Category: English

The day I was pushed down the stairs—the day my left kidney ruptured and had to be surgically removed—was the same day Margot called me, her breath hitching in that way it only did when she was with him. “Are you dead yet?” her voice rasped through the speaker. “If not, get over here. Bring a fresh set of Egyptian cotton sheets and sign the divorce papers.” She paused, a sharp, triumphant exhale following. “I’m pregnant with Dominic’s baby. I won’t have my son born a bastard. It’s time to give them the legal status they deserve.” I stared at the address she’d texted. In the past, I would have been blinded by a white-hot rage. I would have called my lawyers, gathered my pride, and stormed that penthouse to catch them in the act. Instead, I felt a strange, hollowed-out calm. I typed back a single word: Okay. Margot had no idea that in the original script of this world, she was nothing more than a minor character destined to die young from a terminal illness. She was only breathing because I—a traveler from another reality—had shielded her with my “Guardian Halo,” a cosmic tether that kept death at bay. And her precious little lover? He wasn’t the soulmate she thought he was. He was a “Virus” sent by the System to correct the timeline and drag her back to her grave. Now, the shield was shattered. Margot, my love, you have no idea how little time you have left. … When I reached the address Margot gave me, my legs were still shaking from the surgery. My face was a mask of cold sweat, and every breath felt like a serrated blade twisting in my side. The door swung open, revealing Margot’s face—sharp, beautiful, and twisted with immediate irritation. She glanced at the haphazard bandages on my elbows and knees, where blood was already seeping through the gauze. There wasn’t a flicker of concern. No softening of her eyes. Just a deepening scowl. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “You weren’t answering your phone. And these sheets… I told you Dominic likes the midnight blue set, not this charcoal grey.” She stepped back, letting me into the foyer. “He’s sleeping on the sofa now because I was afraid he’d catch a cold on the damp bed. I had to let him settle for a nap.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and forced a thin, fragile smile. “My phone died. The boutiques were closed. This was the only new set we had left at the house.” I leaned against the doorframe, my vision swimming. “I would’ve been faster, but when Dominic pushed me down the stairs at the mall, my kidney ruptured. I had to have it removed. It took some time.” The truth was, I’d seen them earlier that afternoon. I’d caught them coming out of a high-end baby boutique, hand-in-hand, glowing with the secret of her pregnancy. I hadn’t even opened my mouth to confront her before Dominic started his performance. “Oh, God, Miles! Please don’t hit me!” he’d shrieked, cowering like a kicked puppy. In the chaos that followed, I felt a violent shove. The world tilted, and I tumbled down the concrete steps. As I lay broken at the bottom, I heard Dominic sobbing, “Margot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just so scared. I know I’m just the other man, and I deserve whatever he does to me, but I couldn’t let him hurt our baby. Even if the world never knows he’s ours, I have to protect him.” Because of the countless times I’d tried to “save” our marriage by confronting her affairs, I already had a reputation in our social circle as the jealous, unstable husband. I looked down to see a pool of red spreading beneath me. I clutched my stomach, gasping Margot’s name, pleading for her to look at me. But she didn’t. She simply wrapped her arms around Dominic’s waist, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective love I hadn’t seen in years. “I know,” she whispered to him. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to give you and the baby a real name. A real life.” I watched her pull a diamond the size of a postage stamp from her pocket. In front of a crowd of strangers, she dropped to one knee and proposed to her side-piece while her husband bled out ten feet away. I blacked out to the sound of people cheering for their “true love.” A stranger called the ambulance. Margot never even looked back. And now, here she was, remembering I existed only because I was an obstacle to her new family. I reached out for the divorce papers. As I tried to step into the living room to sign them, my knees buckled. I tripped over the threshold and slammed onto the floor. “Argh—” The pain was blinding. Huge drops of sweat rolled down my face as I lay there, unable to get back up. Margot’s first instinct wasn’t to help me. She whipped her head around toward the sofa, checking if the noise had woken Dominic. When she saw he was still asleep, she turned her venom back on me. “Seriously? Stop it,” she hissed. “Don’t think you can win me back with a pity play. Even if you were dying, I wouldn’t change my mind about this divorce.” She stepped over my legs as if they were trash. “And even if you had both kidneys, I never wanted a child with you. Dominic doesn’t want anyone competing with our baby for the estate. Don’t worry, though. For the sake of the years you spent following me around, I’ll give you a settlement. It’ll be enough for you to live out the rest of your pathetic life.” I stared at the jagged scar on my wrist, a relic from a darker time. I felt surprisingly… hollow. Margot wasn’t lying. She’d made her stance on “our” children clear years ago. When I first caught her cheating, I’d spiraled. I thought my death would finally make her regret hurting me. I’d slit my wrists in the bathtub, the water turning a sickening crimson. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Adler, had screamed for Margot. Margot had merely leaned against the bathroom doorframe, exhaling a thin cloud of cigarette smoke. “Miles, give it up,” she’d said, her voice devoid of warmth. “When I loved you, a single sneeze from you felt like a knife in my heart. But seeing all this blood? It just bores me. Honestly, I’m mostly annoyed that you might ruin the dress I bought for my date with Dominic tonight.” She’d looked at me with pure clinical detachment. “Get the message. When it’s over, it’s over.” That night, while I was being resuscitated in the ICU, Margot was at a rooftop garden restaurant, singing love songs and celebrating her “three-month anniversary” with Dominic. That was the moment I stopped fighting. I stopped trying to pull her back. Margot didn’t realize that she was a glitch. She was supposed to die at twenty-three. I was the one who cheated the System, giving her my “Guardian Halo” to keep her heart beating. But Dominic was the Virus. Every time they slept together, the Virus ate away at her protection. The moment I’d gone under the knife for my kidney, a cold, synthesized voice had echoed in my mind: [Guardian Halo compromised. Virus integration: 90%. In thirty days, Subject Margot will succumb to terminal brain cancer.] A ballpoint pen clicked near my ear, snapping me back to the present. Margot was looking down at me, a mocking tilt to her head. “What? Do you need me to carry you to the table to sign? Get up. Honestly, every time I touch you, I feel like I need a shower.” She leaned in, her voice a cruel whisper. “I never wanted to carry your child. Having a baby with a man like you… I’d rather be dead. So stop stalling. Sign the papers before I lose my patience and decide you don’t get a dime.” She was referring to the years I’d spent working three jobs—including a stint as a host at a high-end club—to fund her first startup. She called me “dirty” because I’d let women touch my arms and flirt with me to earn the tips that paid her medical bills. I was an accidental traveler in this world. The System had told me I’d be sent home once the “narrative” was repaired. Until then, it gave me the Halo to survive. But I’d arrived with nothing. I was a nobody in a cold city. When I was cornered in an alley by thugs years ago, before the Halo could even trigger, it was Margot—then just a scrappy girl working construction—who had saved me. She’d cracked a lead pipe over a man’s head and dragged me back to her crumbling studio apartment. She’d fed me ramen. She’d given me a place to sleep. She wore patched-up overalls so she could buy me decent clothes. When she got extra meat in her lunchbox at the site, she’d save it for me, tucked away like a treasure. One night, she’d bought me a ring with three months’ worth of savings. “Miles,” she’d said, her eyes shining in the dim light. “You don’t have anyone. I don’t have anyone. But together? We’re a family. I’m going to give you the world.” Back then, the System had already warned me of her fate. She was sick. She fainted constantly. I lied to her, told her it was just low blood sugar, while I worked myself to the bone to pay for treatments she didn’t know she was receiving. I’d endured the wandering hands of club patrons, the humiliation, the exhaustion—all to keep her alive. But she kept fading. Finally, I’d found a loophole. I permanently transferred my Guardian Halo to her. It was an irrevocable gift. The price? I lost my ticket back to my real world. I thought it was worth it. I was an orphan anyway. Wherever Margot was, that was home. With her health restored and the business insights I provided from my knowledge of this “story,” she climbed from a construction worker to a CEO. And then… she met Dominic. Her “pure, clean” assistant. When I finally caught them in a hotel room, she didn’t even flinch. “Miles, back then, I didn’t have choices. You were the best I could do,” she’d said, buttoning her shirt with casual grace. “But now? I have everything. Every time I look at you, I think about how you sold yourself to get the information that built this company. You’re tainted.” She’d laughed when I tried to tell her the truth about being a traveler. “You think I’d believe that fairy tale? You were a broke nobody. You got those tips by sleeping around. Dominic is different. He’s innocent. He’s fresh. Being with him makes me feel like life is actually beautiful.” So, I’d learned to be silent. I’d watched her leave me on our anniversaries. I’d ignored the stray items left in her car. I waited, teeth grit, for the Virus to finish its work. The System had made me a new deal: Once Margot died and the timeline reset, I could finally go home. And as a final severance package, I could take every asset she owned with me. I pulled myself up using the doorframe, the pain a dull throb now. I took the pen and signed the papers with a steady hand. The moment I finished the last stroke, the lights flickered and died. A power outage. Dominic appeared from the darkness of the living room, holding a flickering candle. He walked toward me with a sweet, nauseating smile. “Mr. Sterling, I’m so sorry you had to make this trip. The sheets got… well, quite messy,” he said, his voice dripping with false modesty. “But since the power’s out, the elevators won’t work. You’ll have to take the stairs.” He paused, tilting his head. “I’d offer you a flashlight, but everything in this house was bought by Margot and me. I’d hate for a stranger to walk off with our things. Sorry~” He took the sheets from my hand and leaned into Margot, circling her waist with his finger. “Margot, babe… I’m awake now. And I’m feeling lonely again.” Margot’s breath hitched. She leaned in, devouring his lips, and slammed the door in my face. In the suffocating dark of the hallway, listening to the muffled, rhythmic sounds of her betrayal, I began the long, agonizing trek down forty-six flights of stairs. By the time I made it back to our—her—estate, I could barely stand. My clothes were shredded from a few stumbles in the dark. Mrs. Adler, the housekeeper, gasped when she saw me. She rushed to help me onto the sofa and ran for the first aid kit. I plugged my phone in, and almost immediately, it began to ring. It was the hospital. “Mr. Sterling? We have Mrs. Sterling’s lab results. It’s… it’s not good. Early-stage glioblastoma. Brain cancer.” The doctor sounded confused. “That’s strange. I looked at her file this morning and it seemed perfectly clear… but these new markers are aggressive.” Margot hated administrative “nonsense,” so I was the only one on the contact list. “Luckily, we caught it early,” the doctor continued. “Please, make sure she comes in for a follow-up immediately. We might still be able to save her.” I stared at the wall. Save her? Not a chance. I wanted her to spend every waking second with Dominic. I wanted them to “love” each other ten times a day until the Virus reached her brainstem. And she complied. Margot stopped coming home entirely. She was too busy flying Dominic to Paris for custom suits, or spending millions on pink diamonds at auctions, designing a wedding ring that made our marriage look like a footnote. I became the city’s favorite punchline: the discarded husband of the Year. I didn’t care. I sat in my quiet house, listening to the System’s daily reports on her deteriorating cells. Until her lead assistant called me in a panic. Margot had been arrested. She’d physically assaulted a high-profile client at a gala because the woman had made a comment about Dominic being a “kept man” who didn’t belong at the table. The client’s husband was a shark; he wasn’t just suing—he wanted her destroyed. When I arrived at the precinct, Margot was standing in front of a red-eyed, sniveling Dominic, shielding him with her body as she glared at the client’s husband. “Sue me,” she spat. “I’ll go to jail before I let anyone disrespect my man.” I froze for a heartbeat. Years ago, in a smoky club, she’d stood in front of three men who were trying to drag me into a car. She’d been beaten bloody that night, but she never moved an inch. “I’ll die before I let them touch my Evan!” she’d screamed back then. The names had changed. The sentiment remained the same. I stepped forward to offer an apology to the client, Mr. Harrison, but he wasn’t interested. He threw his lukewarm coffee directly into my face. “God, Sterling, aren’t you pathetic?” he sneered. “Your wife treats you like gum on her shoe, parades her boy toy around, and you’re still playing the martyr? You’re lower than the side-piece.” He turned back to the officers. “My wife is in the ER. Unless this bitch and her lapdog give a public apology and a full confession, we’re going to trial. I want her in a cell.” Margot watched me wipe coffee from my eyes with a chilling indifference. A faint, mocking smirk touched her lips, as if laughing at my meddling. But when Harrison insulted Dominic again, her face went dark. She lunged, and it took two officers to hold her back. I didn’t care about her reputation or the insults. But if Margot went to prison, the company’s stock would tank, and that would hurt my eventual inheritance. I wiped my face and leaned into Harrison’s ear, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “Mr. Harrison, we both know your wife started that fight. A public trial drags everyone’s laundry out. Margot isn’t a soft target.” I paused, my voice turning cold. “But if you trust me, I can give you something better. Give me one month. I guarantee you that both she and her company will disappear from this world.” Harrison looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “You? The man who can’t even handle a twenty-two-year-old intern?” I pulled up Margot’s digital lab report on my phone and slid it toward him. “You’ve seen how fast this company grew,” I whispered. “It wasn’t Margot’s ‘intuition.’ It was me. I know about a project—a massive acquisition—that no one else has touched yet. If you move now, your net profit by next year will be nine figures.” I looked him in the eye. “Sign the waiver for Margot. I give you the data. You can choose to fight a dying woman, or you can choose to be the richest man in the state. Your call.” Everyone in the city knew the Sterling Group’s meteoric rise was legendary. They just didn’t realize when the “magic” had stopped. It stopped the day I caught her in that hotel room. Harrison was a shark, and sharks know when to bite. He signed the release. As he left, he gave me a long, contemplative look. “Margot is a fool. To have a weapon like you and waste it on a boy like that…” He shrugged. “When the divorce is final, call me. I have a daughter who actually knows the value of a partner.” I smiled politely and said nothing. He didn’t see me as a person; he saw me as an asset. Just like Margot had. I remembered the way she’d looked at me once the money started rolling in. “Miles, if I hadn’t pulled you out of that alley, you’d be dead or worse by now. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I didn’t need a “home” from her anymore. I just needed the cash. I drove back to the villa, but as I went to unbuckle my seatbelt, a pair of blinding high beams flooded my vision. A car roared toward me. CRASH. The impact shattered the night. Even with the airbag, I felt the warm slip of blood down my temple. My ribs screamed. The door was ripped open. Margot grabbed my collar and hauled me out of the wreck, her face twisted in a mask of fury. “You disgusting, pathetic snake!” she screamed. “You signed the papers, and then you went behind my back to have Harrison’s wife humiliate Dominic again? Do you know how hard he’s been crying?!” She shook me, her nails digging into my skin. “How did you get to Harrison? Did you sleep with him too? Do you think destroying Dominic’s reputation will make me come back to you? You make me sick. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on earth!” Mrs. Adler ran out of the house, sobbing at the sight of my bloodied face. “Oh my God! Mr. Sterling! Come inside, let me help you—” “Don’t you dare call him that!” Margot roared. “From now on, there is only one master of this house, and it’s Dominic!” She turned her cold eyes on me. “This is my house. I bought it. You have no right to step foot inside. Mrs. Adler, Dominic is distraught. He hasn’t eaten. Go fix him some soup. If I see you helping Miles, you can pack your bags and leave with him!” Mrs. Adler looked at me, her hands trembling in her apron. I gave her a small, reassuring nod. It’s okay. After she went inside, I tried to reach for my phone to call 911. Margot snatched it out of my hand and hurled it into the lake. “I built this empire,” she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet chill. “I didn’t need your ‘tips.’ I did this myself. So stop pretending you’re a martyr. I owe you nothing.” She stepped toward the door. “Since you wanted to play games with the divorce, consider this your punishment. The car, the phone, the house—they’re mine. I’ll burn them before I let you have a cent.” She disappeared inside. A second later, the electronic lock chimed. Code changed. The night air was freezing. My lungs felt like they were filled with glass. I thought about how she used to say that everything she had was mine. How she just wanted me to stay home and be happy. Since her word meant nothing now, I supposed it was time to take back the life and the fortune I’d lent her. The door opened again. Mrs. Adler rushed out and pressed a roll of cash into my hand. “Mr. Sterling, please. It’s my salary from this month. I withdrew it yesterday. Take it, get a taxi, go to a doctor.” She was shaking. “She’s… she’s just confused. When she calms down, she’ll fix this. I know she will.” As the words left her mouth, a pile of clothes and objects were hurled from the second-story window. Our wedding photos. My suits. The hand-painted gifts I’d given her for every birthday. “Margot, please… I’ve never done it in your house before,” Dominic’s voice drifted down from the balcony, a playful, suggestive whine. “I want to do it in the bedroom, and on the stairs… I want every corner of this place to smell like us.” There was a pause, then Margot’s voice, husky and raw. “Whatever you want, baby. Anything.” “Silly girl,” Dominic chirped. “This is our home now. For our baby. We’re going to be together forever.” As they spoke, one last item was tossed into the dirt. My heart twinged for a second when I saw what it was. Before I’d given her the Halo, when she was still weak and terrified of dying, she had climbed three thousand stone steps to a mountain shrine on her hands and knees. She’d brought back a hand-carved wooden plaque with our names on it. “To Miles: May we grow old together in peace and happiness.” Now, the wood was splintered. The names had been gouged out with a knife. It was just a piece of trash. Mrs. Adler went silent, looking at the wreckage of my life. I patted her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Adler. I’ll pay you back. I promise. Many times over.” Good people deserve a reward. And the heartless? Well, they don’t get to grow old. Six hours after I left the ER with a row of stitches in my head, the System pinged. Margot had been trying to “celebrate” with Dominic on the balcony. A sudden, blinding migraine had struck. Her vision went black. She’d tumbled over the railing and fallen two stories to the pavement.

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I endured a year of relentless bullying from the school’s worst delinquent, Tristan. Whenever my head was being violently shoved into a filthy bathroom sink, his face would always twist into an expression of sick, unhinged pleasure. I never understood why he targeted me. Until the day I fought back, accidentally snapping the chain of his most prized pocket watch. Inside was a faded photograph—of my mother, posing with him. That was the day I realized he was my older half-brother. The son my mother had abandoned years ago after he broke her heart. He bullied me because he hated me. That night, when I went home, I stopped hiding my bruises. When my mother frantically asked what happened, I let all my grievance pour out: “Mom… someone at school is hurting me. Will you come stand up for me?” 1 Riiing— The second the final bell rang, my entire body involuntarily flinched. The moment the teacher stepped out of the classroom, I grabbed my backpack and bolted. But I was still caught at the bottom of the stairwell. A group of guys in varsity jackets saw me and their eyes lit up. “Tristan was right! The little bitch really did try to run!” I was shaking all over. My instinct was to spin around and flee, but the second I turned, someone grabbed my collar with terrifying force. I smelled the faint scent of nicotine… It was Tristan. The mastermind behind the year of absolute hell I had endured at this school. I’m dead, I thought, despair flooding my chest. Within seconds, I was dragged up the stairs by my arms to the top floor of the building. There were no classrooms up here, just an abandoned boys’ restroom that was slated for renovation. This was their “lawless zone.” The place where they tortured me. I never understood why, out of hundreds of kids in this school, Tristan zeroed in on me. Our school was a combined middle and high school campus. I was just a seventh grader. He was a junior in high school. I couldn’t figure out how someone as completely average as me could make him hate me so much. From my very first day of school, he had been in my line of sight. He would stand outside my classroom windows, staring at me with this dark, venomous look. Like a viper locking onto its prey. Whenever he bullied me, his face would twist into this terrifying, manic glee. SLAM— I was shoved violently into the bathroom. My body slammed against the rusted stall door, my arms instantly going numb from the impact. “Didn’t he tell you to come up here on your own after the bell?” One of the guys slapped the back of my head. “Why the hell were you running?” When I didn’t answer, he slapped me hard across the cheek. These guys were Tristan’s lackeys. His personal enforcers. I clenched my fists, forcing my voice out through my tight throat. “Today is my mom’s birthday. I just wanted to go home and celebrate with her.” I was so terrified I didn’t notice that Tristan, who had been leaning against the tiled wall with a blank expression, instantly went completely dark the second I said those words. He marched over and violently shoved the guy standing in front of me out of the way. Tristan was tall and incredibly strong. He grabbed me by the collar of my hoodie, forcing me onto my tiptoes so I was looking him dead in the eye. “Who the hell do you think you are…” Tristan ground out between clenched teeth. His eyes were twitching, his breathing ragged, like he was using every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself from snapping my neck. Before I could even process why he was suddenly so furious, he dragged me over to the row of sinks. The water in the clogged basin was brown, foul, and stagnant. Without a second of hesitation, Tristan shoved my head directly into the filthy water. Suffocation hit me instantly. I thrashed wildly, my lungs burning. I genuinely felt like Tristan was actually trying to murder me. Why?! My hands clawed blindly at the air, trying to grab onto anything to pull myself up. In my panicked struggling, my fingers caught onto Tristan’s shirt. And then, they hooked onto a thick metal chain around his neck. “Let go, you little freak!” Someone stepped forward to pry my hands off, but as I was yanked back, the chain snapped. A heavy, metallic clatter echoed against the floor tiles. It was like Tristan woke up from a trance. He instantly let go of me. I collapsed onto the wet floor, completely exhausted, gasping desperately for air. When my vision cleared, I saw something bizarre. Tristan was on his hands and knees on the filthy floor, frantically searching for something. He looked panicked, his hands visibly shaking. “Where is it?! Where is it?!” “Find it! Find it right fucking now!” he roared. The lackeys, who had been standing around stunned, snapped out of it and immediately dropped to the floor to help him look. Watching them act so crazy, my fingers twitched against the wet tiles… and brushed against something solid. I turned my head. It was an ornate, vintage pocket watch that had popped open from the fall. Inside the watch was an old, slightly faded photograph. It was a little blurry. But my pupils dilated in shock, because I instantly recognized the person in the picture. My mother… Before I could get a closer look, a hand snatched the watch away. Tristan scooped it off the floor. He cupped it in his hands like it was made of fragile glass, using the sleeve of his expensive designer jacket to frantically wipe the dirty water off it. Treating it like an absolute treasure. “It’s broken. The hinge is broken,” he muttered, sounding completely manic. He immediately turned and power-walked out of the bathroom. “Tris!” one of the guys called out, confused. “What about the girl?” “Whatever!” Tristan didn’t even look back, his mind entirely consumed by the watch. “I have to go get this fixed. Don’t call me unless someone’s dying!” 2 Thanks to that pocket watch, I actually got to go home early for once. Walking home, the autumn wind was freezing. My hoodie was half-soaked with dirty water, making the chill bite straight through to my bones. But I barely felt it, because my mind was an absolute hurricane. Every time I blinked, I saw the photo inside that watch. That gentle, beautiful woman was my mother. A younger version of my mother. But who was the little boy she was holding? Was it Tristan? How did they know each other? I had always known my mom had been married once before, and that she had a child from that marriage. I was the child she had with my dad after she remarried. My parents never kept that a secret from me. But my brain physically could not connect the dots between the terrifying Tristan and my mother’s first child… But if… if Tristan really was my older half-brother, then every single unanswered question I had finally made sense. Why did he target me? Why did he bully me? Because my mother abandoned him. So he hated me. Why did he always threaten me after beating me up, telling me never to tell my family? He always said his family was rich and powerful, and that he could get my mom’s flower shop shut down with a single phone call… But it wasn’t a threat. It was fear. He was terrified I would tell my mom. He was terrified my mom would find out what he was doing to me! The more I thought about it, the faster my heart hammered against my ribs. I started sprinting, the cold wind clearing my head. I had to ask my mom. I had to know the truth! A walk that usually took twenty minutes took me ten. I practically kicked the front door open. My mom looked up from the dining table, surprised. “You’re home early today?” Every day, to hide the bullying and keep my mom from worrying, I lied and told her I stayed after school in the library to study. And to hide the evidence, I always aggressively pulled my long sleeves down to cover the bruises on my arms before I walked through the door. My mom wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at me. “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.” Her eyes paused on my hair. “Why are your clothes and hair wet?” “I… some lady was watering her plants on a balcony and accidentally spilled the watering can on me.” “Go take a hot shower right now so you don’t catch a cold.” I nodded, dropped my backpack, and grabbed some clean clothes from my room. By the time I came out of the shower, my mom had set the table. My dad was out of state on a business trip, so it was just the two of us this week. I sat at the table, looking at my mom’s gentle face, hesitating. “Mom, I have a question to ask you.” My mom put a piece of roasted chicken onto my plate. “Eat it while it’s hot. What’s the question?” I chewed on my lip, but finally forced the words out. “Mom, do I have an older brother? What’s his name?” My mom’s hand froze holding her fork. The smile on her face stiffened. “Why are you asking about this all of a sudden?” “Just… curious.” My mom went completely silent. She barely ate two bites for the rest of dinner. I immediately regretted it. I shouldn’t have asked. I had ruined her mood. But after dinner, my mom called me into her bedroom. She handed me an old photograph. “His name is Tristan. He was my first child.” I took the photo, my hands visibly shaking. This photo… it was the exact same photo that was inside Tristan’s pocket watch. 3 [Evelyn’s Perspective] Evelyn hadn’t thought about that child in a very long time. She had spent years forcing herself to live as if she had never given birth to him. If her daughter hadn’t brought it up today, she probably wouldn’t have thought about him, or her disastrous first marriage, for another decade. When her first husband started coming home at 3:00 AM, she should have cut her losses and left. But she compromised, over and over again, allowing that man to constantly test her bottom line. He started coming home smelling like cheap perfume. He started using “business trips” as an excuse to blatantly take his mistress on tropical vacations. Evelyn was heartbroken and exhausted. But she thought that even if her husband betrayed her, the son she had nearly died giving birth to would always stand by her side. She was wrong. Even though she poured every ounce of her patience and gentleness into Tristan, giving him all the love she possessed, he ultimately broke her heart. She remembered hearing tiny Tristan holding that other woman’s hand, calling her “Mommy.” He said his real mom was messy and annoying, and always told him what to do. He said he wanted the pretty, gentle lady to be his new mom. At that exact moment, Evelyn realized that Tristan was exactly like his father. An ungrateful, selfish traitor. She completely gave up on that family. During the divorce proceedings, Evelyn relinquished custody of Tristan to fight for maximum financial leverage to start her own life. She still clearly remembered the reaction of the father and son on the day she packed her boxes and left the mansion. The father looked incredibly relieved. The son looked absolutely ecstatic. “Yay! I get a new mommy! Yay!” Those joyful cheers were like rusty nails driven directly into Evelyn’s heart. They were the knives that violently severed the very last thread of maternal love she had left for that boy. 4 After hearing my mom’s story, I gently placed the photo back on her nightstand. “Mom.” I tugged gently on her sleeve. When she looked down at me, I reached for the hem of my long-sleeved shirt and slowly rolled it up. Revealing my arms, covered in overlapping patches of purple, blue, and yellow bruises. “What happened to you?!” My mom grabbed my arm, her voice cracking in pure panic. “Did someone hit you?!” I choked back the massive wave of grievance I had swallowed for a year and slowly nodded. “Mom… someone at school is hurting me. Will you come to school tomorrow and stand up for me?” … The next morning, when I walked into my homeroom, my desk-mate silently scooted her chair as far away from me as possible. My desk was knocked over on the floor. My textbooks were scattered everywhere, covered in dirty, muddy footprints. I quietly picked up my desk and glanced around the room. Every single student intentionally avoided my eyes. They were isolating me. Or rather, they were terrified of being associated with me. Because they didn’t want Tristan to retaliate against them. After first period, a girl who used to be somewhat friendly with me finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. She followed me into the bathroom. “Chloe, what the hell did you do to piss Tristan off?” “I heard you broke his favorite vintage watch, is that true?” “Is he just using that as an excuse to torture you?” She took my silence as a ‘yes’. “That is so messed up!” We were middle schoolers, at the age where our sense of justice was at its peak. She frowned deeply. “Why don’t you go to the teachers?” I looked at her, stunned. Go to the teachers? Did she think I hadn’t tried? If I went to them, they would either brush it off as “kids playing rough” and send me back to class to avoid the paperwork. Or, the second they heard the bully’s name was Tristan, they would pass the buck like a hot potato. Tristan’s family had literally funded the construction of the new STEM building on campus. Anything involving Tristan was radioactive. Nobody wanted to deal with it. Or more accurately, nobody dared to deal with it. That afternoon, when the final bell rang, I was cornered by Tristan and his guys again. His face was incredibly dark. He looked like he was in a foul mood. I noticed his neck was bare. He wasn’t wearing the chain. Did the watch shop tell him it couldn’t be fixed? Was he here to punish me for it today? The girl from the bathroom with the strong sense of justice was still just a kid. Facing a group of massive high school upperclassmen, she was terrified. She stood at the corner of the hallway, watching me get dragged up the stairs. She hesitated for a long time, but never took a single step forward. She squatted against the lockers, grabbing her hair in frustration. Suddenly, a pair of designer heels appeared in her line of sight. She looked up to see a beautiful, gentle-looking woman. “Hi there. Are you in Room 104? Have you seen Chloe? I’m her mother, I’m here to pick her up.”

