Category: English

Everyone in the circles I ran in knew the drill: I was a gold-digger, pure and simple. Marrying Burrell Vance was all about the money. He saw me as a placeholder, a stand-in for someone else. I saw him as a human ATM. Then, his beloved stepsister, the original “white moonlight” he’d been pining for, returned home. I, the one who was supposed to gracefully step aside, suddenly found myself a little… reluctant. I mean, a handsome, generous sugar daddy like Burrell wasn’t exactly easy to come by. Just as I was racking my brain, trying to figure out how to cling on for dear life, I stumbled upon Burrell prying a gem from my mother’s ring – her only memento – just to make Amelia happy. Burrell caught my stunned expression and, with an impatient sigh, pulled out his checkbook. “Name your price,” he said, “I’ll double it.” His cold, indifferent gaze snapped me back to reality. My heart, a fleeting moment ago, had fluttered with something soft and useless. Now, it hardened. Forget sentiment, Maya. Go for the gold, the real, tangible kind. I immediately looked up, a sweet, innocent smile plastered on my face. “Triple?” I asked, “Would triple work?” 1 Burrell froze. Then, as if he’d expected this all along, he scoffed and shook his head. His pen moved decisively across the checkbook, scribbling a longer number, before tearing off the slip with a sharp rip. He held it out to me. “Five million.” “That old ring of yours was barely worth fifty thousand. I’m giving you ten times that. Enough?” The check was covered in a dizzying array of zeroes, more than I’d ever seen outside of a bank statement. My eyes crinkled into crescent moons as I took it. “Enough! More than enough!” Seeing my delighted expression, Amelia, who was still clutching the freshly pried gem, felt a surge of indignation. This whole show had been orchestrated to torment me. She’d deliberately praised the stone in my dressing table ring, confident Burrell would remove it for her. She’d envisioned me walking in, collapsing like a hysterical shrew, giving her the perfect opportunity to play the fragile victim, making Burrell despise me even more, maybe even kick me out. But Amelia hadn’t anticipated I’d be so easily placated. She couldn’t help but raise her voice, accusing me. “Maya Brooks, are you really that materialistic?” “Cook said that ring was your mother’s only keepsake. You’re so heartless towards your own parents, how much sincerity could you possibly have for Burrell? As for this worthless rock… here! Take it back!” “I wouldn’t touch something from someone like you. It’s soiled!” The gem bounced off my foot, rolling a few times on the floor, picking up tiny scratches. Burrell glanced at Amelia’s aggressive outburst, a faint, almost imperceptible frown creasing his brow. Instead of getting angry, I simply bent down and picked it up, blowing off the dust. Then, I spoke calmly. “Miss Burrell, there’s something Cook might not have told you.” “My mother was a human trafficker. The first child she ever sold was me. Later, when she saw I’d made something of myself, she wanted to ‘reclaim’ me. So she eagerly spent a fortune on this ring, saying it was a gift to win me back.” “I refused. And then I reported her to the police. She was sentenced and died years ago.” I slipped the gem into my pocket, flashing Amelia a dazzling smile. “So, exchanging this trinket for five million? Absolute steal! But since you don’t like it, Miss Burrell, I guess I’m just getting a freebie, huh?” “Thank you, Miss Burrell!” Amelia gasped, a lump of frustration stuck in her throat. I, on the other hand, was thrilled to see her squirm. Adopting the air of the lady of the house, I continued to needle her. “Miss Burrell, you’ve just returned from a long journey. The maid has prepared the guest room. You should get some rest.” Then, I turned my gaze to Burrell, a suggestive glint in my eyes, my voice dripping with honey. “Well… darling, I’ll head back to my room then.” “I’ll be waiting for you in the master suite.” As I turned, I could almost hear Amelia grinding her teeth behind me. Sigh. I’m a professional gold-digger. Don’t challenge my livelihood with your little games. Back in the master suite, the mangled ring setting Burrell had damaged lay on the dresser. I casually pulled the gem from my pocket and set it beside it. With a soft sigh, I found a tube of superglue and tried to reattach it. My birth mother had sold me to a couple who couldn’t have children. Forty thousand, but because I was a girl, she haggled down to thirty thousand and sold me cheap. I was six, old enough to remember, old enough to work. Ironically, that couple had a son a few years later. My adoptive parents, in turn, sold me again. Twenty-three thousand six hundred, to an old drunk, who said he’d raise me to be his wife. Less than two years later, the drunk drowned after a binge. Finally, I was no longer being trafficked around like cheap goods. I struggled to grow up. My birth mother sold me for money, my adoptive parents sold me for money. So, don’t call me materialistic. Maybe I never knew what “love” felt like growing up. I’ve lived this long, never having time to fret over love. Money, though, was a constant worry. All that “love” nonsense? Two days of work, and you’ll be over it. Luckily, I loved money, and money loved me. My mind was wandering through these chaotic memories when Burrell’s voice suddenly broke through. “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know… that was your mother’s keepsake.” I turned, shaking my head, a professional smile on my face. “It’s fine. You compensated me, didn’t you?” “Such a huge sum, I don’t even know how many rings I could buy with it.” Burrell glanced at me holding the glue, clearly not comforted. He simply thought I was putting on a brave face. He lowered his eyes, his expression complex for a moment. Seeing his silence, I paused, then picked up my phone. “Oh, right. There was something I needed to tell you…” Before I could finish, Amelia’s panicked shriek suddenly echoed from the guest room down the hallway. “Ah! Burrell, quickly—” Burrell’s face tightened instantly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and dashed out. My hand, holding out the phone, froze mid-air. The screen glowed with an electronic prenatal check-up form: [Early Pregnancy, 6 weeks +]. I watched Burrell’s hasty retreat, the screen dimming, my smile fading with it. That night, Burrell didn’t return to the master suite. See? Money really is the most reliable thing. 2 Sleep wouldn’t come. I spent the entire night gluing the ring back together with that cheap tube of adhesive. It wasn’t until the morning sun slanted across my dressing table that I finally stopped. It had a rough outline again, but the cracks crisscrossed, like an ugly face streaked with tears. I picked it up, held it to the light. It really was time to throw it away. With a sigh, I dropped it into the wastebasket by the table. I stood up, ready to leave, but then turned back, gave a self-deprecating smile, and reached into the trash to retrieve the valuable gem. Never mind. I can argue with anyone, but not with money. A quick glance at the time told me Burrell was likely at the office. I decided to get ready and head out to cash the check. With Amelia back, I needed to be prepared for being shown the door at any moment. Passing the dining room on the first floor, my footsteps drew Amelia’s attention. She immediately set down her cutlery. “Morning, Maya,” she drawled, a mocking edge in her voice. “You look terrible. Didn’t sleep well without Burrell around?” She stretched out the last words, deliberately adjusting the collar of her silk robe, revealing a few fresh, tell-tale hickeys on her collarbone. Once she saw I’d definitely noticed, she continued, smugly. “I’m sorry. Whenever I used to fly long-haul, and my jet lag was terrible, Burrell always… stayed with me, helped me adjust. You… don’t mind, do you?” “After all, Burrell and I have a bond that goes back to childhood. You can’t compare.” I took a deep breath. A sharp, stinging pain pricked my heart. But it was okay. I’d always been good at enduring pain, ever since I was a child. I tilted my head, calmly reminding Amelia, “Oh.” “But Burrell and I are getting married at the end of the month. We’re officially tying the knot early next month.” That sentence instantly hit a nerve. Amelia shot up from her chair, yelling at me. “What are you so smug about?” “If his mother hadn’t opposed it so vehemently back then, we would have been together already! I wouldn’t have been forced to go abroad! Now that I’m back, do you honestly think you can stay by Burrell’s side?” Watching her frantic outburst, I merely raised an eyebrow, mechanically repeating, “Oh.” “But Burrell and I are getting married at the end of the month. We’re officially tying the knot early next month.” Amelia was trembling with rage, screaming hysterically. “Bitch! Still dreaming about a wedding? I’m telling you, you’ll never marry Burrell! I’ll make sure you’re out of the Vance mansion for good!” Amelia was on the verge of losing it, but I remained perfectly calm. I even meticulously smoothed my cuff, responding airily, “Oh.” “But Burrell and I are getting married at the end of the month. We’re officially tying the knot early next month.” “Enjoy your breakfast. I’m off to look at wedding dresses.” With that, I walked towards the front door without looking back. Behind me, Amelia shrieked and began a classic “table-clearing maneuver,” sweeping all the dishes off the dining table. The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the house. See? Even enemies can’t stand the silent treatment. After leaving, I immediately cashed the check, watching the reassuring string of numbers appear in my bank account. A genuine, relaxed smile finally spread across my face. Then, I drove to a modest apartment complex on the west side of the city. Here, I owned a small apartment. It was mine, a home I could never be kicked out of. Money, it was truly wonderful. After resting for most of the day, I returned to the mansion, immediately sensing a strange atmosphere. The living room lights were on. Burrell, who should have been at the office, was sitting on the central sofa, cradling a sobbing Amelia, murmuring soft words of comfort. The sound of me opening the door startled them. Burrell’s gaze fell on me, his lips parting as if words were caught in his throat. It wasn’t until Amelia tugged his sleeve, her sobs growing louder, that Burrell finally seemed to make a decision. “Maya, our wedding… it’s off.” 3 I stood rooted to the spot, processing his words for a couple of seconds. There was no dramatic outburst from me, just a familiar ache that intensified in my chest, making my nose sting. A cold, chilling sensation washed over me, like that time when I was twelve, and the old drunk, fueled by liquor, had beaten me half to death before holding my head under the icy well water. It’s okay. Maya, you’ve always been good at enduring pain. I sniffed twice, then nodded. “Alright.” Amelia, seeing my calm reaction, lifted her head from Burrell’s embrace, her tear-reddened eyes sparkling with triumph. I knew exactly what she was flaunting. A few tears, and Burrell canceled our wedding. Her status as his “white moonlight” truly carried weight. I wasn’t stupid enough to try and compete. She was the moon in the sky; I was the mud on the ground. I looked at Burrell, thinking that perhaps, reaching this point was already quite good. To love him any further would be disrespectful. Then, without another word, I turned and headed up the stairs. “Wait!” My footsteps faltered, but I didn’t turn back. “Vance Jewels just received a new shipment of gold. I’ll have my assistant send two gold bars to you later.” Instant elation. My earlier internal monologue felt incredibly melodramatic now. Love? Who needed it? Just give me the money. I immediately spun around, flashing Burrell my most familiar, sweet smile. “Thank you, Burrell!” “I’ll go to my room then. You should get some rest too.” Sure enough, my footsteps hadn’t even faded before Amelia, predictably, started to complain about my “gold bar compensation.” She buried her face back in Burrell’s chest, her mournful sobs resuming. Burrell, clearly exasperated by her reaction, leaned down to soothe her. I vaguely heard muffled syllables – something like “don’t cry,” “not worth it,” “just wait.” Then, without looking up, he said to me, “You don’t need to wait for me tonight.” “Amelia’s not doing well. I need to stay with her.” I simply acknowledged him, my steps unwavering as I disappeared around the corner. No time for sadness. My mind was consumed with those two gold bars. How long would they be? How heavy? How many ounces? How much money could I get for them? After showering, I immediately grabbed my phone, eager to search for the real-time gold price per ounce. But just as I tapped the screen, a series of messages from an unknown number popped up. It was Amelia. [Maya Brooks, have you no shame? Burrell canceled the wedding, and you still have the nerve to linger here instead of leaving?] [Bitch! A complete and utter bitch! You should just take those two gold bars and scram. Everything in the Vance family belongs to me in the future. You pathetic whore, you’re stealing my money!] [I won’t tolerate you anymore. You just wait, I’ll make sure you’re out of the Vance household for good!] I read them expressionlessly, then scrolled up. The first time I didn’t leave, I got five million. The second time I didn’t leave, I got two gold bars. Shameless or not, what’s a little dignity worth, anyway? But then, a sharp shriek and hurried footsteps echoed through the house. The maid screamed in terror. “Oh no, something terrible has happened!” “Miss Burrell… she… she cut her wrists!”

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I broke up with my boyfriend during the year he was at his absolute rock bottom. A year later, he hit the big time. He became the nation’s biggest star and married a girl far prettier and more vibrant than I could ever be. On a popular talk show, the host asked him if he had any regrets now that he had swept every major award at such a young age. He tightened his arm around his new wife, Chloe’s, waist and looked directly into the camera: “I just want to know… after dumping me, how is she doing now?” The host paused, a look of hesitation crossing her face. “She’s doing… not well at all.” A smirk finally spread across Silas’s face. “Good. Then I can rest easy.” “But,” the host continued, “Ms. Quinn left behind a box of videotapes before she died.” The smile on Silas’s face froze. Inside those tapes were the records of every single day and night I spent from the moment I left him until my final breath. 1 “Before she died?” Silas’s hand, resting on Chloe’s waist, twitched. Then, he forced a dismissive laugh. “Is this for the ratings? A bit dark for a talk show, don’t you think?” The host didn’t smile. She simply shook her head. The massive screen behind them flickered to life. My face appeared, filling the studio. “Hey everyone! I’m Quinn. And today… I’m officially single! “Huh? You’re asking if it hurts to kick a handsome, talented, pure-hearted boy to the curb?” In the frame, a girl with a completely shaved head was busy picking out a wig from a stand. She looked at the lens and laughed. “It doesn’t hurt. What would hurt is letting him see me looking like this. Haha! “Hey! Why is the camera shaking? You’re ruining the shot!” I reached out to steady the trembling hand of my best friend, Daisy. Daisy’s voice came from behind the camera, thick with sobs. “I don’t want to film this… Quinn, I can’t. I’m going to cry myself to death. Let’s stop.” “No way. You promised me, remember? You’re going to document every single day I have left.” “Can’t I take it back?” Daisy whimpered. “Nope!” I pouted at the camera. “This is my grand finale. I can’t trust anyone else with the cinematography.” Seeing her still crying, I grabbed the corner of her shirt and gave it a little tug. “Come on, Daisy. You’re the only person I have left in this world.” The sobbing grew louder. “Fine, fine… I’ll film it. Just stop talking like that…” 2 [Goodbye World: April 17, 2023, 9:34 AM — Take Everything You Want] After years away, I finally returned to my family’s old house in the countryside. Daisy held the phone behind me as I led my old golden retriever, Goldie, down a narrow dirt path through the fields. A soft laugh came from behind the lens. “No wonder Silas just updated his status with a breakup song. It’s because you took Goldie with you!” I turned around. “What song? I blocked him the second I left.” “It’s a classic. Take Everything You Want.” Daisy and I locked eyes for a moment and burst into a fit of bittersweet laughter. “Take everything you want, I’ll handle what’s left. Just leave our dog, Whether he’s useful or not…” Daisy laughed until tears came out. “He wanted nothing but the dog, and you took nothing but the dog! Hahaha!” Our laughter echoed under the vast sky. Slowly, it dissolved into weeping. 3 [Goodbye World: April 17, 2023, 10:08 AM — Does a Dog Know When You’re Leaving?] The old wooden door creaked open. I brushed away a thick cobweb. “I’m telling you, ever since Silas and I moved to the city for college, I’ve barely been back. After my parents passed, we took Goldie to the city. This is his first time home.” The camera flipped. Now I was holding it. “Hello, hello! Quinn here, taking you on an immersive tour of cleaning the old homestead!” Daisy appeared in the frame wearing an apron, holding a broom with a scowl. “I’m the one doing the cleaning! You’re just standing there, my lady!” “I’m the patient! Give me a break!” After a lot of laughter, I emerged from the kitchen covered in dust and soot. Daisy’s face went black as she snatched the spatula from me. “I told you! No cooking! Do you have no self-awareness about your skills? Go sit down!” I sat down, laughing and coughing at the same time. As soon as Daisy vanished into the kitchen, the smile vanished from my face. I propped the phone against a bowl and began to gasp for air. With trembling hands, I took a few puffs from a portable oxygen tank. Only then did I look back at the camera and smile. “Sorry about that. My breathing has been acting up more often lately… “Cough! Honestly, I’m a great cook. Really. Watch me brave the kitchen again!” As I reached for the phone, I felt something furry against my leg. I tilted the camera down. Goldie was lying at my feet, his eyelids drooping. “Hungry?” I offered him a piece of jerky. He sniffed it, then just rested his head back on my foot, motionless. “Good boy, Goldie. I need to go help Daisy. Get up.” He didn’t move. “What’s wrong? Why are you so clingy today?” I stroked his thinning, dry fur. “I get it. You’re getting old too, aren’t you? Just don’t feel like moving? Fine. I’ll stay here with you for a bit.” I leaned back into the worn sofa. “I won’t have many chances to sit with you later anyway.” Goldie let out a soft, low whimper. 4 [Goodbye World: April 17, 2023, 11:21 AM — Is a House Still a Home If No One Is In It?] When I woke up on the sofa, Daisy was kneeling by my feet. She heard me move and looked up, her face drenched in tears. “Quinn… people say dogs can sense when their owners are about to leave. They say they go to the next world early to wait for them. Is that true?” I almost dropped the camera. I reached out to touch Goldie. Cold. No breath. He was curled up by my feet. While I was drifting off from exhaustion, he had quietly left me. My smile looked worse than a sob. “What are you talking about? Goldie was ten. He just died of old age.” When the camera turned on again, I was in the backyard, mounding dirt over a small grave. My breath was shallow, my face deathly pale. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and pointed toward the house. “Just walk straight that way and you’re home, Goldie. Don’t go the wrong way. If you wander off toward Silas…” I stopped abruptly. I smiled and pulled my hand back. “Don’t go back there. There won’t be anyone there soon anyway. Wait for me. When I get there, we’ll find Mom and Dad and start a home together.” The camera shook as Daisy sobbed behind it. I looked up and pointed at the lens. “What are you doing? You can’t even hold the shot steady.” Daisy wailed, “You’re the one! Listen to yourself!” I laughed, waving her over. “Look at you. Let’s go home and eat your cooking. I’m starving.” “Quinn! If you keep acting like this, I’m going to stop talking to you!” I walked up and threw an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your girl Quinn is invincible. “A little cancer? Please. I’ve got this. “Hahahahahahaha!” 5 [Goodbye World: April 18, 2023, 8:27 AM — Sometimes I Forget I’m Sick] “Quinn! Quinn, open the door!” Daisy was pounding on the wood. The camera was propped up on a nearby crate, capturing only the lower half of her body. Inside the room, I was screaming. “Go away! I told you to go! Get away from me!” Then came the sound of violent retching. Daisy was crying now. “Quinn, if you don’t open up, I’m breaking this door down! What happened? Let me see you!” “Leave me alone!” The heart-wrenching scream cut through the speaker. Daisy threw her weight against the door. The old wood gave way with a crash. Inside, I was on my knees by a trash can, vomit matting my hair to my face. I looked pathetic. There was no trace of the girl who was singing and laughing yesterday. I looked up in despair, my eyes bloodshot. “Daisy…” “Quinn.” She dropped to her knees and pulled me into her arms, ignoring the mess. I clung to her with trembling hands, burying my face in her shoulder, my tears soaking her shirt. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have yelled… “But every time I wake up, I have this split second where I think I’m normal again… “Then I stare at the ceiling for a long time and remember… I’m sick. “I’m dying, Daisy… I’m actually dying…” I was hyperventilating. Daisy held me tighter. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Quinn. You can fight this. You can… “Because you’re… “You’re Quinn. You’re the strongest person I know.” 6 [Goodbye World: April 21, 2024, 4:34 PM — Sometimes Forgetting is a Mercy for the Dead] I was leaning on Daisy’s shoulder. My sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms covered in purple and blue bruises from the IVs. My voice was a raspy whisper. “What am I going to do, Daisy? There’s nowhere left to stick the needles. It hurts so much.” “Oh, now it hurts? You weren’t complaining when you stayed up all night to snag those concert tickets.” I pouted. “I had to see my ex-boyfriend’s first sold-out stadium tour. I haven’t seen him in forever. I wanted to see if his vocals actually improved.” Daisy went silent. After a long time, she nudged me. “You said you dumped him because you didn’t want to drag him down. If he still has feelings for you, would you ask him for help?” “Never!” I was firm. “But he makes millions per song now. He could afford the best treatment in the world for you.” “No! And don’t you dare tell him!” “But Quinn, look at you…” I put my hands on my hips, the medical tape on my skin crinkling. “I’m doing great! Besides, I dumped him when he was a nobody. If I crawl back now that he’s famous and tell him I’m sick, what does that make me? “Don’t worry. I’m Quinn! “Cancer? Pfft. Easy work.” I pinched my thumb and forefinger together in a “tiny” gesture. Daisy stared at me for a long time, then sighed. I waved her forward. “Let’s go. This illness probably won’t get better no matter how much money I spend. I’d rather spend my last bits of cash on having fun. Come on, we have the pier tonight! But before that, I found this BBQ place…” “Oof!” I walked straight into someone’s chest. I started apologizing frantically, but when I looked up and saw his face, I froze. I stumbled back several steps. Daisy gasped. “Silas?” Even with a mask and a hoodie pulled low, lovers recognize each other by the eyes alone. “Quinn?” His beautiful eyes were wide with shock. Then, they turned to anger and resentment. I didn’t think. I just turned and bolted. The camera shook violently as Daisy chased after me. A cancer patient managed to run faster than a healthy person. Behind me, over the sound of my ragged breathing, I heard a voice screaming my name: “Quinn! Do you really hate me that much?!”

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Arthur and I were childhood sweethearts. I had a stepdad, and he had a stepmom. We grew up depending on each other. He said he liked to wander, so I wandered with him. I thought we would be together forever. Until the day I stood in our rundown apartment and watched Arthur, shirtless, bend down to pick up another woman’s bra. I asked him why. He didn’t answer. He just told the woman to get dressed and leave. After a long time, he said he wanted freedom. And I was his biggest obstacle to that freedom. The day he left, I gave him a small kite charm. I said, “I wish you freedom.” 1 I had imagined my reunion with Arthur many times. But I never expected it to be under these circumstances. The hospital called me using Arthur’s phone, saying he’d been in a car accident and asking if I could come. That was how I found out Arthur had returned to the city at some point. It was a bustling metropolis. Even at this hour, the streets were alive with traffic. I rushed to the hospital, found out Arthur’s room number, and hurried over. It was a relatively small private room. A woman with a great figure was standing by the bed with her back to me, speaking in a flirtatious tone: “Arthur, I was the very first one to rush over and see you. Aren’t I good to you?” “Yeah, you’re the best to me.” The familiar voice rang out. I stood frozen, blinking, and slowly withdrew my hand from the door handle. Arthur and I hadn’t spoken in years. When we broke up, I was absolutely heartbroken. But time is the ultimate healer. When I thought of him now, my emotions rarely fluctuated. But hearing his voice so suddenly, I realized that maybe I hadn’t stopped loving him; perhaps the feelings were just too heavy, so I had forcibly locked them away. I didn’t dare enter the room. I asked the nurse for Arthur’s account number and paid his hospital bill. After leaving the hospital, I parked by the side of the road and smoked for a long time. I had always been a good student, a “good girl.” Smoking was the only bad habit I inherited from Arthur, and I only picked it up after we broke up. As work pressure increased over the years, my smoking addiction grew with it. After finishing half a pack, my mind wasn’t any clearer. Instead, I choked on the last drag and started coughing violently. How pathetic. I rested my head against the steering wheel and let out a bitter laugh. Logically, I should have appeared before Arthur looking glamorous and successful, casually saying, “Long time no see.” But I hadn’t even dared to look at him with my own eyes. Just hearing his voice made me flee in panic. Maybe I was just a glutton for punishment. My favorite thing seemed to be offering up my sincere heart just to have it trampled on. 2 I secretly went to check on Arthur a few more times after that and even asked his attending physician about his condition. Arthur’s room was always lively. No matter when I went, there were always people by his bed, men and women, chattering away. It was to be expected. Arthur had always been popular. No matter where he went, people naturally gravitated toward him, forming a circle with him at the center. He was always the center of attention. The last time I went to see his doctor, the doctor rubbed his temples in frustration. “Honestly, the patient in bed 2 isn’t seriously injured. Just a minor fracture and a mild concussion. He’s recovering very well.” “I know you all care about him, but could you please elect one representative to ask about his condition? Otherwise, I have to repeat the exact same thing five, six, seven, eight times a day. It interferes with other patients’ families who need to consult with me.” I didn’t dare confess that I wasn’t actually his family. I just apologized profusely and backed out of the doctor’s office. And then I locked eyes with Arthur, who was taking a walk in the hallway. He had three people with him: one holding his IV drip, one supporting his arm, and another trailing slowly behind. It looked exactly like a king surrounded by his court. I even heard Arthur say in a very annoyed tone, “I’m injured, not crippled. Can you let go of me? I can walk by myself!” The moment he finished speaking, he saw me. I cursed the hospital hallway for being so wide, leaving my panic and awkwardness completely exposed. I stood frozen for a long time. Finally, I was the one to speak first: “Long time no see.” “Arthur, who’s this?” Arthur looked at me, his expression neutral. “Someone from my hometown.” “Looking at you with such loving eyes, I thought she was your ex-girlfriend.” Arthur and I had depended on each other for over twenty years. I had worn his only winter coat; he had worn my only scarf. We had shared a single plate of fried rice and slept under the same blanket. Now, I was just “someone from his hometown.” I gripped my phone tightly, turned, and started to walk away. Arthur called out to stop me: “Wait.” He asked if I was the one who paid his hospital bill. “I saw a call log with your number on my phone. The hospital called you, didn’t they?” Arthur said. “Are you still using that same bank card? I’ll transfer the money directly to you.” “No need,” I refused. “If anyone’s transferring money, it should be me transferring it to you.” Arthur paused. “I spent so much of your money back then, I feel pretty bad about it. Give me your account number, and I’ll pay you back.” One of Arthur’s friends laughed at this. “Thinking about paying him back after all these years? That’s not very sincere. How much interest are you planning to pay?” Arthur shot the guy an icy glare. “Don’t listen to him,” Arthur said. “You don’t need to pay me back.” I scratched my head and said, “I have to.” I used to spend Arthur’s money without a second thought. When he bought me things, I accepted them as if it were my absolute right. Back then, I thought we were family. His money was mine, and when I made money in the future, it would naturally be his. But since we had separated, it was time to settle the financial accounts. 3 Arthur didn’t give me his account number, but I went to the bank and printed out my transaction history anyway. The next day, I gathered my courage, took my bank card, and went to the hospital. But Arthur’s room was empty. He had been discharged. Actually, I knew Arthur probably wouldn’t accept the money. I just wanted an excuse to see him one more time. But he didn’t leave me a single chance. The moment he spotted me, he vanished without a trace. Sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done so wrong. I had never been hysterical or thrown massive tantrums at him. To what extent did he despise me that he avoided me like a plague? “Men actually hate the submissive, overly-accommodating ‘desperate lovers’ more than they hate manipulative users. You’re like a piece of chewed gum stuck to their shoe—impossible to shake off, and disgusting when you stick.” At the bar, my friend downed her cocktail in one gulp and poked me in the forehead. “I’m talking about you, you desperate lover!” “Sometimes I really want to cut your brain open and see what it’s made of. How can you be so blindly devoted to a man who’s rotted into the mud, and absolutely refuse to change?!” Holding my drink, I argued back seriously: “First, I’m not a ‘desperate lover.’ Besides Arthur, I’ve never loved another man in my life. Second, Arthur isn’t a rotten person. He’s incredibly good.” My friend rolled her eyes in disgust. “Seriously, I thought after all these years you’d at least sober up a bit. I didn’t expect you to not have changed at all. You’re hopeless. I suggest you just bury yourself alive.” I smiled and didn’t argue anymore. Every single one of my friends had called me delusional. And I had explained to every single one of them that I wasn’t delusional; I knew exactly what I was doing. I wasn’t a desperate lover. Arthur truly used to treat me incredibly well. “Every desperate lover says that. But look at what Arthur did. He cheated on you, brought another woman into your rented apartment, and blocked your number. You went to beg him to get back together, waited outside his bar for a whole week, and he didn’t even show his face once.” “You guys don’t understand. Without Arthur, not only would I not have gone to college, I wouldn’t even be alive today.” I downed more than half a bottle of beer in one gulp. My alcohol tolerance had grown over the years, but mixing wine and beer tonight was getting to my head. I laid my head on the bar, tugged at my friend’s arm, and pointed at the male models dancing in the center of the club. “My tuition and living expenses for four years of college were all earned by Arthur dancing night after night like that. “He made six thousand a month back then. Five hundred for rent, five hundred for his living expenses, and the rest was spent entirely on me. “He actually got into college too, but my parents refused to pay for me to go. So Arthur said the college he got into wasn’t that good anyway, so he wouldn’t go. He went to work to support me instead. “When I graduated, my parents wanted me to marry someone just to get the bride price. Arthur borrowed money from every friend he had to scrape together the bride price they demanded. “So I am Arthur’s wife. He paid the bride price. I was supposed to marry him.” The music was still blaring, but my friend seemed too drunk to reply. She just lay there next to me, silent. I was quiet for a long time, then added, “So, it was actually normal for Arthur to want to leave, right? I was such a burden; I dragged him down for way too long.” 4 My friend was dead drunk. I finished the last half bottle of beer and scanned the QR code to pay the bill. As I stood up, my gaze accidentally swept past the bar entrance, and my eyes widened instantly. It was Arthur! He was wearing a low-profile black hoodie and a face mask, but I recognized him instantly. He didn’t see me. He walked straight to a lively booth, where someone cleared the center seat for him. I saw Arthur pull down his mask and casually take a beer someone handed him. A young woman smiled brightly and leaned in close to Arthur, saying something to him. Arthur nodded nonchalantly, offering a casual response. In the past, I never got jealous. I was too certain. I felt that nothing and no one could ever separate me and Arthur. I clearly knew his charm, but I was also absolutely confident in his loyalty to me. When did it start? When did Arthur stop loving me? I still remember, after Arthur said he wanted to split up, he never returned to our apartment. I went to the bar where he worked to find him. I called every one of his friends. I even ran to their houses, asking if they knew where Arthur went. I sent him countless messages, wanting to ask what exactly went wrong with our relationship, asking if we could just talk, promising I would change whatever needed changing. I told him I didn’t mind if he played around with other girls, just please don’t be angry. Eventually, I only worried about his safety. I said he didn’t have to talk to me, just reply to one message so I knew he was safe. Finally, having exhausted all my options, I sat on the freezing steps outside the bar at 3 AM. Hugging my phone, I used my stiff fingers to type out a message, word by word. [I agree to break up. Come home, let’s sort out the apartment.] Ten minutes later, Arthur appeared beside me. It turned out he had been there all along. Standing not too close, not too far, watching me coldly. In that moment, I felt as if I had never truly known him. Arthur had rented the apartment. He said he was leaving soon and had prepaid three months’ rent. I could keep living there or talk to the landlord about breaking the lease. He left very cleanly. When he walked out, he only carried a black backpack containing his wallet and ID. He didn’t take anything else. I walked him downstairs, still wearing the matching couples’ pajamas we had bought together at a wholesale market. I handed him a tiny kite charm, smiled, and said, “I wish you freedom.” Arthur, do you feel free enough now? 5 Knowing Arthur frequented that bar, I started dropping by every few days. I knew very well that Arthur and I were over. That’s just how Arthur was; once he made a decision, he never looked back. But I never ran into him again. I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding me, but even if he was, it wouldn’t be surprising. No matter who you are, being pestered by an ex-girlfriend you’re already sick of probably isn’t very pleasant. I usually sat at the bar. Over time, I got to know the bartender. As soon as I sat down, he’d slide a cocktail over to me. But tonight, I had barely been sitting for two minutes when I heard a loud slam right next to my ear. I turned to see a scantily clad woman angrily slam a delivery box down on the counter and furiously demand of the bartender, “Get me a vodka!” “Whoa there, Princess. Who pissed you off now?” “Who else?! I bought a gift for Arthur. I reminded him so many times, but it’s just been sitting in the package locker at his complex, practically growing mold, and he still hasn’t picked it up.” The woman stomped her foot in frustration. “It was so expensive! I wouldn’t even buy such an expensive watch for myself!” My heart skipped a beat. Without being obvious, I glanced at the shipping label on the delivery box next to me. The address was very detailed, right down to the apartment number. The bartender didn’t pour the vodka; instead, he handed her a sweet cocktail. “I remember Arthur saying he doesn’t accept gifts, right?” “It’s obviously because I didn’t get him the right gift,” the woman said, resting her chin on her hand and sighing mournfully. “Ugh, when will I finally win over that untouchable flower, Arthur?” “There are plenty of women who share your ambition. All I can say is, good luck.” I sat to the side and feigned curiosity. “Who are you guys talking about?” The bartender smiled. “A very handsome guy.” “How handsome?” “Incredibly handsome!” The bartender wanted to say more, but the woman shot him a glare that shut him up. I smiled awkwardly, took the hint, paid my tab, and left. Then, immediately, I took a cab to the address on the delivery box. My heart was racing, my palms even sweating slightly. I told myself I was just going to pay him back. One last time. This would be the last time I let myself indulge. Half an hour later, I rang Arthur’s doorbell. Faint footsteps came from behind the door. I took a deep breath, trying my hardest to force a natural smile onto my lips. The next second, the door opened. A woman with beautiful eyes stood there, wearing an apron and holding a spoon, a sweet smile on her face. She looked at me, confused. “Who are you looking for?” “Sorry, I think I have the wrong—” The words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t utter another syllable. Because I saw Arthur, who had just opened the bedroom door behind her, walking out shirtless. 6 It was truly strange. I had witnessed Arthur cheating, but it hadn’t hurt as much as this moment. Maybe it was because the atmosphere of domestic life hung so heavily around them, as if they had been together for a long time. I was acutely aware that Arthur already had another woman by his side. It wasn’t just a physical relationship; they shared a glass of water, shared a bed, and watched the sunrise and sunset together, just like we used to. My presence would only be an annoyance to him. If I truly loved him, if I truly wanted what was best for him, I should take the hint, be mature about it, leave the bank card with open honesty, and walk away. But when I opened my mouth, I found I had almost lost my voice. Swallowing hard, I held out the bank card. “Hello. I’m from Arthur’s hometown. He lent me money in the past, and I came specifically to pay him back today.” The woman turned to look at Arthur. Arthur stood frozen in place. After a couple of seconds of silence, his gaze fell on me. “Want to come in and sit for a bit?” I really shouldn’t have sat down. But Arthur got a glass to pour me water and pulled out a chair for me. The woman opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately just frowned. “Arthur, go put a shirt on. You don’t want your cold to get worse.” Arthur stood by the dining table, looking at me. I could only keep my head down and finally stepped over the threshold. “Sorry for intruding.” I tried very hard to control my gaze, preventing myself from looking around randomly, terrified of seeing something that would make me even sadder. But some scenes were unavoidable. Arthur went back to the bedroom, put on a long-sleeved shirt, and sat at the dining table, enveloped in a dark cloud of low air pressure. This was his typical state when he was sick. Looking at the tight line of his lips, I guessed he probably still had a low-grade fever. My fingertips twitched, and I forced myself to clench my hands into fists. The woman brought a bowl of porridge from the kitchen. She carefully picked out the shredded ginger, then peeled an egg, putting the egg white on a small plate and mashing the yolk with a spoon before mixing it into the porridge. “Arthur, want a taste?” Arthur didn’t eat ginger because he hated the strong smell. He didn’t eat egg whites because I loved eating egg whites. My eyes stung fiercely. It felt like tears were going to burst out the next second, so I quickly looked away. How cruel. Was this intentional? Deliberately making me stay to witness his intimacy with someone else? Arthur didn’t touch the porridge. He just casually asked me, “How have you been lately?” His tone was purely conversational. I looked at the woman sitting next to him, glaring at me like a hawk guarding its prey. I knew that if I leaked even a hint of my feelings for Arthur, an argument would be unavoidable. I had nothing left to give Arthur, so the least I could do was save him the trouble. Thinking of this, the fists resting on my knees clenched a little tighter. A sharp pain shot through my palms, but I managed a natural, even slightly shy smile on my face. “Pretty good. I’m getting married soon.” Hearing this, Arthur lifted his eyelids and stared at me. His eyes reflected my image. A long time ago, his eyes only reflected my image. Without showing it, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You guys should come to the wedding.” Arthur wouldn’t come, so I wasn’t afraid this lie would be exposed. The hostility on the woman’s face finally vanished, and her attention returned to Arthur. “Arthur, eat up, or it’ll get cold.” I held my glass, took a restrained sip, and politely said it was time for me to go. Arthur stood up too. “I’ll walk you out.” “Arthur, you’re still sick. I’ll walk her.” Arthur ignored her, simply following close behind me. Just slightly crossing the boundary of normal personal space, I could even smell the faint scent of soap on him. The sound of the door closing echoed behind me. I didn’t look back, walking straight toward the elevator. Arthur’s pace was steady, his rhythm the same as it had always been. My hand hanging by my side twitched. I suddenly really wanted a cigarette. “It’s good that you’re getting married. You should have gotten married a long time ago.” Arthur coughed, his voice a little hoarse. “He treats you well, right?” Afraid that speaking would result in a sob, I lowered my voice and offered a simple “Mhm.” “What about you?” Having steadied my breathing, I smiled and asked him. “You guys seem to have a pretty good relationship. You must be getting close to the big day too, right?” The elevator doors chimed open. I hurried inside and frantically pressed the “close door” button, not even daring to hear Arthur’s answer. Only when the elevator doors completely closed… Did I softly say, “Goodbye.” This time, it was real. We would never see each other again.

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I walked into that VIP lounge ready to sell my soul for a wire transfer. But when the door swung open, it wasn’t a desperate investor waiting for me. It was my uncle. That night, he didn’t offer a handshake. He tossed a contract onto the marble table and forced me to read the clauses aloud, word by agonizing word. “Spread your legs, Kit,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous velvet. “Show your uncle exactly what it means to be ‘obedient.’” I buried my face into the leather cushions of the sofa, my lashes heavy with salt, forced to endure every whim of his touch. When I bit my lip to stifle a cry, he pressed his thumb deliberately into the fresh bruise on my hip. “Were you going to beg him for the money? Or are you begging me? Hmm?” 1 The air in the private suite was thick enough to choke on. Miller was on his knees, his forehead split open and oozing. Blood tracked down his greasy face, mixing with cold sweat before dripping onto the plush Persian rug. Five minutes ago, this man had been sliding his hand under the hem of my shirt, asking me exactly how much a disgraced Blackwell heir was worth. Now, he didn’t even dare to breathe in my direction. I slowly buttoned my shirt, my fingers trembling. I tried to hide it, but the man standing by the door was a thousand times more terrifying than Miller could ever be. Roman Blackwell hadn’t even brought a security detail—just his silent, stone-faced assistant. He was dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, his tie knotted with lethal precision. His gold-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his straight nose, giving him the air of a refined academic. But I knew the wolf that lived under that skin. “Don’t stop on my account,” Roman said. He walked in, his handmade Italian oxfords silent on the carpet, yet every step felt like a heel pressed against my carotid artery. He pulled out a chair and sat, casually picking up the keycard Miller had tried to shove into my waistband moments before. “Why the sudden silence? I thought we were negotiating.” I didn’t spare Miller a second glance. I walked over to Roman and lowered my head. “Uncle Roman.” Roman let out a soft, sharp laugh. He twirled the keycard between his fingers, then suddenly flicked it. It struck Miller across the cheek with a sickening crack that echoed in the dead space of the room. “Kit,” Roman said, his eyes finally locking onto mine from behind those polished lenses. He ignored the trash on the floor. “Have you forgotten the family rules? Are you so desperate for cash that you’re selling yourself in backrooms?” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I was desperate. More than desperate. My grandfather—that old gargoyle—had blocked every exit. My company’s accounts were drained, a hollow shell. If I didn’t find the capital to fill the hole by next month, I’d be headed to a federal penitentiary for embezzlement. But I couldn’t tell Roman that. I just lowered my head further, playing the part of the stray dog that had been caught in the trash. “I messed up, Uncle.” Roman stood up. He was a head taller than me, and his shadow seemed to swallow me whole. He reached out, straightening my disheveled collar. His fingertips brushed against my throat, as cold as ice. “Mistakes require discipline.” He turned and walked out without a word about Miller. I knew Miller was finished. If Roman Blackwell showed up in person, it meant he owned the building, the street, and everyone on it. I followed him into the back of a black Maybach. The AC was humming, but my back was slick with sweat. The privacy partition slid up, sealing us in. Roman leaned back, eyes closed, his fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on his knee. The silence was worse than a lecture. I almost wished he’d just hit me and get it over with. “How much do you think you’re worth?” he asked, not opening his eyes. I blinked, caught off guard. “What was that bottom-feeder offering you? Five million? Ten?” Roman opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze dripping with mockery. “You’d unbutton your shirt for ten million in a public lounge?” Shame burned up my spine like a fuse. I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood. It was fifteen million. That was the price of my life. But I didn’t have the courage to say it. “It wasn’t much,” I rasped. Roman scoffed. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed my tie, jerking me forward until our faces were inches apart. I could smell his expensive cologne—sandalwood and cold rain. “If you’re so intent on selling, sell to me.” His gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips, then down to the collarbone Miller had almost touched. “Blackwell money is still money. And while I don’t usually collect trash, I can offer a premium for family.” The car screeched to a halt in front of the Blackwell estate. Roman let go of my tie, brushing his palms together as if he’d touched something filthy. “Get out,” he commanded. “We’re going to finalize this merger tonight.” 2 The moment the library door locked behind us, I flinched. This room was my personal hell. Growing up, if I missed a mark or failed to meet the Patriarch’s impossible standards, this was where I was sent. But tonight, the executioner had changed. Roman sat behind the massive marble desk, holding a freshly printed document. It was a contract his assistant must have drafted on the ride over. A bill of sale. For me. “Read it.” Roman tossed the papers onto the rug. They landed at my knees. I knelt there, the hard patterns of the carpet digging into my skin. I didn’t dare move. I picked up the pages, my hands shaking so hard the paper rattled. The terms were a masterclass in humiliation. The Party of the First Part (Roman) has absolute authority over the Party of the Second Part (Kit). Kit must be available 24/7. Kit is prohibited from any private contact with third parties. All social media and communications must be transparent to Roman. Each violation: a one-million-dollar fine or equivalent physical penance. This wasn’t an investment. It was a leash. “Read it aloud.” Roman unbuckled his watch and set it on the desk with a heavy clink. Then came the metallic slide of a belt buckle being undone. I closed my eyes, my voice a broken whisper. “I, Kit Blackwell, voluntarily accept the support of Roman Blackwell, and during this period…” Snap! The leather belt cracked against my back. The pain was an explosion. I choked on a groan, collapsing forward, the papers scattering. “Too quiet. I can’t hear you.” Roman was standing over me now, the black leather belt dangling from his hand. He sounded as calm as if he were discussing quarterly earnings. “Start over.” I pushed myself up, returning to my knees, trembling as I gathered the sheets. “I… Kit Blackwell… voluntarily…” Snap! Another one. This time, it landed right on top of the first welt. Cold sweat soaked through my shirt. I’ve always had a low pain threshold—growing up in that orphanage before the Blackwells “found” me had made me pathologically sensitive to it. But the twisted part? Under the agony, there was a sickening sense of security. At least he was looking at me. At least I was here, and not thrown out into the cold. I was broken. I knew it. I could feel my body reacting to the sheer intensity of him. “You like being hurt?” Roman must have noticed the change in my breathing. He knelt, using the tip of the belt to tilt my chin up. “You were so bold in front of Miller. Why play the dead dog for me?” The disgust in his eyes stung more than the belt. I bit my bleeding lip. “I’m not…” “Not what?” Roman slapped the contract against my face. “Sign it, and the fifteen million hits your account tomorrow morning. Along with all those ‘misplaced’ funds you’ve been hiding. I’ll make the audit go away.” I looked up, startled. He knew? He knew the Patriarch had set me up for the embezzlement charge? Roman saw my expression and let out a cold laugh. “You think you’re smart enough to hide anything from me? The old man is only senile enough to think this would kill you. I know better.” He stood up, looking down at me like I was a bug under a microscope. “But this money isn’t a gift, Kit. From today on, your body is an asset of Roman Blackwell. If you damage it, you’re in breach. If you let anyone else touch it, I’ll take their hands.” I looked at the contract and reached for the pen. I knew this was slow-acting poison. But I didn’t have a choice. The moment I signed, I became the bird in Roman’s cage. And somehow, as the cage door slammed shut, I felt a wave of relief. Because the person holding the key was Roman. 3 The next morning, I was woken up by a notification on the family thread. The Patriarch was summoning me to the ancestral estate for dinner. Ostensibly, it was a family gathering. In reality, it was a forced introduction to Talia Sterling. The Sterlings and Blackwells had been at each other’s throats for years. The old man wanted to use a marriage to swallow their firm—or maybe he just wanted to squeeze one last bit of use out of me before I was discarded. I stared at the screen, my back still thrumming with the heat of last night’s wounds. Roman stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water tracing the lines of his abs. He saw me staring at my phone and snatched it away. He glanced at the screen and smirked. “Looking forward to it?” I went rigid. The contract said no contact with others. “It’s a direct order from my grandfather. I don’t have the luxury of saying no.” Roman dropped the phone onto the bed and leaned over me, pinning me with his shadow. “Go if you must,” he whispered. “But if you agree to that engagement, I’ll break your legs before you can walk down the aisle.” 7:00 PM. The Blackwell Manor. The crystal chandeliers were blinding. The long dining table was filled with family members wearing masks of polite deceit. I sat across from Talia. Roman, being my “senior,” sat diagonally across from me. He was in a navy suit now, looking every bit the perfect gentleman as he charmed Talia’s father. Only I knew that under the table, his shoe was sliding up my pant leg. The hard leather of his custom oxford dragged against my calf, over my knee, and higher. I gripped my fork until my knuckles turned white, forcing a smile onto my face. “Are you feeling alright, Kit?” Talia was sharp. She noticed the sweat on my brow. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just a bit warm.” “Kit has trouble sleeping in new beds,” Roman interjected, his voice lazy and smooth. “He was at my place last night. We stayed up quite late… working.” The table went silent for a heartbeat. Talia’s father looked stiff; the Patriarch’s face turned a shade of bruised purple. Everyone knew Roman was the “outsider” son, the one who didn’t get along with me. Nobody knew what “working” actually meant. Under the table, Roman’s foot became more daring, pressing into my inner thigh. Right where a small mole sat—a spot he’d spent hours mocking the night before. He was pushing me. He was forcing me to ruin this arrangement myself. If I didn’t reject the marriage, he was going to cause a scene that would destroy us both. But a spark of rebellion flickered in me. Why? Why did he get to own every breath I took? If I married Talia, could I use her family to escape him? Even if it was just trading one cage for another. I looked up at Talia and gave her the most convincing smile I could muster. “Talia, I think this union is an excellent idea. In fact, why wait? We should set a date for the engagement party.” The movement under the table stopped instantly. A gaze that could kill pierced through me. I didn’t look at Roman. “Uncle, you don’t need to worry about my personal life anymore,” I said, raising my wine glass toward him. Roman didn’t move. He stared at me for three long seconds, then he smiled. It was the kind of smile that made the hair on my neck stand up. “Is that so?” He swirled his red wine, his eyes glinting. “I wonder if the bride-to-be knows about that mole on your inner thigh? The one that makes you shake the moment it’s touched?” 4 Before the dinner was even over, Roman had dragged me into the second-floor powder room. The lock clicked—a sound like a death sentence. “You’re insane, Roman!” He slammed me against the marble vanity. The edge hit my lower back, making me gasp in pain. “I’m insane?” Roman pressed his body against mine, one hand crushing my throat, his grip nearly cutting off my air. “You’ve got some nerve, Kit. Agreeing to an engagement right in front of me? Did my words go in one ear and out the other?” The mirror reflected us. It was a violent, suffocating tableau. My face was flushed from the lack of oxygen, but I stared back at him with everything I had left. “I need… to get married,” I choked out. “I need a normal life. I won’t be your dog forever.” The rage in Roman’s eyes was nuclear. “A normal life?” He let go of my throat, but before I could breathe, he grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my head back. “You think you’ll find that here? With Talia Sterling?” He leaned in, his voice a lethal hiss. “You think the Sterlings are clean? Her father owes three hundred million in gambling debts. They aren’t looking for a son-in-law; they’re looking for a carcass to strip. Only I am willing to take you in.” I froze. The Sterlings were broke? The Patriarch hadn’t mentioned that. “Call it off,” Roman commanded. “No.” I gritted my teeth. Even if the Sterlings were a bonfire, I’d jump into it. Anything to get a mile away from Roman. “I’m doing this to find out what happened to my mother—” I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. Roman paused. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “Your mother? You’re still looking for the woman who dumped you at an orphanage gate?” That was the wound that never healed. “None of your business!” I yelled. “You’re right. It’s not.” Roman smiled coldly and began to unknot his silk tie. The sound of the fabric sliding was deafening in the small room. He grabbed my wrists, yanking them behind my back and binding them tight with the silk. “Since you don’t want to call off the engagement, don’t. I’ll just carry you out there right now and announce our arrangement myself. Let’s see how the Sterling girl feels about the Blackwell heir begging for mercy in his uncle’s arms.” He reached for the door handle. Terror flooded me. If he did that, I was destroyed. Not just my reputation, but any scrap of leverage I had left in this family. “Don’t!” I panicked, my body shrinking back. “I’ll do it! I’ll call it off!” You coward, I told myself. You pathetic coward. Roman stopped. He turned back to look at me, disheveled and broken. He patted my cheek, like one might comfort a frightened pet. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Just remember, Kit—you have nowhere to go but here.” That night, Roman didn’t take me to my room. He threw me into the basement of his private villa. It had been renovated recently. It wasn’t a dark storage room anymore; it was carpeted, filled with stuffed animals, and held a single bed. It looked like a cozy child’s room. But as I looked at the furniture, I began to shake. It was a perfect, one-to-one recreation of my room at the orphanage. Right down to the scratches on the baseboards. It was my nightmare. And it was the place where Roman and I had met for the very first time.

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The day I decided to finally pursue Alaric Newlywed, he confessed his feelings for me. Yet, the affection meter above his head clearly read ‘0’. After we became official, he adored me beyond measure. On our sixth anniversary, he proposed publicly. Tears welling in my eyes, I was about to say yes, when a stream of comments scrolled across my vision: 【Poor secondary lead, pretending for six years with this villainess just to protect the heroine!】 【This stand-in is really into the role, LOL!】 My blood ran cold. No wonder the number hadn’t changed in six years. Simultaneously, a chilling system alert exploded in my mind: “Final stage activated. Countdown to pursuit: Ten days.” “Failure will result in your complete erasure.” I smiled, pulling my hand back from his outstretched ring, wiping away my tears. “Sorry, this game? I’m bored of it.” 1 The comments were still scrolling: 【Woah, the villainess’s eyes just changed?】 【About time she realized, the secondary lead only cares about the heroine.】 【Waiting for her to snap and go crazy—】 Snap? No. I just suddenly remembered so many little things. He never allowed me to meet anyone alone, claiming he “feared I’d make bad company.” He always gently interrupted me when I mentioned my career, saying, “I’ll take care of you, darling.” It wasn’t affection. It was a cage. I wandered back to the villa, throwing things into a suitcase mechanically. Passing his study, the comments suddenly surged: 【Look at the computer!】 【Oh no, if she sees the chat history…】 【Danger! Heroine protection mode initiated!】 A crisp notification chime echoed from the study. I pushed the door open. The screen was lit, displaying a chat window between Alaric Newlywed and the main lead, Julian Vance. The latest message was from Alaric: “She suddenly rejected the proposal. Keep Elara safe these next few days. Don’t let Rowan Archer get near her.” Julian replied quickly: “Don’t worry. It’s been tough on you all these years.” I laughed out loud. How utterly ridiculous. Because of me, two sworn rivals, now united in purpose. I scrolled up. The chat logs were like a blunt knife, slowly, deliberately slicing through my flesh. Julian: “I remember, in the original story, Rowan Archer didn’t just ruin Elara’s face, she also hired someone to disgrace her.” “It must be agonizing to share a bed with that venomous witch every night.” Alaric: “As long as Elara is safe, none of it matters.” Julian: “She seems to be falling deeper in love with you. If she finds out the truth, won’t she go even crazier?” Alaric: “She won’t find out.” “If she does, and dares to touch Elara—” “I’ll break her limbs, send her to a mental asylum, and keep her locked up for life!” The last sentence had an exclamation mark. I stared at the screen, my fingertips icy. The comments section erupted: 【”It’s all worth it”… the secondary lead is so in love! You know who I’m talking about!】 【Am I the only one who finds this conversation chilling? To manipulate someone for six years, just for the heroine?】 【Come on, that’s the villainess! He’s doing everyone a favor and protecting his true love, it’s a win-win!】 【Look at the villainess’s expression… is she about to snap?】 【Villainess, stop it and run!】 Run? I looked down at my slender wrists. Yes, I had to run. As I dragged my suitcase out, the night was in full swing. I stood by the roadside, unsure where to go. The comments were anxious for me: 【Is she really leaving?】 【Go! Don’t hold back our secondary lead and heroine’s sweet moments!】 【Wait… is that the secondary lead’s car in the distance?!】 Headlights pierced the darkness, and a familiar black sedan screeched to a halt beside me. Alaric got out, his shirt slightly rumpled, his breathing ragged, his face displaying a perfectly calibrated mix of panic and sorrow: “Rowan, I’m sorry, I was too hasty… I thought you’d be happy.” He reached out, trying to take my hand, his eyes red-rimmed. “Don’t go. Let’s talk this over, okay?” In the past, I would have melted completely. But now, I could only recall the chat log’s chilling promise: “break her limbs and lock her up.” I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “It’s not your fault,” I heard my voice, light and airy. “I’m just tired of it.” “Tired…?” His eyelashes fluttered as if he didn’t understand the word. “You don’t love me anymore?” Under the streetlamp, his features were bathed in fragmented light, his acting so convincing it could win awards. A comment drifted by: 【Honestly, not everything he did for her these years was fake, right… kinda heartbreaking.】 That comment suddenly enlightened me. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly: “Alaric Newlywed.” “These past six years, was there even a single second… when you truly felt happy?” His pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. He didn’t answer. But the comments exploded: 【!!! She knows?!】 【OMG OMG high alert—】 【Secondary lead, what are you waiting for! Lie!】 The wind was cold. I gripped my suitcase and turned, disappearing into the night. No footsteps followed. Only the countdown ticking clearly in my mind: 9 days 23 hours 59 minutes. The game wasn’t over. But the player no longer wanted to follow the rules. 2 I hailed a taxi, leaning against the window, my hands trembling. Not from fear. From exhilaration. To finally shed six years of pretense—it felt like taking a first deep breath. The countdown flickered chillingly before my eyes: 9 days 23 hours 10 minutes. Less than ten days left to live. All because of someone who would never love me. How utterly absurd. “Where to, miss?” the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I gave him the address: my favorite riverside coffee shop from way back. Alaric used to say it was “too loud, too messy.” He stopped me from going there after a while. The comments floated by: 【Where is she going? Shouldn’t she be running?】 【Alaric’s last look was terrifying…】 【Am I the only one who thinks she looks stunning in that red dress?】 Outside the window, the city lights blurred into a streak. For six years, I’d lived as if in a glass dome, seeing only the world filtered through Alaric’s lens. Now the glass was shattered. The wind poured in, bringing with it the aroma of street-side barbecue, the damp river breeze, the chatter of strangers. It was so real, it made me want to cry. The coffee shop was still in its old spot. As I pushed the door open, the wind chimes jingled. The owner, a man with a grizzled beard, stared at me for a moment. “Rowan?” “Mr. Chen, long time no see.” “It really is you!” He wiped his hands and came from behind the counter. “Must be five or six years, right? You used to love that window seat, could write a whole afternoon’s homework with one latte…” That’s when I remembered. Before I knew Alaric, I often came here to write my thesis. Back then, I was a film student, dreaming of winning an Oscar, filling script margins with annotations. What happened after that? Alaric said, “Acting is too tough, I’ll take care of you.” He said, “The entertainment industry is too chaotic for you.” He said, “Rowan, having me is enough.” And I believed him. I gave up auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams in a drawer, and handed him the key. “The usual?” Mr. Chen asked. “Yes.” I paused. “And a slice of Tiramisu.” I never dared to eat it before; Alaric said I’d “get fat, not look good on camera.” But now I only had ten days left. What did it matter if I got fat? The window seat was empty. I sat down, the river breeze caressing my face, the lights from the opposite bank reflecting on the water, shimmering like scattered gold. The first bite of cake—the sweet cream and bitter coffee liqueur melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes. So delicious. This was what it felt like to be alive. The comments fell silent for a moment, then slowly drifted by: 【She’s eating so seriously…】 【Why do I suddenly feel a little sad?】 【Only ten days left to live. I’d want a good meal too.】 【By the way, will Alaric really let her be this free? I doubt it.】 I doubted it too. So when my phone vibrated, displaying “Alaric Newlywed” as the caller, I wasn’t surprised. I answered, but said nothing. “Rowan, where are you?” “I’m so worried about you.” His voice carried a hint of fatigue. “Eating.” “Come home, Rowan,” he softened his tone. “We both need to cool off. I promise, I won’t bother you tonight, you can sleep in the guest room. We can talk properly tomorrow, okay?” Such a familiar tone. For six years, every time I threw a tantrum, he was like this. Gently, patiently, coaxing me back into the cage, then everything would return to normal. “Alaric Newlywed.” I looked at the river. “Do you remember my graduation project from college?” He was silent for a moment. “Why ask that all of a sudden?” “I played a woman who was imprisoned. In the end, she set the house on fire and burned herself with it.” I scooped up a bite of cake with my spoon. “You said my acting was too extreme, that no one would be that foolish in real life.” “Now I understand.” “She wasn’t foolish. She just had nothing left but that one fire.” His breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier. “What exactly are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” I finished the last bite of cake, “for the next ten days, I’m going to live my own life.” “Don’t look for me. Don’t disturb me. Don’t threaten my family.” “After ten days, if I’m still alive…” I smiled. “Then we can play your game again.” 3 I checked into the most expensive presidential suite in the city, using the credit card Alaric had given me. The comments were still streaming: 【Presidential suite??? She really knows how to live it up.】 【Using the secondary lead’s money for a hotel, that’s smart.】 【She only has ten days left, why not splurge?】 I tossed my suitcase in the entryway and sank into a bathtub filled with rose petals. The countdown ticked in my mind: 8 days 14 hours 32 minutes. I had eight and a half days left. My phone was eerily quiet. Alaric hadn’t called again. That wasn’t like him. Late at night, I lay in the three-meter-wide bed. Sparse comments drifted by: 【Is she really sleeping? So calm.】 【What’s the secondary lead doing? Looks like he’s tracking her phone.】 【Honestly, this feeling of being watched is suffocating.】 Just as I was drifting to sleep, I heard a violent kick to the door. I shot upright. The comments instantly exploded: 【OMG what was that sound?!】 【Someone’s breaking in!!!】 【Is it the secondary lead???】 【Help, I’m so nervous.】 Before I could react, the door was violently kicked open. Alaric stood in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot, as if he’d reached his absolute limit of fury. “Rowan Archer.” His voice was hoarse as he strode in, step by step. I instinctively clutched the collar of my robe. He stopped in front of me, his shadow completely engulfing me: “Where is Elara?” I froze. “What?” “Don’t pretend.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so powerful my bones ached. “Where did you take Elara? Tell me!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about—” I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. The comments scrolled wildly: 【What’s going on? The heroine was kidnapped?】 【The villainess kidnapped her? No way, she’s been at the hotel.】 【The timeline doesn’t add up, how would she have time to arrange a kidnapping?】 【Has the secondary lead gone crazy?】 “Alaric Newlywed, let go of me!” I gasped in pain. “I haven’t even seen Elara Thorne! I’ve been here for the past two days—” “Rowan Archer, I underestimated you.” “Playing so heartbroken, only to turn around and kidnap Elara? You truly are malicious.” “I didn’t.” I gritted my teeth. He shoved me roughly onto the bed, leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my head: “I’ll give you one last chance. Where is Elara? What did you do to her?” His breath puffed against my face, carrying a near-mad ferocity. In six years, I had never seen Alaric like this. The comments began to diverge: 【The secondary lead is terrifying…】 【But if the villainess really did kidnap the heroine, then she deserves it, right?】 【Look closely! How would the villainess have time to commit the crime?】 【Could it be a misunderstanding?】 “I told you, I don’t know.” “Alaric Newlywed, look at me. Have I ever lied to you in these six years?” His pupils contracted. A flicker of doubt. “Elara’s phone signal vanished at the coffee shop you visited,” he looked up at me, his eyes like poisoned knives. My entire body went cold. A trap. Someone had set a trap. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t…” My voice began to tremble. “Enough!” He suddenly stood up, pulling out a folding knife. Alaric held my hand, the blade pressed against my wrist. “Rowan Archer.” His voice was terrifyingly low. “I know you hate Elara, hate her for taking me. Though I was never truly yours. But you cannot touch her.” “I’m asking you one last time! Where is Elara?!” The blade dug into the flesh of my wrist, and bright red blood instantly welled up. The excruciating pain shot through my limbs. My vision blurred, and I almost blacked out. The comments were frantic: 【The secondary lead has gone completely mad.】 【I’m starting to pity the villainess… she really looks like she doesn’t know.】 【Villainess, say something! Even if it’s a lie!】 I opened my mouth, a broken gasp escaping my throat: “I… didn’t…”

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When I was ten, my parents’ business went bankrupt, and they were driven to jump off a building to their deaths. Faced with the coercion of creditors, my sister, who had become a mistress, returned. She brought bodyguards, sold my parents’ house, paid off the debt, and forced me into her car. “From today on, you’re with me. Mom and Dad still owe $800,000. You’ll pay it back when you grow up and make money.” I glared at her viciously: “Why did you come back! Mom and Dad died because of you. Why wasn’t it you who died!” 1 She remained silent. I had known since I was little that I had an older sister. She left home at 18, saying the family was too poor and couldn’t give her the life she wanted, so she ran off with a rich man and became his mistress. At school, classmates would always ask me: “Chloe, is your sister really a mistress? How shameless!” “Your sister gave herself up. All the money your family has must be from her, right?” “My mom said your sister is shameless and won’t let me play with you!” I had always hated her. I hated her for being shameless and for dragging me down. I also hated her because if it weren’t for her, my parents wouldn’t have wanted to start a business, bought a storefront, and ended up bankrupt due to poor management. Now she was back, selling the only memory Mom and Dad left behind. After I cursed at her, she looked at me and sneered, “I do want to die, but I just can’t!” “Little girl, you want me dead, but I refuse to die! No one else wants you but me. You better behave, or I’ll throw you back!” Hearing this, the ten-year-old me turned pale with fright. Although I hated her, I also knew I had no choice. Those relatives of ours all thought Mom and Dad left me money. They couldn’t even say two words before telling me to go to the bank. They didn’t really care about me, but this sister I had never met wasn’t necessarily any better. But I had no choice; she was my guardian. I took the train with her to an unfamiliar city, eventually arriving at an apartment. This was her home. It was kept very clean, and there were men’s clothes and shoes around. My room was on the second floor. It was small, but it was already very nice. “You can move around freely normally, but if my boyfriend comes over, you have to stay in your room. Don’t come out and cause trouble for me!” I lowered my head and said nothing. My sister’s boyfriend was a middle-aged man wearing glasses. When he saw me, he smiled slightly: “So this is Chloe!” I nodded, holding my water cup, and quickly went upstairs to close my door. I could tell from his smile that he was very distant. Just like those teachers at my old school. They would also nod and smile when they saw me, but the smile never reached their eyes. It was as if I was just an insignificant plaything! In my mother’s words: “Some people look down on everyone else. They’re not people we can associate with.” He was someone we couldn’t associate with. My sister told me to call him Mr. Smith. He ran a trading company locally and drove luxury cars. When Mr. Smith came, he would bring gifts for my sister and snacks for me. But he only stayed for a few hours and never stayed overnight. And I was arranged to go to a nearby elementary school. Here, no one knew my sister was a mistress, but I was still a little afraid—afraid my sister would be discovered, afraid I would be mocked. This kind of life continued for two years. I started middle school. I had nowhere to go during the summer vacation, so my sister took me to her company. Only then did I learn she worked at Mr. Smith’s company. On my first day there, I was told that the plump woman in the company was Mr. Smith’s wife. In that instant, I felt my heart turn to ice. I hated my sister. Why did she bring me here? Every time I ran into the boss’s wife, my heart would be in my throat, terrified she would curse me for being raised by a mistress. The boss’s wife, Sarah, would always call out to me when she saw me: “Little girl, come here and help me hold this!” She had me carry her bags and offered me money, which I didn’t dare to take. I was afraid she would take it back later, and even more afraid she would curse me for having no shame. Seeing that I wouldn’t take the money, Sarah just patted my head. At the end of the summer, she bought me two outfits and even drove me to school when it started. When I found out the school had boarding, I immediately applied. 2 My sister was a little unhappy: “It’s not like you can’t live at home. Why board?” “It’s convenient for studying. You work overtime and don’t come back on time every day. I’ll go hungry.” This explanation silenced her, and she finally agreed. It was just that Mr. Smith was a little unhappy, “Why board for no reason! Come back and play during the holidays!” Before his hairy hand could land on my head, Sarah slapped it away. Afraid they would start arguing, I quickly hugged my backpack and ran inside. After that, I went back once a week. My sister’s apartment still kept a room for me. But gradually, more and more things started appearing in the room. I didn’t think much of it. After all, I only slept there one night and then went back. It was originally her house anyway. Until a new transfer student came to our class. She was from my old hometown. Seeing her, I was terrified, but she still grabbed me. “Chloe, it really is you! You came here with your sister?” “Is your sister still someone’s mistress?” After she said that, she deliberately covered her mouth, feigning shock, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I really forgot!” The other students all looked over. In that instant, I felt all the blood rush to my head. And the instigator, Mia, was still acting fearlessly, “Oh my, Chloe, don’t look at me like that, I’m really scared!” The students gathered around, “Mia, is what you said true? Her sister really is a mistress?” “Oh my god, you can’t even tell. No wonder she was dropped off in a luxury car on the first day of school!” “The sister of a mistress will probably be a mistress too!” I clenched my fists. Mia continued: “Don’t say anymore, or she’ll transfer schools again!” “After all, mistresses aren’t exactly good people!” I looked up at her: “What about you? Why did you transfer? You were caught stealing in elementary school and the principal made you write a self-criticism in front of the whole school. Now you transfer here, is it because you couldn’t stay at your old school anymore?!” Mia’s face changed instantly, “Chloe, what’s so great about you? With a sister like yours, she’s stolen more than one! You, you might even be your sister’s kid!” “What nonsense are you talking about!” “Everyone says you’re the little! Bastard! Your sister gave birth to!” As soon as she finished speaking, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I went up and slapped her, grabbed her hair, and beat her like my life depended on it! In the end, it was the teacher who separated us. “Chloe! Mia, what are you doing!” “Teacher, she started it!” Mia cried like a baby. I wiped the blood off my face and said coldly, “Teacher, she has a filthy mouth!” I stared fiercely at Mia. She forgot to cry, and eventually, we inevitably had to call our parents. Mia’s mom came and looked at me with disdain, “Chloe! You little bastard, how dare you hit my daughter!” “Mom, she hit me so hard!” Mia screamed: “Mom, beat her to death! Beat her to death!” Instead of getting angry, I laughed, “You also know I don’t have a mom, just an older sister, and she’s a mistress, so rounding up, I have nothing!” Mia froze for a moment. Her mom’s face turned blue and white, and finally she said angrily: “No matter what, you must apologize!” My sister didn’t come; Sarah did. After hearing what happened, Sarah pointed at Mia: “If anyone apologizes, it’s you first! Who told you to have such a filthy mouth! Calling my little sister a bastard born to a mistress, right!” “I’m calling the police right now to sue you for slander! Bring out whatever evidence you have! If you can’t, I’ll sue you to death!” 3 Mia’s face was as ugly as could be. In the end, she was forced to apologize. Mia’s mom’s face turned green. She didn’t expect me to have backup here. She glared at me hatefully, pinched Mia’s arm hard, and called her useless! I didn’t say anything, just went back to class. Sarah patted my shoulder, “Don’t overthink it. Your sister, she has it hard, but she’s definitely not a bad person.” I didn’t speak. Back in class, the students looked at me differently, but I didn’t care. When Mia came back, she glared at me fiercely. I glared back and said loudly: “Mia, from now on, if I hear any rumors in this class, I will call the police and have you arrested for spreading rumors!” Mia lay on her desk and cried. I felt so vindicated. Yeah, they all say my sister is a mistress. Where’s the evidence? As long as there’s no evidence, who dares to talk nonsense? My ruthlessness, combined with Mia’s crying, put the students at ease. On the contrary, Mia was labeled a thief and could never shake it off. When I went home for the weekend, my sister was also there. I noticed there were more baby clothes and a cradle in the house, and my sister’s belly was getting big. Seeing me, she waved, “Come here and look at your little nephew!” I clenched my fists. The secret I had guarded for two years at school was punctured by her own hands. And I had even talked tough to Mia, telling her to produce evidence if she said my sister was a mistress. But now, seeing my sister with a big belly, I felt like a joke. My legs felt like lead. I finally managed to drag myself over to her and looked at her. “Why are you a mistress? Why do you have to have an illegitimate child?” As soon as I asked the question, my sister’s mouth trembled, and she didn’t say a word for a long time. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned and ran out. My sister shouted from behind: “Chloe! Come back here!” I roared like a madwoman: “I’m never coming back! I don’t have a sister like you!” I missed Mom and Dad. When they were around, they always told me how good my sister’s grades were, and then said they were useless and couldn’t satisfy her, so they forced her to run away. But why did she come back? It would have been fine if she just came back, but she had to bring me here to witness her degradation and sin. I felt truly disgusted! I went to school and never went back. My sister found out through my homeroom teacher that I had gone back to school. She didn’t say anything, just asked her to transfer my living expenses. I originally wanted to refuse stubbornly, but I couldn’t. Until the end of the semester, I stood at the school gate with my luggage, and it was Sarah who came to pick me up again. She pulled me into the car, hesitating to speak several times. I could tell this wasn’t the way home. Calculating the time, my sister should be due soon. She sighed: “Chloe, let me take you to see your sister!” Hearing this, I looked up at her and finally asked the question: “You don’t hate her? She destroyed your family, she’s a mistress.” Sarah patted me, “Silly child, she’s not a mistress at all. Your sister is the most sensible child. She’s not a mistress. You’ll know when you see her.” I didn’t want to see her, but Sarah drove me straight to the hospital. My heart sank! Did my sister have the baby? But Mr. Smith and Sarah were husband and wife. I couldn’t figure out their relationship. When I followed Sarah into the hospital room, I found my sister lying on the bed, her belly swollen, her face sallow. Seeing this, my mind buzzed! It seemed like I understood everything. 4 “Sarah, why did you bring her here?” When my sister saw me, she tried hard to sit up. Sarah quickly went over and pressed her down, “Let you sisters see each other, lest you regret it!” Looking at my sister like this, how could I not understand? She had a terminal illness! It turned out the whole having a baby thing was a lie. There was someone back in our hometown who was like this, and in the end, they suffocated to death. Mom said it was uremia, incurable. Seeing her like this now, she had lost so much weight in just a few months. I walked over slowly. My sister touched my hand, “Haven’t seen you in a few months, you’ve lost weight.” “Chloe, I might not make it to that time.” Sarah interrupted her: “What nonsense are you talking about? You’re still young. Don’t worry about the money for your treatment!” My head was buzzing. I didn’t expect her to be so sick. I opened my mouth but couldn’t say anything for a long time. It was Sarah who nudged me: “Are you mute? Your sister is this sick and wouldn’t let me tell you. Now that you’re here, if you have anything to say, say it quickly!” I finally managed to squeeze out a sentence: “Where’s your baby?” As soon as I spoke, Sarah’s eyes reddened, while my sister smiled: “Already born, in the incubator. Sarah will take you to see him later.” So she really did have a baby, and gave birth to it. This confused me a bit. I stood blankly by her side and asked another question, “Are you going to die?” Since Mom and Dad passed away, she was my only relative. Although I didn’t like her, the thought of her leaving me, leaving me all alone in this world, still made me worried. Hearing me say this, she laughed: “No, but even if I die, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already found a way out for you.” “I don’t want it!” I shook off her hand. “You never asked me if I was willing. When Mom and Dad left, you brought me here without asking me. Now you’re going to die, and you say you’ve thought of a way out for me, but you still haven’t asked me. So I’m not willing.” “Right, you’re not willing.” My sister’s voice grew dark. “It was my oversight. You are a living person, how could you not have your own thoughts? But Chloe, you’re still young.” “I understand everything. You don’t have to lie to me. You became someone’s mistress, had his child, and now you’re sick, so Sarah has to be responsible for you!” “You child!” Sarah stood there, somewhat surprised. “You didn’t tell her?” My sister shook her head. “I didn’t have time, and I didn’t know where to start.” Sarah sighed: “Talk to her nicely. I’m going to see the baby.” After she left, my sister tried to persuade me: “Sarah and the others are good people. I gave birth to this child willingly, and I will give it to them later. I’ve already discussed it with Sarah, she will support your education.” “Chloe, you have to understand one thing. No matter what happens in the end, even when you are driven into a corner, as long as you are alive, there is hope. As long as you are alive, you can start over.” “My life hasn’t been in vain. I went out to work hard and wanted to save up, but I didn’t expect that the money I originally wanted to save for your education would all be spent on this illness.” “But I don’t regret it, because I went out and saw the world.” Hearing her say this, I didn’t know what to say. I just felt a lump in my throat, and my voice was hoarse. She patted my hand: “Go see your little nephew, he’s very good-looking!” I felt a sense of relief and quickly rushed out.

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On Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend of five years spent the entire day with me. He sent flowers in the morning, took me to a movie in the afternoon, and booked my favorite restaurant for a candlelight dinner in the evening. But when the car pulled up to the restaurant, he calmly told me to go in alone. “I have to go. My wife is waiting for me at home.” I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice. Seeing me frozen, he frowned. “I’ve spent the whole day with you. Don’t be unreasonable. Know your place.” I watched his taillights disappear into the distance, my grip on the bouquet so tight the stems snapped. That night, I sat alone in front of the candlelight until dawn. I thought he would explain. Instead, I received an email. It was a lawyer’s letter from his wife, demanding the return of their “joint marital assets.” 1 The lawyer’s letter was over a dozen pages long, totaling over six million dollars. But throughout our five-year relationship, I had always insisted on splitting expenses. Gifts were always exchanged equally. Yet, this bill only listed his expenditures, omitting every single contribution I had ever made. My legs were numb. I stumbled up and headed straight for Arthur’s company. I needed to talk to him. I needed an explanation. When I arrived at the lobby, a security guard saw me rushing in and muttered under his breath, “Just a kept woman, and she dares to show her face so openly.” In the elevator, a girl behind me rolled her eyes. “Morals are really going down the drain. The mistress actually showed up dressed like that.” In the past, Arthur was always by my side when I came to the company. The employees would warmly greet me as “Ms. Miller.” Coming alone today, I realized that beneath that warmth was nothing but disdain. I looked down, gripping my red dress, biting my lip hard enough to taste blood. When I reached the executive suite on the top floor, Arthur looked at me with distaste. “Why did you come dressed like that? This is an office, not a gala.” I licked the blood off my lip and held my phone up to him. “Everything you spent on me, I paid you back with gifts of equal value. And five million of this was clearly an investment in the research institute’s project…” “My wife actually sent you that demand? I thought she was just venting.” Arthur chuckled, cutting me off, his tone laced with indulgence. “My wife has been a spoiled heiress since she was a kid. She found your lipstick in my pocket on Valentine’s Day. It’s normal for her to throw a little tantrum.” “Don’t mind it. I’ll coax her tonight, and it’ll all blow over.” I was stunned. I never expected him to brush it off so casually. “Arthur, you’re married, yet you lied to me for five years. You made me an unwitting mistress, and now your wife is demanding six million dollars from me…” “And you’re saying it’ll just ‘blow over’?” Arthur’s hand, which was signing a document, stopped. He threw the pen down impatiently. “Elena, are you done?” My lips trembled. “What…” “Are you going to look me in the eye and say you didn’t approach me because of who I am? Are you going to say you didn’t know I was married?” “That cup of water you spilled on my hand… you practiced that a hundred times, didn’t you?” He curled his fingers, revealing a faint pink burn scar on the web of his hand. Five years ago, I attended an academic forum with my mentor. I accidentally spilled tea on an investor’s hand. That was the first time I met Arthur. My mentor’s face instantly darkened, but Arthur just smiled, said it was fine, and bailed me out. He was the one who pursued me, beginning our five-year, passionate romance. I always thought our meeting was destiny. But today, he was mockingly telling me it was a premeditated trap. My fingers curled into fists. Pride forced me to maintain my composure, but my voice still shook. “Arthur, I only found out you were married last night. You never told me…” Before I could finish, Arthur let out a scoff from the back of his throat. “You’ve played the part so long you actually believe it.” “If you really didn’t know, why did you never come to my company alone? You were afraid my wife would catch you.” “And yesterday, Valentine’s Day. You begged me a month in advance to spend it with you, then secretly slipped your lipstick into my pocket. Weren’t you just trying to provoke my wife?” He opened a drawer, pulled out my lipstick, and tossed it casually onto the desk. A string snapped in my brain. I didn’t come to the company alone because I didn’t want to cause trouble for him. He took the lipstick because he saw I didn’t have pockets. I begged him to spend Valentine’s Day with me because… I wanted a family. “Alright, you’ve had your fun, you’ve made your point. Enough is enough.” “I told you yesterday to know your place. As long as you remember who you are, I’ll have my wife drop the lawsuit.” “And stop playing this ‘going Dutch’ game to act all high and mighty. If you want money, just ask.” He slid a black card across the desk. “Go buy a bag. Go home when you’re done shopping. I’ll come see you tonight.” In just a few words, he completely dismissed everything. I stared at the man I had loved for five years, my mind a tangled mess. After a moment, he frowned. “Not enough? What else do you want?” I gripped my phone, using every ounce of strength for each word: “There is no ‘tonight’.” “Arthur, we’re done.” Those impatient eyes instantly turned icy. He grabbed the lipstick off the desk and smashed it onto the floor, shattering it. “I gave you an out, and you dare push your luck!” “That $500k-a-year job? The director only hired you as a favor to me. Otherwise, with your measly skills, you wouldn’t even be allowed through the institute’s front door!” “If you break up with me, Elena, you are nothing!” 2 It was noon by the time I stumbled back to my apartment in a daze. The moment I pushed the door open, a breeze rustled the red balloons filling the room. A delicate ring box sat on the coffee table. I had spent a month planning this Valentine’s Day surprise. I wanted to say the words he wouldn’t. I wanted to say, Arthur, let’s get married. I want to build a home with you. Instead, the candles were blown out, and the engagement ring became a joke. I showered, changed my clothes, and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Suddenly, a chill swept across my stomach, and a resigned sigh sounded in my ear. “I know you did all this because you love me.” “Don’t worry. As long as you behave, I can give you anything… except marriage.” I snapped my eyes open. I shoved Arthur away. His face instantly changed. “Are you throwing another tantrum? Playing hard to get has its limits!” I adjusted my clothes, my voice cold. “Arthur, I told you. I had no idea you were married.” “If I had known, I would have stayed far, far away from you.” Arthur pressed his lips together, his eyes blazing with anger. “Do you even believe that yourself? Or is this just like burning my hand—another trick you learned from your mother?” I froze completely. “How do you know about my mother…” He lit a cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly. “My wife is Chloe Sterling, the eldest daughter of the Sterling family.” My heart skipped a beat, and I gripped the bedsheets so hard they wrinkled. When I was eight, a strange woman showed up at our door, tearing at my mother’s clothes, calling her a whore and calling me a bastard. That was the day my mother found out her husband had another family. All that intense, passionate love was just the thrill of an illicit affair. Unable to accept ten years of deception, her mind broke, and she lost all hope. On a stormy night with thunder and lightning, she tore her fake marriage certificate to shreds, swallowed the pieces, and walked resolutely into oncoming traffic. Through the thick layers of smoke, Arthur’s eyes were full of contempt. “Chloe said your mother clawed her way up exactly like this, hooking her father. Now you want revenge, so you targeted me.” “Aren’t you just trying to follow in your mother’s footsteps? Have a kid to tie me down for the rest of your life? Why bother hiding it?” “But don’t copy everything she did. Your mother got too greedy and died in a car crash as karmic retribution. Don’t make the same mistake.” So he knew. Then for the last five years, how many times had he mocked me behind my back? How many times had he laughed at me with his wife, Chloe Sterling? I was so incredibly stupid to have loved a man like this. Tears spilled out uncontrollably. I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him with all my might. “Arthur, you bastard!” He couldn’t dodge in time and took a solid hit. His cigarette dropped to the floor. Arthur’s face turned livid. “Elena, you played me for five years! I should be the one who’s angry!” “I actually believed you. I was even considering giving up…” I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I just threw whatever was within reach. He lost his temper, lunging forward and pinning my wrists down hard. Just as his shadow fell over me, his phone rang. A woman’s voice, soft as water, came through. “Our son misses you.” His expression softened instantly. “I’ll be right home.” Hanging up, he gave me one last look. “Stay here and reflect on this. Decide if you want to keep the status quo or fight me to the bitter end.” “I’ll convince Chloe to give you two days. If you can’t see reason by then, get ready to pay up.” He slammed the door behind him. The balloon tied to the doorframe popped, bursting into pieces. Hidden within the colorful ribbons was my ultrasound report. 10 weeks. This was my Valentine’s Day gift for him. I thought I could give my baby a perfect family. But in the end, I just became my mother. 3 Three days after Valentine’s Day, as soon as I walked into the research institute, my colleagues crowded around me. “Team Leader Miller, we’re still three million short on the new project. Can you ask Mr. Vance for help?” I quickened my pace. “I’m busy. You can go through the standard investment application process.” In the few seconds before my office door closed, I heard the loud, mocking whispers: “Who does she think she is? Didn’t she only get to where she is because of Mr. Vance? Now she’s acting all principled and impartial…” I closed the door, leaned against it, hugged my knees, and slowly slid to the floor. For four years at the institute, I worked day and night, running experiments, writing papers, and even finding time to help other teams with their bottlenecks. I ruined my eyesight, developed stomach ulcers, published the most papers in the entire institute, and every project I led won national awards. Sometimes Arthur would feel bad for me and offer to go talk to the director, but I always stopped him. I told him I wanted to do it. I told him I loved this job. Just last month, I was finally promoted to Team Leader. I thought all my hard work had finally paid off and people were recognizing my efforts. It turns out the job offer I got based on my outstanding thesis was just a favor to Arthur. My position as Team Leader was because of Arthur’s connections. Four years of blood, sweat, and tears… waking up from the dream, I realized it was all credited to someone else. Around noon, Arthur showed up, saying he brought me lunch. He shoved the chopsticks into my hand, acting as if nothing had happened. “You’ve had a night to sleep on it. You’ve thought it through, right?” “It’s for the best. Things will go back to exactly how they were.” I slammed the chopsticks down on the desk, my tone rigid. “You expect me to be your mistress for the rest of my life?” He frowned. “Why do you always have to degrade yourself like this? Weren’t we happy before?” “Before, I didn’t know you were married.” “Not this again.” His calm voice turned cold. He leaned back in his chair. “Elena, telling the same lie over and over gets boring.” “I’ll say it again: as long as you stay quietly by my side, you can have anything you want. Except marriage and children.” Children. My hand went to my stomach. I gritted my teeth, but then something felt wrong. He didn’t want me to have his child. He didn’t want… A thunderbolt exploded in my mind. I frantically yanked open a drawer and pulled out two bottles of vitamins. Arthur had bought them for me himself. He reminded me to take them every day, saying they were good for my health. But three months ago, I was juggling three projects at once and was so busy I kept forgetting. I hadn’t taken them since. And this baby was conceived exactly… “Arthur… you had me taking birth control pills for five years?” I stared at him in disbelief. His expression darkened, and he looked away. “From the day you approached me, you should have known I would never let a woman on the outside have my child.” Right. A woman on the outside. When I was little, Mrs. Sterling said I was a bastard born from a woman on the outside. Now, I was the woman on the outside. Mom, you told me to be kind. To live a simple life. To have my own family, a real husband, a perfect little family of three. Why is it all so hard? The pain in my chest was excruciating. I smashed the lunchbox he brought and threw the chopsticks. I told him to get out. I told him never to show his face to me again. Arthur just sat there, taking the abuse without flinching, his face turning ice-cold. “Elena, I gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it.” “You have one day left. Don’t regret this!” He opened the door and left. I huddled in the corner and cried until the world spun. When I finally stopped crying and gasped for air, I stood up and wiped my tears. Then, I handed in my resignation letter and drove to the women’s hospital. I couldn’t let my child walk the same path I did. Baby, this world is not a beautiful place. It’s better if you don’t come here. 4 I slept for an entire day and night after the surgery. At dawn, a group of people burst into my apartment and started smashing the living room furniture. Leading them was Chloe Sterling. Gritting her teeth, she smashed the framed photo of Arthur and me. I dragged my weak body out of the bedroom. “You’re trespassing! Get out!” Seeing me, Chloe’s eyes went cold. “My husband used our joint marital funds to buy a house for his mistress. Why can’t I be here?” “I bought this house myself. It has nothing to do with him.” “Nothing to do with him?” Chloe crossed her arms mockingly. “Since when do you have the ability to afford a four-million-dollar penthouse? My husband secretly put down three million. You only paid one million.” “Otherwise, even if you sold yourself, you couldn’t afford this place!” The people around her burst into laughter. The last shred of my dignity was ripped away. No wonder the “discount” on this place was so huge. I thought I just got lucky. My father was fake. My love was fake. Even the house I pinched pennies to buy was fake. What in my entire life was actually real? “Chloe, she hid a photo.” One of the women ran over. I instantly panicked. “No! Not that…” But Chloe already had the photo. A vicious look flashed in her eyes. “Your mother has been dead for over a decade, and you still keep her photo!” “You really did approach Arthur on purpose, just to steal him from me. You and your mother are disgusting! Disgusting!” I lunged to grab it, but Arthur suddenly called. I quickly answered: “Arthur, Chloe is trying to…” “What is the meaning of your resignation?! Do you have any idea how many favors I pulled and how much money I invested to get you that job?!” He demanded angrily. But all I could see was Chloe flicking a lighter and bringing the flame close to the photo. It was the only thing my mother left me. She had written something on the back! “No… please, no!” “Arthur, I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want. Please, tell Chloe not to burn my photo, it’s…” Before I could finish, Chloe’s fury reached its peak. “Begging my husband right in front of my face? You really have a death wish!” The flame caught the edge of the photo. I threw my phone like a madwoman and lunged for it, but the other women kicked me to the floor. In mere seconds, the photo turned to ash. Only a single corner fluttered down next to my hand. My mother’s face was gone. The words were gone. Everything was gone. Through the phone, Arthur was still talking. “I warned you to know your place. Since you insist on causing a scene, whatever Chloe takes is entirely justified.” The call ended, and Chloe’s triumphant laughter filled the room. “Did you hear that? My husband said whatever I take is justified.” “Throw her out and clear the house. I’m moving my dog in here.” “But be careful not to kill her. My husband invested another three million in her institute yesterday. Plus the two million for this house, that’s over eleven million total. I’m still waiting for her to pay me back.” I was thrown out onto the street. Pedestrians walked by, staring at me as I sat there, my eyes empty, staring blankly ahead. Before my mother threw herself into traffic, she left a message on the back of that photo. “I wish for my dearest daughter to live freely, find simple joys, and never repeat my mistakes.” I’m sorry, Mom. I failed to live up to your blessing. I guess I’ll just have to come find you and apologize in person.

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The boy I’d loved for a lifetime was throwing himself into the Atlantic, and the entire neighborhood was screaming for someone to save him. The salt air was thick with panic, but I didn’t move. Instead, I grabbed my brother, Griffith, by the collar and shoved him back inside. I slammed the heavy oak door shut and slid the iron bolt home with a resounding clack. Griffith lunged for the door, his face a mask of frantic desperation. I didn’t give him the chance. I took the heavy brass key, shoved it into my mouth, and swallowed. It scraped against my throat, a cold, metallic weight sliding down into my gut. “Nora!” Griffith screamed my name, his eyes bloodshot as he watched me through the small glass pane in the door. He threw his shoulder against the wood, the impact rattling the entire frame. “Spit it out! Nora, goddammit, spit it out!” I leaned against the wall, my body racked by a violent, reflexive cough. Tears pricked my eyes—not from grief, but from the physical toll of what I’d just done. I looked at him through the blurred glass, my expression dead and cold. “Griffith,” I said, my voice raspy but steady. “If you try to find a way out of this house today, I’m going out that window. And I won’t be looking for a way to swim.” The look in my eyes stopped him cold. He knew me. He knew I meant it. 1 I stood by the window, my hand resting on the sill, watching the chaos outside. I wasn’t joking. Not about this. Not after living through what I’d already lived through. By the next morning, the news that I had “stood by and watched a boy drown” had spread through our small coastal town like a wildfire. In a town where everyone knew everyone’s business, I had become the local pariah overnight. “Did you hear? The Rivers girl… she’s got a heart like a stone.” “I know! She watched Bennett jump and locked her own brother inside so he couldn’t help. Can you imagine?” “It’s jealousy, plain and simple. Just because Bennett’s been seeing that Miller girl, Melanie. A girl’s spite can be a poisonous thing.” The whispers followed me everywhere, thick enough to drown in. In my previous life, I spent forty years being praised for my “devotion” to Bennett. Forty years of nursing a man who never loved me, all because I felt I owed it to the world. In this life, I simply wanted to keep my brother alive, and for that, I was a “vixen.” It was almost funny. Around noon, Bennett’s parents showed up at our door. His mother, Martha, didn’t even wait to be invited in. She marched into our living room, her finger pointed inches from my nose. “Nora Rivers! You black-hearted girl! What did my Bennett ever do to you? You grew up together! How could you be so cruel?” She had a voice that carried, and within minutes, the porch was crowded with nosy neighbors looking for a show. My brother, Griffith, turned pale, stepping in front of me to shield me from her wrath. “Martha, watch your tone! My sister had a medical emergency yesterday—she was seizing! I couldn’t leave her side!” “A seizure? Pull the other one!” Martha barked, hands on her hips. “She’s got a sickness in her soul, is what she has! She couldn’t stand to see Bennett happy with someone else!” My parents, hardworking people who had never had a cross word with a neighbor in thirty years, stood there with their faces flushed deep red, unable to find the words to defend me. I gently pushed Griffith aside and met Martha’s fire-filled eyes with a chilling calm. “Mrs. Sandra,” I said. The room went silent. My voice was flat, devoid of the frantic energy everyone expected. But the coldness in my gaze made Martha take an involuntary step back. “You should be thanking me today.” Martha blinked, stunned. “Thanking you? I should thank you for the fact that my son is lying in a hospital bed in a coma?” “Yes.” I nodded, my eyes scanning the crowd at the door. “Because if I hadn’t ‘gotten sick’ exactly when I did, and if I hadn’t kept my brother here, there would likely be two bodies in the morgue today instead of one boy in a hospital bed.” A heavy silence fell over the room. People looked at each other, confused. I took a step forward, my voice low but carrying to every ear in the house. “Bennett didn’t go to the cliffs alone, did he?” I let the question hang. “I could have sworn I saw Melanie Miller running toward the water, too. Crying her eyes out.” The crowd erupted. In this town, in this era, reputation was everything. A young man and a girl running to the cliffs together, followed by a suicide attempt? That was a scandal that could fuel a hundred rumors. Melanie’s parents, standing at the edge of the porch, went ghost-white. Martha choked on her next insult. She wanted to argue, but facts were facts. People had seen Bennett and Melanie arguing by the water’s edge. I didn’t look at her again. I turned to my parents, my face softening into a look of feigned exhaustion. I leaned into Griffith’s arm, letting out a small, hollow cough. “Dad, Mom… my head hurts.” Then, in a whisper that sounded broken and terrified, I added: “I just… I didn’t want my brother to die for someone else’s secret affair.” 2 A single sentence turned the tide. In an instant, I wasn’t the “jealous girl” who let a boy drown. I was the “protective sister” who sacrificed her own reputation to keep her brother out of a messy, dangerous drama. The judgmental glares shifted. Now they were directed at Martha and the Millers. “So that’s what it was…” “My goodness, young people these days. No sense of shame.” “Exactly. If he wants to go play Romeo and Juliet on the rocks, why should a good boy like Griffith have to pay the price?” Martha’s face went from red to a sickly purple. She opened her mouth to scream at me, but I’d already backed her into a corner. If she kept pushing, she’d only confirm that her son was a fool who’d tried to die over a girl. She eventually grabbed her husband’s arm and scurried out, the crowd parting for them like a tide of judgment. The house finally went quiet. Griffith looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and a confusion I’d never seen before. He opened his mouth to ask a question, then thought better of it. I didn’t explain. The truth was too brutal for him to handle yet. I just leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m tired, Griffith.” He sighed and guided me to my room, tucking the quilt around me. “Sleep, Nora. Don’t worry about anything. I’m here.” I closed my eyes, feeling the dull, lingering ache in my stomach from the key. It was nothing. Not compared to the forty years of slow-motion agony I’d endured in my last life. Bennett. Melanie. This was just the prologue. Everything you took from me—everything you took from my brother—I’m taking back. With interest. Bennett woke up two days later. He’d been pulled out by Old Man Miller, the fisherman, but his lungs were infected from the seawater. He was weak, tethered to an oxygen tank. Griffith couldn’t stay away. He dragged me along to the hospital. “Nora, look, we’ve lived next door to them forever. We were kids together. Now that he’s awake, it’s the right thing to do.” That was Griffith. Always too kind. Always too good. In my previous life, his kindness was what killed him. “Fine. Let’s go.” I agreed without hesitation. I wanted to go. I wanted to hand-deliver my first “gift.” I wanted to see the look on the face of the man who ruined my life when he realized I wasn’t the girl he remembered. The hospital room was crowded. His parents were there, along with a few neighbors. And sitting right by his bed was his “muse”—Melanie Miller. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, her eyes red-rimmed, tenderly spooning water into Bennett’s mouth. She looked every bit the grieving fiancee. 3 When we walked in, Melanie jumped like a startled rabbit. “Nora… Griffith,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She looked at me with a flicker of resentment and a strange kind of triumph. Bennett saw me, too. His face was already pale, but the moment he saw me, the blood drained from it entirely. His eyes were a storm of guilt, curiosity, and the raw panic of a man whose secret had been exposed. Griffith didn’t notice the tension. He set a basket of fruit on the nightstand. “Bennett, man, glad to see you’re back with us. Don’t do something that stupid ever again.” Bennett forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. But his eyes remained fixed on me, unable to look away, as if I were a ghost. I ignored him. I ignored Melanie. I walked to the window and yanked the heavy curtains open, letting the harsh afternoon sun flood the room. “It’s too stuffy in here. Patients need air to heal.” I turned around, walking slowly toward his bed until I was standing right over him. I smiled—a gentle, harmless smile. “You’re lucky to be alive, Bennett.” I leaned in closer. “But next time you feel like ending it all, try to pick a spot where there aren’t any witnesses. Poor Old Man Miller spent half a day in that cold water saving you. His arthritis is so bad now he can’t even get out of bed. His medical bills are going to be a lot more expensive than your stay here.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word hit him like a hammer. I’d stripped away the romantic veneer of his “tragedy” and exposed it for what it was: a selfish act of vanity that hurt innocent people. “Cough… cough!” Bennett’s face went beet-red, and he began to cough violently, his thin frame shaking. Melanie turned on me, her eyes flaring with anger. “Nora! How can you be so heartless? He’s suffering!” “Is he?” I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on Bennett. I leaned down, whispering so only the three of us could hear. “By the way, while you were out, the nurse said you kept mumbling something. You kept saying, ‘Melanie, don’t leave me.’” I paused, watching his pupils dilate with terror. I let my lips curl into a cold smile. “That’s funny. Because forty years from now, when you’re taking your last breath by my bed, those are the exact same words you’ll say.” Boom. The words hit him like a thunderclap. Bennett’s eyes went wide—impossibly wide—filled with a primal, soul-deep horror. His hands gripped the bedsheets so hard his knuckles turned white. He started to tremble, looking at me as if I were a monster from the depths of the sea. He… he was back, too. He had returned with his memories, just like I had. The realization made my heart race with a dark, intoxicating mix of adrenaline and hatred. Good. Wonderful. If I were the only one who remembered, this revenge would be far too lonely. Now, you’ve brought your filthy secrets back with you. And I’m going to make sure you stay awake for every second of it. I’m going to make you watch as I dismantle every single thing you think you own. 4 I savored his look of absolute dread for a long moment before straightening up and smoothing my hair. I turned back to my brother, who was looking on with a confused frown. “Let’s go, Griffith.” “I think Bennett’s got plenty of company. We wouldn’t want to crowd him.” I put a sharp emphasis on “company,” glancing at Melanie, who was blushing a deep, guilty crimson. “Let’s leave the happy couple to their private talk.” I took Griffith’s hand and walked out without a backward glance. Behind us, I could hear Bennett’s ragged, panicked breathing and the sound of Melanie’s stifled sobs. Outside, the summer sun felt warm and clean on my skin. I took a deep breath. The weight that had been sitting on my chest for forty years finally began to lift. Bennett, from the moment you chose to drag my brother into your suicide pact, you sealed your fate. In the last life, I protected you for forty years. In this one, I’m going to walk you straight into hell. Bennett was smarter than I remembered. Or perhaps he was just better at survival. Once he realized I was playing the same game of time-traveling shadows, he spent exactly one night formulating a plan. The next day, despite his fever and his rattling lungs, he checked himself out of the hospital. Within hours, his parents were at our door again, but their arms weren’t empty this time. They were loaded with expensive gift baskets and fine wine. They weren’t there to accuse. They were there to propose. Martha’s face had undergone a miraculous transformation. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a fawning, oily smile as she took my mother’s hands. “Oh, Mary! Our Bennett has been talking nonstop about Nora! He says we all owe her so much! If she hadn’t stopped Griffith from jumping in, and if Griffith had been hurt… Bennett says he could never have lived with the guilt!” She was rewriting history in real-time, turning my “refusal to help” into a “noble sacrifice for the family.” “So, the Mr. and I got to talking. Bennett feels the same way. We think it’s time to stop dancing around it. Let’s set a date for the wedding! Let’s fulfill the wish our families have had for years. Let Bennett spend the rest of his life making it up to Nora!” My parents were simple, honest people. They were completely blindsided by this “happy news.” They’d always liked Bennett—he was the “golden boy” of the neighborhood, after all. Seeing the Sandras humble themselves and ask for my hand was, in their eyes, the ultimate honor. My mother’s face lit up. She was already nodding. “Well, if the children are willing…” Griffith was pacing in the corner, his brow furrowed. He’d seen the tension between Bennett and Melanie, but he was a man of few words, and he didn’t know how to challenge the parents without sounding like a jerk. I watched the scene with cold, detached amusement. Nice move, Bennett. He knew my parents were traditional. He knew they valued reputation above all else. He figured if we were engaged, I’d be bound to him. To protect my own future, I’d have to help him bury the scandal with Melanie. He even assumed he’d “sacrifice” Melanie for a while just to tie me down. He’d done it before. In my previous life, after Griffith died, the Sandras made the same offer. They said Bennett would “take care of me” in Griffith’s place. My parents, drowning in grief, agreed instantly. And just like that, my life was locked in a cage labeled “gratitude.” But there was one thing Bennett didn’t account for. Nora Rivers was no longer a naive girl who could be bullied by “duty.” I was a wraith who had crawled back from the grave. I looked at Bennett. He was standing behind his parents, pale and swaying, but his eyes were sharp. He was sending me a silent message: We’re even now, Nora. You smeared my name, so I’m taking your freedom. We’ll be ‘happily’ married, just like last time. He was so arrogant. So sure of himself. I smiled. Just as everyone expected me to nod shyly, I stood up. I walked over to the coffee table and reached under a stack of old magazines. I pulled out an envelope. It was slightly damp, the ink a little blurred at the edges. “What’s that, honey?” my mom asked. I held the envelope up to the light, my smile widening. Bennett’s face went from pale to a ghostly, translucent white.

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When Arthur Vance, the heir to the most powerful family in New York, was at his absolute lowest, I became his girlfriend. For three years, he lived in my tiny apartment, ate my food, and drank my water. The day he finally reclaimed his throne, I used my very last dime of savings to buy him a parting gift. I was preparing to say goodbye. But through the door, I heard him talking to someone: “She’s not my girlfriend. I’ll just keep her around as a kept woman, like a little canary.” I hid the gift behind my back. Forget it, I thought. Leaving without saying goodbye is fine too. Later, he knelt in front of a church altar for three days and three nights, begging God just for a chance to see me one more time. 1 Holding the gift bag, I walked up to my cheap apartment. I had been rehearsing my farewell speech the entire walk home. But through the thin walls, I heard Arthur’s voice. “Evelyn isn’t my girlfriend. From now on, just consider her a kept woman, like a canary I keep by my side.” His tone was casual, but the words pierced straight through me like a sword. I gripped the handle of the gift bag tightly. It felt like my heart was stuffed with cotton, making it impossible to breathe. So, this was what I was in his eyes? 2 The apartment door suddenly swung open. A man in a sharp, tailored suit saw me and froze. I instinctively took a half-step back. Behind him, Arthur was still wearing the cheap T-shirt I had bought for him at Target. Seeing me standing outside the door, his expression instantly stiffened. “Evie, why are you home so early?” I hid the gift bag even further behind my back. I squeezed out a smile. “Got off work a bit early today.” Without waiting for him to say anything else, I used buying boba tea as an excuse, turned around, and practically ran down the stairs. 3 My apartment was in a rundown neighborhood, but the moment you stepped out of the alley, you hit the bustling, neon-lit heart of the city. Looking at the blinding neon lights I used to find so beautiful, my vision completely blurred. Unable to suppress the overwhelming pain, I finally let the tears fall, releasing everything I had been holding back. I heard two girls walking past me, talking excitedly. “The Vance family heir is so freaking hot.” “It’s like a real-life Succession drama.” Right now, the entire city was gossiping about the exiled Vance heir finally reclaiming his billionaire status. And Arthur Vance was that heir. I pulled out my phone. My TikTok feed was completely flooded with news about Arthur. I clicked on a video I had already watched that afternoon. His handsome, aristocratic face looked directly into the camera. He politely declined a more in-depth interview, but said he wanted to thank one specific person. When reporters pressed him for a name, he refused to answer. How hilarious. I had actually been arrogant enough to believe he was talking about me. 4 Three years ago, Arthur lost a brutal war for control of his family’s empire and was banished from New York. I “picked him up” in a small rural town upstate. At the time, he was practically blind from an injury, and his legs were broken. He had been thrown out of a moving car, looking no better than a homeless beggar. After I took him into my tiny house, he tried to end his own life multiple times. I stayed by his side, quietly keeping watch, until he finally gave up the idea. He never talked about his past. But I knew exactly who he was. Arthur Vance. The former golden boy of the New York elite. Because when he was in high school, he casually circled a name on a map for a charity project. That single action changed the lives of all the impoverished kids in my hometown. Including me. The Vance family established a charity foundation in his name. Every kid in our town, boy or girl, had their high school and college tuition fully paid for by the foundation. Unfortunately, the foundation only lasted for a few years. I just happened to be part of the very last batch of college graduates who benefited from it. When I started high school, I actually met Arthur once. He was pale and looked a bit sickly back then. He came as the representative of the foundation to hand out the scholarship checks to us. Making eye contact with him was like looking directly at the sun. He was so dazzling it hurt your eyes. He forcibly suppressed a look of intense impatience to take a group photo with us. 5 The next time I saw him, I had already graduated college and was working as a sales associate at a luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue. He walked into the store wearing an immaculate bespoke suit, his aristocratic face carrying a trace of cynical world-weariness. The store manager and the regional director personally rushed to assist him. The security guards outside immediately set up velvet ropes, preparing to clear the store. I heard a coworker next to me whispering in pure envy: “It’s Mr. Vance.” “If you close one sale with him, you won’t have to worry about your quota for the rest of the month.” I watched from a distance, the corners of my mouth curling up slightly. I hadn’t seen him in years, and he had changed so much. The awkwardness of the high school boy was gone. He had the commanding presence of a grown man. His features were sharper, his aura even more untouchable. My coworker bumped my arm, thinking I was daydreaming about something impossible. “He’s gorgeous, right?” “Stop dreaming. He’s the crown prince of New York.” I snapped back to reality, my smile unfading. Suddenly, Arthur took a phone call. He started cursing violently, a mix of furious English and something else, before storming out of the boutique like a hurricane. Based on the one or two sentences she caught, my coworker instantly started spinning the gossip mill: “The Vance family succession war is getting bloody.” “The media is saying the old man is on his deathbed, and the second branch of the family is highly likely to seize control.” Arthur was the son of the eldest branch. But his father had been in a severe car crash years ago and was in a vegetative state. I silently prayed that he would win this ruthless, blood-soaked battle for the billionaire throne. I never expected that a few months later… When I went back to my hometown upstate, I would “pick up” the man who lost that exact battle. 6 During the months I stayed with him, his broken legs slowly healed. Eventually, he listened to my advice and stopped wallowing in self-pity. He agreed to go to the hospital to treat his eyes. I emptied out my entire life savings and took out loans to pay for his surgery. We eventually moved to Chicago. Sometimes, I would stand with him on a high balcony, looking eastward, toward New York. But he never explained why. Until the anniversary of his mother’s death. That day, he suddenly pulled me into a crushing embrace. He buried his face in my neck, trembling violently, and spat out words laced with pure agony: “They killed my mother. Then they banished me from New York and forbade me from ever stepping foot there again.” I felt something freezing cold against my neck. It was the tears he had been holding back for so long. He told me all the vile, filthy secrets of his family. I cried with him, and I didn’t forget to encourage him. “As long as there’s life, there’s hope.” 7 After that, we stayed in Chicago for three years. We holed up in the tiny apartment I rented. During the day, I went to work at a luxury boutique downtown. Arthur stayed home, busy with his own secretive affairs. Occasionally, at the store, I would serve wealthy clients visiting from New York. I would listen to them gossip about the shifting power dynamics of the Vance family. Until recently, when I heard that the current head of the Vance family had been implicated in a murder scandal. And the eldest son, who had been declared a permanent vegetable, had miraculously woken up. The leadership of the Vance empire was about to change hands. I knew that Arthur was highly likely to reclaim his position as the crown prince. I had been preparing my goodbye speech for a long time. But over the past few days, every time I practiced it in my head, I couldn’t stop myself from choking up. Today, I heard that people from New York had arrived to see him. I took the absolute last bit of money I had managed to scrape together over the past six months. I bought a designer silk pocket square at my boutique. I thought it would be a dignified parting gift. The massive gap between our social classes meant our story ended here. But I never imagined that was what Arthur truly thought of me. Tears of profound grievance kept falling. It took a long time before I finally wiped them away and walked into a boba shop. 8 An hour later, I walked back into the apartment holding two cups of boba tea. Arthur had taken a shower and was wearing the cheap pajamas I had bought for him. He didn’t offer a single word of explanation about the man in the suit. He just stared at me with his deep, dark eyes, as if waiting for me to ask. I don’t know why, but the tiny apartment I usually found so cozy suddenly felt suffocating. The cheap wallpaper was peeling in the corners, revealing the crumbling drywall underneath, making the place look even more impoverished. I subtly looked away and forced a casual tone. “It’s a new flavor from the boba shop. I waited in line for over half an hour.” As I spoke, I unwrapped a straw, poked it in, took a massive sip, and then handed it to him. “Try it.” He didn’t take it. A heavy, dead silence spread between us. I awkwardly pulled my hand back. Of course. He was about to go back to being a billionaire heir. Why would he want to drink this cheap, sugary garbage anymore? Let alone share a cup with someone like me. But I still remembered when we were first together. He used to complain about me eating junk food, but he would still lean over and take a sip from my boba tea. A wave of bitter acidity washed over my chest. I pretended I was sweating, set the boba tea down, and walked toward the bathroom. 9 When I came out after showering, the overhead light suddenly started flickering violently. After a few seconds, it burnt out completely, plunging the room into total darkness. Arthur walked over, wrapped his arms around me, and coaxed me gently. “It’s okay. I’m here.” The pain I had forced down surged right back up to my chest because of that one sentence. It felt like thousands of tiny needles were being driven into my heart. Wave after wave of suffocation. If he hadn’t just told his guy that I wasn’t his girlfriend… If he hadn’t literally said he was going to keep me as a “canary”… With how deeply affectionate he sounded right now, I really would have believed he actually loved me. In the dark, he tried to kiss me. I turned my face away to avoid it. I reached up to push him away, but then I heard him say: “Evie, we’re going to be together forever.” I gave a soft “Oh.” My heart was rapidly sinking into an abyss. Together forever? As your kept woman? 10 I didn’t let Arthur see my emotions. I fumbled in the dark to find the hairdryer. He turned on his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the room and helped me dry my hair. He also said he really loved the pocket square I gave him. Only then did I realize he had already opened the gift I bought. The explanation I had prepared died on my lips. I just gave an “Mhm” and said, “I’m glad you like it.”

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Ever since my rebirth, I’ve ignored every single phone call from my mob boss husband and deleted all his texts the second I read them. I spent my days bar-hopping with my girls, surrounded by a pack of eager young men trying to get my attention. When I stumbled home after my eighth hangover, practically running on fumes, Arthur was blocking the front door. “Where did the guy who bought you drinks tonight touch you?” I giggled, my eyes hazy with alcohol. “My hands, duh. How else was I supposed to shake the dice cup?” A storm brewed in his eyes. He ordered his men standing behind him, “Go find that guy and chop his hands off.” I let out a scoff and walked right past him. “Whatever you want!” In my past life, I was married to him for eight years. Known in the underground as the “Queen of Spades,” I won back the massive Canaan Casino for him at the poker table, standing by his side as he climbed from a desperate outlaw to the uncrowned king of the criminal underworld. But after he achieved everything, he became obsessed with the new card-shuffling girl at the casino. Her name was Chloe Vance. She had been sold to the casino like a piece of merchandise, as clean and fragile as a blank sheet of paper. Arthur set her up in the VIP shuffling room, personally teaching her how to deal cards and read the chips. It wasn’t until I checked the casino’s internal database for core members that I discovered my marital status had been changed to “Divorced.” When I confronted Arthur, he dismissed it completely: “Chloe has no one to rely on. Giving her an official title ensures she won’t be bullied anymore.” “You’re universally recognized as the ‘Boss Lady’ in our circles. Why are you making a fuss over something so trivial?” I had a complete breakdown, stormed into the shuffling room, and slapped Chloe across the face in front of everyone. That very night, my younger brother, Leo—who had risked his life working for Arthur—was dragged back to the casino. They broke both his legs right in front of me and threw him into the back alley. “Evelyn, this is the price you pay for touching Chloe!” I fell to my knees, begging him to stop, until the color completely drained from my brother’s face and he died right in front of my eyes. I felt a rush of warm fluid between my legs, a tearing pain in my abdomen, and then… everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I discovered my marital status had been altered. This time, I didn’t scream or demand answers. I secretly sold off all my private jewelry and bought plane tickets. All I wanted was to take my brother and escape this demon’s lair named Arthur. … After discovering the anomaly in my status, I took my ID to the county clerk’s office to verify it. “Ms. Davis, the system shows your marital status is ‘Divorced.’” Hearing the clerk’s voice, I finally confirmed that everything from my past life was real. The date the divorce was finalized was my birthday. Knowing how busy Arthur was, I had rented out the highest revolving restaurant in Canaan and even arranged for fireworks. I waited from sunset until dawn the next day, and he never showed up. It turned out he was busy signing another piece of paper, completely erasing my existence from his life. I pulled myself out of the memory. When I returned to the casino, I saw Arthur’s black Maybach parked by the curb near the main entrance. In my past life, I would have charged forward in a hysterical rage to confront him. Arthur, terrified that Chloe would see me, didn’t even wait for her to get out of the passenger seat before violently kicking me into a corner. This time, I immediately ducked into the shadows behind a large pillar. The car door opened, and Arthur stepped out first. He walked around to the passenger side and personally opened the door, his movements displaying a level of patience and meticulous care I had never seen before. A girl in a pale blue sundress stepped out timidly. She stood awkwardly next to the gleaming luxury car, looking completely out of place. It was Chloe. Arthur took off his suit jacket, draped it over her fragile shoulders, and wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her toward the casino entrance. “Arthur…” Chloe hesitated, stopping in her tracks. “I have nothing left. I only have you… I really can’t afford to lose…” Arthur turned sideways, pulling her tightly into his embrace. His voice carried a certainty and tenderness I had never heard: “What are you afraid of? From now on, you are the lady of this house. Besides you, no one else has that right!” “If you end up not liking it here, I’ll find a quiet place later and build a resort just for you to play in…” The casino thugs, who used to follow me around bowing and respectfully calling me “Boss Lady,” now all bowed deeply toward Chloe, their voices loud and sycophantic: “Good evening, Boss!” They surrounded the girl, who looked like a startled deer, and escorted her into the glittering demon’s lair. I pressed my hands hard against my stomach. Only after they had all gone inside did I stumble out of the shadows. I wiped away my tears, leaving nothing but cold, absolute resolve in my eyes. I went to the hospital alone and booked an appointment for an abortion. The doctor looked at the ultrasound screen, frowning deeply. “Ms. Davis, your constitution is unique. You haven’t been able to conceive for the past seven years. If you abort this pregnancy, you may never be able to get pregnant again.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m already divorced. I don’t want to bring a child into the world without a father.” As the cold liquid was pushed into my IV, my consciousness began to slip away. In a haze, I saw the Arthur of the past, pressing his ear against my stomach, laughing and saying this kid would definitely be a master gambler, and that he’d teach him how to read cards from day one. He called a fortune teller to pick out the luckiest possible name. He held me and promised that once he found a successor, he would take me and our child away from the casino to travel the world… In the end, all that warmth shattered into dust the moment he told Chloe, “Only you are worthy of being the lady of this casino.” After regaining consciousness, I dragged my hollowed-out body to my brother Leo’s hospital room. Thankfully, Leo had only suffered minor injuries during a job this time and would recover quickly. In my past life, my brother was beaten to death right in front of me. In this life, I would not be so foolish. I contacted a fixer on the black market and paid a premium for two tickets to a third country, departing in three days. If I went through official channels, Arthur would undoubtedly find out immediately. I also called my only trusted subordinate, slipped him a large sum of cash, and had him secretly discharge Leo from the hospital. Having arranged everything, I finally relaxed a bit. I hailed a cab and gave the driver an address a few blocks away from the villa. It was a long-standing habit of mine; the casino had countless enemies, and I always took precautions to prevent anyone from discovering our exact address. But the moment I stepped out of the cab, a man grabbed me from behind, clapping a hand tightly over my mouth, and dragged me backward! I fought desperately against his grip, but before I could run a few steps, another man swung a sharp weapon hard into my back! A violent burst of pain erupted, and warm blood instantly soaked my shirt. I didn’t even have to guess—these were Arthur’s enemies. The casino had swallowed up so much territory; the line of people who wanted him and those close to him dead could stretch all the way to the docks. I reached for the concealed knife in my bag, but someone twisted my arm behind my back. They snatched my phone and smashed it to pieces. “Bitch, hold still!” The man choking me dragged me toward a beat-up van parked on the street. Just as I was about to succumb to despair, a familiar black Maybach turned onto the main road. It was Arthur’s car! I summoned the very last ounce of my strength, screaming hoarsely, thrashing wildly to get the attention of whoever was inside the car. The car visibly jerked and slowed down. He saw me! But the next second, the Maybach accelerated without hesitation, speeding away from the intersection. Through the tinted window, I saw Arthur pull Chloe, who was in the passenger seat, into his chest, shielding her eyes so she wouldn’t look in my direction. It was as if the woman outside the window wasn’t his wife about to be dragged away and tortured to death, but just a filthy, insignificant incident unworthy of tainting his new love’s pure eyes. Every last shred of struggle and hope instantly drained from my body. Agonizing pain and freezing cold washed over me as the darkness swallowed my final sliver of consciousness. When I woke up, I was lying in a private hospital room. The door wasn’t completely shut, and the low hum of conversation drifted in. “Boss, the Madam is severely injured this time. If she finds out about Ms. Chloe’s existence…” It was Arthur’s private doctor, Ken. Before he could finish, Arthur’s cold, harsh voice cut him off: “Watch your mouth. Your job is to heal her, don’t overstep!” “Evelyn has been in the underworld for years. There’s no dirty trick she hasn’t seen; she’s a master at it herself.” “Chloe is different from her. She’s as clean as a blank sheet of paper. She can’t compete with Evelyn.” He paused, lowering his voice further: “If she wakes up and makes a scene, go grab her brother. He’s her only living relative; there’s no way she’ll abandon him.” I gripped the bedsheets tightly, my teeth biting into my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The night I helped him secure the largest casino in Canaan, he promised me: “Evelyn, from this day forward, in the Canaan underground, no one will ever lay a finger on you.” The same words, the same promise of protection—only the person he was protecting had changed. The woman he once treated as his most precious treasure had become, in his own words, a malicious, dangerous threat that needed to be guarded against. Footsteps approached. I closed my eyes, pretending I was just waking up. “You’re awake? We found out who did it. It was that Thai crew—the ones whose hands we smashed for cheating at the tables last time.” Arthur tossed a file in front of me. “Sign this settlement agreement, and they’ve promised to hand over management of the East District.” The East District was the last relatively “clean” territory in Canaan. It was coastal, with no casinos or gray-market businesses. I remembered what he had told Chloe: “I’ll find a quiet place later and build a resort just for you to play in…” So all my wounds and spilled blood were just bargaining chips he used to build a gilded cage for his new love. I asked hoarsely, “Arthur, when exactly did you negotiate this deal?” Was it the moment you saw me being dragged away, or long before, when you decided to use my blood to pave the road for your sweetheart? He frowned, clearly displeased by my questioning. I offered a weak, cynical smile and stopped asking. The answer didn’t matter anymore. Perhaps to placate me, he stayed in my room for the next two days to handle his business. But his phone never left his hand. While eating, he would take pictures of his food and send them off, a gentle smile—one I had never seen before—playing on his lips. Looking at his profile, my mind drifted back to eight years ago. The first time I met him wasn’t in a casino; it was in a dark alley. He had been caught cheating, and seven or eight guys with machetes had cornered him. He was about to lose an arm. I had just won a massive payout. I stepped in, bought his way out, and dragged him back to my apartment. Later, my father, who was back in our home country, racked up massive gambling debts and was driven to suicide by a drug cartel. I was snatched up to pay his debt, a toxic needle pressed against my vein. It was Arthur who kicked the door down at the absolute last second and saved me. By then, he had already taken over a small casino, and he made me the invisible “Queen of Spades” working the tables. I helped him swallow up rival casinos one by one, draining his competitors dry. I knew my hands were already stained with filth and blood that could never be washed off. But even if the whole world thought I was dirty, he had no right to! After I was discharged, Arthur claimed he was busy with business and never showed up again. I was leaving tomorrow. Taking advantage of his absence, I returned to the top floor of the casino and retrieved my passport and essential IDs from the safe. But as I stepped out of the elevator, my legs gave out, and I stumbled violently forward. The fall I expected never came. A pair of delicate hands caught me just in time. “Are you okay?” The voice was soft, gentle, carrying a cautious, genuine kindness. I looked up and met Chloe’s clear, innocent eyes. She was wearing a casino dealer’s uniform, but she still looked completely out of place. She didn’t recognize me. She thought I was just a regular gambler who had lost everything and was stumbling around in a daze. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I stood up straight, eager to leave as quickly as possible. But she didn’t let go. Instead, she gently pulled me toward the employee break area. “You look terrible. Come sit in the back and rest for a bit.” For some inexplicable reason, I didn’t refuse. She poured me a cup of warm water and pulled a bag of dried mangoes and a pastry from her locker. “Eat something. Don’t be too sad about losing money. Go home early; your family is definitely waiting for you!” Seeing my silence, she hesitated, then pulled a few bills from her uniform pocket and pressed them into my hand. “Use this for cab fare… but I can’t help you with the plane ticket.” It felt like something was blocking my throat. I wanted so badly to tell her: Stay away from Arthur. That man has no heart. His tenderness is poison wrapped in honey. But the words died on my lips. If she found out who I was, she would definitely break things off with Arthur. And when that happened, I would be the one he blamed. With only one day left, I couldn’t gamble with my life and my brother’s life. I accepted Chloe’s kind gesture, thanked her, and turned to leave quickly through the back exit. The moment I stepped past the threshold, a cold, hard object was pressed violently against my temple. A gun barrel! I instinctively whipped my head around. Chloe was already lying unconscious on the hallway floor. I was just about to strike back when the butt of a rifle slammed into the back of my neck, and everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, Chloe and I were tied up in an abandoned warehouse. Chloe was sobbing quietly. “Who are you? Why did you kidnap us…” A man with a prominent facial scar slapped her hard across the face. “Because of your fiancé, Arthur! He swallowed my West District territory and cut off my money!” So it was the West District crew. Arthur had just acquired that territory using the settlement agreement signed with my blood. Fortunately, they didn’t know who I was. Chloe, who Arthur had been parading around recently, became the primary target. I discreetly flexed my wrists, using the micro-blade hidden beneath my acrylic nail to start sawing at the ropes. Having lived on the edge for years, I always left myself an out. Scarface assumed I was just a random gambler and spat in my direction: “Tough luck for you, getting caught with this bitch. Call your family, tell them to bring five million, and I’ll let you go.” Chloe cried, her face stained with tears. “Ms. Davis, I’m so sorry. I dragged you into this. But don’t be afraid! My fiancé is very powerful; he’ll definitely come save us!” At the mention of Arthur, a look of absolute trust lit up Chloe’s eyes. I didn’t say a word, just sped up the sawing motion on the ropes. Scarface couldn’t seem to get through on his phone. In a fit of rage, he kicked over an oil drum. “Fuck! Arthur isn’t answering? Looks like I need to send him a nice gift to wake him up!” He picked up a combat knife from the floor, his eyes raking over Chloe’s body with a sick, twisted gleam: “I saw you two at the hospital. You’re carrying his bastard, aren’t you? Perfect. I’ll carve the little bastard out and send it to Arthur so he can get a good look!” My heart plummeted. She’s already pregnant with his child. Chloe went rigid with terror, her face the color of chalk. “No! I’m begging you… please don’t touch my baby!” The men around her laughed lewdly and reached out to grab her. At that exact second, the rope snapped. I sprang up like a cheetah, slamming my elbow brutally into Scarface’s jaw. With my other hand, I snatched the combat knife from him, rapidly sliced through Chloe’s ropes, and shoved her firmly behind me, shielding her with my body. “Fuck! Kill that bitch!” Scarface roared, clutching his jaw in a blind rage. Five or six men instantly swarmed us, wielding iron pipes. Even though I was highly trained in close-quarters combat, I was still recovering from severe injuries, and facing this many hardened killers, I quickly lost the upper hand. The iron pipes whistled through the air, slamming into my body. The sheer agony almost brought me to my knees. All I could do was use my own body as a meat shield, absorbing the blows to keep Chloe protected in the corner. Scarface clearly lost his patience. He racked the slide of his handgun with a loud clack, aiming the black barrel directly at me. “Stupid bitch, you wanna die?!” Right as his finger squeezed the trigger— A deafening explosion blew the warehouse doors off their hinges! Arthur and his heavily armed crew stormed in. Gunfire erupted instantly. Looking like an enraged lion, Arthur charged straight toward us, yanking Chloe into his arms. “Chloe, don’t be scared. I’m here.” Chloe let out a pathetic whimper against his chest. The sheer terror followed by the sudden relief caused her to pass out completely in his arms. Arthur gently carried her to his SUV, making sure she was safe and secure. Then, he turned around and walked toward me. “Evelyn!” His voice dripped with absolute, freezing venom. “Why the hell are you here?” I propped up my battered, agonizing body, meeting his interrogating glare, and let out a cold laugh: “Are you suspecting me?” Before I even finished speaking, a brutal, vicious backhand cracked across my face! The force of the blow sent me crashing to the floor. The taste of blood filled my mouth. “I knew you’ve been plotting against Chloe! You wanted to get rid of her, didn’t you?!” I spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, my voice hoarse: “I didn’t.” He grabbed one of the dying thugs off the floor by the collar and pressed his gun to the man’s head. “Tell me. Who hired you?” The thug trembled violently. He looked at me with terror, and as if grasping at his final lifeline, he screamed: “It was… it was her! She paid us to teach that other girl a lesson…” My heart plummeted into an abyss of ice. My blood froze. Arthur let out a sinister laugh. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the trigger. He tossed the corpse aside, crouched down, and stepped heavily onto my hand. The pain tore through me. His tone sounded almost like a disappointed sigh: “These hands of yours… they used to be so obedient. Why are you using them to hurt the woman I love most?” He pulled out a cold, gleaming combat dagger. “I told you, Evelyn. Never lay a finger on what’s mine!” As he finished speaking, the blade flashed in the dim light! My breath stopped completely! The dagger drove brutally through my palm, pinning my hand to the freezing concrete floor. “AHHHH—!” My entire body convulsed in agony. Black spots danced across my vision, and I hovered on the edge of passing out. The despair of facing my own demise ripped a scream from my throat: “Arthur! I never should have pulled you out of that alley eight years ago! And I never should have helped you claim the throne of Canaan!” With his own hands, he had completely obliterated the last remaining shred of history between us. He let out a dismissive snort through his nose. He stood up, gathered his men, and walked out of the warehouse without looking back once. I waited until the cold numbness began to slightly dull the piercing agony. Using my still-functional left hand, I dug a micro-GPS tracker out of my bra and pressed it with shaking fingers. My trusted subordinate arrived quickly. Seeing my horrific state, his eyes instantly went red. He carefully pulled the dagger out. My right hand was a mangled mess of blood and torn flesh, completely devoid of feeling. My voice was weak, but laced with an absolute, unprecedented resolve. “Set the warehouse on fire. Burn every single trace of this place to the ground.” “From this day forward, the ‘Queen of Spades’ is dead.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391308”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel