. “I won’t.” I let out a tiny smile. I wasn’t lying. 2. [The male lead chose to take her to the hospital and completely missed his encounter with the female lead! The plot isn’t progressing at all!] [The plot’s punishment mechanism has weakened too. No wonder the side character can still walk. With the original punishment intensity, defying the plot would have left her begging for death!] [Honestly, I kind of ship them. The ruined billionaire and the spoiled canary who refuses to leave his side? It’s kind of rare and sweet.] I hid the dark gleam in my eyes, piecing together a survival strategy from their fragmented words. Even though I’d be punished for breaking the plot, as long as Elijah chose me without hesitation, the plot would stall, and the punishment would weaken—or maybe even disappear? The key was Elijah’s love. I turned my head and looked at the once arrogant, untouchable golden boy following closely behind me, carefully holding my hand. I smiled until my eyes formed crescents. “Elijah, now that you’re my boyfriend, you’re going to work super hard and make sure I can live the luxurious life I used to, right?” “I absolutely will.” He spoke with absolute certainty, making a solemn vow. [Why does it feel like the male lead went from a sugar daddy to her loyal dog?] [Just wait until he goes out looking for work and gets humiliated and degraded. The female lead will swoop in to save him from hell, and their feelings will skyrocket. THAT is the most important plot point!] [Missing their first encounter means nothing. True love cannot be stopped. Don’t get cocky, side character. Go find your next sugar daddy already!] I didn’t stop Elijah from going out to work. The phantom pain tortured me constantly, and sleeping was my only relief. He came back exhausted every single day. His clothes, which used to be impeccably tailored and spotless, were now covered in dust at the knees. Through the floating comments, I learned he had gone to his former high-society friend, Derrick Clayton. Derrick completely looked down on his “fake heir” status but was insanely jealous of his natural genius for business. So, Derrick resorted to torturing him with petty humiliations. The once-proud man was forced to kneel on one knee and shine other people’s designer shoes. He carried heavy five-gallon water jugs up twenty-six flights of stairs to stock every office. He stood in the breakroom for three hours, brewing coffee for the entire corporate floor. Derrick even made him scrub the executive bathrooms. I could smell the harsh bleach on his clothes when he came home. But even through all of that, the very first look he gave me when he walked through the door was always a smile. He set down the cheap groceries he bought and immediately pulled me into a hug. “Are you feeling any better today?” I groggily opened my eyes and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. “I feel so much better after you hug me.” “I’m so hungry. Let’s eat.” Elijah took the groceries and skillfully began to cook. I propped my head up, thoroughly enjoying the complete meltdown happening in the floating comments. [He used to shower three times if he even smelled a hint of grease, and now he’s spending three meals a day sweating in a tiny kitchen just to cook for her!] [She compliments him once and he loses his mind with happiness. This girl really knows how to act spoiled. ‘You’re my painkiller’—ugh, it gives me goosebumps!] I rolled over on the bed. Oh, there was much more than that. After we ate, Elijah would do my laundry, clean the entire apartment, and then give me a full-body massage. Only after I fell asleep would he start working on the files he brought home. As long as he was home, even the slightest noise I made was treated like a national emergency. Just like right now. Elijah knelt beside me wearing an apron. “Does it hurt when you roll over? Do you need me to do anything?” I put on a sweet, whiny voice. “I need my boyfriend to kiss me.” He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. His hands, which used to sign billion-dollar acquisition deals, gently massaged my temples with perfect pressure. The restless pain throbbing in my body eased significantly. I narrowed my eyes comfortably and directed him to massage my shoulders. A harsh ringtone shattered the peace. Elijah paused before answering the call. He frowned, looking at me apologetically. “There’s an issue at work. Aria, I have to go out for a bit. After you finish eating, just leave the dishes on the table. I’ll wash them when I get back.” I watched him leave. The floating comments exploded like fireworks. [Derrick has been waiting for this! He didn’t call him out for work—he’s setting a trap! He’s going to break the male lead’s pride and sexually assault him! Thank god the female lead is there to save him. The scene I’ve been waiting for is finally here! My ultimate OTP is about to rise!] [After tonight, the side character will be kicked to the curb. I’ve been sick of this manipulative bitch for so long!] 3. My mind snapped to attention. Forcing myself through the waves of pain, I climbed out of bed and chased after Elijah to intercept his destined romantic night with the female lead. Following the hints from the comments, I stood outside a pulsing VIP nightclub. Slipping past the bouncers when they weren’t looking, I snuck inside. The deafening bass made my phantom pain flare up wildly. The center of the club was packed. Pushing through the rings of people, I finally spotted Elijah, pinned to the floor under someone’s foot. Derrick ground the toe of his leather shoe hard into Elijah’s face, crushing him against the floor. The ground was covered in shattered glass that dug deep into Elijah’s body. Blood mixed with spilled liquor, blooming across the floor and creating a sickening metallic stench that made my stomach churn. “Do you still think you’re the golden boy? You’re just a counterfeit piece of trash! Getting kicked out of your mansion means you’re nothing. If I didn’t throw you a bone, you’d be begging on the streets right now!” “I just asked you to do a little striptease for us. You had no problem kneeling to shine my shoes, so why are you acting so high and mighty now?” Derrick wore a disgusting, perverted grin, pinching Elijah’s face until it turned red. He was notorious in their circle for swinging both ways, but no one expected him to target Elijah. “You must be exhausted from slumming it lately. As long as you drop the attitude and let me have some fun with you, I can give you all the money and power you want.” Elijah’s chest heaved violently. He stared at Derrick with lethal intensity. “Spit.” He spat a mouthful of blood right into Derrick’s face. The response was a brutal rain of kicks and punches. Derrick furiously wiped his face, jumping up and down in a psychotic rage. “Break his arms and legs! Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling! Let’s see how long he lasts without food or water!” A bodyguard raised a heavy barstool, slamming it down viciously. Elijah let out a muffled groan, swallowing the scream in his throat. My eyes went entirely red. I forgot about the plot, the pain, everything. I grabbed a sharp fruit knife from a nearby VIP table and charged in, swinging wildly. “Let us go! Or none of you are walking out of here alive!” I had never been this close to real danger. My voice was shaking uncontrollably. Derrick stepped back, startled by my crazed appearance. Then, he narrowed his eyes and burst into a realization-filled laugh. “Oh, it’s Elijah’s little pet canary, Aria Kensington. You’re still with him even though he’s dead broke? What a loyal little whore.” His wicked eyes darted between us. “I’ve played with men and women, but I’ve never played with a tragic pair of lovers at the same time. Looks like I’ve found a fun new toy tonight.” “Come be my mistress. You’ll get way more out of me than you ever will from him.” The second those words left his mouth, the veins on Elijah’s forehead bulged. Moving with explosive, terrifying speed, the exhausted man lying on the floor ripped the knife from my hand and drove it directly into Derrick’s eye socket. “Don’t you dare touch her!” But Derrick had numbers on his side. Bodyguard after bodyguard swarmed forward, pinning Elijah down and beating him relentlessly. Derrick rolled on the floor in absolute agony, screaming at the top of his lungs. “A doctor! Get a fucking doctor! Skin Elijah alive! I want him to wish he was dead!” I tried uselessly to throw myself in front of Elijah, but someone kicked me hard in the chest. I flew backward, crashing into a heavy glass table, and vomited a mouthful of blood. The fists raining down on Elijah were brutal and heavy, but he acted as if he couldn’t feel the pain. It was only when he saw me throw up blood that he began thrashing violently under their grip. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me, and he mouthed silently: Run. [Even though I knew this scene was coming, it’s still so hard to watch. This event leaves him with permanent, severe trauma. It takes the female lead’s pure love to finally pull him out of the darkness.] [Derrick is the psycho who tortures the side character to death later. He’s such scum, I wish I could jump through the screen and kill him myself!] I read that sentence in a daze. Unwillingness and pure, unfiltered rage flooded my brain. Why the hell should I die at the hands of a scumbag like him? Why does he get to torture Elijah like this?! I grabbed a jagged shard of broken glass from the floor and lunged at the unprotected Derrick. Amidst his crazed screaming, I drove the glass deep into his neck. The arterial spray soaked my hair and face in hot crimson. A sharp, feminine voice cut through the chaos. “Stop! If anyone dares to hurt Elijah again, I will make them pay the ultimate price!” Sparks seemed to explode behind my eyes. The floating comments cheered wildly. [The male and female leads finally meet! The plot is finally back on track!] An all-consuming, apocalyptic pain swept through my entire body, draining every ounce of my strength. I collapsed softly to the floor. Using the very last bit of my energy, I turned my head to look at Elijah. Only to see a fleeting flash of absolute awe in his eyes as he looked toward the door. 【Chapter 2】 4. That sharp, feminine voice pierced my skin like a needle. I lay paralyzed on the sticky, alcohol-soaked floor. Through my blurred vision, I saw a woman in a pristine white designer dress walking briskly toward us. Her hem brushed against the shattered glass, yet didn’t pick up a single speck of dirt. She was followed by a dozen men in black suits, who instantly pinned Elijah’s attackers to the ground. “Elijah, are you alright?” The woman knelt down, her voice so gentle it could melt ice. She reached out her hand to help him up. I recognized her. It was Serena Waldorf, the female lead whose name the comments chanted endlessly—Elijah’s destined “epic romance.” But Elijah violently jerked his head away, dodging her hand, and desperately dragged himself across the floor toward me. Before he could push himself halfway up, Serena’s bodyguards clamped down on his shoulders. “This young woman is severely injured. Treat her first.” Serena’s tone brooked no argument, but her eyes were locked obsessively onto Elijah. “Don’t worry. I will handle everything.” [The female lead is finally shining! This is a true goddess—beautiful, powerful, and kindhearted!] [The male lead is definitely moved. Look, he’s stunned! The side character can finally get lost.] The ecstatic cheering in the comments felt like needles driving into my pupils. I saw Elijah’s Adam’s apple bob. The look in his eyes as he stared at Serena truly held that “awe” the comments predicted—the instinctual yearning for a “savior,” a desperate reaching for light when you are trapped in the abyss. My heart plummeted into an icy canyon. My hand, still clutching the bloody shard of glass, began to tremble uncontrollably. “Don’t touch her,” Elijah suddenly rasped out. His voice was raw, like crushed gravel, but undeniably resolute. “Help Aria first.” The gentle smile on Serena’s face froze for a fraction of a second before melting back into perfect warmth. “She’s lost a lot of blood, and I’ve already called for an ambulance. But your injuries are worse. We have to treat you immediately.” She reached out again to physically lift him, but Elijah shoved her away violently. “I said, help her.” He forced himself forward, ignoring his own gaping wounds, and carefully pulled me into his arms. The broken glass on the floor dug deep gashes into his palms, but he acted as if he couldn’t feel it. He just used his sleeve to obsessively wipe the blood from my face. “Don’t be scared, Aria. I’m right here.” Just then, a mob of men burst through the club’s back doors, led by Derrick’s cousin, Brad Clayton. Seeing Derrick’s lifeless body on the floor, Brad’s eyes went completely red. “Elijah! Aria! You killed my cousin! None of you are leaving here alive today!” Serena’s bodyguards instantly formed a wall, but Brad’s men were heavily armed with steel pipes. This was a premeditated ambush. “Miss Waldorf, this has nothing to do with you. If you know what’s good for you, get the hell out of the way!” Brad spat on the floor, his eyes darting maliciously between Elijah and me. “My cousin gave an order. I’m going to make this bitch and her dog wish they were never born!” Serena frowned and stood her ground. Her bodyguards shielded her, but they didn’t make a move to attack. I instantly understood. That “saving him from hell” the comments raved about was never a charity act. She was waiting. Waiting for Elijah to drop his pride and beg her for help. Elijah tightened his arms around me. He pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing shallow but unwavering. “Aria, hide behind me.” He tried to stand up, but I grabbed the hem of his ruined shirt in a death grip. “Don’t…” I forced the words out with the last of my strength. “Don’t leave me.” [The side character is so annoying! The male lead could easily team up with the female lead and handle this, but she insists on holding him back!] [Brad Clayton is a notorious psychopath in the underground scene. The side character is going to get the male lead killed!]

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When I found out that Arthur’s little mistress was my own biological sister… I didn’t go crazy, and I didn’t get hysterical like I used to. After all, I’m the top surgeon at City General, and my reputation is incredibly valuable. Those two just aren’t worth it. When Chloe sent me a photo of Arthur accompanying her in the delivery room, I merely glanced at it before continuing to enjoy my imported truffle shrimp. I’ve seen plenty of pregnant women with bulging bellies; her unborn child wasn’t worth ruining my good mood over. Walking past the administration desk, the young nurses were full of sweet compliments. They all said I looked radiant lately, blooming more beautifully than an eighteen-year-old. Just as I finished thanking them, Arthur’s call came through at the worst possible time: “The baby’s paperwork is all sorted out. Stella, it’s time for us to get remarried.” Hearing him say that, I suddenly remembered—oh right, I actually have an ex-husband. I cleared my throat and spoke very seriously: “Arthur, remarry? You’re ancient history to me.” … “I know I did you wrong with this whole thing, but you know how badly I wanted this child…” I waited quietly, counting to three. The man’s voice abruptly stopped. It took him a long moment to find his voice again, filled with disbelief: “Stella, what do you mean? You… you don’t want to remarry?” I checked off the caviar on my menu with a pen before replying slowly: “Yeah, exactly what you said.” “Don’t make jokes like that. I don’t like it.” Arthur’s voice grew louder, a bit grating. I raised an eyebrow and scoffed lightly: “Whether you like it or not is your problem. Anyway, I’ve said my piece.” “Chloe has already had the baby, and he’s registered on my family’s insurance. What are you throwing a tantrum for now? I told you when we got divorced.” “I just needed an heir, but the position of Mrs. Sterling will only ever be yours. Give me one more chance, okay?” Arthur rarely showed weakness, putting on a full display of trying to win me back. But I knew this was just another excuse. Just like the first time I caught him and my sister having an affair. With red eyes, he swore he would cut it off with her, begging me for a chance. I gave it to him. When I found out my sister was pregnant, I stormed into the Hayes family home, but he stopped me. He knelt at my feet, saying he would have the baby aborted, begging for one more chance. I gave it to him again. But what happened in the end? That child was delivered safely in the very hospital where I work, in my own department. The whole hospital knows. My wonderful sister gave birth to my nephew, but the father is my husband. My phone chimed right on cue. I didn’t even need to look to know the star of the show was Chloe again. “The baby is one month old, our family of five is reunited! Some people are very sensible and know not to come and be an eyesore!” My parents were holding their grandson, smiling from ear to ear. Arthur had his arms around Chloe, his gaze blindingly tender. If this were a year ago, I would have been hysterical. I would have called my parents, demanding to know why they indulged her so much. I would have grabbed Arthur by the collar, demanding to know what gave him the right to treat me like this. But now, I just smiled and commented below: “Birds of a feather flock together. A perfect match!” Our social circle is small; that one comment instantly racked up hundreds of likes. Some of my close friends even left sarcastic comments underneath. Sure enough, Arthur couldn’t sit still. He called, using his familiar tone: “Stella, I knew you were just saying you didn’t want to remarry out of anger.” Without waiting for me to speak, he kept talking to himself, a hint of joy hidden in his voice: “Chloe wasn’t intentionally showing off; she was just too happy to see Mom and Dad.” “She asked me to accompany her home for a visit before we remarry. I had no choice but to…” Chapter 2 Seeing that I remained silent, he continued laying the groundwork: “She’s nursing right now, and everything affects the baby. She can’t handle any stress. Stella, could you please just yield to her for now? Don’t make a mess on her Facebook…” I picked at my ear, not feeling a shred of disappointment. After all, I was numb to words like this. I gave up my parents, gave up my marriage, gave up my man, stepping back again and again. Now, am I supposed to give up my right to speak, too? Arthur wasn’t used to my silence. He sighed and spoke again, the same old tired clichés. “Come home tonight, okay? Chloe has already moved out of the master bedroom. The room is exactly how you left it, and I even bought that emerald necklace you love.” “Stella, once the baby is weaned, I will absolutely cut all ties with Chloe. You have my word, I do what I say…” Hearing this, whatever patience I had left for him was completely exhausted. Without waiting for him to finish—click—I hung up. The next day, a persistent Arthur showed up at my clinic. Seeing me seeing patient after patient without a break, he looked heartbroken and tried to comfort me: “Stella, don’t punish yourself like this because of me. It hurts me to see… I know you’re still angry. As long as you don’t hurt yourself, you can hit me or curse at me.” He was probably afraid I would take a fruit knife to my wrists like I did a year ago. Even when my parents rushed over, I merely moved the blade from my wrist to my carotid artery. I didn’t say a word, just stood up and kicked him out. It wasn’t until after lunch that he came to my office again, his voice heavy with exhaustion: “Stella, I’ve said every nice thing I could possibly say. Why are you still making such a fuss? You won’t go home, you won’t go to Mom and Dad’s, and you won’t talk to me? How long are you going to keep this up?” A fuss? Arthur just blindly kept pestering me as if he couldn’t understand human speech. But I was annoyed. I was sick of it. I reached back, pulled the divorce certificate out of my drawer, and slammed it into his face. “Arthur, we’ve had nothing to do with each other for a long time. What right do you have to expect me to talk to you!” Arthur froze for a few seconds before reacting. He lunged forward and grabbed me: “You know I had no choice! You know Chloe and I are only doing this for the baby! Why are you so selfish?” “Fighting for our parents’ love at home, getting jealous over nothing outside…” Slap! The rest of his words were scattered by my slap. “Arthur, talking against your conscience will bring you bad karma. We ended up here entirely because of you!” I was raised by my grandmother since I was little. Chloe never liked me. Whatever I had, ate, or used, she wanted to steal it. Toys, pretty dresses, extracurricular classes, competition spots, and finally, our parents’ love. Whenever I questioned it, my parents would always say: “She’s your younger sister, she’s little. What’s the harm in letting her have it?” In the end, I slowly became an invisible person in my own home. Until I met Arthur in college. We fell in love and decided to get married early. My biological sister, Chloe, played her old tricks again, constantly harassing Arthur. My biological parents abandoned me, using the guise of being his future in-laws to create opportunities for her. Drugging him, showing up at his door in the middle of the night… Arthur was so annoyed he was forced to call the cops. She didn’t give up. Instead, she went so crazy she tried to run me over with a car. In the end, my grandmother pushed me out of the way, taking the hit under the wheels herself. When my parents arrived, they comforted the “startled” Chloe first, then slapped me across the face, cursing me for being a jinx. My grandmother’s death left me completely disheartened. But Arthur held a positive pregnancy test and hugged me, saying, “Stella, Grandma must have known you were sad, so she sent this baby to keep you company.” Because of the baby in my belly, I slowly began to recover. I managed my pregnancy while looking for postpartum care centers. Until the baby was eight months along, my parents suddenly showed up to apologize. A bowl of soup left me unconscious. When I woke up, I saw Chloe sitting on Arthur’s lap, riding him. Then, blood poured from between my legs like a fountain. I miscarried. I could never be a mother again. And Arthur and I got a divorce. Chapter 3 “You have the nerve to say I get jealous over nothing? You have the nerve to mention the baby? The people who killed my baby are you two!” Right after I miscarried, Chloe was diagnosed as pregnant. During the many nights I woke up crying. I thought it was all a dream. But Chloe’s increasingly bulging belly proved they had slept together long before. That’s why my parents couldn’t wait to use a bowl of poisoned soup to kill my baby. Thinking of all that, Arthur’s face turned deathly pale. His lips moved, but he couldn’t even string a sentence together: “Stella… I’m sorry, I regretted it a long time ago.” I regretted it too. I regretted being born into the Hayes family, regretted ever meeting Arthur. I raised my hand to wipe the moisture from the corner of my eye, pointed at the door, and said coldly: “Get out!” Arthur opened his mouth, but couldn’t make another sound. He only hunched over and left, looking like a lost soul. In the years we were together, I had seen all sorts of views of Arthur’s back. The joyous one when we got our marriage license at City Hall. The spirited one when he rang the bell at the New York Stock Exchange. But I had never seen this pathetic and defeated one. I took a deep breath, preparing for my afternoon surgery. Two o’clock. After I changed into my scrubs, I realized the person lying on the operating table was Chloe. The young nurse stammered an explanation: “Dr. Hayes, she was scheduled by the Hospital President…” Chloe curled her lips, leaned close to my ear, and provoked me: “Even if I ran over your grandmother and killed your son, even if you hate it, you still have to play the dutiful servant and perform my surgery yourself.” I shot her a cold glare and turned to leave. But someone forcefully intercepted me at the door. My biological mother clutched a white ceramic urn, looking at me coldly: “Either perform the surgery for Chloe, or your son’s ashes hit the floor. Choose!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I sluggishly looked at Arthur standing behind her. The location where my baby was buried… only he knew… no one else did. Arthur turned his head away, not daring to look at me. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked at them, my voice hoarse: “He’s your grandson, he’s your son. How could you…” Arthur quickly cut me off, making a guarantee: “Chloe has acute mastitis and can’t breastfeed. As long as you do the surgery, the baby’s ashes will definitely be returned to you!” My mother took the opportunity to raise her hand, urging me impatiently. “What are you standing there for! Hurry up! A piece of trash like you is only good for this much!” I didn’t care about her cruelty. But I cared about my son’s ashes. He was so small, so soft. He hadn’t even seen the world yet; he shouldn’t be left without a resting place. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed the blood in my throat and turned around stiffly. Under Chloe’s disdainful gaze, I put my gloves back on and picked up the scalpel. Minutes ticked by. When the last suture was snipped. I desperately rushed out of the operating room. Only to see the baby’s ash urn falling from mid-air. “No!” Arthur rushed over from a distance, but he was still a step too late. Smash! The grayish-white powder scattered everywhere, splashing all over. My mother’s shrill voice exploded in my ear: “The psychic said this little bastard has resentment and brings bad luck to my grandson. He had to be destroyed!” As soon as the words left her mouth, I grabbed a nearby thermos of hot water and hurled it at her with all my might. “Ah—” Chapter 4 With a scream, my mother collapsed limply to the floor. I didn’t even look at her. I just dropped to my knees with a thud, desperately trying to gather the baby’s ashes from all around. I didn’t dare cry, didn’t dare shed a tear. I was terrified that the moisture would dissolve my baby’s ashes. But the hallway floor wasn’t entirely dry. The pathetically small amount of my baby’s ashes were blown by the wind and dissolved by the water. I poked my fingers until they bled, and by the end, I only had a fist-sized clump of ash left. “Baby, Mommy is useless. I couldn’t protect you…” I murmured to myself, voice hoarse, fighting back tears. My whole body convulsed with pain. “Stella… don’t be like this, you’re scaring me.” Arthur lunged forward, wanting to touch my blood-stained hands, his voice trembling non-stop. I stared at him with bloodshot eyes and spat out a single word: “Scram!” “Stella, it’s all my fault. You can hit me or curse me…” Arthur looked at me, his choking voice full of guilt. I shoved him aside, cradled the baby’s ashes, and stumbled out. When I handled everything and returned to the hospital, it was nearing sunset. As soon as I got out of my car, several bodyguards dragged and hauled me up to the third floor. The door to the VIP intensive care unit opened, revealing Chloe’s venomous face. She rushed forward, slapped me fiercely, and screamed abuse at me: “You bitch! What did you leave inside my breast? Why does it hurt even more?” Arthur was about to intervene, but she shoved him away. Chloe snatched the fruit knife from the table, held it against her own son’s head, and glared viciously: “Arthur! This bitch intentionally harmed me. I want you to punish her properly for me, otherwise, I’ll kill this child!” Arthur looked at me, then at the nearly demonic Chloe. He showed a look of exhaustion and pleaded: “Chloe, he’s your son too. Can you really bear to…” Chloe sneered and didn’t speak. She just plunged the blade down hard, instantly staining the white swaddle red with blood. The infant’s screams of pain echoed through the hospital room. A profound agony flashed through Arthur’s eyes. After giving me a look full of guilt, he gritted his teeth and asked: “How do you want to punish her?” Chloe curled her lips, her smile utterly malicious. “An eye for an eye. Cut open her breast and put some ‘seasoning’ in there. That’ll be compensation enough for me!” I turned my head to look at Arthur, hoping he still had a shred of rationality left. “Mastitis is a minor surgery. I’ve done it over ten thousand times and never failed. You can’t just listen to one side of the story…” Arthur didn’t say a word, just slowly walked up to me. He lowered his voice: “Stella, this is the last time. Once this is over, I’ll completely settle the score with the Hayes family.” With that, he turned his back and waved his hand. Like a dog, I was dragged onto the surgical table. Riiiip. My clothes were torn open and thrown to the floor. Cold air roamed over my body like needles. The person operating on me wasn’t even a doctor, just a nurse with trembling hands. “Wait!” Chloe side-eyed me: “She’s so good at enduring pain, let’s skip the anesthesia.” She spoke to me, but her eyes were fixed on Arthur a few feet away. The air went still for a moment. After a long time, the man nodded. The cold blade slithered over my chest like a venomous snake. Cold sweat, mixed with blood, poured out like water. I thought of my grandmother’s wrinkled, smiling face. I thought of my baby’s cold, stiff body. Figures blurred before my eyes. Through the haze, Chloe’s malicious voice sounded above me. “You bitch, for the sake of us being sisters, I’ll personally send you to hell!” The cold steel approached. I trembled all over, entirely powerless to fight back. Crash! The door was kicked open, and the black muzzle of a gun was pressed against the back of Chloe’s head. The intruder let out a chilling sneer: “Dare to touch her, and if Stella bleeds a single drop, I’ll make you pay with your lives!” Chapter 5 Chloe was scared stupid by the gun barrel and froze on the spot. Even her voice began to tremble: “Who… who are you? How dare you meddle in my business? How many lives do you have to lose?” Saying that, she strained her throat and started screaming. “Dad! Mom! Arthur!” But no matter how much she yelled, the area outside the operating room was dead quiet; there was no one around. The man knocked her out with the butt of his gun, then gently called out to me: “Stella, how are you? It’s Liam.” Liam… Hearing that name, my heart inexplicably relaxed, and unable to hold on any longer, I completely passed out. Meanwhile, Arthur was staring blankly at the DNA report. He scrutinized the single sheet of paper back and forth for over ten minutes. It took him a very long time to find his voice. He looked at the nurse with terror in his eyes and spoke incoherently: “Are you sure there isn’t a mistake? My son is so young, how could he have HIV?” The nurse looked at him with pity and explained patiently: “Mr. Sterling, the child is too young to be infected independently.” “This virus most likely came from genetic transmission from his parents…” “That’s even more impossible… I’m perfectly healthy, I’ve never been involved in any of that shady business…” Before he could finish his sentence, his mouth was stopped by another report the nurse handed him. The nurse pointed to the conclusion section of the report. “Chloe Hayes is his mother, right? We detected that her index is positive.” As she spoke, she glanced at Arthur’s deathly pale face and kindly suggested: “Mr. Sterling, it’s best if you get an HIV antibody test right now as well. We suspect there is a very high probability that you…” She didn’t finish the sentence. But Arthur understood perfectly. He had probably been infected a long time ago. It was an hour later when Arthur returned to the VIP intensive care unit like a lost soul. He felt dizzy, barely able to stand steady. “How is this… possible?” When Chloe got with him, she was clearly still a virgin. How could she get HIV? Could she have faked it? The child was born with HIV, so he… What was the point of all the compromises and concessions he had made recently? Arthur instinctively pulled out his phone and called Stella. But the line rang a few times and was disconnected. He called again, and it was hung up immediately. After trying a few times, the phone was turned off altogether. Nearing a mental breakdown, Arthur slumped to the floor, clutching his head and murmuring in defeat. “Stella, where are you? This isn’t real, is it?” He desperately wanted someone to give him an answer, to tell him that everything he experienced this afternoon was fake. Just like every time the company faced a crisis in the past, Stella was always the first to comfort him. The difficulties will pass. She will stay by his side forever. But this time, Stella was gone. He stumbled around, searching the entire operating wing, asking every nurse he bumped into: “Have you seen Stella? Where is Stella?” But they all shook their heads, and some even shoved him away, cursing: “What Stella? You’re crazy!” He ran through the entire inpatient building but couldn’t find a trace of Stella. Even Chloe and her mother, along with those bodyguards, seemed to have suddenly vanished. By the time he dragged his stiff legs back to the company, the entire office had exploded.

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My roommate’s uncle, River Wilde, had retired from the military. Word was he’d suffered nerve damage and would be wheelchair-bound for life. Most critically, he was impotent. But five years ago, on that stormy night, it was him. The man who’d left me so exhausted I could barely walk. I went to pick him up from the airport, terrified he’d recognize me. Until he saw my four-and-a-half-year-old son. That scar through his eyebrow, identical to River’s, was glaring under the lights. The man stared at this miniature version of himself and suddenly smiled. “Miss Sullivan, five years ago, the woman who slept with me, left two hundred dollars on the nightstand, and disappeared… that was you, wasn’t it?” Chloe POV My roommate’s uncle had retired from the military. They said he’d injured his nerves during peacekeeping operations overseas and would be wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life. Most critically, he was impotent. My roommate Madison was sobbing hysterically on the phone. “Our family line is finished! Chloe, can you pick him up from the airport tonight? I’ll cover your rent for the whole year!” I gripped my phone, frozen in place. River Wilde? No heir? Impossible! Five years ago, on that stormy night, the man who went at me like a rabid dog until I nearly fell apart, his stamina was unreal! Back then I’d blacked out drunk, slept with him thinking he was a male escort, left two hundred dollars as payment, and fled in the middle of the night. And then I got pregnant! I glanced instinctively at my son on the carpet. His eyes, his nose, and that naturally scarred eyebrow above his left eye-he was a miniature replica of that man! I’d been raising his son for four and a half years, and he didn’t have an heir? But… For Madison’s promise of free rent, I gritted my teeth and agreed. “Fine, I’ll go.” I took a deep breath, clinging to hope. After all, five years had passed. I’d gone from heavy makeup to bare-faced, and he was dysfunctional now-his memory should be fuzzy, right? Before leaving, I pinched my son’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m picking up a friend.” Liam blinked his eyes, so similar to River’s, and cut straight to the point. “Mom, your heart’s racing. Are you lying?” …This damned genetic dominance. 10 PM. Torrential rain. I parked my red Wrangler at the airport curb, my calves still cramping. Someone knocked on the window. A tall shadow stood in the rain. The man wore a black tactical jacket, rainwater sliding down his buzz cut and along his sharp jawline. This was supposed to be a broken man? This was clearly a wolf in his prime! Madison’s intel had never been reliable! I fumbled to unlock the door. The instant it opened, an aggressive wave of masculine pheromones flooded the car. The man slid into the passenger seat, his long legs cramped with nowhere to go. He turned his head, those pitch-black eyes sweeping emotionlessly across my face. His gaze felt tangible, like a blade scraping my skin. I held my breath, my heart nearly jumping out of my throat. “Hello, I’m Madison’s roommate, Chloe Sullivan.” Three seconds of dead silence. He suddenly quirked his lips, his voice low and teasing. “Why are your hands shaking? Am I that scary?” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. This voice was identical to the one that had whispered in my ear five years ago, forcing me to moan his name. He suddenly leaned in close, forcing me to lean back. Seeing me startled, he curved his lips in an ambiguous smile. “Why are you dodging? I’m just fastening your seatbelt.” His long fingers reached across me to click the buckle, but his gaze dropped to the collarbone visible at my neckline, his eyes darkening abruptly. “Though, Miss Sullivan, your scent… seems familiar.”

Chloe POV Those two words shot through me like an electric current. I went rigid, one thought consuming my mind. I’m done for. He recognized me. Five years ago that night, I’d used this exact custom body wash. It was a special blend from our studio, completely unavailable on the market. I clutched the steering wheel, my brain racing for an excuse. “R-really?” I forced a dry laugh, trying to kill the conversation. “Madison uses this body wash too. You probably smelled it on her.” River leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed yet radiating inexplicable pressure. “Drive.” I exhaled in relief and hit the gas. The car fell into suffocating silence. His deep voice suddenly broke it. “Madison said I’m a man with no reproductive ability?” I nearly ran a red light, jerking my head toward him in alarm, meeting his sardonic gaze. His fingertips tapped his knee. “She said my nerves are damaged, I’m in a wheelchair, sexually dysfunctional… do you believe that?” I couldn’t answer. Believe it or not, the key point was I’d experienced otherwise! That night had nearly broken my back. If that counted as dysfunctional, every man on earth would need ICU admission. But I didn’t dare say it. I could only play dumb. “Madison was just worried about you…” Just then, the car’s Bluetooth rang, the screen flashing “Ex-Husband”. That was the name I’d saved Madison as. My hand slipped and I answered the call. Madison’s booming voice immediately filled the car. “Chloe! Did you pick up that old cripple? Don’t provoke him! He might be impotent, but those hands are military-trained. He could crush you with one hand!” Deathly silence. The air pressure in the passenger seat plummeted to freezing. River narrowed his eyes, tongue pressing his cheek, laughing in disbelief. “Impotent?” He spoke coldly into the microphone. “Madison, is this how you introduce me to people?” A scream erupted from the other end, followed by an instant disconnect. I wanted to cry. I’d completely offended him now. River turned sideways, his large hand suddenly settling on my headrest, caging me in. He leaned in close, so close I could see the fine hairs on his scarred eyebrow. “Do you also think I’m impotent?” This was truly a life-or-death question. I improvised desperately. “No! I admire you! And I have no right to judge-my ex-husband had those same problems, which is why I divorced him and took the kid!” River paused, his expression strange. “You were married? You have a child?” “Divorced! The kid’s four and a half, has my last name.” He fell silent for a moment, his gaze roaming my face as if assessing truth from lies. After a long pause, he withdrew his hand and sat up straight. That aggressive pressure eased slightly, though his tone remained sharp. “That man was defective too?” I nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! He was tiny down there, and he used to hit me all the time! That’s why I left!” Insult away. I was cursing a nonexistent person anyway.. River snorted coldly, looking out the window, his voice emotionless. “That kind of trash deserves to die.” I quietly sighed in relief. At least I’d gotten through this round. But I didn’t notice- Reflected in the car window, the man’s expression wasn’t one of understanding. It was… excitement?

Chloe POV The car stopped outside Madison’s house. River didn’t move, his gaze landing on my phone screen that had just lit up. It showed a photo of me and my son Liam, his expression eerily similar to River’s. His slender fingers picked up the phone. “This is your son?” My scalp prickled as I snatched it back. “Yes! Just a random shot!” He didn’t dodge, his eyes narrowing. “Handsome kid. Doesn’t look like your ex?” “Not at all! Must be a genetic throwback or a mutation!” My guilty conscience made my volume spike. River scoffed and pushed open the door, tossing out an cryptic comment. “Let me take you to dinner sometime. I’d like to meet this genetically mutated little guy.” I watched him disappear, collapsing into the driver’s seat drenched in cold sweat. Meet Liam? Absolutely not! That scarred eyebrow would expose everything! When I got home, Liam was sprawled on the carpet drawing, looking up seriously. “Miss Sullivan, you’re forty-five minutes late.” I pulled him into a tight hug. “Sorry, I ran into a big monster.” Liam pushed me away, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Mom, you smell like smoke. It’s gross.” I sniffed my sleeve. It had indeed absorbed River’s sharp, domineering scent. In the shower, my thoughts drifted uncontrollably to five years ago. That night, the bathroom water had sounded just like this. That man had pinned me against the foggy mirror, his movements fierce, demanding over and over if I felt good. “Damn it!” I slapped my flushed face. This could never happen a second time! The next morning, Madison’s phone call woke me. “Chloe! Save me, Chloe!” Madison’s voice sounded near tears. “That psycho! First thing this morning he removed every lock in my house! Said it was for security checks!” “Worst part-he insists I take him to our studio! Says he wants clothes made!” My brain exploded with a bang. “Clothes? What clothes? We make women’s clothing!” “He says he wants men’s clothes! And he specifically wants you to take his measurements personally!” Madison was whimpering on the other end. “Chloe, for the sake of my life, I already agreed. We’ll be at the shop in ten minutes!” Ten minutes?! I looked at Liam still rubbing his eyes in bed. It was Saturday-no kindergarten! I’d planned to take Liam to the studio! If River ran into Liam at the shop… I didn’t dare imagine. “Quick! Liam, get dressed!” I yanked off the covers and frantically dressed my son. “Where are we going?” Liam looked confused. “Running for our lives!” I grabbed my son and rushed out, hitting the down button just as- Ding. The elevator doors slowly opened. Two people stood inside. One was a resigned-looking Madison. The other wore a black dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. River Wilde. He stood there in the elevator, his gaze piercing through the opening doors, landing precisely on me and Liam in my arms. In that moment, the world seemed to freeze. Liam blinked, then suddenly pointed at River and asked the ultimate question. “Mom, why does this Mr. Monster have a broken eyebrow just like mine?”

Chloe POV Madison’s jaw dropped. River’s pupils contracted sharply as he stepped out of the elevator in one stride, his presence overwhelming. I backed up with my son until I hit the wall. “Broken eyebrow?” River looked down at Liam, his voice light as a feather yet heavy as a hammer, his rough fingertip reaching toward Liam’s eyebrow. Every alarm in my head went off! I slapped his hand away hard. “Don’t touch my son!” A red mark bloomed on River’s hand. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he raised an eyebrow with an ambiguous smile. “Such a strong reaction? Afraid I’ll eat the kid?” I forced myself to stay calm. “This was… from when he was little! Right, Liam? He fell when he was two!” I blinked frantically, signaling him. Liam, who’d inherited his father’s intelligence, nodded calmly. “Yeah, Mom said I fell.” River withdrew his hand and tucked it in his pocket, his gaze glued to Liam’s face, scoffing. “Quite the technical fall-looks exactly like my natural one.” I laughed dryly. “It’s just fate, fate…” Madison quickly intervened. “Okay, enough about eyebrows! Let’s go!” I made an excuse about getting something and shoved Liam at Madison. “You two go to the car first!” River watched the little figure being led away. That swagger in his walk was a carbon copy of his own. He laughed softly. “What’s the kid’s name?” I was guarded. “Liam.” River gave me a disdainful look. “Like your ex-husband. No taste.” After that insult, he finally turned to follow Madison. I leaned against the doorframe, exhaling deeply. My legs were so weak I could barely stand. Just now, I really thought he was going to drag Liam off for a DNA test. But the crisis wasn’t over. The car ride ahead would be even more terrifying. One big, one small, sitting side by side-the atmosphere eerily harmonious. Liam suddenly pointed at River’s forearm. “Did your gunshot wound heal?” My hand jerked and I nearly drove into a ditch. River’s eyes flashed with appreciation. “How do you know?” That’s a special forces soldier’s badge of honor-why are you asking about everything! River didn’t seem angry though. He glanced down at his arm, asking casually. “How do you know it’s a gunshot wound?” “I saw it on TV.” Liam looked serious. “Only bullet wounds leave this kind of round scar.” River smiled. “Good observation skills.” He pulled out a mint and offered it. Liam shook his head. “Mom says don’t take things from strangers, especially ones who look like bad guys.” I choked on my own saliva. River’s face darkened, yet he remained patient. “I’m related to your mom’s roommate. You should call me…” Liam innocently finished the sentence. “Uncle?” Madison burst out laughing. “Told you you’re old!” A vein bulged at River’s temple as he gritted his teeth and pinched Liam’s cheek. “Fine.” The gesture looked fierce, but the pressure was gentle as a tickle. If you ignored the complicated history, they really did look like father and son. At the studio. Madison pushed River into the fitting room. “Chloe, go! You’re the measurement expert!” The door closed, leaving just him and me in the cramped space. Cool fragrance mixed with testosterone. River spread his arms in front of the mirror, watching my trembling form with amusement. “Miss Sullivan, let’s begin. I don’t like tight clothes-they’re constricting.” I took a deep breath and approached with the measuring tape. When measuring his shoulders, I had to press against his chest. Through the thin shirt, I could feel the hard planes of his pectorals and his powerful heartbeat. “Chloe.” He suddenly spoke my name. Warm breath washed over the top of my head, carrying a tingling sensation. “Don’t you feel like this position…” “Is a bit like five years ago?”

Chloe POV I jerked my head up, crashing right into his bottomless dark eyes. In that instant, I felt transported back to that stormy night five years ago. “Don’t understand?” River chuckled softly, not moving, letting me crouch at his feet. My line of sight directly faced his straight legs and… that supposedly dysfunctional area. My face exploded in heat as I grabbed the measuring tape and stood up-too quickly. My vision went black and I fell straight into a hard embrace. His arm tightened around my waist, a scorching palm locking me in place. “Throwing yourself at me?” The teasing voice exploded above my head. My palm pressed against his taut abs-even through the shirt I could feel the explosive power. This was a broken man? “Let go!” I struggled like a frightened rabbit. River only tightened his grip, forcing me closer until our noses nearly touched, his presence suffocating. “Chloe, your hands kept shaking when measuring my waist. Afraid of me? Or reminiscing?” He was testing me! I closed my eyes and deflected. “I have trauma! My ex used to hold me like this too, then hit me!” The air froze. River’s large hand stiffened for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to shocked, finally settling on disgust. “Hit you? That waste even beat women?” He released me, straightening my wrinkled shirt, his tone cold. “Terrible taste. That kind of garbage should be buried at sea.” I silently lit a candle for the nonexistent man while verbally agreeing. “Yes,you’re absolutely right. I’ve got the measurements, I’ll go select fabric!” I fled the fitting room to find Madison pressed against the door grinning. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the main door suddenly slammed open. Liam, playing with blocks in the corner, jumped in fright. Three thugs in garish shirts swaggered in. The leader had bleached yellow hair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes sweeping the shop shamelessly before landing on me. “Miss Sullivan, business looks good.” The thug blew a smoke ring, looking completely shameless. “So? How about that protection fee we discussed last time?” My heart sank. These were local punks who’d been harassing businesses on this street. We’d called the police before, but since they never got physical, just came to be annoying every day, the cops couldn’t do anything. “I told you, we don’t need protection.” I pulled Liam behind me, face cold. “Please leave, or I’m calling the police.” “Police?” The thug sneered, stepping forward and reaching out to shove me. “Don’t want to cooperate, huh? Believe me, I’ll smash this dump today!” That dirty hand never reached my shoulder-a long, powerful hand shot out and caught his wrist mid-air. “Crack.” A crisp snap of bone. The thug let out a pig-like squeal, his whole body instantly contorting like a shrimp. River had appeared at my side without warning. One hand in his pocket, the other casually gripping the thug’s wrist-it looked effortless. But the expression on his face was cold, like something that had crawled straight out of hell. “Smash the shop?” He tilted his head, looking at the yellow-haired thug breaking out in cold sweat with detached eyes. His voice wasn’t loud, but it made everyone present shiver. “Who gave you the balls to touch my wo-my niece’s shop?” I stared blankly at his profile. In that moment, his tall frame blocked everything in front of me. That damned sense of security washed over me again. I was falling for him again. But…

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When I found my fiancé, who had been missing for six months, he was wearing an apron, helping a woman hold down a squealing pig. His movements were clumsy, and a second later, the pig kicked him so hard he went flying. The woman grabbed his sleeve and hauled him up: “How can you be this useless? Go out to the garden and pick some greens.” He gave her a goofy smile, turned around, and that’s when he saw me standing there. He froze for a second, then walked over and asked, “What are you doing here?” I didn’t know what to say for a moment. Right then, the woman noticed me too. She tilted her chin at me: “Here to take him home? Stay for the barbecue before you go.” 1 While swiftly bleeding the pig, the woman asked me, “Are you his older sister or younger sister?” As soon as I got word on Arthur Sterling’s whereabouts, I rushed over immediately. I didn’t even change out of my work clothes; I was still wearing my stilettos. Now, those stilettos were sinking deep into the mud. Only after I yanked my shoe free did I answer her: “Fiancée.” Hearing my answer, the hand holding the knife visibly paused. She didn’t say anything, but Arthur, standing nearby, chimed in. “Luna, do you still want me to pick those greens?” Without even looking up, the woman instinctively snapped at him: “If you don’t pick the greens, what are you going to do? You can’t even hold down a pig. What kind of man is as useless as you?” Arthur looked panicked and quickly appeased her: “Don’t be mad, don’t be mad, I’m going right now.” I had never seen Arthur like this. In my memory, he handled everything with a cool, effortless detachment. Even if the sky were falling, his first reaction would be to find a solution, not to panic like an ordinary person and ask, “What do we do if the sky falls?” Since we were kids, I had modeled myself after his stoic, unreadable demeanor, until people started calling me the “Second CEO Sterling.” But now, over a single sentence, he was frantically trying to comfort that woman. Six months can change a lot of things. I had to admit, the Arthur standing before me was a completely different person from the one in my memory. Arthur turned to leave, but the woman suddenly called out to him again. “Arthur Sterling.” “Don’t call me Luna anymore. I have a full name. It’s Luna Hayes.” With that, she tossed the knife into a large basin, washed her hands with some clean water from a bucket nearby, stood up, and started walking forward. Halfway there, she turned back to look at me. “Let’s go. It’s a bit of a walk to my house from here.” I started to follow her, but stopped after two steps, the words spilling out instinctively: “What about Arthur?” I regretted it the moment I said it. The tip I got said Arthur had been living here for six months; how could he not know the way back? 2 The woman waved her hand dismissively: “Don’t worry about him. He’s got a mouth to ask for directions; it’s not like he can’t find his way home…” She stopped mid-sentence. I hadn’t noticed her emotional shift; my mind was entirely focused on the fact that my heels were sinking into the mud again. Sensing that she had suddenly stopped, I looked up and met a pair of watery eyes, blinking rapidly as if tears were about to fall. She reached out, and I gripped her hand tightly. Her hand was rough, but warm. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. The road is rough, hold onto me.” For that short stretch of road, she really did hold onto me tightly. Along the way, we ran into people she knew, most of whom teased her about Arthur. Right in front of me, she clarified: “Stop talking nonsense. This is Arthur’s fiancée.” After she said that, people looked at us with gossipy stares. She didn’t shy away from it, but the scrutiny made me uncomfortable. She whispered to me, “It’s fine, they don’t mean any harm. I’ll walk a bit faster; we just need to get home.” Once we got to her house, she found a pair of cotton-padded slippers and placed them in front of me. Fearing I might find them gross, she quickly added, “They’ve been washed. Put these on for now.” Seeing me change into them, she stopped bustling around—pouring hot water, turning on the heater. Only when there was truly nothing left to do did she sit down next to me and bring up Arthur. “I didn’t know he had a fiancée.” The tears she’d been holding back the whole walk finally fell. She sat beside me, head bowed, her hair falling forward, and all I could see were large teardrops smashing onto the floor. But I was Arthur’s fiancée. I was the one who had been wronged. I should be the one crying. Yet, perhaps because the hand that held mine was so warm, I found myself at a loss for what to do. I gently patted her back and comforted her: “Don’t cry.” She wiped her tears, turned her head, and said to me with red eyes: “But don’t worry, I’m not some shameless person, and I won’t pester you guys.” “You two should go. I swear, I will never appear in front of you again.” Seeing her resolve, I finally asked about Arthur. “How did you two meet?” 3 The story was as cliché as it gets. Arthur got caught in a massive blizzard while skiing, and she saved him. She nursed him back to health, and they lived together for six months. But there were holes in this story big enough to drive a truck through. Once Arthur had recovered, why didn’t he leave? Both our families had utilized every resource available to search for him for half a year; why was there absolutely no trace of him? It was only because my best friend’s boyfriend came here, said he saw someone who looked a lot like Arthur, and I came on a whim, that I finally found him. Luna didn’t speak. She got up and brought out a pile of things from an inner room. I recognized them. They were Arthur’s belongings, including a watch I had given him. She shoved them into my hands: “They’re not cheap, are they? I’m not an idiot, I can tell. Honestly, the only reason I saved him in the first place was for the money.” At first it was for the money, but what about later? Neither of us voiced that question. I didn’t blame her. She was kept in the dark too, so who was there to blame? “Luna, praise me! Uncle said the greens I picked were excellent.” Arthur was back. Looking at his sparkling eyes, I really didn’t want to blame him either. But I also had to admit, this was all because of him. Why didn’t he leave when he was healed? Because he didn’t want to. Why was there no news despite everyone looking for him? Because he cut off all contact. Hearing his words, Luna repeated herself: “I told you, I have a full name. Call me Luna Hayes.” After she said that, she snatched the basin from Arthur’s hands, turned, and walked out the door. Suddenly, it was just Arthur and me in the room, and an awkward silence fell over us. Growing up, he was usually the quiet one between us, so eventually, he spoke first. “What are you doing here?” Should I not have come? My fiancé goes skiing to relax, gets caught in an avalanche, is missing for six months, and when there’s finally a lead, shouldn’t I come? That’s what I thought, and that’s exactly what I asked him. Furthermore, the marriage between us concerned the interests of both our families. Every day delayed was a risk. I didn’t understand how he could live here with such peace of mind. He untied his apron but offered no explanation. For the past six months, I had held everything together on my own, even keeping his company running. Luna is a good girl, she’s reasonable, so I can let it go with her. I asked Arthur: “When are we leaving? Do you even want your company anymore?” I just didn’t expect Arthur to freeze, ultimately saying absolutely nothing. Luna was the one who answered that question for me. Her hands were wet; she must have just finished washing those greens. “Leave after dinner. It doesn’t look right for you to stay at my house forever.” “You should have told me where you were from sooner. I would have done everything in my power to send you back.” Arthur stared blankly at Luna standing in the doorway, and I looked at Arthur. “After dinner tonight, I’ll have Vivian come pick us up?” Luna smiled: “That sounds good. Just in time to be home for the holidays.” I waited for Arthur’s answer. When he didn’t respond immediately, I asked again, my tone taking on a harder edge: “Arthur, tonight I’ll have Vivian pick us up and take us back.” He finally turned his gaze to me: “Okay.” 4 Luna is a very efficient girl. It was just her and her father at home. She must have spoken to him beforehand, because at the dinner table, the old man just sighed heavily, breath after breath, without saying a single inappropriate word. Eventually, Arthur managed to produce a bottle of liquor from somewhere. He filled his glass and looked at the old man. “These past six months, I’ve truly seen you as my own father.” Luna cut him off: “Arthur, you’re drunk. Don’t say things like that.” After she spoke, she poured me a glass too, and asked quietly: “Can you drink?” I nodded. She pressed the glass into my hand, then lightly clinked her own glass against the rim of my full one, and downed it in one gulp. The old man, having had too much to drink, started spilling words he shouldn’t have: “I originally wanted to entrust Luna to you, I…” Arthur grasped his hand: “I know, I know.” Clutching my glass, my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I proactively spoke up to change the subject: “Arthur, let’s not be so heavy. Talk about something happy.” Luna smiled and went along with me, maintaining the atmosphere at the table. The next second, Vivian’s call came in: “When are you leaving? We’re here.” That call saved everyone’s life in that room. I smiled and looked at everyone present: “The car is here. We’re getting ready to leave.” Hearing that we were leaving, Luna helped her father into the bedroom. When she came out, she said: “I won’t walk you out.” I took out my phone and transferred some money to her. She didn’t stand on ceremony and accepted it crisply. Looking at the generous amount, she smiled broadly: “Wishing you a long and happy marriage.” I helped Arthur into the car. Vivian asked me: “How did you end up drinking so much?” I didn’t answer, just urged her: “Let’s go, time to go home.” I had bought out this relationship with money. Once we got back, Arthur would still be the Arthur from my memory. But just half an hour into the drive, Arthur looked at me intensely: “I want to go home.” Vivian said, confused: “This is the way home.” Arthur replied with certainty: “No, it’s not.” Vivian didn’t know what to say. She looked at me helplessly, then eventually pulled over at a rest stop and got out, leaving just the two of us in the car. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally erupted. I demanded of Arthur: “What exactly do you mean?” Moonlight spilled in through the car window. The wind was strong, whipping my hair across my face, allowing me to secretly wipe away my tears under the guise of fixing my hair. I don’t know if Arthur saw my tears. After a long silence, he said: “I’m sorry.” But what good is an apology to me? I asked him again: “Do you really want to go back?” He couldn’t answer. The moonlight shone through the window onto his face, illuminating the deep conflict in his eyes. He remained silent for a long time. The weather forecast predicted snow for the next few days, which is why I troubled Vivian to drive through the night on the highway. But there were no signs of snow at this rest stop. I simply rolled the window all the way down and said to Arthur. “Since you can’t make a choice, let’s make a bet. If it snows within two hours, you go back. If it doesn’t, you obediently return to New York and go back to being CEO Sterling.” Arthur didn’t expect me to use such a method to decide. He also knew it doesn’t just snow on command, yet he continued to wait. Two hours passed. Not only was there no snow, but even the wind had died down a bit. I looked at Arthur. He frowned and said: “Wait a little longer.” We waited another half hour, and still, there was no sign of a single snowflake. Arthur didn’t say a word, just kept waiting. I let out a laugh, raised my hand, and slapped him cleanly across the face. I told him: “Get out, Arthur.” He got out of the car, took two steps, then turned back and said to me: “I’ll return to New York in half a month…” I cut him off: “Get out.” When Vivian returned and saw Arthur was gone, she probably understood what had happened. Without another word, she started the car and drove me away. She cursed the whole time she drove, only stopping when she heard my muffled sobs. When I finished crying, she said: “Stella, it’s okay. Tomorrow is a brand new day.” 5 When I got home, my parents were still awake. My mom draped a blanket over my shoulders and said: “Well, at least you can relax now that Arthur has been found…” “Mom, he didn’t come back.” I clutched the blanket tightly. The arranged marriage couldn’t be changed. Arthur had made his choice, and now it was my turn to make mine. “Mom, let’s not wait for Arthur anymore. Let’s see who else is a good match. I’ll get married this month.” She tried to persuade me: “There’s no need to rush. I want you to find someone you truly like. Your dad and I aren’t going to force you.” But I didn’t see it that way. I flatly refused: “The outcome will be the same regardless. It’s better to find someone of equal social standing.” Before, my relationship with Arthur was half affection, half business strategy. I knew I couldn’t escape the fate of an arranged marriage, so I might as well maximize the benefits. My parents have always respected my decisions, and they immediately agreed. I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. That’s when I finally saw the texts on my phone. One was from Arthur: “Stella, I’ll be back in half a month.” The other two were from Luna. She was even more anxious than Arthur. “Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not that kind of disgusting woman. I have absolutely no intention of coming between you two. I don’t know why he came back. I’ve already left to stay at my sister’s place. I promise I won’t see him during this time.” “I don’t want to ruin your relationship.” Her every word was an open and honest clarification. The Sterling family is large, and the environment Arthur grew up in was full of scheming and backstabbing. It’s not surprising he was drawn to someone like her, nor is it surprising he wavered. It’s just that I had no desire to be one of the options Arthur had to choose between. I decided to bow out first. Luna’s tears earlier today were genuine. I replied to her message: “No need. I’m calling off the engagement. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” Luna called me immediately. After hesitating for a long time, she finally just asked: “Are you really calling off the engagement? I mean, he’s a bit dense, but his personality isn’t bad…” I interrupted her: “I really am.” Silence stretched over the line. Finally, she spoke: “Then can I pursue him? I really do like him.” Her tone held a hint of apprehension, but she stated it straightforwardly. “Go for it. I’ll probably be married within the month.” “That fast?” She started telling me about the young people in her town who rushed into lightning marriages, the consequences they faced, and urged me to wait a bit longer. Before we knew it, we had been talking for two hours. Her concern was completely unfiltered. She didn’t hold any animosity towards me because of who I was. If I had met her first, I probably would have been drawn to her too. When she told a story about being chased by geese as a kid, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She said sheepishly: “Sorry, I get really talkative when I’m excited.” After hanging up, I actually slept incredibly well. My parents moved fast. The very next morning, the guy’s information and the location for our blind date were already sent to my phone. I followed the address to the restaurant. The man politely stood up: “Hello, I’m Harrison Thorne.” During the meal, he smoothly picked up on everything I said, handling every detail flawlessly. As we were leaving, I asked one extra question: “Do you know my parents?” He didn’t hide it: “I do. When your father was sick, I was the one who took care of him.” Then I knew who he was. My dad had mentioned to me once that a subordinate of his had a crush on me for a long time. When my dad was ill abroad, that subordinate handled everything perfectly. My dad was so impressed with him that, even knowing Arthur and I were childhood sweethearts, he still insisted I meet him. But back then, I only had eyes for Arthur and couldn’t care less about anyone else. I kept putting it off and eventually never met him. I didn’t expect that we would end up meeting now anyway. Just looking at him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he had a crush on me at all. It was too cold outside. As I adjusted my scarf, I asked him: “So, you have a crush on me?” “Yes. For eight years.” My hands froze on my scarf. He stated the number so nonchalantly. Realizing my awkwardness, he chuckled: “A crush is my own business; it has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to feel awkward.” As he spoke, he casually handed me the hot coffee he was holding. I was still reeling from that number. If he hadn’t admitted it himself, I never would have guessed he’d been harboring a crush on me for eight years. It was freezing, so he offered to drive me home. When we arrived, my dad saw him and immediately tried to pull him inside to chat. He looked at me, and when I didn’t say anything, he politely declined. As I was walking him to his car, he asked if I wanted to take a walk nearby and pick up some groceries. I laughed: “Stalling for time?” He looked a bit embarrassed, but ultimately admitted it: “Yes.” I didn’t refuse and walked with him. On the way, I got a call from my best friend. She excitedly told me: “Stella, did you know? Arthur is back!” That was way too fast. I thought Arthur would stay there for a while longer. But that wasn’t what my friend really cared about. It was what came next: “That woman came back with Arthur too. Some friends went to pick Arthur up, and do you know what she said?” “She said she’s currently pursuing Arthur.”

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“Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 7?” I had just taken off my mask, my hands not completely out of the sterile field, when the words were thrown in my face. I looked up to see Eric Crawford standing in the middle of the hallway. His white coat was crisp, and his name badge gleamed glaringly under the lights. “Effective immediately, you’re suspended.” The surrounding area suddenly went quiet. The lights at the nurses’ station were on. Several doctors stopped in their tracks, all turning to look at us. I let out a short laugh. “Excuse me?” Eric took a step forward, raising his voice. “I said, you’re suspended. Operating Room 7 is no longer open to you.” “And whose authority is that on?” Right in front of everyone, he reached out and ripped the schedule off the wall at the nurses’ station with a loud tear. “The Chief Administrator’s.” I nodded and didn’t say another word. In that moment, I knew this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. I took out my phone and sent a text to the Mayor. “I apologize, but my surgical privileges have been revoked. I’m afraid I won’t be able to perform your wife’s liver transplant.” 01 The operating room doors slid shut behind me. The moment the red light above them went out, the tension in my shoulders finally released. For ten straight hours, I had stood at the operating table, performing a highly complex organ transplant. I had personally verified every single suture. When they wheeled the patient out, the curves on the monitor were clean and sharp. I took off my surgical mask, the sharp smell of antiseptic still lingering in my breath. Just as I rounded the corner of the hallway, a figure stepped directly into my path. “Dr. Zhang.” The tone was disrespectful, the volume intentionally loud. I looked up and saw Eric Crawford. He was wearing a spotless white coat, his name badge so new it reflected the light. An intern on the surgical team, personally mentored by Chief Administrator Lauren Chen. He stood ramrod straight, as if he had been waiting here for a long time. At the nurses’ station and in the waiting area, several doctors stopped what they were doing, drawn by his shout. “Who gave you permission to use Operating Room 7?” Eric raised his chin, projecting his voice so everyone could hear. “Effective immediately, you’re suspended.” The air instantly tightened. I froze for a second. It wasn’t that I’d never encountered arrogance before, I just hadn’t expected it now. I gave a slight smile and tossed my gloves into the biohazard bin. My tone was very light. “Oh? And whose authority is that on?” He sneered, as if he had been waiting for that exact question. Right in front of me, he reached out and ripped the schedule off the wall at the nurses’ station. The sound of the paper tearing was unusually loud in the quiet hallway. “The Chief Administrator’s.” After saying that, he tossed the torn schedule aside, a corner of the paper brushing against a nurse’s hand. No one made a sound. I saw a few young doctors lower their heads, pretending to organize charts. The head nurse’s lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing. I nodded. “Understood.” My tone was so calm it surprised even me. Eric was visibly taken aback, clearly not getting the reaction he wanted. He took another step forward and lowered his voice, though still loud enough for those nearby to hear clearly. “Elias Zhang, know your place. You should know perfectly well who runs the surgical department now.” I didn’t answer him. The light for Operating Room 7 was still on. Through the glass window, I could see them finishing up at the instrument table. That surgery was my first since returning to the States. It was also the first time since my fellowship abroad that I was truly standing at the core of this hospital. I walked past him toward the locker room. A scoff came from behind me. “Keep pretending.” In the locker room, I washed my hands for a long time. The sound of the water drowned out the noise outside. The man in the mirror had dark circles under his eyes and a red indentation on his forehead from the surgical mask. Elias Zhang, forty-two, surgeon. I had completed numerous complex transplant surgeries abroad. According to protocol, I was supposed to be a key pillar in the hospital’s next phase of development. And now, I had been publicly suspended by an intern. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw the name: Lauren Chen. She was the Chief Administrator of this hospital, and also my wife. The message was brief. “Don’t cause a scene yet. Let me handle this.” I stared at that line of text for a few seconds before the screen went dark. She hadn’t shown up. No explanation, no denial. That scene in the hallway wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t given the nod. It suddenly became very clear to me: this was no misunderstanding. When I returned to my office, the door was slightly ajar. On the desk, my nameplate had already been removed, leaving only a faint residue of adhesive. Administration moved fast. I stood there for a moment, then began packing my personal belongings into my bag. I moved unhurriedly, even neatly organizing the documents one by one. Someone knocked on the door. It was an older colleague from the surgical department, his voice kept very low. “Elias… why don’t you head home and rest for a few days?” I nodded. “Okay.” He hesitated, wanting to say more, but ultimately just let out a sigh. When I walked out of the administration building, the sky was already dark. I stood on the steps and lit a cigarette for myself. As the smoke rose, I remembered when Mayor Richard Evans came to inspect the hospital three years ago. Mayor Evans was a man of few words. He stood in the hospital room, his gaze direct when he looked at people. At the time, he asked me a question: “If the risks become uncontrollable, will you stop?” I answered: “Yes.” He said: “Good.” Later, the Mayor’s wife, Sarah Evans, was diagnosed as needing an organ transplant. After several rounds of evaluation, it was finally decided that I would be the lead surgeon. It was a surgery with zero margin for error. My phone lit up again. Without hesitation, I opened my contacts and sent a message. It wasn’t long, but every word was clear. “I apologize, but my surgical privileges have been revoked. I’m afraid I won’t be able to perform your wife’s liver transplant.” Sent successfully. The cigarette burned down to the filter, and I stubbed it out in the ashtray. In the distance, the lights in the inpatient building flickered on one by one. Down the hallway, Eric Crawford was standing amidst a group, talking excitedly, looking as if he was already used to being the center of attention. No one noticed me. Right now, everyone thought I was just a suspended doctor. But I knew that some things were just beginning to change. 02 Early the next morning, I arrived at the hospital as usual. When the security scanner at the entrance read my ID badge, the red light flashed once before the turnstile opened. The security guard glanced at me but said nothing, quickly looking away. I entered the inpatient building. The elevator was packed with white coats. Normally, people would nod and greet me, but today, everyone seemed suddenly fascinated by the floor indicator, staring intently at the changing numbers. The elevator reached the sixth floor. The sign for the surgical department was still there, but the air inside was noticeably different. The whiteboard at the nurses’ station had a fresh sheet of paper. The handwriting was neat and clean. Under the “Lead Surgeon” column for several operations, “Elias Zhang” was missing. I put my bag down, pulled out my phone, and opened the hospital’s internal system. A prompt popped up on the login screen: Insufficient Privileges. I tried switching accounts, but it still didn’t work. I clicked on the surgical schedule. The screen looked as if it had been wiped clean. All the surgeries that were originally assigned to me were empty, showing only “Pending Assignment.” I looked up to see the head nurse standing behind the counter, clutching a clipboard, her lips pressed tightly together, turning white. “Who changed the schedule?” I asked. Her voice was very small. “The administration office sent down a notice… they said you are to suspend all surgery-related duties and wait for further arrangements from the board.” “Where is the notice?” The head nurse hesitated for a moment, then opened a drawer and handed me a stamped document. The bold title read: Decision Regarding the Suspension of Surgical Privileges and Clinical Duties for Dr. Elias Zhang. It was issued by the administrative office, and the signature block bore Lauren Chen’s name. I placed the paper back on the counter without furrowing my brow. A young nurse nearby whispered, “Dr. Zhang…” She had just opened her mouth when someone coughed lightly behind her. She immediately swallowed her words and lowered her head to continue organizing medication orders, though her fingers were trembling noticeably. The light cough came from Eric Crawford. He walked down from the end of the hallway, not hurrying, as if he were on patrol, accompanied by two interns. “Morning, Dr. Zhang.” He smiled politely, but his eyes looked as if he were taking roll. “Can’t log into the system, right? That’s normal. The Chief Administrator had someone handle it last night.” I looked at him. “Are you in charge of the surgical schedule now?” “Assisting temporarily.” Eric enunciated the word “temporarily” very clearly. “The Chief Administrator asked me to keep an eye on things, to prevent anyone from messing around. Don’t blame me; rules are rules.” The area around the nurses’ station grew even quieter. I didn’t bother arguing with him and turned toward the department head’s office. The door was unlocked. I pushed the door open to find two people sitting inside: the Deputy Director of Administration and a coordinator from Medical Affairs. There were folders laid out on the desk, as if they were waiting for me. The Deputy Director spoke first, his tone bureaucratic. “Dr. Zhang, we are just executing the board’s decision. We need you to hand over your operating room access card, your anesthesia consultation sign-off privileges, and your emergency green-channel authorization.” “Even the emergency green channel?” I asked. The coordinator chimed in quickly to explain, “It’s not stopping emergency care, it’s just that you can no longer be the final signatory. The board has arranged a replacement.” “Who is the replacement?” The Deputy Director shot a glance at the coordinator and didn’t answer directly. He just pushed a sign-off sheet across the desk. “Please sign this.” I didn’t pick up a pen. The Deputy Director’s smile stiffened slightly. “Dr. Zhang, please don’t make this difficult for us.” I flipped to the last page of the sign-off sheet and saw a name written under the “Replacement” column: Eric Crawford. I looked up. “An intern as the final signatory?” The coordinator’s face changed, and he quickly explained, “It’s not the final signature, he’s just assisting… the actual sign-off is still done by the Chief Administrator.” I closed the form. “I won’t sign this kind of document.” The Deputy Director’s voice grew colder. “Dr. Zhang, you are currently suspended from clinical duties. According to regulations, you must cooperate with the handover. If you refuse, we will have to report this through the proper channels.” “Then report it.” I stood up. “Tell the Chief Administrator to tell me herself.” I walked out of the office and bumped into an old classmate from anesthesiology in the hallway. When he saw me, he clearly hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but was afraid of being overheard. “Elias…” he lowered his voice. “Don’t fight this head-on. The winds are changing in the hospital.” I nodded. “I know.” He sighed and hurried away. I went back to the locker room to change. Just as I hung up my white coat, my phone rang. Caller ID: Lauren Chen. I answered. She skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point: “Why are you making a scene at the administration office? They are just doing their jobs.” “I was clarifying the name on the sign-off sheet,” I said. She paused for two seconds, her tone adopting that familiar “rational” edge. “Don’t get hung up on these details. The hospital needs order right now. You just got back, you haven’t adapted to many of the procedures yet. Taking a step back for a while is a good thing for you.” “Suspending surgical privileges is ‘taking a step back’?” “Elias, don’t put it so harshly.” Her voice grew tighter. “You’re too emotional right now. If you keep going into the OR, there will be problems.” I gave her no room to maneuver. “Last night’s surgery was a success. If you want to talk about risks, let the data speak for itself.” Silence on the other end. Then, she opted for a more direct approach: “I won’t beat around the bush with you. The hospital needs to move forward, and we need people who listen. You are too domineering, and it makes many people uncomfortable.” “Who are these ‘many people’?” “Don’t push me.” Lauren’s tone was clearly annoyed. “You’ve been abroad too long, you don’t understand the rules here. The surgical department isn’t your one-man show.” I heard footsteps and a knock on a door on her end, as if she were in a meeting. She lowered her voice, sounding like a warning: “Don’t go looking for Mayor Evans again, and don’t use the Mayor’s wife as leverage. That is a patient, not your bargaining chip.” I didn’t argue, nor did I explain. She took my silence as a concession, and her tone softened slightly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Go home and rest for a few days, don’t hang around the hospital. Once this blows over, I’ll make arrangements for you.” “Arrangements for what?” I asked. “You can do research, mentor the younger staff, write proposals,” she said breezily. “You don’t necessarily have to always be on the front lines dealing with high-pressure clinical work.” I hung up the phone. The only sound in the locker room was the exhaust fan, monotonously annoying. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the surgical area. Just as I reached the elevator bank, Eric Crawford appeared again. He seemed to be deliberately guarding the main thoroughfare. Seeing me, his eyes flashed before he smiled even more warmly. “Dr. Zhang, the Chief Administrator talked to you, right? Head home and rest. The hospital has a lot of inspections coming up; don’t make trouble for yourself.” “Inspections?” I stopped. Eric feigned casualness. “People from the city are coming to review procedures. I hear they’re looking into OR management. Someone like you, just back from abroad, shouldn’t get mixed up in this. Don’t worry, I’ll help the Chief Administrator keep an eye on the surgical department.” He emphasized the words “help the Chief Administrator” very loudly, seemingly to make sure the passing nurses heard him. The elevator doors opened. I didn’t get in, turning instead toward the other side of the inpatient building. Over there was the ward consultation room. I originally had post-op follow-ups with two transplant patients today, and I needed to see them. Just as I pushed the door open, the attending physician inside immediately stood up. He moved so fast that his chair legs scraped harshly against the floor. “Dr. Zhang… this consultation has been changed,” he said. “Changed to when?” “Medical Affairs sent a notice… another team is taking over.” He avoided my eyes. “Don’t show your face for now. The patients’ families are very emotional. If they make a scene, it’ll be hard to clean up.” “Who is taking over?” He paused for a moment before saying, “Eric Crawford is following along… it’s an arrangement from the Chief Administrator.” I stared at him. He couldn’t hold my gaze and added in a low voice, “There’s nothing I can do. The paperwork has already been issued.” I didn’t ask anything else and turned to leave. At the end of the hallway, a patient’s family was waiting. When they saw me, their eyes visibly lit up. “Dr. Zhang, how is the patient from last night’s surgery doing?” someone asked urgently. “We heard you were back and wanted you to look at my dad’s report.” I stopped, keeping my tone as steady as possible. “You can give me the report, I’ll look at it. But the hospital is reorganizing all your surgical arrangements now. Medical Affairs will inform you of the specifics.” The family member was stunned. “You’re not doing it anymore? Weren’t you always in charge?” I didn’t give any emotional response, just said: “The hospital has made a decision.” The moment those words left my mouth, I could feel the surrounding stares become denser. A few nurses standing nearby seemed to suddenly find their trays very heavy. I flipped through two pages of the report, marked two key indicators, and handed it back. “Control it with this regimen for a week, then recheck.” The family thanked me profusely, but they still weren’t satisfied. “Dr. Zhang, we only trust you.” I didn’t acknowledge the comment, just nodded and walked away. I didn’t need anyone to cry foul for me. Every step I took here was being watched. When I reached the lobby on the first floor, I saw a new notice posted on the bulletin board. “During the special rectification period for the standardization of surgical operating rooms, the allocation of operating rooms, authorization sign-offs, and personnel deployment will be centrally managed by the Administrative Office.” The notice was stamped at the bottom. A few people nearby were whispering, but they immediately scattered when they saw me approach. I stood in front of the notice board for a while before turning and heading toward the parking lot. Just as I started the car, my phone vibrated again. It wasn’t Lauren, nor was it anyone from the hospital. It was a reply from the Mayor’s Office. Just two words. “Please wait.” 03 I didn’t go back to the hospital. By the time I pulled up to the gate of our community, it was completely dark. The guard at the booth saw me and raised the barrier as usual, without a second glance. The lights were on at home. I went in and changed my shoes. The living room was very quiet; the TV was off. Two plates of food that had already gone cold sat on the dining table. Lauren was sitting on the sofa, holding a tablet, seemingly reading over some materials. Hearing the noise, she looked up at me, her tone flat. “You’re back?” I placed my keys in the tray on the entryway table and didn’t reply, walking to the dining table to pour a glass of water. “You don’t need to go back to the hospital anymore,” she said, closing the tablet and standing up. “I’ve already made it clear to administration. I told them to stop bothering you.” “Made what clear?” I asked. “That your emotional state isn’t suitable right now, and you need to take a break,” she said, walking over and picking up the cold dishes to carry into the kitchen. “You acting like this will only make things more rigid.” I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she dumped the food into the trash. “The sign-off sheet for Eric Crawford—did you authorize that?” Her hands paused, but she didn’t turn around immediately. “He’s just acting as a proxy,” she said. “The final process still comes to me.” “He’s an intern,” I stated. “So what?” She turned around, her tone growing impatient. “Stop constantly using status as an excuse. Young people need to be trained; someone always has to take over eventually. Is there any point in you fixating on one name right now?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “That transplant surgery was my patient.” “I know,” she frowned. “But the hospital doesn’t revolve solely around you. How long have you even been back in the country? Can you keep up with the changes in the surgical department over these past few years?” “You think I can’t keep up?” She didn’t answer directly, just sighed. “Elias, you’re too stubborn. The way they do things abroad doesn’t apply everywhere.” I gave a small smile. “So which way applies here? Putting an intern on the front lines?” Her face finally darkened. “Do you have to talk like this?” She tied a knot in the trash bag. “You just can’t accept change right now. Do you think you’re still the only option, like back then?” I stopped smiling. “You already have your answer,” I said. She stared at me, as if weighing the gravity of my words. The living room fell silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator compressor. After a few seconds, her tone softened slightly. “I won’t deny it. What I have to consider right now is the entire hospital. The Chief Administrator position cannot be empty, and someone in the surgical department must be able to hold the fort. It’s unrealistic for you to come back and expect to pull everything back to the way it was.” “So you chose him,” I said. She didn’t deny it. “Eric is at least obedient, and he’s willing to work,” she said. “He knows which side to stand on.” That sentence landed more clearly than any accusation. I nodded. “Understood.” She seemed surprised that I agreed so quickly and was taken aback for a moment. “What do you understand?” “What you want isn’t a successful surgery,” I said. “It’s for the positions to align with your ideas.” Her brow twitched, and she lowered her voice. “Don’t make it sound so ugly.” “Then make it clear.” I looked her straight in the eye. “If someone else had been suspended today, would you have been so decisive?” She avoided my gaze and went to pour some water. “You’re too sensitive,” she said. “Between husband and wife, we shouldn’t always assume we’re on opposing sides.” “But you’ve already taken a side.” The water glass clicked lightly as she set it on the counter. She looked up at me, her eyes showing clear impatience for the first time. “Elias, this attitude of yours right now isn’t doing anyone any good.” “I’m not sure if it does you any good,” I said. “But for me, no, it doesn’t.” She was silent for a moment before her tone became more direct: “You have zero authority and zero say right now. Continuing to make a fuss will only make this harder to clean up.” “So this is a warning?” “This is a fact.” I didn’t continue the conversation, turning instead toward the study. The door to the study was ajar, and it looked exactly as I had left it. A few medical journals were piled on the desk, and the suitcase I had brought back, still not fully unpacked, sat in the corner. I pulled the suitcase out and started throwing clothes in. She followed me in and stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?” “Moving out for a while,” I said. “Is that necessary?” Her voice rose slightly. “Your home is right here.” “Here, what I say doesn’t count.” I zipped up the suitcase. “A change of scenery will be quieter.” She stared at me, as if looking at a stranger who had suddenly appeared. “Are you trying to go against me now?” she asked. “No.” I stood the suitcase up. “I just don’t want to be a part of your decisions anymore.” She let out a cold laugh. “You think taking a step back will completely wash your hands of this?” “At least I won’t be used as an excuse anymore,” I said. Her expression turned entirely cold. “Elias Zhang, don’t forget, you have absolutely nothing right now.” I paused what I was doing and looked at her. “I have my expertise,” I said. It was as if that sentence struck a nerve, and her tone became suddenly sharp. “Expertise? Who only looks at that nowadays? You are too naive.” I didn’t argue. Some things only need to be said once. I pushed the suitcase to the door and grabbed a stack of files from the study to put in my bag. They were case analyses I had compiled over the past few years, which I had intended to use gradually after returning. She stood in the middle of the living room, watching me, as if waiting for me to say something. I changed my shoes and picked up my jacket. “You’ll regret this,” she suddenly said. I stopped for a moment, not looking back. “You always think you’re in control of everything,” I said. “But you even switch the order of patients.” As the door closed, her voice was sealed inside. 04 I checked into a hotel outside. The room wasn’t large, but it was quiet. After unpacking my luggage, I opened my laptop and reviewed several transplant cases I had handled over the past few years. The data was sound; the protocols were sound. The problem wasn’t the surgery. The next morning, I received a call from an unfamiliar number. The caller identified himself as a staff member from the Mayor’s Office. His tone was restrained as he asked a single question: “Dr. Zhang, is it a convenient time to talk?” I said yes. He didn’t elaborate, only confirming one thing: “You were responsible for the preoperative evaluation of the Mayor’s wife, correct?” “Yes, I was.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “Alright, we will contact you again if we need your cooperation moving forward.” The call ended. I didn’t return to the hospital, and no one reached out to me. In the afternoon, I went to an imaging center I often worked with and requested a follow-up report from another facility. It was the scan Sarah Evans had just done two days ago. The indicators weren’t good. Her liver function was fluctuating significantly, with some values already approaching the warning line. According to the original plan, if the transplant wasn’t expedited, subsequent management would become much more reactive. I placed the report back in the folder without making any extra moves. With a patient of this caliber, any delay would leave a trail. On the third day, there started to be movement at the hospital. First, my old classmate from anesthesiology sent a brief message: “You’ve been replaced on that surgery.” I replied with “I know.” Not long after, another message: “The replacement is Eric Crawford. The Chief Administrator personally selected him.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds before placing my phone face down on the table. I knew Eric’s resume. His fundamentals were decent, but he had never actually been the lead surgeon on a transplant of this magnitude. At best, he had stood as a second assistant, passing instruments and keeping time. Pushing him to the forefront wasn’t bold; it was reckless. That evening, I received a third call. This time it was the Deputy Director of Administration. “Dr. Zhang, just giving you a heads-up,” he said vaguely. “The city might inquire about the arrangements for that surgery. If anyone asks you, just tell them the truth.” “Who is inquiring?” “The Mayor,” he lowered his voice. “Richard Evans.” He hung up quickly, as if afraid of being overheard. The next morning, the hospital held an emergency coordination meeting. I wasn’t there, but word of what happened inside quickly spread. Sarah Evans’ latest test results were delivered to the conference table. Medical Affairs, Surgery, and Anesthesiology were all present. The originally finalized surgical plan was brought back out, and the comparative data was laid out page by page. Someone suggested changing the lead surgeon. The reasoning was very official: young, driven, able to handle pressure. Eric Crawford volunteered. “I can do it,” he said crisply. “I’ve been involved in the entire prep process and am very familiar with the patient’s condition.” No one objected on the spot. But no one nodded either. Mid-meeting, a secretary entered and whispered something in Lauren’s ear. Her expression shifted slightly before she regained her composure. The meeting continued. Not long after, Richard Evans himself arrived. No pleasantries, no excess emotion. After taking a seat, his first question wasn’t about the surgical plan, but directed at the head of Medical Affairs. “Who was the originally designated lead surgeon?” There was a brief moment of silence in the conference room. The head of Medical Affairs stood up. “The original plan was Dr. Elias Zhang.” “Then why the change now?” This time, no one answered immediately. Lauren spoke up, her tone composed: “Dr. Zhang’s current condition makes him unsuitable to continue taking on high-intensity surgeries. The hospital made the adjustment based on risk considerations.” Mayor Evans nodded and asked another question: “Who conducted the evaluation?” “A comprehensive hospital evaluation.” “Where is the evaluation report?” The air in the room noticeably tightened. Administration handed over a document. It wasn’t thick, consisting mostly of procedural explanations. Evans flipped through two pages without commenting. He turned to Eric: “Are you the new candidate?” Eric stood ramrod straight. “Yes. I will give it my all.” “How many surgeries of this type have you led?” “Completed as lead surgeon… none yet.” “How many have you participated in?” “Seven.” Evans closed the file. “Seven participations, and you’re taking on the ultimate responsibility?” His tone wasn’t heavy, but it was clear enough for everyone to hear. “Who made the final call?” Lauren answered, “I did.” Evans looked at her and didn’t pursue the question further. He shifted gears: “Have you all seen Sarah Evans’ test results?” “We have.” “With such massive fluctuations in her indicators, why are you still adjusting personnel?” This time, no one rushed to answer. The only sound in the room was the rustling of paper. Evans pushed the report back to the center of the table. “I don’t interfere with your hospital’s personnel arrangements. But when it comes to patients, there’s no room for trial and error.” He stood up after saying that. “Compile the approval process for this surgery from inception to now, the records of personnel changes, and the risk assessments, and submit them to the Mayor’s Office.” “By today.” With that, he left the conference room. The sound of the door closing wasn’t loud, but it left everyone unsettled. After that day, the hospital’s rhythm changed completely. The operating rooms were subjected to repeated inspections, protocols checked item by item. Approvals that usually went through quickly were paused. Eric’s name was brought into discussions for the first time, rather than being treated as a foregone conclusion. I was notified that evening. Someone from the Mayor’s Office contacted me, asking me to prepare a written statement concerning only one thing. “Why your surgical privileges were revoked.” I agreed. After hanging up, I sat for a while. Things were starting to head in a different direction, but it was far from a conclusion. Some people had already sensed the changing winds, but no one dared to make the first move. Early the next morning, I sent the compiled materials over. When the “sent successfully” notification popped up, dawn had just broken outside the window. A new problem was already on the table.

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1 We were in the middle of dinner when Mark suddenly set down his fork. He looked at me and asked, “Who is Walter Briggs?” My chopsticks froze in mid-air. My heart skipped a beat. Walter Briggs. It was a fake name, something Cecilia and I had invented one drunken night. We made a pact: if one of us ever got into trouble and couldn’t be reached, “Walter Briggs” would be the code. Besides me and her, no one else knew that name. And Cecilia… had been missing for a month. She said she was going on a trip to Thailand. And she never came back. I looked at Mark’s casual, untroubled face, and my heart sank. How could he possibly know that name? The name Walter Briggs was born the year Cecilia and I graduated from college. We’d finished a whole bottle of red wine and were lying on the rooftop, staring at the full moon. Cecilia had her arm slung around my neck, her words slurring. “Sophie, we need a code.” “A code for what?” “You know… if one of us ever gets into trouble, disappears, and the other one hears the name, they’ll know something is wrong.” I laughed, calling her dramatic. But we spent the next hour brainstorming until we landed on Walter Briggs. It sounded so old-fashioned and clunky that it couldn’t possibly be a real person’s name. Only two people in the world knew what those words meant. Me. And Cecilia. And Cecilia had been gone for thirty-one days. She said she was spending a few days in Chiang Mai, Thailand. She’d even video-called me from the airport, panning her phone across the duty-free shop. “Sophie! See anything you want? My treat!” That was the last time I saw her face. After that, my texts went unanswered. My calls wouldn’t go through. Her last social media post was a photo from a night market in Chiang Mai. I called the police. Her family called the police. The authorities in Thailand were investigating. But there was no trace of her. No body, no witness, nothing. It was as if Cecilia had simply vanished from the face of the earth. And now, my husband, Mark—a man who, in theory, had no connection to Cecilia, a man who never even liked her posts—had just casually uttered that name over dinner. “What’s wrong?” Mark asked, noticing my stunned silence. He smiled. “You look… strange.” “No, it’s nothing.” I lowered my head and put a bite of food in my mouth. It was tasteless. “I’ve just never heard that name before. Where did you hear it?” “Oh, a friend mentioned it,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Just curious.” He changed the subject, starting to talk about his day at work. I couldn’t hear a single word. My mind was stuck on one thought. How did he know that name? How? After dinner, Mark went to take a shower. I sat on the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. I glanced at the closed door, then stood and walked to his phone, which he’d left on the dining table. I knew the password. Our wedding anniversary. My fingers trembled as I unlocked it. I scrolled through his messages, his call logs, his notes. Nothing. It was too clean. Suspiciously clean. No one’s phone is that pristine. Next, I went for his laptop. It was in the study, and I knew that password too. He’d never tried to hide it from me. I checked his browser history, his files, his downloads, one by one. Then I opened the cached records of a booking app. And my hand froze. A month ago, Mark had told me he was going to Shanghai for a three-day business trip. I’d even helped him pack his suitcase. But the booking records told a different story. He hadn’t bought a ticket to Shanghai. He’d bought a ticket to Chiang Mai, Thailand. His departure date was one day before Cecilia’s. His return date was two days after she disappeared. The water in the bathroom shut off. I quickly closed the laptop, walked back to the living room, and sat on the sofa, pretending to scroll through videos on my phone. Mark came out, toweling his hair. He glanced at me. “Still up?” “Yeah, just for a bit longer,” I said with a smile. He went into the bedroom and turned off the light. I stared at the dark doorway, my fingers digging into the arm of the sofa. Mark. What did you do in Thailand? 2 The next morning, I told Mark that an urgent project had come up at work and I needed to go out of town for a few days. He was tying his tie, his back to me. “Where to?” “San Francisco.” “When will you be back?” “Not sure. Maybe three or four days.” He turned and gave me a smile. “Be safe.” I smiled back. I took a flight that afternoon. Not to San Francisco. To Chiang Mai, Thailand. I landed at four in the afternoon, local time. A wall of hot, humid air hit me as I stepped out of the airport, and for a moment, I felt a dizzying sense of disorientation. This was the city where Cecilia had taken her last photo. The night market, the lights, the crowds. She had been standing in front of a mango sticky rice stall, grinning like a little kid. I didn’t have time for grief. I went straight to the hotel where she had stayed. I knew the name; she’d sent me a screenshot of her booking at a place called the Lotus Courtyard, a boutique hotel near the old city. At the front desk, I showed the receptionist a photo of Cecilia. “Did you see this girl? She stayed here about a month ago.” The receptionist glanced at the photo and shook her head. “Her name is Cecilia Chen. She’s Chinese-American,” I added. The woman typed something into her computer, then nodded. “Yes, we have a record of her. She stayed for three nights. She never checked out or extended her stay. Her luggage is still in our storage room.” My heart seized. Her luggage is still here. But she was gone. I steadied myself and asked the question I dreaded most. “A month ago, was there a man from the U.S. staying here as well?” I handed her a photo of Mark. She looked at it, then checked the computer again. Her expression grew hesitant. “Yes. He stayed for five nights.” Five nights. Longer than Cecilia’s three. “Which room was he in?” “Room 312.” “And Cecilia?” “315.” The same floor. Two doors down. I stood at the front desk, a roaring in my ears. The first thought was the obvious one: they were having an affair. Cecilia and Mark, in adjacent rooms in Thailand. But another voice in my head immediately shut that down. Impossible. Cecilia hated Mark. It wasn’t a polite, behind-the-back dislike. It was a direct, in-your-face animosity. Whenever I brought Mark to a party, Cecilia would ignore him. One night, after a few drinks, she’d pointed at him and said, “Sophie has great taste in everything, except men.” Mark’s face had turned green. They hadn’t made eye contact since. How could two people like that be having a secret affair in Thailand? Then why was he staying next door to her? What was he doing? I took a deep breath. “I need to see the security footage from that week.” The receptionist looked uncomfortable. “I… I’ll have to ask my manager.” “Please do.” “And we might need the police to authorize it.” “My best friend is missing,” I cut her off, my voice calm but my hands shaking. “It’s been a month. No one has seen or heard from her. Your hotel may be one of the last places she was seen alive. Do you really think your manager won’t cooperate?” She stared at me, then picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later, the hotel’s head of security led me to a small surveillance room. Three walls were covered in monitors. He pulled up the recordings from a month ago, starting from the day Cecilia checked in. I sat down, my palms cold with sweat. Day one. Cecilia dragged her suitcase into the lobby and checked in at the front desk. She was wearing a white sundress, her hair in a ponytail, chatting happily with the receptionist. My eyes instantly burned with tears. Then, in the bottom right corner of the screen, a man walked in through the main entrance. A dark blue t-shirt, a baseball cap, a face mask. The way he walked, his posture… it was Mark. He didn’t go to the front desk. He sat down in the lobby’s lounge area, picking up a magazine and holding it in front of his face. But his eyes followed Cecilia. From the moment she checked in, to the moment she took her key card and stepped into the elevator. He watched her the entire time. A chill ran down my spine. “Fast-forward,” I said. The security chief sped up the playback. That afternoon, Cecilia left the hotel to go sightseeing. The camera angle switched to the entrance. Two minutes after she walked out, Mark followed. Same cap, same mask. He stayed about twenty yards behind her. That evening, Cecilia ate dinner at the hotel restaurant on the ground floor. Mark sat in a corner, nursing a cup of coffee. His seat gave him a perfect view of her table. Cecilia never noticed him. Day two. Cecilia visited a temple. Mark followed. Cecilia went to a night market. Mark followed. Cecilia bought a coconut from a street vendor and crouched down to pet a stray cat. Mark stood across the street, in front of a convenience store, pretending to look at his phone. Every frame, every shot. He was there. My hands started to tremble. This wasn’t an affair. People having an affair don’t act like this. They don’t wear masks and keep their distance. They walk side-by-side, they eat together, they touch. He never spoke a word to her. From start to finish, Cecilia had no idea he was there. This wasn’t a tryst. This was stalking. “What about the third day?” I asked, my voice hoarse. The security chief pulled up the footage. On the morning of the third day, Cecilia left the hotel. She had a backpack on and was holding a map, looking cheerful. The camera showed her walking out the front door and heading east down the street. Two minutes later, Mark emerged from a side exit and headed in the same direction. And then, the footage ended. The hotel’s cameras only covered a fifty-yard radius. I couldn’t see what happened beyond that. “Are there any other cameras?” I asked. The security chief shook his head. “That’s all we have. For the street cameras, you’d have to contact the local police.” I sat in silence for a long time. Then I stood up, thanked him, and walked out of the room. Standing in front of the hotel, I opened the map on my phone. Cecilia had been heading east. That road passed a few streets, a market, a gas station. And it ended at the coast. At a cliff. I stared at the pin on the map, my fingers numb. She went there. He followed her. And then she disappeared.

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The night before my wedding, my fiancé’s female bestie posted online, looking for a sugar daddy. “Not into dating, definitely not into marriage,” she wrote. “That piece of paper is just a cage. It turns you into a man’s property—laundry, cooking, popping out kids, and breastfeeding for the rest of your life! But being the other woman? Totally different. You don’t even have to shower first.” The comments section exploded with people calling her shameless. My fiancé, Alex, just printed out a sponsorship agreement and dropped it on the table. “Cara,” he announced, “Jenna’s parents are driving her crazy about getting married. They’re pushing her to the breaking point. I have to help her.” “Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “it’s just an act to get her parents off her back. It won’t affect our wedding.” I glanced at the agreement—five thousand dollars a month—and asked him if he was actually going to pay her. He stared at me like I was an idiot. “Of course, it’s real. It’s for her reputational damages.” A slow, knowing smile spread across my face. I picked up my wedding dress from its hanger and shoved it into his arms. “In that case, why don’t you be a real hero and just marry her instead?” 1 Alex clutched the gown, a confused frown creasing his forehead. “Cara, what are you talking about?” “I’m just doing a friend a favor. Why are you getting so upset?” A favor? We had been together for five years. Five years leading to this moment, and on the night before our wedding, he was brazenly telling me he was going to become his best friend’s sugar daddy. He knew better than anyone that this was no act. We’d met each other’s parents a year into our relationship and had been planning our wedding ever since. But every time we set a date, Jenna would find a way to sabotage it. A sudden car accident. A drunken night out that required Alex to rescue her. Each time, she’d guilt him into postponing, claiming that if he got married, her parents would ramp up the pressure on her. If we had a child, she’d wail, they’d probably marry her off to the first old man they could find. And Alex, her loyal shield against parental pressure, had made me compromise, again and again. If I hadn’t finally given him an ultimatum—get married this year or we’re through—he would have kept dragging his feet. I thought this time, finally, our wedding would actually happen. I never expected Jenna to pull a stunt like this. My silence must have made Alex realize this wasn’t just a passing mood. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice uncertain. “If I do this for Jenna, you’re really not going to marry me?” “Nothing is going to happen between us! We’ll just take a few pictures to fool her parents, that’s it. I swear I’ll be completely faithful to you.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you even listening to yourself?” “I’m not even your wife yet, and you’ve already lined up your mistress. What kind of pathetic doormat do you think I am?” Alex rubbed his temples and gestured toward the house next door, where a shouting match was in full swing. “Cara, just listen to them. Her parents yell at her like that every single day because she’s single. Don’t you feel bad for her?” “No, I don’t.” A flicker of relief crossed his face, thinking he’d won me over. He moved to pull me into a hug, but I sidestepped him. “That’s why I’m letting you go,” I said, my voice cold. “From now on, you can be her husband. Then maybe her parents will finally leave her alone.” The smile vanished from Alex’s face, replaced by a dark glower. “Cara! You’re a woman! Your parents have been pushing you to get married for years. You of all people should understand what she’s going through! Why can’t you just help her out?” I stared at the man I had loved for five years and suddenly had nothing left to say. So, he knew. He knew how much pressure my parents were putting on me. And he had still made me wait, time and time again, all for Jenna. He was so focused on being her hero that he never once considered my own struggle. He had no idea that his constant delays had made my parents despise him. I had fought tooth and nail for him, defending his character every time they urged me to leave him, assuring them—and myself—that he loved me. I convinced myself that a man so loyal to his friend would surely be a devoted husband. But the sponsorship agreement on the table was a slap in the face. “Alex, let me ask you this. As long as Jenna is single, you’re just going to keep running to her rescue?” “Of course! She’s my best friend. When your friend is in trouble, you drop everything to help.” That was all I needed to hear. I turned and started packing my suitcase. Alex, convinced I was just throwing a tantrum, grabbed the agreement and headed next door. “Cara, the invitations are out,” he called over his shoulder. “Tomorrow is the wedding you’ve always dreamed of. Don’t you dare ruin it.” 2 I didn’t stop packing. Since I was giving my wedding to Jenna, I figured I should clean up. I took down all of our engagement photos and dumped them in the trash. As I was leaving with my suitcase, the fight next door had reached a fever pitch. Jenna’s father was screaming. “Sponsorship? Alex, you bastard, who do you think you are, offering to be my daughter’s sugar daddy?” “You either marry her, or you get the hell out of my house! Stop making things worse!” Jenna’s mother spotted me and rushed over, forcing a smile. “Cara, you’re just in time! Come help us talk some sense into Alex! He’s supposed to be marrying you tomorrow, and now he’s talking about sponsoring Jenna. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She had to know her daughter was in love with Alex. I was done playing her game. “He’s going to marry her tomorrow,” I said flatly. “I wish them a long and happy life together.” My directness caught her off guard. The smile had already faltered when she saw my suitcase, and now it collapsed into a mask of contrived sadness. “Cara, what are you talking about? Isn’t Alex marrying you?” she stammered. “I mean, yes, Jenna has followed him around since they were kids, and they always played house together. We all thought they’d end up married, but… well, now Alex is getting married and Jenna’s still single. Her father and I are just worried sick…” It was always the same routine. Every time my parents came over to discuss wedding details, Jenna’s parents would start a loud, dramatic fight. Jenna would then run off, orchestrating some new crisis. And her mother would show up at our door, begging for Alex’s help, effectively derailing our plans. Once or twice might have been a coincidence. But every single time? I wasn’t an idiot. I was tired of my parents being disrespected. I had decided to break up with him before, but Alex had shown up at my parents’ house with extravagant gifts, literally kneeling and begging for my hand in marriage. He had sworn he would never let me down again. That was less than two months ago. I stared at Jenna’s mother, my voice sharp. “Aren’t you all tired of this act? Your daughter is getting married tomorrow. You should go home and decorate.” Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, she was speechless. But as I turned to leave, she suddenly collapsed onto the ground, crying out in pain. “Oh, my back! It hurts so much!” The shouting next door stopped instantly, as if on cue. The three of them rushed out and surrounded her. Alex’s face was a mask of panic, and I remembered how calm he had been when my own mother was in the hospital after a real car accident. He loved them like his own. He clearly cared more about Jenna’s mother than mine. I had no interest in their soap opera. I kept walking. But then, Jenna’s mother pointed a trembling finger at me. “Alex, go get your fiancée! I was just wishing her well, and I don’t know what I said, but she got so angry she pushed me over… Oh, I think my back is broken!” A family of world-class manipulators. Every last one of them. And Alex fell for it every time. He lunged at me, his fingers digging into my arm. “Cara, have you not caused enough trouble?” 3 The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. I wrenched my arm free and slapped him, hard. “Who’s the one causing trouble?” I seethed. “Are you blind? Can’t you see this is all a performance to force you to marry her?” “I’ve already given you what you want. Why won’t you just leave me alone?” The three of them exchanged a look, then put on their masks of innocence. “Cara, you must have misunderstood,” Jenna’s mother said, her voice trembling. “We were just worried about Jenna. We’re so happy for you and Alex!” Jenna’s father adopted a stern tone. “You owe us an apology for these wild accusations.” Jenna just stood there, biting her lip, silent tears streaming down her face. Alex touched his reddening cheek, his eyes blazing with anger. “Look what you’ve done, Cara.” “I told you I was still going to marry you! The agreement was just to calm her parents down. Why do you have to turn everything into some twisted conspiracy?” “Take your anger out on me, not her mother!” “If you want our wedding to happen tomorrow, you will apologize to her mother. And then you will apologize to Jenna and her whole family.” The rage I had been suppressing erupted. Jenna’s father, seeing my fury, stepped in. “That’s right! You will apologize. And if you don’t, I will have no problem letting Alex sponsor my daughter!” “And that five thousand a month? You can pay it. As a token of your sincerity.” I was stunned. Then, I burst out laughing. In that moment, I had never been more grateful that I hadn’t legally married Alex yet. My parents had insisted we wait until after the ceremony, convinced Jenna’s family would pull something. They were right. If we had signed the papers, I’d be stuck, forced to go through a divorce to escape this nightmare. I pointed to the security camera on the corner of the street. “First of all,” I said to Alex, “I’m not apologizing for something I didn’t do.” “Second, you and I are over. You can marry whoever you want tomorrow.” My ride arrived just then. I got in without a second glance. In the rearview mirror, I saw Alex run after the car for a short distance. The driver kindly rolled down my window. “Should I stop, miss?” I shook my head. I could just make out Alex’s furious shouts. “Cara, come back here! Her mother is an old woman! Why would she lie about a little girl like you?” “Come back and apologize, and we can still have our wedding tomorrow!” “Speed up,” I told the driver. Alex’s voice rose to a desperate roar. “Cara! Fine! You want to be stubborn? I’ll marry Jenna tomorrow, just like you wanted! And you’ll be sorry!” Sorry? The only thing I was sorry about was not listening to my parents and breaking up with him sooner. When my parents saw me walk in with my suitcase, they didn’t ask any questions. They just wrapped me in a hug. Then they started calling our relatives, one by one, to tell them the wedding was off. They handled every awkward question with grace, simply saying we weren’t a good match, never once attacking Alex’s character. I hid in my room, curled up in a ball, and let the tears come. Tears for loving the wrong person. Tears for the shame I’d brought on my family. Tears for five wasted years. Before I could even process my grief, my phone started buzzing relentlessly. It was a flood of notifications, all of them filled with vile, hateful messages. So that’s why she posted about being a sugar baby! She was calling YOU out as the real homewrecker! You bitch, give him back to her! Crawl back into your hole and never come out! How dare you drive a good woman to beg for a sugar daddy online? Why don’t you just die? It clicked. The messages were connected to Jenna’s post. I ignored them and went back to her social media page. Her “sugar baby” post now had over a million likes. The initial negative comments were gone. Pinned at the very top was a new comment. From Alex. 4 “I’m so sorry. I was fooled by that woman. I’m going to marry you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” It was obvious who “that woman” was. To make matters worse, Jenna had tagged me in her reply to him. @Cara, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Please stop clinging to my fiancé. But if you truly love him so much you can’t live without him, I’m willing to step aside. My DMs were exploding. Just then, a text from Alex came through. Cara, don’t pay any attention to that comment. The internet is just toxic. They were about to dox Jenna and ruin her life. If she gets labeled a homewrecker, she’s finished. Once things calm down, she’ll delete the post. No one will ever know it was about you. By the way, I bought a gift. Come over tonight and we’ll go apologize to her mom together. Then this will all be over, and our wedding will be back on for tomorrow. His tone was so condescending, so certain that I would crawl back to him, just like I always had. It never even occurred to him that if the internet could find Jenna’s personal information, they could just as easily find mine. Did he think they hated only his mistress? In that moment, the difference between love and not-love was starkly clear. He probably didn’t even realize that his concern for Jenna had long since crossed the line from friendship into something else. I didn’t reply. Instead, I contacted the hotel manager and the wedding planner. I got copies of all the photos of the venue, the script for the ceremony, and then I posted everything online. The wedding invitation. The sponsorship agreement. And five years of our private relationship history, which I had always kept locked. I also included screenshots of the hate mail I was receiving, along with Alex’s arrogant text message. Let the internet decide who the real homewrecker was. I didn’t care what happened next. But I would not let them turn a mob of strangers against me and my family.

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1 For five years, Gideon Blackwood had never once truly looked at me. His heart belonged to a ghost. His lost love, Seraphina Monroe. It wasn’t until today, when I snatched the documents he’d been hiding, that the full truth crashed down on me. It was a Deed of Gift. Three properties in his name, along with forty percent of his shares in Blackwood Enterprises, were all being gifted, free and clear, to Felicity Monroe. Felicity. The younger sister of his dead first love. Tucked into the last page was another form. A bone marrow donation consent form. The recipient: Felicity Monroe. All it needed was my signature. I slapped the papers down in front of him. “What the hell is this, Gideon?” He didn’t even look up, just reached out and smoothly pulled the documents from under my hand. “Aurora, this is what we owe Seraphina. If you hadn’t insisted on marrying me back then, she would never have died.” “Now Felicity has leukemia,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion. “We have to save her.” Five years. For five long years, I’d been his personal ATM, all to soothe his guilt over a dead woman. And now? Now he wanted to force me to donate my bone marrow. If Gideon Blackwood had no room in his heart for me or our daughter, then he could play the tragic, romantic hero all by himself. … When I pushed open the study door, Gideon was in the middle of locking a thick file into his safe. I moved like a flash, blocking the heavy door with my body and yanking the file from his grasp. The black ink on the white paper was brutally clear. Thirty percent of his shares in the Blackwood Corporation, three sprawling penthouse apartments overlooking the bay—all gifted unconditionally to Felicity Monroe. And tucked beneath it all was the bone marrow consent form, waiting for my signature. I slammed the file onto the polished mahogany desk, my eyes locking onto his. “Have you lost your goddamn mind, Gideon? Or did you sell your soul?” I demanded, my voice dangerously low. “It’s one thing to pour our marital assets into that bottomless pit, but now you want to drain my marrow? By what right?” Gideon’s brow furrowed, his eyes clouded with impatience. “Aurora, can you stop being so selfish for once?” “Seraphina was consumed by fire trying to save me. There wasn’t even a body to bury,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar, sanctimonious grief. “Felicity is her only sister, and now she has leukemia. If we don’t save her, who will? These assets are just material things. They’re worth it if they can save Felicity’s life.” A laugh, sharp and ugly, tore from my throat. “You’re the one who owes Seraphina a life. You go pay it back,” I spat. “You want to donate marrow? Go get typed yourself. Don’t you dare use my body to play the saint.” My words finally lit his fuse. He shot to his feet. “I’m not a match! You are. It’s the only one that’s viable. That has to mean something. It’s fate.” “You’re the lady of the Blackwood estate. You’ve enjoyed years of luxury. What’s a little blood?” he sneered. “Besides, if you hadn’t forced your way into this marriage, Seraphina would never have left town in despair. She never would have been in that fire. You’re atoning for your sins, Aurora.” My hand moved before I could think. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the silent study. “If you’re going to act like a rabid dog, Gideon, go get a shot. Don’t stand here barking at me,” I said, my hand stinging. “You’re the one who knelt in the rain, begging me to marry you, begging for my family’s capital to save your company from bankruptcy. Now that you’re safe, you want to rewrite history and play the heartbroken lover?” He clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me.” “And I’ll do it again to knock some sense into your thick skull.” I couldn’t stand the sight of his disgusting face a moment longer. I turned and stalked out, heading for the stairs. But as I reached the landing, our daughter Rosie’s heart-wrenching sobs drifted up from below. My heart seized. I flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The living room was a disaster. Felicity was sitting on the ruined sofa, a twisted expression on her scarred face. In her hand, she held a decorative, glass-handled feather duster. Rosie was huddled in a corner, trembling, a long, bloody gash marking her small arm. The blood rushed to my head in a blinding wave of fury. “Felicity, you are going to die today.” I lunged, ripping the duster from her hand and bringing it down hard across her back. Felicity let out a shriek like a butchered hog, tumbling onto the rug. “Aurora! What are you doing? I was just teaching Rosie a lesson!” “She deliberately broke the crystal glass my sister gave me! I was just helping you discipline her, what’s wrong with that?” she wailed, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence, as if she were the one who’d been wronged. I swept Rosie into my arms, my heart shattering as I looked at her tear-stained face. “Mommy,” Rosie sobbed, her little arms clinging to my neck. “I didn’t touch her glass. She dropped it herself. And she pinched me.” I turned, my gaze a weapon aimed at Felicity. “What gives you the right to lay a hand on my daughter? Who do you think you are?” “I swear, I’m going to peel the skin from your bones today.” I raised the duster to strike again. Suddenly, a powerful force shoved me from behind. Gideon had stormed down and pushed me away. “Aurora, are you insane?” he roared. “Felicity is sick! How could you hit her so hard?” He knelt, gathering Felicity into his arms with painstaking care, then glared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. I steadied myself, holding Rosie tight, and met his furious gaze without flinching. “Are you blind, Gideon? Did you not see the blood on our daughter’s arm?” He didn’t even spare Rosie a glance, his attention focused on gently wiping away Felicity’s crocodile tears. “Kids get scrapes all the time. It’s normal. But Felicity is fragile. A blow like that could kill her.” His voice dropped to a menacing command. “Apologize to Felicity. Now.” Laughter bubbled up inside me, a hysterical, trembling sound. “You want me to apologize to her? The day I do that, Gideon, is the day I die.” I leveled a final, unwavering look at him. “From this day on, this house isn’t big enough for both of us. It’s her or me.” 2 Gideon’s face was a thundercloud, dark and menacing. “Aurora, stop being so dramatic.” “Felicity’s body can’t wait,” he said, his tone final. “At the charity gala next week, I’ll formally announce that I’m adopting her as my sister. At the same time, I’ll announce your marrow donation. Consider it a good deed. It will be good for your public image.” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “If you dare ruin that gala, don’t blame me for what comes next.” I looked at this man I had shared a bed with for five years and saw a complete stranger. “Who do you think you are, Gideon? God Almighty?” I shot back. “What you announce has nothing to do with me. I won’t sign the consent form. Let’s see which doctor dares to touch me then.” Nestled in Gideon’s arms, Felicity let out a series of weak coughs. “Gideon, please, don’t force her. Aurora already hates me.” “I won’t get the treatment,” she whimpered. “Just let me go. I can be with my sister in the afterlife. I’m just a burden here anyway.” Gideon’s arms tightened around her protectively. “Don’t say that. I will save you.” He turned his venomous gaze back to me. “Aurora, your family’s company is preparing to go public, isn’t it? A critical time.” “If the world finds out that the great heiress of the Croft family is so cold-hearted she’d watch someone die rather than get a simple marrow test… I wonder what the SEC would think of that.” “You can leave my family’s business out of this,” I said, my voice ice. I laid down the gauntlet. “You want to use public opinion to pressure me? Go ahead. Let’s see who ends up destroyed in the end.” Cradling Rosie, I went straight to the nursery on the second floor and locked the door behind me. After I soothed Rosie back to sleep, I pulled out my burner phone. Aurora Croft was no pushover. I had seen potential in Gideon, given him the resources and connections to climb to where he was today. If he was going to throw that all away, then I would be the one to drain him dry. I dialed the number for my private hacker, K. “K, I need you to trace the international transfers from an account.” For five years, Felicity had been wiring enormous sums of money overseas under various pretenses. She thought she was being clever, but I’d noticed long ago. I just hadn’t cared enough to investigate. Now, it seemed the destination of that money was about to become very interesting. Less than thirty minutes later, the files arrived in my encrypted inbox. I clicked them open, and the more I read, the more absurd it all became. All the funds were funneled into an Australian account under the name Vivienne. And this Vivienne’s spending habits were nothing short of decadent. One day it was limited-edition handbags, the next it was chartering yachts for wild parties. But the real prize was what K found next. He’d hacked into an international social media platform and unearthed Vivienne’s private account. It was a gallery of debauchery. Photo after photo of a woman in oversized sunglasses and a skimpy bikini, with a different blond muscle-boy on each arm. Even with half her face covered, I instantly recognized the distinctive beauty mark on her chin. This wasn’t some stranger named Vivienne. It was Seraphina Monroe. The very same Seraphina who had supposedly been burned to ashes in a tragic fire. I stared at the screen, a cold, sharp smile spreading across my lips. So much for the sainted woman who died in a blaze of glory. She and her sister had played Gideon for the fool, staging the perfect tragedy. They weren’t just after his money. They were after my life. “Having fun abroad, are we, Seraphina?” I murmured to the screen. “Since you’re not dead, allow me to prepare a special welcome-home gift for you.” The next morning, I showered, styled my hair, and applied a full face of flawless makeup. As I descended the stairs, I saw Gideon in the dining room, patiently feeding Felicity a bowl of expensive bird’s nest soup. His eyes turned cold as he saw me. “Have you come to your senses? If so, get to the hospital for your pre-op exam.” I walked to the dining table, poured myself a black coffee, and took a sip with unhurried grace. “Gideon,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 The spoon in Gideon’s hand paused mid-air. A cold sneer touched his lips. “Aurora, what game are you playing now?” he asked. “You threaten me with divorce every time we fight. You really think that old trick still works on me?” I took another sip of the bitter coffee, letting the taste flood my senses. “This isn’t a threat. My lawyer’s letter will be on your desk this afternoon.” I met his gaze. “You won’t get a single penny of my assets. And I’m getting full custody of Rosie.” He slammed the bowl down on the table, the soup splashing across the pristine tablecloth. “In your dreams!” “If you dare file for divorce now, I will ruin you,” he snarled. “You will donate that marrow, Felicity. You’ll do it whether you want to or not.” Felicity, on cue, began dabbing at her eyes. “Aurora, it’s all my fault. I’ll leave. Please, don’t fight because of me.” She made a show of trying to stand from her wheelchair, then her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Gideon rushed to her side, scooping her up with a look of pure fury directed at me. “Are you happy now?” “If anything happens to Felicity, I’ll hold you responsible.” I looked at the disgusting pair, a wave of nausea rolling through me. “Do whatever you want, Gideon. You’d better just pray your precious ‘sister’ lives to see the gala.” I walked out of that villa without a backward glance, got into my Porsche, and drove straight to the office. The first thing I did was assemble my legal and finance departments. We began a complete audit of all of Gideon’s projects and funds connected to Croft Industries. If we were making a clean break, it was going to be absolute. For the next few days, I didn’t return to that suffocating house. I worked from the shadows, orchestrating a little surprise for the Monroe sisters—a gift they would never forget. K sent another update. Felicity’s so-called leukemia diagnosis was a complete fabrication. The attending physician was an old admirer of Seraphina’s, bought and paid for with a hefty sum. And Felicity was already getting impatient to cash in on the Deed of Gift. She had secretly contacted underground lenders, planning to mortgage the properties and transfer the assets offshore. And Gideon, the brilliant fool, was completely oblivious. He was too busy posting his usual emo bullshit on social media, waxing poetic about the fragility of life and the weight of his responsibilities. I couldn’t help but sneer at his pathetic words. Soon, the day of the much-hyped “family recognition” charity gala arrived. To build momentum for Felicity, Gideon had invited every major socialite and media outlet in Crestwood. He was going to show the world what a deeply loyal and honorable man he was. And he was going to let the world pressure his cold-hearted wife into giving up her bone marrow. The day before the event, Gideon called me. His voice was hard, laced with an unquestionable command. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. The Grand Majestic Hotel. You will be there, dressed to the nines.” He added a final threat. “If you don’t show, I’m sending Rosie to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere.” My knuckles whitened around my phone. I forced down the rage, my voice emerging as smooth as glass. “Of course. I’ll be there on time.” Gideon seemed surprised by my easy compliance. He grunted and hung up. I stared at the dark screen of my phone, a chill smile playing on my lips. “Ready to face hell, Gideon?” “Oh, I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure that by the end of the night, none of you will ever be able to show your faces in this city again.” I dialed K and gave him his final instructions. All the pieces were in place. All I had to do was wait for the show to begin. 4 The grand ballroom of The Grand Majestic Hotel was dazzling. Gideon had booked the entire top floor, decorating it with an opulence that screamed new money. I made my entrance in a custom-tailored, wine-red haute couture gown, my hair swept up, my heels clicking purposefully on the marble floor. Every eye in the room turned to me. Whispers rippled through the crowd. “So that’s Mrs. Blackwood. I heard Gideon is giving away half his fortune to his ex-girlfriend’s sister tonight.” “And he’s forcing her to donate bone marrow, too. How tragic.” “I know, right? But she looks so powerful. It’s hard to believe she’s such a pushover at home.” I ignored their probing, pitying stares and walked directly to the main table. Gideon, looking smug in an expensive bespoke suit, was schmoozing with his guests. Felicity sat beside him in a specially designed wheelchair, dressed in a white tulle gown that made her look like a saintly, pure angel. If you ignored the sickly pallor she’d so carefully applied, she was the very picture of tragic beauty. His eyes flashed a warning as I approached. “Good, you have some sense. When you get on stage later, play along. Don’t embarrass me.” I shot him a look of pure ice and said nothing. Felicity, meanwhile, tugged timidly at the hem of my gown. “Aurora, thank you for coming. I promise I’ll repay your kindness for the rest of my life.” I snatched my dress away from her touch. “I wouldn’t be able to bear your ‘repayment’. Save it for when you’re in hell.” Felicity’s face went white, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Gideon immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her like a guard dog. “Aurora, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have to cause a scene on such an important night?” “I’m not causing a scene. I’m just stating a fact.” I picked up a glass of champagne, swirling the golden liquid, my gaze as cold as a winter morning. “Gideon, I’m asking you one last time. Are you absolutely sure you want to transfer those shares to her?” He scoffed, his voice resolute. “I’ve already signed the papers. I’m announcing it tonight in front of everyone. You’d better not try any tricks, or I swear you’ll regret it.” “Good. That’s very good.” I nodded, then drained the champagne in one swallow. “Since you’re in such a hurry to greet your damnation, I’ll be happy to send you on your way.” Soon, the gala reached its main event. The host took the stage, recounting the touching, tragic love story of Gideon and Seraphina, painting Gideon as the most devoted, heartbroken man in history. Then, to a round of thunderous applause, Gideon pushed Felicity’s wheelchair onto the stage. He took the microphone, his gaze sweeping across the audience with manufactured emotion. “Thank you all for being here tonight.” “As many of you know, years ago, Seraphina gave her life to save mine. It’s a debt I can never truly repay.” “Now, her only sister, Felicity, is battling a terminal illness. As the man who loved Seraphina, it is my duty and my honor to care for her.” “Therefore, I have decided to gift thirty percent of my shares in the Blackwood Corporation to Felicity, unconditionally.” Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Thirty percent of the shares was a fortune in the billions. Gideon paused for effect, his eyes finding me in the crowd. “And I must also thank my wife, Aurora.” “She has graciously agreed to donate her bone marrow to Felicity, to use her love to give Felicity a new lease on life.” The spotlight swung, pinning me in its bright glare. The entire room was looking at me with a mixture of awe and pity. On stage, Gideon extended a hand toward me, beckoning me to join him. “Aurora, come up. Let everyone witness your selfless generosity.” Slowly, I set down my glass. Under the watchful eyes of hundreds, I walked, step by deliberate step, onto the stage. Gideon thought I had surrendered. A triumphant smirk spread across his face. But the moment I took the microphone from his hand, that smile froze solid. I scanned the faces of the guests below, my voice ringing out, crisp and clear. “Good evening, everyone.” “The story Mr. Blackwood just told was indeed very moving.” “However, it seems he forgot to mention one, even more moving, detail.” I turned to Gideon, my eyes like daggers. “The truth is, I never agreed to donate any bone marrow.” “And what’s more, the lovely Miss Felicity Monroe here… doesn’t have leukemia at all.”

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