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My husband was working out of state and had to stay in the office over the holidays. I decided to buy a plane ticket and surprise him. But the only seats left were in first class. Looking at the four-figure price tag, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of my savings. When I boarded, I didn’t even know how to pull out the tray table. The wealthy woman sitting next to me sneered. “Never flown first class before?” I forced a polite smile. “I’m sorry. You must be an executive, right? You carry yourself with such elegance.” “No,” she said. “My sugar daddy is a CEO. Whenever I travel, if it’s not first class, he charters a private jet for me.” I was stunned. “A sugar daddy? That must be hard to find.” “Not really. I work for him. I make mistakes all the time and cost him a ton of money. Every time he scolds me, I cry… and, well, you know how it goes.” “What a coincidence. My husband also has a female coworker who’s always making mistakes.” “You’re married?” She looked me up and down. “My sugar daddy has a wife about your age, too. “But he says he got sick of her a long time ago. Said touching her feels like nothing, not even as exciting as when I toss my hair. “I told him I wanted to see him for the holidays, and look—he just told his old wife he had to work overtime.” I stared at the diamond ring on her finger. It was identical to my lost wedding ring. I froze. Wait—wasn’t Arthur Vance just a junior employee? When did he become a CEO? … I stared at her ring finger. “But your ring… that’s a wedding band, isn’t it? Did you and your sugar daddy get married?” “Oh, this?” Chloe Sterling admired the diamond ring. “I made him take it from his wife.” I sat there, stunned. “I wasn’t planning on making things difficult for the wife. But who told her to suddenly have a miscarriage on my birthday, making him go to the hospital to take care of her? “I had to spend my birthday all by myself.” My hand instinctively moved to my lower stomach. I suddenly recalled that freezing winter. The path home from the grocery store was covered in thick ice. Arthur’s salary was meager. Even a bicycle was a luxury for us. I slipped and fell hard. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood… That day, Arthur dropped all his work and stayed by my side for three days and three nights. But when I woke up, my ring had vanished along with my child. Arthur held me tight. “It’s okay. We’ll have another baby. And the ring… I’ll have a new one made for you.” I shook my head, crying. “Didn’t you say your company is doing layoffs? We need to save money. When you make it big one day, then you can buy me a new one.” His eyes were red, tears welling up as he looked at me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault I haven’t made enough money. It’s my fault I haven’t given you a good life.” I had just shaken my head. Beside me, Chloe was still admiring the diamond ring. I asked, “So, you made him take his wife’s ring and give it to you?” “Yeah. Actually, he refused at first. He said he’d buy me a more expensive one.” Chloe tilted her hand side to side, watching the diamond catch the light. “But the only reason that old woman is so arrogant is because she’s his wife, right? “If I didn’t punish her a little, she’d end up walking all over me.” I gritted my teeth. “To be honest, compared to the other things he’s bought me, this ring is cheap. “But at the end of the day, it’s still a wedding ring.” Chloe smiled at me. “If a woman ends up like that old hag, her life is basically hopeless.” I clenched the hem of my shirt and forced a smile. “If your sugar daddy is so willing to spend money on you, he must spend a lot to keep his wife quiet, right?” Chloe laughed. She leaned in close and whispered. “Let me tell you a secret. That old woman doesn’t even know he’s a CEO yet.” “Why?” Chloe admired her diamond-encrusted manicure. “Because there’s no point. She already wasted her youth helping him build his career. “If you were a man who finally got rich, and you saw your wife was old and fading, would you still spend money on her? It’s not like spending money is going to bring her youth back.” My slightly haggard face reflected in the window. Chloe leaned toward me. “Hey, even though you’re older than me, you still have some looks left. Since we’re sitting next to each other, let me give you some advice. “Women need to get Botox and beauty treatments. Your skin is looking a bit dry. I bet your husband doesn’t show much interest in you, does he?” I stared at her, not saying a word. Her skin was flawless, glowing with youth. I used to look exactly like her. Actually… I was prettier than her. Ten years of weathering the storms in cheap, drafty apartments had taken their toll. When I looked at my old photos now, I barely recognized myself. “Those treatments… they’re very expensive.” “So what?” Chloe shrugged. “My sugar daddy gives me fifty thousand dollars a month for living expenses, and he reimburses me for all my beauty treatments on top of that.” Looking at the tiny rhinestones decorating Chloe’s sharp eyeliner. My hands, gripping my shirt, began to tremble. “How many years… have you been his canary?” “Since June 12th, 2023. Why?” My hands shook even harder. June 12th, 2023. The day my mother died. That day, my mother needed fifty thousand dollars for surgery. I remember it vividly. Arthur begged everyone he knew and emptied his own savings account. He managed to scrape together thirty-five thousand for me. It was almost everything he had saved since he started working. Despite working myself to the bone, I only managed to borrow another eight thousand. My mother passed away. That day, he held me tight, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m a piece of trash. I couldn’t even earn enough for your mom’s medical bills! You’ve suffered so much being with me…” My heart felt like it was being sliced open. But I still wiped away his tears. “I’m so grateful you managed to get thirty-five thousand. “Mom said you did your best. She didn’t blame you, and I don’t either… It’s my fault I couldn’t get the remaining fifteen thousand…” His tears fell onto the back of my hand. He gripped my hand tightly. “Maya, just wait a little longer. Please, just wait… I promise I won’t let us live like this anymore…” I nodded through my tears. Fifty thousand dollars… He had the money all along. “You know what’s crazy? That woman’s mother needed exactly fifty thousand dollars for a surgery that same month.” I looked at Chloe. She winked her left eye at me. “He was actually going to give it to her.” My breath caught in my throat. “Did he give it to you for living expenses instead?” “No. He’s rich. He gave me fifty grand, but he still had plenty more.” “Then why didn’t he give it to his wife’s mother?” “Because…” Chloe rested her chin on her hand. “I told him that once her mother died, that woman wouldn’t have any family left. Then, even if she found out he was keeping me on the side, she wouldn’t dare say a word.” I gritted my teeth so hard they felt like they would shatter. “Plus, I had my eye on a new Chanel bag that month. It was exactly fifty thousand.” I stared at her, my eyes burning. “Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out what you did?” “Please. I’m a genius.” Chloe laughed. “I gave him the idea. I told him to give her thirty-five thousand and pretend it was his entire life savings. His wife would just think her husband did his absolute best, and she’d never suspect he was hiding someone else!” Saying this, her expression soured a bit. “The annoying part is, the reason he finally agreed to do it was to make sure the old woman wouldn’t leave him if I ever got discovered. “Ugh, that old hag has such good luck.” Smack! A slap landed squarely on Chloe’s face without warning. “Are you insane?!” Chloe’s drink spilled everywhere. A flight attendant rushed over to help her clean up. Chloe was furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Are all mistresses this arrogant these days?!” I was shaking with rage. The flight attendant quickly separated us. She moved Chloe to an empty seat further away and spoke to her in a soothing voice. Finally, Chloe calmed down slightly. Wiping her hands with the towel the flight attendant gave her, she shot me a disdainful glare. “I am so sick of self-righteous people like you. Always screaming ‘mistress, mistress.’ Let’s be honest… “Hah. You’re just mad because you’re old and can’t attract a man anymore, right? “If you were young again, you’d be throwing yourself at rich men faster than anyone else!” “You—!” The flight attendant quickly grabbed my arm as I started to lunge. I didn’t want to cause trouble for the crew, so I gritted my teeth and sat back down. Chloe looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Let me tell you the truth. You haven’t been young for a long time. I bet your husband is seeing someone else, too. “If you don’t believe me, go check his phone. A woman who looks like you… no man would want to come home to that.” Splash! I threw the fresh drink the flight attendant had just brought me right into her face. Chloe shrieked. The flight attendants scrambled to get between us. The purser forced a polite smile. “Ms. Hayes, this woman is a very important guest. Please calm down. How about I bring you some fresh fruit to help you relax?” “Important guest?” I ground my teeth. The purser leaned in and whispered softly. “She is with Mr. Vance, the CEO of Vance Enterprises. It’s for your own good to avoid her. Mr. Vance is very protective of her.” I let out a bitter laugh. The plane landed at the layover airport. Neither Chloe nor I were disembarking. We were allowed to take our phones off airplane mode. I sent Arthur a text: [Where are you?] He sent back a photo of his office cubicle: [Making money for my wife.] [Are you making it for me, or for someone else?] No reply. I sent a question mark. A second later, a familiar voice drifted over from Chloe’s seat. “Someone threw juice on you? Who dares treat my Chloe like that?” “Some crazy old woman! Ugh, it’s all your fault! If you were here, she never would have dared to do that to me!” “Okay, okay… it’s my fault.” [Transfer Received: $50,000] A robotic notification chimed from Chloe’s phone. Arthur’s voice was gentle: “Go buy yourself something pretty.” I gripped the hem of my shirt. The smile on Chloe’s face was fleeting. She immediately pouted. “Hmph! Not good enough. You told me you missed me and wanted to spend New Year’s with me! If you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have gotten on this plane and met that lunatic! “No amount of money can fix this! Hmph!” Arthur wasn’t angry. Instead, he sounded amused, his tone lightening up. “Then, what about the new villa your husband bought for you?” Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. “Is my Chloe smiling now? Are you happy?” “I am not!” Chloe pouted again. “But… hmph, I’ll give you a chance. Only because I love you.” “Good~ I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?” “Three hours, not a second less!” “I’ll give you the whole night.” My hand, hidden inside my sleeve, trembled violently. I remembered when he was transferred to the East Coast branch. Whenever we saw each other, we rarely went past hugging and kissing. Every time I initiated anything more, he would sigh. “I’ve been working so hard, I’m just exhausted. Can we wait until I’ve rested up?” But before he was ever “rested up,” he was already gone again. The plane was preparing for takeoff. Chloe kissed the camera and ended the video call. At that exact moment, Arthur sent me a text: [Why doesn’t my wife believe me anymore? Are you sad that I have to work overtime and can’t be with you for New Year’s? [When I get home after the holidays, I’ll take you to that hot pot place you love, okay?] The plane took off. A flight attendant walked up to Chloe’s new seat carrying a black, gold-stamped gift box. “Ms. Sterling, a gentleman asked us to bring this to you.” “Oh my god! The Prada necklace! How did he know I’ve been eyeing this?!” The flight attendant smiled and handed her a card. “Mr. Vance also asked us to pass along a message: “He hopes Ms. Sterling won’t let the background noise bother her. Be brave, be yourself, and ignore all obstacles. “Because Mr. Vance will always stand behind you, and he will always love you.” I looked down at the text Arthur had just sent me, and closed my eyes. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Vance asked us to give this diamond to you.” The purser handed me a loose diamond. I frowned. “For me?”

Seven years of a sexless marriage. In a desperate, pathetic attempt to save what was left of us, I finally agreed to his request for “something adventurous.” Outdoor sex. In the car. A thrill to jumpstart a dead heart. But an hour before our designated time, I scrolled past a thread on a popular confession site. The prompt: What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done for “love”? The top comment, glowing with thousands of upvotes, read: “I have to tell you about my ex-boyfriend’s current wife. Tonight, she’s ‘sacrificing’ herself for love. They’re going to be ‘cooking’ in the very car he bought for me! And get this—he’s live-streaming the audio to me. He promised me he’s staying ‘pure’ for me. He’s only using his hands on her.” The comment section was a furnace of outrage, but the poster just slapped down a photo of a luxury car in response: “A Rolls-Royce Phantom. Have you peasants even seen one in person?” “That frigid bitch is lucky to even sit in those seats. It’s the highlight of her miserable life.” The moment the high-res photo loaded, the blood in my veins turned to ice. That car… was parked right in front of me. 1 The cold glow of my phone screen felt like a blade in the dim light of the parking garage. I refreshed the page, praying my eyes were deceiving me, hoping for a different license plate, a different color—anything. But there it was. A tiny, almost invisible scratch on the hood, right where the light hit it. It matched the photo in the post perfectly. The post was timestamped three hours ago. The comments were still exploding: [OP, you’re toxic as hell. Why are you even still talking to this guy?] [Live-streaming? No way. Drop the link!] [This is sick. That poor wife is being humiliated and she doesn’t even know it.] My hands were shaking so violently I almost dropped the phone. I checked the time. Ten minutes until our “date.” I took a numb step forward, peering through the driver’s side window. In the shadows of the passenger seat, I saw them. Cartoon plushies. Pink, fluffy, and incredibly juvenile. They looked utterly ridiculous in a car this expensive, and they were the polar opposite of Bennett’s cold, stoic aesthetic. Looking at them, a memory surged up like bile. Two years ago, when I bought my own car, I had decorated it with cute, cozy accessories. Bennett had looked at them and uttered five words that killed my joy: “Cheap, tacky, and incredibly immature.” I had cleared the car out that same night. But now, here were these pink rabbits and star stickers, plastered all over this Rolls-Royce like a shrine to someone else’s whims. The keys bit into my palm. My eyes burned. The elevator chimed. Bennett stepped out. He had traded his white lab coat for a casual cashmere sweater, though he still carried that air of effortless, high-society arrogance. He saw me and gave a curt, professional nod, as if we were meeting for a board or a surgery rather than an intimate encounter. He pulled the door open. “Been waiting long? Get in.” His voice was flat. He wasn’t looking at a wife he wanted to seduce; he was looking at a task he needed to complete. I didn’t move. My voice came out as a brittle whisper. “When did you buy this car?” He stiffened for a fraction of a second. “A while ago. It’s been in storage. I lent it to a friend for a bit.” He slid into the driver’s seat. I fought back the sob rising in my throat and climbed into the passenger side. The air hit me immediately—a thick, cloying perfume. Sweet, floral, and nauseatingly familiar. As soon as the engine purred to life, Bennett hit a button. The privacy curtains slid shut, sealing us in. The world outside disappeared, leaving us in a tomb lit only by the ghostly blue glow of the dashboard. The darkness felt heavy. Suffocating. I thought about the “live-stream” mentioned in the post and my heart hammered against my ribs. “Why is it so dark?” “It’s for the mood, Elena,” Bennett said, his hand reaching across the center console. His breath hitched as he leaned in. I instinctively recoiled, my hand sweeping nervously across the gap between the seats. My fingers brushed something. Bennett frowned, his annoyance flashing in the dim light. “What is wrong with you today?” I didn’t answer. I reached down, feeling into the crevice of the leather seat until I grasped a piece of fabric. I pulled it out. A sliver of light escaped through a gap in the curtain, just enough for me to see what I was holding. Black lace panties. Worn. Stained in the center with a dark, dried patch that left nothing to the imagination. 2 I threw the door open and stumbled out of the car, retching against the concrete wall of the garage. Bennett was out a second later, his face contorted with suppressed rage. “Elena! What the hell is this performance?” I wiped my mouth, my vision blurred with tears, and held up the lace. “Whose are these, Bennett?” His expression flickered—a flash of guilt instantly paved over by cold indifference. “It’s a friend’s car. How should I know what they leave in it?” He took a step toward me, his voice softening into that manipulative, ‘reasonable’ tone he used to quiet difficult patients. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? I agreed to do this for you. Isn’t that enough? What more do you want from me?” “A friend?” I started to laugh, a jagged, ugly sound. “What kind of ‘friend’ leaves this in a car you’re borrowing?” “Elena, stop,” he snapped, his patience evaporating. “I am sacrificing my limited free time to play these games with you, and you’re going to throw a tantrum over a piece of trash?” Sacrificing. The word felt like a physical blow. To him, intimacy with his legal wife was a chore. A charitable donation. My heart felt like it was being shredded. Seven years. I had given this man seven years of my life, my health, and my devotion. I had loved him through the shadow of the girl he never forgot—the ghost of the one who got away. I remembered the accident, three days after our wedding. A car had come out of nowhere and slammed into me. Three broken ribs. A shattered pelvis. A severely damaged reproductive system. Bennett was the surgeon who saved me. He had operated on me himself. But after the surgery, something went wrong. He told me the trauma had caused “complications.” My body had essentially locked itself shut. I became a “stone woman”—physically unable to experience pleasure, anatomically scarred in a way that made sex an agonizing impossibility. I had wanted to die. But Bennett had held me, over and over, whispering, “Elena, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of you forever.” I believed him. I was grateful for that accident because I thought it had forged a bond that transcended the physical. I spent seven years trying to be the perfect wife, the perfect shadow, just to earn the right to grow old with him. And all it earned me was a “sacrifice.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The thread had been updated. “Oops, the stream got cut off. Looks like someone found the little surprise I left in the seat (blushing emoji). I guess he’s not as good at hiding things as he thought. Oh well, there’s always next time. We’ve got forever.” Attached was a screenshot of a receipt. A pair of luxury black lace panties. $300. I looked up at Bennett. He was holding something in his hand—a beige, rubbery device he’d pulled from the glove box. The packaging was torn. It looked cheap, clinical, and insulting. Meanwhile, his own belt was still buckled tight. He hadn’t even intended to touch me. “So that was the plan, Bennett?” I whispered, nodding toward the toy. “That was your ‘sincere effort’?” I let out a breath that felt like a death rattle. 3 He followed my gaze and dropped the device back into the car as if it had burned him. The exhaustion hit me then. A weight so heavy I couldn’t even feel the anger anymore. I turned away. “We’re done, Bennett. I’m leaving.” I walked out of the garage and didn’t look back. By the time I got back to the house and started pulling suitcases out of the closet, Bennett was already there. He was holding a bouquet of red roses. They were wrapped in crinkly plastic, the petals already wilting at the edges, bruised and blackening. He tossed his jacket on the sofa and set the dying flowers on the coffee table. “Elena, let’s be rational. We need to talk.” “There’s nothing left to say,” I said, my voice empty. He rubbed his temples, looking like the victim of a great injustice. “I know you’re upset. But you’re… you’re ‘locked,’ Elena. You know that. I can’t be expected to ignore my own needs forever just because your body failed. As for the car, I told you, it belongs to a friend. You’re making a scene over nothing.” “What’s this friend’s name?” He paused. “That’s not important.” The dam broke. I lunged forward and swept the roses off the table, scattering them across the floor. “What is important, then? The fact that our seven-year anniversary gift was a live-streamed humiliation? Or the fact that you planned to fake an intimate moment with a piece of plastic?” “Enough!” Bennett stood up, his voice booming. “Stop being so hysterical! What do I have to do to make you believe me?” “Sell the car,” I screamed. “Sell it right now!” He looked at me like I was a lunatic. “Are you insane? That’s a three-hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle!” “So?” “So, it’s a car, Elena! You want me to throw away a fortune because you’re having a mood swing? Look, I get it—you’re frustrated because you’re broken. But don’t take your inadequacy out on me.” It felt like a jagged blade had been driven into my chest. I was trembling so hard I could barely stand. “I wasn’t born this way, Bennett! The accident—” “I KNOW!” he roared. “And I married you anyway! I’ve spent seven years playing nursemaid to a woman who can’t even be a wife. Isn’t that enough? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness for being a human being with human desires?” The sight of his distorted, angry face flicked a switch inside me. The rage died, replaced by a terrifying, hollow calm. I spoke one word. “Leave.” Bennett’s face went from white to a mottled, ugly red. He didn’t say another word. He grabbed his coat and slammed the front door so hard the windows rattled. I sank onto the sofa, staring at the dying roses. The silence of the house began to scream. I don’t know how long I sat there before the doorbell rang. I thought it was Bennett, coming back to finish the fight. I opened the door, ready to scream. But it wasn’t him. It was a woman. Young, beautiful, with long chestnut waves and a soft, sugary smile. She was wearing a pale pink manicure. She tilted her head. “Hi there. You must be Elena. I’m Jasmine, a… close friend of Bennett’s.” Jasmine. The jasmine stickers in the car. The cold returned, sharper than before. This was her. The girl from the post. The ghost who had finally taken on flesh. 4 “What do you want?” “Oh, just a few things,” she said, dangling a set of Rolls-Royce keys from her finger. “Bennett said I could stop by and pick up some of my stuff. He mentioned I might have left a few personal items around here.” She moved to step past me into the foyer. I blocked her. “There’s nothing of yours here.” Jasmine blinked innocently. “Are you sure? I think I left them in the master bedroom. Last month, when Bennett was… stressed. I came over to help him relax. I think I dropped a Tiffany earring by the nightstand. They’re quite expensive.” She watched my eyes, her smile widening as she saw the realization hit me. “Honestly, Elena, I feel bad for you. Keeping up this hollow marriage… it must be exhausting. Bennett hasn’t loved you in years. He wanted to leave right after the accident, but he’s such a softie. He felt sorry for you. He’s stayed out of pure, agonizing pity.” “What are you talking about?” Jasmine took a step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you even know what kind of car hit you seven years ago?” My breath hitched. She giggled. “It was a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Brand new. My dad’s car. Bennett was so terrified I’d go to jail that he bought the car from my father, had it repainted, and hid it. That’s why the police never found the hit-and-run driver.” The world tilted. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. “Oh, and one more thing.” She pulled a folder from her designer bag. “You’ve always wondered why you were ‘locked’ after the surgery, haven’t you?” She pulled out a medical report. “Bennett performed a little extra procedure while you were under. He ‘fixed’ you so you could never be with anyone else. He told me it was the only way he could ensure he stayed ‘faithful’ to me—by making sure his wife was biologically unavailable.” The papers fluttered to the floor. I stared at the technical diagrams, at Bennett’s familiar, elegant signature at the bottom of the surgical notes. The words blurred into a dark abyss, pulling me down. It was all a lie. The accident. The “complications.” The seven years of “care.” He hadn’t saved me. He had dismantled me. A primal, guttural scream tore out of my throat. The world went red. I lunged at her, my fingers tangling in her perfect hair as I dragged her to the floor. She shrieked, her nails clawing at my face, but I didn’t feel it. I just wanted to tear the truth out of her. I pinned her down, my hand cracking across her face again and again—years of repressed pain and betrayal fueling every blow. Jasmine cried out, shielding her face, and suddenly, a dark red stain began to spread across her pale skirt. The metallic scent of blood hit the air. The door burst open. Bennett charged in. He saw me on top of Jasmine and his eyes turned murderous. “ELENA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” He didn’t pull me off. He kicked me. Hard. The blow landed in my side, sending me sprawling across the room. I hit the edge of the coffee table, my head snapping back. The roses were everywhere now, their petals mixing with the blood on the floor. Bennett was on his knees beside Jasmine, his hands trembling as he pressed them against her stomach. “Jasmine? Talk to me! Oh god, the baby…” “Bennett… the baby… my baby…” she sobbed. A baby. They had a child. I lay on the floor, paralyzed, watching Bennett’s back as he cradled her like she was his entire world. I wanted to cry, but I was empty. There was nothing left in me but ash. Bennett turned his head, his gaze falling on the scattered medical files on the floor. His face went deathly pale.

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The Q1 sales blitz deadline was hitting me like a speeding train: fifty car loans closed by New Year’s Eve, or I was out of a job. It was December 30th, and even pushing myself to the absolute breaking point, I was still ten contracts short. That’s when the news alert popped up on my phone. WESTON GROUP’S HOLIDAY BONUS: ONE HUNDRED HIGH-PERFORMING EMPLOYEES RECEIVE A NEW CAR! In a final, humiliating act of desperation, I dialed my father’s number. We hadn’t spoken in five years. “I saw the news about the Weston Group cars,” I managed, my voice thin and tight. “Could they process the financing through me? I… I just need this last push to hit my numbers for the month.” The silence on the line stretched out, five years thick. Finally, that familiar, clipped sigh. “Fine, Anna.” But before I could even breathe out, my twin sister’s voice, sharp and icy, cut through the receiver. “Don’t you dare, Dad! She walked out on this family! She said she wouldn’t rely on us!” The line went dead. The silence that followed was suffocating, the vast, echoing sound of a door slamming shut. A nurse walked into my small hospital room, dropping the final, urgent statement for my chemotherapy payment onto the table. “Look, beds are a premium,” she said, her voice completely devoid of sympathy. “If you can’t cover the balance, you need to be discharged. You’re not the only one fighting cancer, and others are waiting.” … 1. The diagnosis had devoured every cent of my savings. I was fighting cancer and my career at the same time. Now, the money was gone, the sickness wasn’t, and my job was about to vanish. I maxed out the last dollar on my credit card to settle the bill, signed the discharge papers, and stepped back out onto the street. The cold was a physical shock. Shivering, I didn’t know where to go. All I could do was replay the pathetic highlight reel of my useless life. My father, Conrad Weston, subscribed to a brutal form of meritocracy. From the moment my sister and I were born, we were competitors. Victoria opened her eyes first. She got the formula; I was relegated to rice cereal. She crawled at six months, and Dad hired ten rotating specialists for her. I was left in a nursery, fed on a strict schedule, but mostly alone. When we started school, she had the best tutors and scored one hundred percent on every test. If I brought home a ninety-nine, I missed dinner. “You want it, you earn it,” he would drone, his expression cold. “If you fail, it’s not the system; it’s you. You slacked off. Remember this, Anna: The strong take all. It’s the only law that matters, in this house and in the world.” At six years old, I etched his words into my heart. I cannot slack off. I must earn that missing point. I must earn my parents’ love. I pulled all-nighters, threw myself at my schoolwork, and finally, for an entire semester, I matched Victoria: A perfect one hundred on everything. But it wasn’t enough. She not only aced her exams, but she also clinched the National Junior Track Title for the state. That winter break, Mom and Dad took her on a lavish European tour, leaving me alone to house-sit. I survived on cold water and day-old bread, convinced it was the penance I deserved for not trying hard enough. I set a goal. Ten years. I would get into a better college than she did. Just once, I would win a reward from them. I became a machine. A straight-A, sleepless automaton. Then, on the day the acceptance letters came out, I collapsed. I slept through the day in a feverish haze. When I woke up that evening, the house was silent. Empty. The sickness gave me a strange clarity. I found our applications and slowly, tremulously, typed the access codes into the computer. My hand was shaking so badly I almost missed the key. I opened my eyes. I had scored one point higher. I had won. I knelt there, sobbing uncontrollably. Ten years of grinding effort, finally justified. I had to tell them. I ran out the front door, shouting. The neighbor’s nanny was locking up. She stared at me, confused. “You didn’t go? Your parents are hosting Victoria’s acceptance party at the Peninsula Ballroom. Everyone in the district is there.” By the time I reached the ballroom, Victoria was basking in the spotlight, a gilded princess in a designer dress. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my success,” she purred into the mic. “And thank you, Mom and Dad, for throwing this wonderful party.” Her celebration? I won. It was my moment. 2. I burst through the crowd, crying, and screamed at my father. “You lied to me! You said the strong take all! Why is she here when I beat her?!” Conrad looked at me with profound disappointment, sighing heavily. Victoria lowered her champagne glass, a look of utter contempt on her perfect face. “I had my Stanford acceptance months ago, Anna,” she said dismissively. “The finals were just busy work. Did you really think you could win against me? And honestly, is this place for people like you? So gauche.” The thing I had sacrificed ten years of my life for, she treated as a trivial annoyance. My world didn’t just collapse; it vaporized. My mother, Bethany, came over, trying to physically pull me away. But I was stubborn. I had dreamed of a moment like this my entire life. I wanted to stay. Then I saw the massive tiered cake. Driven by a raw, hungry impulse I didn’t recognize, I rushed the table, grabbed a fistful of frosting and cake, and shoved it into my mouth. I was crying and choking at the same time. The onlookers stared, utterly horrified, as if watching a wild animal. Conrad strode over and slapped me across the face. The shock cleared my tears instantly. “Crying is useless! If you’re incompetent, you go back and work harder!” he hissed. “Don’t put on a pathetic show for pity. Do you think this madness will make us coddle you?” That was the spark. Victoria’s face was pure, unadulterated venom. She swept the remaining cake to the floor. “I have tolerated you for too long, Anna. What is your purpose?” she shrieked. “You consume resources and produce nothing but mediocrity. This is not a sustainable model. A dog has loyalty, a business asset has value—what is yourcontribution? Honestly, we’d all be happier if you weren’t even here.” Her words pressed me into the polished floor, suffocating me. I shrieked back, tears streaming. “I may be useless, but I’m still your daughter!” The noise died. The silence returned, crushing. In the dead stillness, my father spoke the four words that ended my life with them. “A worthless waste.” The words detonated in my skull. I was numb. “I tried! I worked so hard! How am I worthless?! If I had your tutors, Victoria’s resources, I could have been better!” Victoria charged forward and shoved me. I fell backward onto the cake-smeared floor. “I earned my resources! You don’t deserve anything I have!” Conrad watched with cold eyes. Mom was consoling Victoria. No one looked at my pathetic form on the floor. I scrambled up, wiping the sticky frosting from my skirt, utterly humiliated. “Fine! I don’t belong here!” I screamed, running for the exit. “I will never bother you again! I will never ask you for anything, ever!” … 3. The icy wind of that long-ago night now seemed to be blowing straight through me again. I will never ask you for anything, ever. What a pathetic, empty promise. Now, I was sick, dying, unable to afford treatment, and I had broken that vow in a desperate plea for ten lousy car loans. But reality offered no space for sentiment. A notification popped up from my bank supervisor. TO ALL: The Year-End Push is not a goal—it is the floor! Everyone must carry their weight. No retreat! We’ll see who’s standing and who’s kneeling in the next ten hours! A fitting epitaph. Worthless or not, I wanted to live. I hadn’t actually lived yet. In a last-ditch effort, I called my Uncle Franklin—Dad’s older brother, a reliable, quiet presence. “Ten cars?” Uncle Frank said, his voice surprisingly warm. “No problem, Anna. The kids need their holiday cars anyway. I’ll even set one aside for you. It’s been too many years since you’ve come home for the holidays.” My nose stung. I choked back a sob. “Thank you, Uncle Frank. But I don’t need the car.” I didn’t even have a moment to dry my tears before a new number flashed on my screen. It was Victoria. My elite sister. “Anna, don’t cheat. If you have such dignity, then use it,” she sneered. “Uncle Frank is Dad’s brother. You’re a low-level loan officer. How could you possibly have accessed him? You’re a worthless waste; you can’t even keep your word.” She paused, a triumphant inhale. “Luckily, he called Dad, and I answered. I assured him you’re doing just fine and need no charity. He agreed not to use you for his volume. Did you really think money grows on trees just because you’re used to being a liability?” The phone clicked off. The last pinprick of light had been extinguished. I wandered the streets of Chicago. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, the city was bright with lights, tinsel, and forced good cheer. Everyone looked happy, unburdened. Why couldn’t I be one of them? I grabbed a startled man walking by. “Are you looking to buy a new car? Car loan?” He yanked his arm away, staring at me like a madwoman. “Get lost, psycho!” Eventually, I found myself outside the wrought-iron gates of the Weston estate. Should I beg? Should I swallow my pride, apologize, and promise to work harder if they just paid for my treatment? I typed the old security code into the keypad. Nothing. They had changed it. Screw them. I used the last reserves of my strength to hoist myself over the tall brick wall. Let them all suffer. Inside, the courtyard was a riot of cheerful red and green lights and scarlet ribbons. So festive. I remembered every Christmas Eve, locked in that small nursery, reflecting on all the ways I had failed to be better than Victoria. I had never once had Christmas dinner with them. Before I died, I was going to have a proper meal. 4. I crept to the kitchen. It was stocked like a five-star pantry. I ripped open a container of high-end strawberries and stuffed them in my mouth, then cherries, then plums. Then I spotted it: a massive platter of Conrad’s famous Holiday Roulade, which he only made for special occasions. The highest accolade in the Weston house. I had never once tasted it. I gorged myself until I was sick and gagging. I ate every single bite. Then, I crept to the window of the living room. Inside, it was a perfectly framed picture of a happy family—a holiday commercial. I picked up a heavy paving stone, ready to hurl it through the glass and give them a surprise. Then I heard Mom’s voice. “Do you think Anna might be in some kind of trouble?” My father looked older, his face slightly softer in the holiday light. “If you’re worried about her, Bethany, just call her yourself.” A tiny, flickering candle of hope flared inside me. I waited for my own phone to ring, imagining what she might say. But Victoria instantly clamped her hand over Mom’s arm. “Trouble? No. She’s just looking for a shortcut. A handout. If you help her now, it’s completely unfair to me.” Mom immediately dropped her hand, and Dad wrapped her in a hug. “Alright, alright, I won’t call her,” he soothed. Conrad sighed, completely dismissive. “If she were in real trouble, she’d be here. But she’s weak; she’s always been too weak. I spoiled her a little when she was younger because she was frail, and that’s how she became so incompetent. She’s probably just drifting, chasing shortcuts and avoiding work. If she ever comes back, I’ll have to properly educate her.” Listening to them, a profound, soul-deep weariness settled over me. The paving stone felt impossibly heavy. I tried to lift it, but my arms wouldn’t obey. The window glass reflected my own face—gaunt, pale, and completely defeated. I was too tired to fight. I was the scrap, the off-cut. I didn’t want to struggle anymore. Bye-bye, world. I dropped the stone and curled up in the corner of the wall to wait for death. A scrawny stray cat, meowing piteously, wandered toward me. I gathered it into my arms, hugging it close for warmth. It immediately went quiet. Dad hated these “filthy animals.” At least now, my dying wouldn’t interrupt their perfect family evening. See? I was useful for something after all. My body, already a ragged piece of cloth from the cancer and chemo, was quickly failing under the bitter cold. Death came faster than I expected. Slipping out of my ruined shell, I felt light. Free. I floated, holding the little cat, and drifted into the house. Dad was already talking about next year’s business plan: strive, strive, strive. Dead is good. I never have to strive again. I spent the night floating over the guest bed, resting. It was truly comfortable. Just before dawn, I heard the maid’s shriek. “There’s someone sitting by the wall! She’s frozen! I think… I think it’s the second Miss!” All three of them rushed into the courtyard, stopping a few feet away from my body. The night’s drizzle and the sudden drop in temperature had left a delicate layer of frost on my hair. Conrad frowned. “Help her inside.” 5. Victoria immediately stopped the maid. “It’s a pathetic stunt, Dad! She’s not a child! If she was cold, she’d walk in!” Victoria spat, her voice ringing with certainty. “She’s waiting for your pity so she can ask for the car loans again. She’s all about manipulation and shortcuts.” Mom looked at my body, a flicker of worry in her eyes. “Victoria, it’s freezing out here.” Victoria stamped her foot and pulled her arm from Mom’s grasp. “Are you serious? You think the Chicago weather will actually kill her? Look! She’s fine! She even has the audacity to play with a filthy cat!” Conrad finally noticed the stray cat clutched to my chest and grimaced in disgust. They turned to walk back inside. Then the kitchen staff ran over, holding the phone I had dropped last night. “The holiday food is ruined! Someone got into the kitchen and made a huge mess!” Conrad grabbed the phone, his face contorted in rage. “Worthless waste, even now!” Mom chimed in, “We never starved her! Why does she act like a ghoul? And what’s on her mouth? Is that strawberry jam?” That was the blood I threw up before I died, Mom. They all stared at my face, a slow, dawning realization spreading through them. Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently. It was my supervisor’s voice, booming through the speaker. “Anna Weston! Did you not see the team message?! Six a.m. sharp for the Year-End Sales Report! Where are you?! You’ve been bottom of the ladder for a year, and now you’re late?!” The accusation broke my father. He let out a yell and threw the phone with all his might. It struck my head and clattered into my lap. “I am ruined because of you! You have humiliated me for the last time!” The phone vibrated endlessly. Conrad pointed at the maid. “Get that disgusting animal out of her hands! Get the phone! They’re both filthy!” The maid, terrified of the cat, gingerly poked it with a long broom handle. Her face instantly went pale. “It’s… hard. It’s a dead cat.” A sudden, murderous rage consumed my father. He rushed forward and violently kicked my body. “I said, stop playing with dead things!” My frozen body, rigid as a column of ice, toppled over with a sickening thud.

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Arthur was known in our circle as the perfect husband, obsessively devoted to his wife. He personally created an “Evelyn Manual” for me, detailing every single one of my preferences and allergies with obsessive precision. No contact with strawberries, zero exposure to pollen, and the warm water I drank every morning had to be exactly 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Even more insane, he required every employee at his company to memorize it. I used to deeply believe that I was living a life of fairy-tale happiness that others could only dream of. Until the night of our fourth wedding anniversary. He spent the entire evening busy in the kitchen, finally bringing out my favorite blueberry mousse. I took the first bite, and an agonizing, prickling itch instantly clawed at my throat. Five minutes later, hives had spread all over my body. As the ambulance wailed outside, Arthur held my hand, his face deathly pale. “Impossible. I made it myself. I checked the recipe three times…” But through the dizzying haze of suffocation, I could distinctly taste it—hidden beneath the blueberry aroma was the unmistakable flavor of strawberry. He didn’t care about my fatal allergy anymore. … When the light above the emergency room doors finally clicked off, I still had a breathing tube down my throat. Before the anesthesia fully wore off, my hearing returned. Through the crack in the door, the nurses’ hushed conversation hit my eardrums, word by word: “Mrs. Vance is so lucky. Ten minutes later and she’d be gone.” “No kidding. Mr. Vance was so frantic his eyes were totally bloodshot… But hey, do you remember that Miss Chloe from the VIP maternity ward last month?” “Oh yeah, the one Mr. Vance accompanied, right? We were just saying how incredibly attentive he was to his ‘sister.’ He didn’t miss a single prenatal appointment. He was even more meticulous with her than with his own wife.” “Sister, my ass,” a voice whispered, dropping an octave. “My cousin works at the County Clerk’s office. She said that massive estate in the hills on the West Side was transferred to Chloe’s name three months ago.” Footsteps approached. I closed my eyes. Arthur sat on the edge of my bed. He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “Evie… I’m so sorry…” I’m so sorry. Those three words acted like a key, violently unlocking the floodgates of my memories. I had gone into anaphylactic shock from strawberries three times before. The worst time, they had to perform an emergency tracheotomy. Arthur had knelt outside the ICU that day, swearing on his life that he would never let a single strawberry product within a hundred-yard radius of me again. He even put it in bold print on the first page of his corporate employee handbook: Strawberry products are strictly prohibited. Violators will be terminated. And now, strawberries had somehow made their way into the anniversary dessert he personally made for me. It wasn’t carelessness. It was a change in habit. He was no longer hyper-vigilant and terrified of the word “strawberry.” Because someone else wasn’t allergic. In fact, she loved them. If it hadn’t been for the nurses’ gossip just now, my heart probably would have softened. Just like the past twenty years—every time he made that face, I would forgive him. But now, my heart felt like it was being crushed by a massive, invisible fist. The pain made my entire body curl up. The heart monitor started blaring. My heart rate was spiking. “Doctor!” Arthur shot up, his voice panicked. In the chaos, the screen of the phone resting on his bedside table lit up. A new notification popped up: [Artie, I miss you.] Sender: Chloe. In that fraction of a second, all the sound in the room faded away. Only those four words remained, searing into my heart like a red-hot branding iron. Searing it until this heart would never beat for him again. My heart rate gradually stabilized. Arthur let out a long sigh of relief and tucked the blankets around me. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here with you.” The night grew deep. I looked at his sleeping profile. This face used to be the absolute religion of my youth. At six, he got a scar fighting a bully for me. At twelve, he blushed furiously while buying pads for me. At eighteen, he changed his college applications just to stay with me. At twenty-four, at our wedding, he knelt in front of my mother’s grave and swore: “I will protect Evelyn with my life.” Now, he had split his life in half and given the other piece away. Given it to Chloe. The product of my father’s infidelity. The same girl who, fifteen years ago, handed me strawberry juice disguised as strawberry ice cream. The girl who stood outside the ICU glass window, smiling as she watched me hover between life and death. The most laughable part was that her triumphant return was entirely orchestrated by Arthur. He probably thought I was his caged bird now, unable to fly away. Just like he was absolutely certain that my family’s corporation, Sterling Group, couldn’t survive without the Vance family, and that I couldn’t survive without him. My phone vibrated. It was an encrypted message from my family’s head butler, Uncle Ray: “Miss, the property deed has been verified. The West Side estate was transferred to Chloe three months ago. The payment account is directly linked to Mr. Vance.” I knew it. In that moment, my heart plummeted into a glacier. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain—just a freezing, absolute numbness. “Keep tracking the cash flow. I need every single transfer record. Don’t miss a cent.” “Also,” I paused, typing, “contact Attorney Lee. Tell him to prepare to execute the emergency corporate structuring plan my mother left behind. But tell him to hold off until I give the final order.” “Understood.” On the third day after I was discharged, I drove to the West Side estate. The security guard at the gate stopped me. “Who are you here to see?” “Arthur Vance.” I rolled down the window. “I am his wife.” The guard’s expression turned incredibly awkward before he finally let me through. In my rearview mirror, I saw the guards huddling together, whispering. See? Everyone knew. In this marriage, the biggest fool of all was me. I parked the car and stood outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa. I watched as Arthur gently fed a bright red strawberry into Chloe’s mouth. I suddenly remembered when I was twenty. I was hospitalized again due to allergic complications. Arthur sat by my bed, repeatedly stroking the IV needle marks on my hand, his eyes bloodshot. “Evie, I swear I will never let another strawberry get near you.” His heartbreak was genuine back then. But the plate of bright red strawberries sitting on the coffee table right now was also genuine. Arthur noticed me. His movement paused for just a second. Then, he stood up and walked toward the front door. There was no panic on his face—only the distinct annoyance of being interrupted. “Evie,” his tone was flat, even carrying a hint of reprimand. “How did you find this place?” “Explain.” My voice was raspy. “Chloe moved back to the States to start her career. She needed a place to stay.” He lit a cigarette. “You know how unreliable your father is…” “Fifteen years ago, she almost murdered me,” I cut him off. Arthur blew out a puff of smoke, obscuring his expression. “Evie,” he frowned. “How long ago was that? Chloe was only ten. She didn’t know any better.” “And now?” I pointed inside the house. “She knew perfectly well I was allergic, yet she intentionally bought strawberry jam and swapped it with the blueberry. Is that ‘not knowing any better,’ or is that trying to murder me a second time?” “Evelyn,” his voice turned cold. “Chloe just grabbed the wrong jar. Do you really have to be this aggressive?” Aggressive… In the past, he would say other people were malicious. Now, I was the one being “too petty.” Chloe pushed the front door open and walked out. Her loose loungewear couldn’t hide the slight curve of her pregnant belly. She was holding half a strawberry, the red juice seeping through her fingers. “Sister, please don’t be mad at Arthur. It was my fault…” The sight of that bright red juice made my stomach churn violently. And Arthur just stood there, watching. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t immediately neutralize the threat like he had a million times before. Instead, he subtly shifted his body, stepping slightly in front of her, shielding her. That tiny, subconscious movement… …shattered the last pathetic shred of hope I had left. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the sharp pain helped me maintain my composure. “Monday’s board meeting,” my voice was unnervingly steady. “I want your three proxy votes.” Arthur visibly let out a sigh of relief. A knowing, arrogant smirk touched his lips. “Of course. Didn’t we agree on that ages ago?” “I’m talking about a permanent proxy transfer,” I continued. “And this estate. Sign it over to my name tomorrow.” Chloe’s face instantly went pale, but Arthur just laughed and shook his head. “Evie, stop acting out. What’s mine is yours.” He was giving me an “out,” absolutely certain that the Sterling Group desperately needed the Vance family’s backing. He was certain that twenty years of history meant I could never leave him. Every word he spoke was a reminder: Evelyn, you don’t have the leverage to burn this bridge. Chloe gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, her voice soft and whiny: “Artie, I don’t need the house. Just please don’t be mad at her…” “See how understanding Chloe is?” Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Evelyn, you never used to be like this.” Used to be. The Evelyn of the past believed in love. The Evelyn of today didn’t. “The three votes. The estate,” I repeated, even offering a small smile. “Or, I revoke the corporate backing for your clean energy licensing renewal.” I watched his smile instantly freeze. I enunciated every word: “Those connections belong to my mother’s estate. I gave them to you, and I can take them back.” Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away. As I got into my car, a text from Arthur popped up: “Let’s talk. You know I love you.” I stared at those three words, remembering how he had just shielded Chloe with his body. I dialed a number. “Take the evidence of Chloe’s father embezzling corporate funds and send it anonymously to the FBI’s financial crimes division. I want it done today.” In the rearview mirror, Arthur’s figure sprinting out of the house grew smaller and smaller. “And take the evidence of Arthur transferring marital assets and committing adultery… package it up, and send it directly to his mother.” The lights at the charity gala were blinding. When Arthur brazenly walked in with Chloe on his arm, the entire ballroom fell dead silent for a fraction of a second. The smooth, jade bracelet on Chloe’s wrist stabbed my eyes. It was the heirloom bracelet my mother had personally placed on my wrist right before she died. Arthur walked straight toward me, his tone entirely casual. “Jewelry is meant to be worn.” He noticed me glaring dead at the jade bracelet and frowned slightly. “Besides, you’re the older sister. You should be more magnanimous.” Older sister… I remembered the vow he made kneeling at my mother’s grave. He swore he would never let any filth touch anything I cared about. Now, he was personally hand-delivering the absolute worst kind of filth right to my face. “Take it off,” my voice was as cold as dry ice. Arthur grabbed my arm. “It’s just a bracelet.” He lowered his voice, his breath brushing against my ear. “Evelyn, you’ve been spoiled by power for too long. You can’t handle the slightest bit of compromise. That’s a bad trait.” He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to caress my cheek, but stopped mid-air. “I’m helping you grow.” Grow… Using my dead mother’s heirloom, my husband’s betrayal, and an illegitimate sister’s provocation… to help me grow. At that moment, Chloe started taking the bracelet off, but her movements were exaggeratedly slow, like a scene playing out in slow motion. “Sister, please don’t be mad. I’ll give it back to you right now…” Her fingers trembled, her eyes reddened. She looked like a terrified, bullied victim. But her eyes were smiling. Fifteen years ago, standing outside the ICU glass window, that was the exact same smile she wore while she watched me fight for my life. As she spoke, the jade bracelet slipped from her wrist, tracing a perfect arc through the air. I saw Arthur instinctively reach out to catch it. And I saw the microscopic, deliberate flick of Chloe’s fingertips right before the bracelet fell. SMASH! It felt like my heart violently seized in sync with the sound of the shattering jade. Something inside me shattered right along with it. After a moment of silence, Arthur bent down and picked up the largest shard. He glanced at it casually and tossed it back onto the floor. “It’s fine that it broke.” He wrapped his arm around Chloe’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” Then, he looked at me. “You terrified Chloe. Apologize.” The eyes of the entire ballroom were locked on us. He was waiting for me to lose control. He was waiting for me to scream. He wanted me to act like a hysterical, unhinged wife and physically attack Chloe in front of everyone. Because then, he could perfectly justify his narrative: “See? Evelyn is just too spoiled.” It was his twisted way of proving he still possessed absolute control over me. I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. Then, I heard my own voice. It was terrifyingly calm. “I am sorry.” A flash of absolute shock, mixed with an imperceptible trace of anxiety, crossed Arthur’s eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected me to bow my head so peacefully. But the anxiety vanished in a second. Very quickly, his eyes returned to the arrogant composure of a man in control. I followed his gaze toward the auction stage, and my breath caught. It was my mother’s vintage violin. He had actually put it up for auction. My private accounts only had five million dollars in liquid cash right now—the initial funding for my new project. And Arthur, knowing exactly where my vulnerability lay, bid the price up to six million, brutally crushing my dignity. Bang. The gavel fell. Amidst the applause, Chloe stood up and raised her champagne glass toward me, her smile sickeningly sweet. Arthur turned his head and gave me a faint smile. “Chloe wants to learn the violin. Mrs. Sterling’s violin going to a daughter of the Sterling family is perfectly fitting.” The guests around us exchanged sly, knowing looks. So, CEO Vance has finally gotten sick of his domineering wife and is elevating the gentle, sweet illegitimate daughter to take her place. After the gala, Arthur forced me into his car. “Next week’s board meeting,” he lit a cigarette. “I’ll vote ‘yes’ with my three proxy votes. But my condition is… you have to publicly acknowledge Chloe’s child as a legitimate heir to the Sterling bloodline, and eventually add the child to the family trust.” I turned to look at him. “And if I don’t?” Arthur laughed. It was the laugh of a man holding all the cards. “You won’t,” he said. “You care too much about the Sterling Group. You care too much about the empire your mother built. Evelyn, you’re too emotional.” The car pulled up to the estate. He leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Think about it carefully. I want your answer before the board meeting on Monday.” I got out of the car and walked through the front gates without looking back. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind me, I called Uncle Ray. “Initiate Plan B,” I said. “Deliver all the evidence to the District Attorney’s office first thing tomorrow morning.” …

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My coworker, Sienna, saw me pull up in a luxury car and asked, her voice laced with envy, “Roxanne, did you buy this car yourself?” Remembering my dad’s advice to keep a low profile, I answered casually, “It’s my husband’s.” Three months later, she showed up with a group of people and sued me. I was completely bewildered, but she was crying like she was the most wronged person in the world. “It was Roxanne’s husband who assaulted me. I went to her house to drop off a file, but she wasn’t home. Her husband saw me, got ideas, and forced himself on me.” “I’m pregnant with his child! I demand they take responsibility! Otherwise, I’m suing them both for marriage fraud!” She demanded five million dollars in compensation and half of my assets. A tidal wave of condemnation washed over me, but I remained calm, a smirk playing on my lips as I watched her performance. She had no idea that I’d been single for five years. I did have a husband once. But he died five years ago. 1 “You just said you’re pregnant with my husband’s child. Are you sure about that?” In the courtroom, I looked calmly at Sienna, a woman I had worked with for three years. She had always been overly friendly, fawning over my clothes and accessories. She’d complimented a bracelet I was wearing, so I gave it to her. She was always trying to get me to buy her coffee, and I never made a big deal out of it. But I never could have imagined that she would show up three months pregnant, her belly slightly rounded, and accuse my husband of assaulting her in front of a judge. Sienna lifted her chin, her voice firm. “Of course, I’m sure!” “Roxanne, out of respect for our time as colleagues, I wanted to handle this privately, but you refuse to admit it.” “I had no choice but to take legal action. Now, in front of the judge, you might as well tell the truth.” Sienna’s mother glared at me, her face contorted with rage. “You’re Roxanne, right?” “Your monster of a husband committed this crime, but he doesn’t even have the guts to show his face in court?” “If he hadn’t defiled my daughter, she would still be an innocent young woman! How could she possibly be pregnant?” “I suggest you bring him here right now. It doesn’t matter where you hide him; a scumbag like that deserves the death penalty!” The mother-daughter duo put on a dramatic performance, their voices loud and accusatory. I could barely watch. I shook my head in exasperation. “I think you’ve got the wrong person. Instead of wasting your time with me, you should be out looking for the real perpetrator.” “I’ll say it again: my husband would never do something like that.” My words were like a lit match to gasoline. Sienna’s mother exploded. “How can you be so sure he wouldn’t? My daughter is young and beautiful; men can’t take their eyes off her. I bet your husband is no saint.” “If she hadn’t gone to your house to deliver that file, she wouldn’t have been subjected to such a brutal attack!” “The way you’re defending him… maybe you two planned this together, to lure an innocent young girl into a trap!” Sienna’s mother started to dab at her eyes, her gaze falling on her daughter’s swollen belly as she wailed to the heavens. “My poor daughter! You just graduated a few years ago. You had your whole life ahead of you, and now it’s been ruined by that monster!” Her cries were so heart-wrenching that the jury and the coworkers who had come to watch started to look at me with disdain. “The victim is on the verge of a breakdown, and you’re just sitting there, unmoved.” “Rich women are all heartless bitches.” “I bet she’s covering for her husband. Maybe they even planned the whole thing together!” Seeing the tide of sympathy turn in her favor, Sienna played her part to perfection. Her eyes were red and swollen as she looked at me with a pitiful expression. “Roxanne, it was your husband. Why won’t you admit it?” “Because of his selfish desires, my life is ruined. I can’t get married, and now I’m pregnant. The doctor said if I have an abortion, I might never be able to have children!” “My demands aren’t unreasonable. Just five million dollars for emotional distress and a share of your assets. After all, I’m carrying your husband’s child.” “Your family is well-off. Can’t you spare that much?” 2 A smirk played on my lips. “There it is. The real you is finally showing.” “This has always been about money, hasn’t it? Just pin a crime on me that’s impossible to disprove.” “Sienna, you’re more cunning than I gave you credit for.” My words hit their mark. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it. “I am the victim here! Am I not allowed to seek justice for myself?” “Roxanne, how can you be so cruel? Do you have any conscience at all?” “If you’re just going to slander me like this, I might as well just end it all right here…” Sienna made a show of trying to run headfirst into a wall, thrashing about until her mother and a few jurors managed to restrain her. Everyone rushed to comfort her. “Miss Vance, please, don’t be rash. Now that you’re in court, we will ensure that justice is served.” Then, they shot me a cold glare. “People like her, who enable monsters, will get what they deserve.” Just then, the judge banged the gavel. “Order! Since the two parties cannot reach an agreement, you will each present your evidence.” Sienna wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and began her story. “That night, I saw that Roxanne had left a file at her desk. It was urgent for the next day. I somehow found her address and went to deliver it. As I was getting into the elevator, I saw her husband coming out of apartment 302. He looked me over and asked if I was Roxanne’s colleague. I said yes.” “He nodded and said that Roxanne wasn’t home, and that I should wait for her in the car. But then…” Sienna started to sob again. “The moment I got in the car, he locked the doors. Then he started touching me, tearing my clothes… I struggled, but after he was done, he just patted my shoulder and said he would be seeing me often. He even asked if I wanted to be his mistress.” “And then?” someone from the gallery asked, completely engrossed. “Of course I said no! I pushed him away and ran.” “But after that, he started stalking me.” “He cornered me downstairs from the office and forced me to go to a hotel with him several times. He threatened to post my pictures and videos in the company group chat if I didn’t comply, so I had to agree.” “I’ve been trying to break it off with him, but then… I found out I was pregnant.” “I went to him to take responsibility, but he blocked me and pretended he didn’t know me. Who else am I supposed to turn to?” All eyes were on me, filled with a mixture of anger and disgust, as if they wanted to tear me apart. “Roxanne, do you have anything to say?” I shook my head, a cold smile on my face. “This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.” “If that man was really my husband, why would he ask a colleague to wait in the car instead of inviting them inside?” Sienna’s face paled slightly. “How should I know? Maybe your husband had sinister intentions from the start!” “He locked the car doors. I couldn’t escape.” Something still felt off. “You’re just spinning a tale with no proof. Where’s your evidence?” Sienna’s voice was defiant. “I have it!” She produced a surveillance video. It showed her arriving at the entrance to my apartment complex. It’s an upscale building, so she loitered outside for a while. Then, a man with his back to the camera emerged from my building. Sienna approached him, and they started talking. The video cut off there. “See? He was right outside your building. It was obviously your husband!” My expression turned serious. Apartment 302, Brighton Towers. I had randomly put down that address when the company was collecting employee information. But I live in a villa and rarely go to that apartment. I never thought she would dig that up. And the man… his back did look vaguely familiar. Still, I shook my head. “Impossible. I almost never stay at that apartment. How could a husband of mine just suddenly appear there? I suggest you tell the truth in front of the judge. Otherwise, I will be suing you for defamation.” Sienna’s face contorted with a mixture of anger and fear. She was clearly shaken. Her lawyer whispered something to her, and her confidence seemed to return. “Don’t try to turn this around on me!” “Your husband assaulted me and got me pregnant! I have proof!” “I even heard him take a phone call. It was your voice on the other end. He called you ‘honey.’ Don’t deny it!” I was completely baffled. Could there really be someone out there impersonating my husband and deceiving Sienna? “That’s impossible. Describe the man to me. What were his distinguishing features?” Sienna sneered. “Stop pretending, Roxanne.” “I know your husband. His name is Peter Hayes!” The name dropped like a stone, and a wave of amusement washed over me. “Say his name again?” Suddenly, this whole situation had become very interesting.

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When my fiancé passed away in the earthquake, he entrusted his brother, Aaron Hayes, with my care. That care lasted five whole years. One night, fueled by alcohol, we lost control and conceived a child. Thinking of the diamond ring he kept hidden in his drawer, I rushed home, eager to surprise him. But as I stepped inside, I interrupted a passionate scene between him and the woman he’d always loved. My face went white, and I scrambled to flee. He called out, his voice hoarse, “Eliza, could you grab me a pack of condoms?” I clutched my pregnancy test results, my smile more grotesque than a cry. I bought the items and returned, only for Aaron to Venmo me a hundred dollars for my troubles. Scarlett glanced at the box, her eyes filled with open hostility toward me. “Aaron, your sister-in-law might look innocent, but she has sharp tastes!” Aaron’s sharp gaze cut over to me. “Eliza, you’re still a child, you shouldn’t be looking at inappropriate things. Go stay at a hotel for a few days and come back later!” I aborted our child, obediently left, and never returned. 1 The doctor looked at me, perplexed, as I reappeared. “Is something bothering you?” It wasn’t surprising she asked. When I’d first learned I was pregnant, my face had been flushed with excitement. Now, it was utterly pale. “Please schedule the earliest possible abortion for me.” Having witnessed countless human dramas, the doctor didn’t try to dissuade me. But when it came to signing the consent forms, she insisted I find a family member to sign. I pulled out my phone and instinctively pressed the speed dial. The phone beeped once before Aaron hung up, faster than my own reflexes. I gave a bitter smile and told the doctor, “I don’t have any family; I’ll have to sign myself.” After the procedure, I saw that Aaron had taken a moment to send me a screenshot of a hotel booking. He was so thoughtful, he’d booked me a room for a week. “Unless it’s life or death, don’t bother me these next few days. You understand.” When I saw that diamond ring on her hand, what was there left for me not to understand? How laughable, my self-deception, believing the ring was for me. Even more laughable, that I thought he would remember that night of utter abandon. I glanced at the bloody, indistinct embryo, my heart dead inside as I left. The luxury suite had everything, comparable to the cozy bedroom Aaron had decorated for me. But as I curled up under the covers, I felt nothing but a chilling cold. My hands trembled as I dialed a number. “Professor Miller, you mentioned assembling a team to go to Africa for medical aid. Count me in.” Professor Miller, ever perceptive, was delighted that I wanted to join but also asked tentatively, “Eliza, didn’t you say before that your brother-in-law was worried about you going to Africa? Did you two have an argument?” “Don’t be stubborn and run off with me. He’ll go frantic digging up the earth to find you later!” Professor Miller’s concern was natural. After Aaron and I had that chaotic night, I’d slipped away early, mortified, while he was still asleep. Afterward, he acted as if nothing had happened, treating me with the same big-brother demeanor. Angry that he wouldn’t acknowledge what we’d done, I had silently gone traveling to clear my head. As a result, Aaron had turned the whole town upside down looking for me. Everyone knew he cherished his sister-in-law more than his own eyes. Seeing the news, I automatically interpreted it to mean I was very important to him. Turns out, I was overthinking. Now, he could spend a passionate night with the woman of his heart and put me up in a hotel for a week. Once they were married, there would certainly be no place for me in that home. I also didn’t want to watch him and another woman in sweet affection day after day. “Professor, he’s agreed to it.” “Alright, then I’ll submit your name to the list. I’ll send you the materials shortly so you can prepare.” Looking at the documents, I booked my flight for seven days later. Perfect, I’d stay in the hotel for seven days, then leave. As for what to bring, I tried to recall, but it seemed there was nothing I absolutely needed. Since the earthquake, homeless, everything I owned had been bought by Aaron. He covered all my expenses, so the inheritance my parents left me remained untouched. I owed him. I kept a small amount for myself and transferred the money I owed him back to the card he’d given me. After doing all this, my mind clear, I fell into a deep sleep. In my slumber, I felt the building sway again. The phone rang repeatedly, but I didn’t hear it at all. Then, an urgent knocking at the door. “Eliza? Open the door!” 2 Aaron’s anxious voice left me disoriented, unsure of where I was. Groggy, I opened the door. He saw I was unharmed, let out a sigh of relief, then erupted in anger. “What’s wrong with you? Not answering calls, not replying to messages—is it fun to scare me like this?” I picked up my phone and saw a string of missed calls from Aaron. While I’d been sleeping, another earthquake had hit. “I’m sorry, I was sleeping too deeply to hear.” “Liar! You’re terrified of earthquakes. Every time there’s even a slight tremor, you can’t sleep!” It was true. Whenever that happened, he would stay up all night with me, constantly telling me he would protect me. Even if the building collapsed, he’d be there, ready to die with me. I glanced at the misbuttoned buttons on his shirt, a strange warmth spreading in my heart. He did care about my safety after all. But the hickey on his neck told me not to flatter myself. He was only protecting me, a poor orphan like himself, because of his brother’s dying wish. “Maybe I was just too tired.” Aaron clearly didn’t believe me. He stared at my face for a few seconds, then coldly scolded me. “Why did you paint your face so white in the middle of the night? Just to trick me into coming over?” I looked up, seeing the displeasure in his eyes. Before, when the earth shook, he would tell my pale face not to be afraid. Now, deathly pale from a miscarriage, he claimed I’d painted my face to trick him. I tugged at the corners of my lips, my heart feeling like a plum steeped in ice water. “It was my fault for ruining your plans, Big Brother. You should go back to your fiancée.” It had been a long time since I’d called him “Big Brother.” The title, slipping from my tongue, made Aaron’s thin lips press into a taut line. His eyes, dark as a deep pool, held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Come back with me. If there are aftershocks, I’d rather you be with me. Scarlett and I would both feel better.” “Lest you cause more trouble.” “I won’t cause trouble. You go!” I stood stubbornly, refusing to move. Aaron’s brow furrowed, his patience worn thin. “Just because you wouldn’t answer your phone, I left Scarlett alone at home. Can’t you be a little more considerate?” But I had already aborted the baby and resolved to leave without a word. Wasn’t that considerate enough? Before I could speak, Aaron’s phone rang opportunely. A sweet, delicate female voice sobbed, “Aaron, when are you coming back? I’m a little scared…” “Don’t be scared, Scarlett, I’ll be right back!” Aaron soothed her gently, while giving me a pointed look. I was already content that he’d thought of me first when the earthquake hit. A non-relative, he had looked after me for years. If I still didn’t get the hint, I’d be ungrateful. Aaron couldn’t hang up the phone right away, and I still refused to leave. So he forcefully hoisted me onto his shoulder and headed for the elevator. I struggled violently, telling him to put me down, and accidentally knocked his phone to the ground. Annoyed, he reached out and slapped my bottom. The sharp smack echoed in the hallway, making both of us stiffen. The heat of his palm, through the thin fabric, burned uncomfortably against my skin. Thinking of that wild night, my icy body instantly flushed hot. A young girl passing by stifled a giggle and ran off, but at the corner, I heard her voice message to a friend, gossiping: “Just saw the cutest couple! I bet they won’t leave their hotel room for three days!” Aaron was already frozen, startled by his own impulsive action. Hearing this, he immediately dropped me, as if I were scorching hot. The usually composed man blushed right down to his neck. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused! How embarrassing! I shouldn’t have bothered with you!” With that, he picked up his phone and left alone. I used all my strength to stand steady, holding on until the elevator doors were almost closed before I could no longer bear it. He was the one who forcibly carried me away, and he was the one who crossed the line by hitting my bottom. If that was embarrassing, then what was getting me pregnant? My emotions surged, and the blood flow below wouldn’t stop. Everything went black, and I fell straight backward. The young girl, hearing the commotion, quickly shouted towards the elevator, “Hey, your girlfriend fainted!” 3 I struggled to open my eyes, seeing only the numbers on the elevator screen rapidly descending. It finally stopped on the first floor and remained motionless for a long time. The young girl, having only half-finished her gossip, rushed over and helped me up. Seeing the pools of blood spreading beneath me, she was indignant. “What happened? Did your boyfriend just abandon you and run off?” I gave a bitter smile. “You misunderstand, he’s not my boyfriend.” She, however, automatically assumed we’d had a fight and broken up. I leaned on her for support, trying to get back to my room, but after only a few steps, I completely passed out. When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was sterile white. The familiar scent of disinfectant reminded me I was in a hospital. “You’re awake?” The nurse, after confirming I was alright, began to chatter. “What’s going on with your emergency contact? I called several times, but they just hung up on me.” “The young girl who brought you to the hospital paid your medical bills.” I took out my phone and checked the call history. My heart understood; Aaron was truly angry. But I no longer had the energy to explain or seek reconciliation. I was even grateful he hadn’t answered, otherwise, my miscarriage wouldn’t have remained a secret. I rested in the hospital for a few days, then returned to the hotel to retrieve my luggage. But I was told Aaron had already checked me out. The attendant handed me my luggage apologetically, though her eyes held a hint of amusement. As I left, the whispers behind me reached my ears, word for word. “She’s fallen out of favor, hasn’t she?” “Mr. Hayes is already engaged. There’s no place for his sister-in-law anymore.” “I thought that after being by Mr. Hayes’s side for so many years, she’d have the advantage, but who knew she’d still lose to his first love!” In the hotel lobby, a preview of Aaron and Scarlett’s engagement party tomorrow was playing. I seemed not to hear, hailed a taxi, and headed for the airport. The scenery outside the window blurred backward, and I closed my eyes, exhausted. The car drove for a long time without reaching its destination, and when I opened my eyes, I realized something was wrong. Panic set in. I glanced at the rearview mirror; the masked driver’s accidental gaze was like a venomous snake. Forcing myself to stay calm, I pulled out my phone to call for help. The masked man noticed my intention, sneered, and slammed on the brakes. “Too late now.” He got out and pressed a wet cloth over my mouth and nose. My consciousness immediately blurred. He snatched my phone, his voice mocking. “Trying to call for help?” “How about we make a bet? If he answers your call, I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t… hehe…” The man used my fingerprint to unlock the phone and dialed the top contact. Sure enough, Aaron didn’t answer. Then he directly hung up. On the last attempt, he finally picked up. I tried to call for help, but the sound that came out was barely a whisper. On the other end, he was furious. “Eliza Lee, get your identity straight! My brother is dead. You’re nothing more than a stranger to me! Don’t try to cling to me anymore!” His roar was deafening, mixed with the masked man’s mockery, stinging my eardrums and my heart. At an abandoned factory, the masked man dragged me from the car and threw me onto the ground. A pair of high heels entered my vision. Before I could make out the woman’s face, she unceremoniously kicked me twice. Weak, I saw stars. “Eliza Lee, you are truly shameless!” “Aaron treated you like a dear sister, yet you shamelessly slandered him!” The familiar voice made me realize who was assaulting me. That day, when I walked in on Scarlett and Aaron’s passionate encounter, her first glance at me was filled with hostility. Seeing I remained silent, Scarlett took out her phone and questioned me. “Did you arrange for this photo to be released?” “If Aaron hadn’t handled it quickly after I discovered it, you would have succeeded!” I looked at the photo, finally understanding why Aaron had said those words.

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The day after I gave birth, everyone denied it ever happened. The hospital said I had no delivery record. What baby? My husband said he was unmarried, that it was impossible for me to be pregnant with his child. Even my parents cried and begged me. “Audrey, you were never pregnant. Please, stop this.” I called the media, forced my way into the neonatal unit to find my son, and was dragged away like a lunatic. They sent me to a psychiatric hospital. The last time I tried to escape, I died under the wheels of a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Today was my due date. A sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. My water broke. I was in labor again. … I gasped for air. The familiar ache in my belly, the familiar, heavy pressure. “Audrey? Audrey, what’s wrong?” Mark’s face was a mask of worry. I looked up at him. That was the face that had, in my last life, used the gentlest voice to invalidate my entire existence. “It hurts… the baby…” I managed to choke out. “It’s time? Oh my God!” Mark leaped to his feet, fumbling to help me up. “Come on, we have to get to the hospital!” The hospital? Yes, we had to go to the hospital. The last time, the hospital was where I lost everything. “Wait!” I couldn’t just walk in unprepared like before. “My ID… and yours…” I pointed toward the bedroom. “There’s no time for that! We need to go!” Mark was genuinely panicked, sweat beading on his forehead. “No, I’ll get them!” I forced myself up and pulled our marriage certificate from the back of the drawer. Mark Peterson and Audrey Thorne. Our names, printed in black and white. I glanced at the wedding photos on the wall. Every single one was real. The contractions came again, stronger this time. I lay in the back seat while Mark drove. At a red light, he called my parents. “Mom, Dad, Audrey’s in labor…” “Yeah, we’re on our way to the hospital now…” I pictured my parents’ faces. Their love for me had always felt real, too. So why had they also told me I was never pregnant? Between waves of pain, I shakily pulled out my phone. I snapped a picture of the street sign outside the window, then a candid shot of Mark’s anxious profile. Finally, I aimed the camera down and took a close-up of my swollen belly. Mark noticed. “What are you doing?” “Documenting… an important moment…” I forced a weak smile and uploaded the photos to my cloud storage. These images, time-stamped and geotagged, had to be undeniable. Finally, we reached the hospital. I was rushed to a delivery room, and a nurse checked me. “You’re fully dilated. Let’s go!” Everything was happening exactly as I remembered. But this time, through the blinding pain, my mind was crystal clear. “Waaah!” With a sharp cry, my child was born. The midwife held up the tiny, red body, bringing him close to my face. “Look, a beautiful baby boy.” Tears streamed down my face. As I reached out to touch my son, I used the last of my strength to pluck a few strands of hair from his head. The baby wailed in pain. My heart ached, but I had to have proof. If they tried to tell me I never had a child, or that this child wasn’t mine, I would have his DNA. The midwife was already cutting the cord, weighing him, and swaddling him in a blanket. They moved me to a private room. I was so exhausted, I closed my eyes, just for a moment. When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for the bassinet beside my bed. It was empty. The space where my son should have been was vacant. I slammed the call button. A young nurse hurried in. “You’re awake! How are you feeling? Is the incision painful?” “My baby?” I demanded. “Where is my baby?” The nurse’s smile faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed her face. “Baby? What baby?” “The baby I just delivered! My son! I had him last night!” My voice rose with panic. The nurse walked to the foot of my bed, glanced at the chart hanging there, then looked down at her clipboard, frowning. “Ma’am, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “This room was on standby yesterday. You were admitted for observation late last night. The chart says you came in for acute abdominal pain. The diagnosis is still pending.” BOOM. My world tilted. “That’s impossible!” I grabbed her sleeve. “I had a baby! How can he be gone? Where is my husband, Mark? MARK!” He was supposed to stay with me, but he was gone, too. The nurse, startled, tried to pull away. “Ma’am, please calm down! There is no record of a newborn. You were admitted alone. There are no family members on your record.” “You’re lying!” I screamed. The tearing pain between my legs flared up with the sudden movement. “Get your supervisor! Check the security footage!” My shouting brought more people. The head nurse rushed in, her words a soothing but empty echo of the first nurse’s. No delivery record. No baby. “Mark… I’ll call my husband…” My hands trembled as I found his number. The phone rang for a long time before he answered, his voice thick with sleep. “Hello? Audrey?” “Where are you? Where’s the baby? The hospital says he’s gone! They’re saying I never even had a baby!” The words tumbled out in a frantic, tearful rush. There was a two-second pause on the other end. Then, a weary sigh. “Audrey, did you have another nightmare? Is your stomach hurting again? Just listen to the doctors and let them run their tests.” “I told you yesterday, I have an early meeting at the office this morning. I’ll come see you as soon as it’s over.” “What are you talking about?” I shrieked. “I just had a baby! You’re supposed to be here with me!” “A baby?” Mark’s voice was filled with genuine confusion. “Audrey, we’re not even married. Where would a baby come from?” Not married… where would a baby come from… The exact same words as last time. I froze. I had expected it, but hearing it again was still a physical blow. “Let’s call security,” the head nurse murmured to someone beside her. “This patient is emotionally unstable.” Two uniformed guards appeared at the door. They didn’t enter, but their presence was an implicit threat. Just then, I heard frantic footsteps in the hallway. “Audrey! My baby girl!” My parents burst into the room. My mother, her face etched with worry, threw her arms around me. “Why did you come to the hospital? You scared me to death! You were so incoherent on the phone…” I clung to her like a lifeline. “Mom, I had the baby! But he’s gone! They won’t admit it!” My mother’s body stiffened. She pulled away, her eyes clouded with concern. “Audrey, honey, you weren’t pregnant.” “Have you… have you been working too hard? Are you seeing things?” My father stepped forward and sighed. “Audrey, your mother has a weak heart. Don’t frighten her. Let’s just cooperate with the doctors, get a check-up, and go home.” Hallucinations? Again with the hallucinations? A cold dread washed over me. “I’m not hallucinating! I have proof!” I opened my cloud album and showed them the photos from the car, especially the close-up of my belly. “Look! I took these on the way to the hospital last night! Look how big my stomach was!” My mother glanced at the phone, and her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh, Audrey. You can do anything with photo editing apps these days. Why are you torturing yourself like this?” My father’s brow furrowed. “We know you want to start a family, but you have to take things one step at a time. You can’t just… invent things because you’re desperate to marry Mark.” I stared at them in disbelief. The evidence was right there, but they refused to see it. “I want to see my husband! He drove me here! Let him tell you what happened!” I swung my legs out of bed, staggering as a sharp pain shot through me. My mother rushed to steady me while my father blocked my path. “Audrey, stop making a scene! Haven’t you caused enough embarrassment?” The security guards stepped into the room. “Ma’am, please remain calm. If you continue to disturb the other patients, we will have to take necessary measures.” No matter how much I cried or pleaded, no one believed me. Just as the chaos reached its peak, Mark appeared. He was dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers, holding a briefcase, looking like he’d just stepped out of an important meeting. “Mark!” I cried, all my pain and fury erupting at once. “Tell them! Tell them we’re married, that I was pregnant with your child, and that you brought me here last night to give birth!” Mark walked to my bedside, his expression a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Audrey, we are dating, and I care for you deeply. But marriage… we never did. And a child… that’s simply not possible.” He turned to my parents and the hospital staff. “She’s been under a lot of stress from work, and I think our recent breakup hit her harder than I realized… she’s developed some unhealthy fantasies. I’m so sorry. This is my fault.” Breakup? Fantasies? I watched his performance, my blood turning to ice. “You’re lying!” I ripped open the document folder I’d brought from home. “This is our marriage certificate!” I held the two red booklets high. Inside were our names, our photos, and a wedding date from one year ago. Mark just sighed. “Audrey, aren’t those the fake certificates we bought online for April Fool’s last year? We posted a picture on social media, remember? Our friends and family were all so shocked.” My parents nodded. “Yes, we told you two to stop messing around!” Fake? How could they be fake? Mark pulled out his phone and opened his online shopping history. And there it was: a purchase record for two replica marriage certificates. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “No, we went to City Hall. Look, it has the official seal.” Mark’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “If you still don’t believe me, I can check the state’s official records portal right now.” He logged in and entered his own name. His marital status: Unmarried. Then he entered mine. The same result: Unmarried. I was stunned. I snatched the phone from his hands, checking and rechecking, but the result was the same. Mark gently touched my forehead. “You must want to marry me so badly that you’ve started to imagine things.” My parents looked at me with pity, shaking their heads. But no matter what they said, I refused to believe it. “No! None of this is a hallucination!” I screamed, thrashing against their grip. “You’re all lying to me! Why? WHY?” My struggles were futile. I was easily overpowered. History was repeating itself in the most suffocating way possible. They injected me with a sedative. It left my body limp, but my mind was wide awake as they transferred me from the maternity ward to the psychiatric ward. Just like before. My parents stayed with me. My mother cried silently while my father paced outside, chain-smoking. I closed my eyes and forced myself to remember every detail of the previous night. That’s right. The strands of baby hair. I shakily retrieved them from my pocket. They were still there. I really, truly had a baby. When my parents weren’t looking, I called my best friend, Linda. “I need you to take something for me and get a DNA test done at a different lab. Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Mark or my parents.”

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On a variety show, the host randomly checked the seventh photo in the guests’ phones. I showed a picture of Arthur’s brand-new Rolls-Royce. The “innocent little white flower” actress instantly teared up: “Elena, I know you usually target me, but could you please not pretend to be associated with my boyfriend’s car?” I was stunned: “Since when did the guy at my house get a girlfriend without me knowing?” The little white flower cried and called Arthur right there: “Hubby, someone is bullying me…” There was a pause on the other end, then Arthur’s voice came through, deadly serious: “Who? Where are you? I’m flying back to the country right now to find you.” My jaw dropped. The internet exploded: [I knew Elena was just clout-chasing again!] [Bet you didn’t expect this! You can’t just use CEO Vance for clout!] [CEO Vance spoils her so much! You two need to get married right now! Make Elena choke on her jealousy!] No, seriously, I just didn’t know when my little brother secretly started dating my arch-nemesis! 1 My jaw-dropped expression was quickly turned into a meme and trended online. [Hahaha! Does Elena actually think Chloe is joking with her? Does she think Chloe is a clout-chaser just like her?] [Does she really think she can use CEO Vance for clout? LMAO, this meme is the best of the year!] [Hahahaha, this is so satisfying to watch! I love seeing this fake bitch get slapped in the face by Chloe!] The live stream chat was scrolling crazily. I immediately ran out of the studio and into my dressing room. [Is she too ashamed to show her face now?] [Seeing her get humbled is so satisfying!] I closed the dressing room door and immediately called Arthur. His voice sounded a bit rushed: “Sis, something urgent came up. We’ll talk later.” “Let me guess, your girlfriend is getting bullied?” Arthur froze: “Sis, how did you know?” “Are you out of your mind, dating a woman like her?!” “Sis, you don’t understand. She’s the most special girl I’ve met in my twenty-five years.” I almost choked: “She’s an actress! What can’t she act out? Let me tell you, I know exactly what kind of person Chloe is. Break up with her right now!” “She’s not acting!” Arthur sounded completely self-righteous: “Even when she’s drunk, she tells me she loves me!” I felt a block in my chest: “What’s so hard about that? I can act that out too. I love you, I love you, I love you!” “Are you crazy? What kind of psychotic fit is this?!” Arthur got goosebumps and hung up the phone directly. Puffing my cheeks in anger, I turned around, only to find someone already standing at the door of my dressing room. Chloe had one hand covering her mouth and the other holding her phone, looking incredibly innocent: “Sister, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here too.” I sneered: “Funny, I seem to recall you staring right at me when I walked into this room.” “Sister, you…” Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red. The live chat went crazy: [Ahhh! You psycho, stay away from Chloe!] [I’m so sick of this fake bitch. Terrible acting, terrible personality. She’s the one who tried to steal Chloe’s boyfriend first!] I had no interest in playing these petty games, so I turned and left. But unexpectedly, in the short time it took me to touch up my makeup, the trending topics exploded again. I clicked on it. It was a three-second video of my “confession” to Arthur. Trending Title: Arthur Vance: Are you crazy? What kind of psychotic fit is this?! Elena attempts to be the other woman, gets fiercely reprimanded as a psycho by Arthur Vance. My vision went black. 2 The dressing room had excellent soundproofing and privacy. The only person who could have filmed that video was Chloe, who opened the door at the very end. The video started recording exactly when I “confessed.” It made it look like I was crazily telling Arthur “I love you,” only for him to avoid me like the plague. Thinking of this, I sought out Chloe and showed her the three-second video: “You secretly recorded me?” Chloe quickly smiled: “Sister, don’t misunderstand. I just happened to be taking a selfie and accidentally…” “If you were taking a selfie, why was the camera pointed at me? And if it was an accident, why did you post it?” Chloe’s face paled. She just realized that admitting she filmed it was the same as admitting she leaked it. But her persona had always been the harmless, innocent little white flower. Her eyes reddened, and tears suddenly fell: “Sister, I’m begging you, please stop pestering my boyfriend, okay? I’ve tried to persuade you for so long, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m not good at arguing, and I really didn’t have any other choice, that’s why I… “This is the first time I’ve met a boy I like so much. I’m begging you…” I cut her off: “That act works on him, but it doesn’t work on me. “Play enough dirty tricks, and you’ll eventually be found out. It’s only a matter of time before he dumps you. Watch yourself.” With that, I turned and walked away. The premise of this variety show was experiencing rural life. As I was preparing for the next leg of our trip into the countryside, my manager called me: “My little troublemaker, can you please lay low? It’s only been a little while, and you’re already on your third trending topic!” I hurriedly opened my phone. The number one trending topic had a glaring “Explosive” tag next to it: Elena threatens Chloe Just moments ago, an audio recording was leaked, supposedly by a staff member of the show. It was the exact conversation I just had with Chloe. But I was absolutely certain that only Chloe and I were present at the time. My social media was being bombarded. [Lady, take a good look. Chloe is the girlfriend personally acknowledged by CEO Vance! And you’re telling her to watch herself?] [Homewreckers deserve to die, along with their whole families.] [I was wondering who it was. Turns out it’s you, you fake bitch. Well, that’s not surprising then. Hope your whole family drops dead soon.] … Meanwhile, Chloe started a live stream from her car. The corners of her eyes were slightly red, tears glimmering in them, yet she smiled “stubbornly”: “Everyone, please stop saying that. There must be some misunderstanding between me and Sister. “If anyone else gets hurt because of me, I’ll be very sad too.” The netizens were heartbroken: [Ahhh, baby, you can’t be too kind! Elena is targeting you on purpose! Don’t speak up for her! Ahhh!] [Baby is so sweet, my heart aches for her sob! I’m going straight to Elena’s page to curse her out!] [Protect the best baby in the world! Elena deserves to die a horrible death!] I sat in my car, my vision darkening repeatedly. So, I called Arthur. 3 “Break up with her. Break up with her right now!” I got straight to the point. Arthur was completely confused: “Sis, I told you, this is true love.” “Are you completely blind to her ability to manipulate public opinion against me? Have you even looked at the trending topics?” “Oh come on, Sis, when are you not getting cursed out online? I’m used to it for you.” …He actually had a point. “It’s fine, Sis. When I get back, I’ll treat you both to dinner and clear up the misunderstanding. Chloe is a really good person. She’s definitely not what you think.” “Forget it. I have more experience surviving in the entertainment industry than you have signed contracts.” “Isn’t your ‘experience’ just getting yelled at?” “You!” “Alright, alright, Sis. How about you just retire from the industry? Look at the terrible movies you’ve been starring in.” I argued back vehemently: “What do you mean terrible movies?! If I put effort into acting in them, they’re not terrible!” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you put effort in, but you inherited Mom’s acting skills!” I had no comeback for that. Arthur laughed: “Alright, Sis, come back and take over the family business. You’d earn way more doing this than struggling in the entertainment industry. And it would make my life easier. Why suffer out there?” “No! I didn’t join the entertainment industry to make money. I did it for Liam!” “…” 4 It’s true, I had no need to enter the entertainment industry. My parents nagged me every day to take over the family business and work with Arthur to make the company even bigger and stronger. But I stubbornly chose the entertainment industry, all so I could get up close and personal with my idol, Liam Sterling. The star who was the same age as me and whom I had been a fan of for five years. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I never publicly announced my relationship with Arthur. I took my mother’s maiden name, while Arthur took our father’s. So for all these years, no one ever suspected we were related. I never expected things to turn into such a massive farce now. I suddenly felt deeply regretful. As the guiding figure in my younger brother’s life, I used to watch him like a hawk to ensure he didn’t date in high school. I didn’t realize that the consequence of missing out on young romance would make him so easily seduced by a manipulative woman. I sat in the car, rubbing my forehead in regret: “If I had known, I would have let him date more back then!” 5 However, the gloom in my heart was quickly swept away. Because the moment I stepped out of the car, I learned the identity of today’s mystery guest. “Liam?!” I cried out in surprise: “Is it him? Is it really him?” A staff member gave me a disdainful look, snorted coldly, and walked away. The entire production crew had been treating me coldly ever since I supposedly “stole” Chloe’s boyfriend. Later, when they realized this attitude earned them unanimous praise from netizens, they looked down on me even more. I didn’t care. After surviving in this industry for so long, I had endured plenty of eye rolls and mockery. Liam was the only one worth my attention. The moment Liam stepped out of his car, everyone let out a piercing scream of excitement. I dashed forward and handed him a gold-rimmed photo card: “Mr. Sterling, I’m a huge fan! Could I get an autograph?” He pulled down his mask and smiled: “Sure.” He took the card, casually scribbled something on it, and handed it back to me. Just as I was about to carefully put it away as a treasure, I saw what he wrote. Two words: [Dumb bitch] I froze. I looked up. He was glaring at me with contempt, letting out a cold laugh. “Liam!” An excited voice interrupted my thoughts. Chloe’s car had also arrived. The moment she stepped out of the car, she dashed over and threw herself into his arms: “It’s really you! Weren’t you filming somewhere else?” Liam caught her and spun her around in a circle: “I knew you were here, so I came specifically for you. Or, I just had a sudden whim to join this variety show. Which one do you want to hear?” The live chat scrolled frantically: [Let me say it! Let me say it! He came specifically for you! For you, for you, for you!] [So smooth! sobs…] Chloe pouted her lips, furrowed her brows, and feigned anger: “You’re teasing me again!” Liam smiled and tapped her nose: “Still so easily angered.” I frowned: “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Liam protectively shielded Chloe behind him and gave me a disdainful smile: “Chloe and I are childhood sweethearts. We’ve supported each other since we were kids to get where we are today. “I hope Ms. Elena doesn’t project her own dirty mind onto everything she sees.” 6 The live chat started its carnival again: [Classic Liam! He can spot a bitch from a mile away!] [Quote of the day: Just because someone likes being a homewrecker doesn’t mean everyone else does, okay?!] [They are childhood sweethearts, they’ve always been like this. A certain someone named Elena shouldn’t be so quick to project her own flaws onto others.] I was furious. Just as I was about to say something, my assistant suddenly pulled me aside: “Elena, calm down. He just landed the lead role in a massive Hollywood IP. So many people are willing to back him up. If you clash with him, you’ll be the one who loses out.” “Massive IP?” I laughed out of pure anger. My assistant nodded: “Yes, a mysterious billionaire fan of his invested a fortune in him. I heard the billionaire has very high hopes for him. If you anger him, we can’t afford the consequences.” “Hah! The investment was because they respected his acting skills. Who said he gets to walk sideways and act like he owns the place?” My assistant smiled, looking at me with a hint of pity: “Elena, it’s better not to try and guess the thoughts of billionaires.” “I don’t need to guess,” I laughed coldly. “I’m withdrawing the investment right now.” “Elena, you… sigh!” My assistant sighed and shook her head: “How have you become so delusional that you can’t even tell who you are anymore?” With that, she turned and walked away. When she met a colleague, there was another sigh: “Elena has lost her mind. She actually thinks she’s Mr. Sterling’s investor. “Do you think getting yelled at so much recently has driven her crazy? First, she thought she was CEO Vance’s girlfriend, and now she’s hallucinating that she’s an investor.” I was already puffing with anger as I grabbed my phone and dialed my secretary, my tone decisive: “Withdraw the investment. You heard me right, withdraw the investment!” The secretary on the other end froze for a moment: “But President Vance, aren’t you Mr. Sterling’s biggest fan?” “Consider me previously blind. Withdraw the investment immediately. Cancel every single bid related to him!” “Yes, President Vance.” After hanging up, I finally felt a little better. As I walked towards the soundstage, the sight before me almost made me drop my phone— Liam was drinking a bubble tea, and on the straw was a lipstick mark in the exact same shade as Chloe’s! He took a sip and handed the bubble tea back to Chloe: “It is a bit too sweet. This place didn’t make it right.” Chloe naturally put the straw in her mouth: “I thought so too, but since you bought it, Liam, I guess I’ll just have to force myself to take a couple of sips~” “You’re so mischievous.” “Hold on…” I interrupted them both: “You have a boyfriend right now. Even if you are childhood sweethearts, shouldn’t you keep some distance?” Liam very naturally shielded Chloe behind him again: “I told you before, Ms. Elena, don’t project your own dirty mind onto everything.” My temper flared. I raised an eyebrow: “If some people are just inherently dirty, then anyone looking at them would find it disgusting, wouldn’t they?” “You!” Liam was genuinely angry now. Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red: “Sister, are you calling me dirty?” I raised an eyebrow: “Is there anyone else here besides you two?” Liam’s face instantly darkened. Thankfully, the director arrived just in time to stop the situation from escalating further. Terrified that I would “cause trouble” again, the production team unprecedentedly gave me a private room. But just as I had finished unpacking my luggage into the room, someone came to notify me: “You don’t need to film anymore.” My assistant was stunned: “Why? We signed a contract!” The staff member was utterly dismissive: “This is Mr. Sterling’s request.” My assistant deflated. She turned to me and sighed: “Elena, it looks like we really have to go.” I was so angry I laughed: “Fine. So he’s making arrangements for me now? “If I have to leave, I leave. Perfect timing, anyway. I’ve had enough of playing around in this entertainment industry!” That very day, I hit the trending topics once again: Elena finally forced to retire from the entertainment industry.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391370”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel