Category: English

For three years of marriage, the “Wife’s Seat” decal on the passenger side of Preston Moore’s car had been a permanent fixture. It was a brand, a claim, a lie. I found the prenatal exam results tucked in the glovebox. It wasn’t mine. When I confronted him, Preston didn’t even look up from his tablet. He was as cool as the marble countertops in our kitchen. “It’s a prop, Nora. My parents are breathing down my neck for an heir. Don’t read into it.” A few weeks later, at a high-stakes business gala, I watched him peel shrimp for his assistant, Lacey, with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. He didn’t offer a word of explanation. “She’s an employee,” he’d said later, dismissing my hurt with a flick of his wrist. “I was being a good boss. If you’re that insecure, just fire her.” But the next time I saw Lacey, she wasn’t filing papers. She was standing in my hallway, her hand resting on a slight swell in her stomach, a triumphant smirk on her face. In a fit of blind, white-hot rage, I pushed her. I didn’t mean for her to fall so hard. I didn’t mean for the hospital trip to end the way it did. Preston didn’t yell. He didn’t even mention the “accident.” He stayed devoted—scary devoted. He pampered me by day and was relentless, almost feral, in bed by night. I thought he’d forgiven me. Then the kidnappings started. Seven times in a single month. Seven times I was snatched from the street, dragged into basements, and broken. My own pregnancy—a tiny, flickering life I hadn’t even told him about yet—was lost in a blur of blood and concrete floors. My parents, desperate to save me, poured their dignity and their fortune into the hands of shadows, only to die in front of me when the ransom wasn’t enough. When I finally crawled back to our estate, covered in grime and dried blood, the front door was ajar. I heard laughter from the living room. Preston’s inner circle—the elite, the untouchables—were gathered around the poker table. “I’ve got five million on the wife,” one of them chuckled, throwing a chip into the center. “Nora is obsessed with Moore. Even when she finds out the truth, she’ll crawl back. She’s addicted to him.” “I’m in for twenty million,” another countered, his voice dripping with malice. “Forgiveness? She’ll be on her knees thanking him. Preston arranges a ‘disappearance’ every seven days like clockwork, and she still looks at him like he’s her savior.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, the taste of copper filling my throat. Tears carved tracks through the filth on my face. It wasn’t bad luck. It wasn’t the city’s underbelly. It was Preston. Every bruise, every scream, every drop of my parents’ blood—it was all a tribute to Lacey. It was his way of balancing the scales for her lost child. Leaving him would take a lifetime of courage, but I only needed seven days to disappear. … I stood in the shadows of the foyer, a ghost in my own home, watching Preston lift Lacey from the sofa. He carried her upstairs with a reverence that made my skin crawl. “Preston’s too good to her,” one of his friends remarked, watching them go. “Lacey so much as coughs and he starts shaking. Look at him—she’s just a little lightheaded and he’s acting like the world is ending.” “Remember when she lost the baby?” another whispered. “Preston nearly leveled that hospital. The surgeon who performed the procedure is lucky to be walking.” When Preston came back downstairs, there were fresh red marks on his neck. The men started to tease him, but he held up a hand. “Keep it down. Lacey’s sleeping. Is the facility ready?” “Top of the line,” his associate replied. “The private care wing is finished. A hundred-million-dollar project, just like you asked.” Preston nodded, his expression hardening into something cold and crystalline. “From now on, you refer to her as Mrs. Moore. I’m moving her in permanently in a few days.” “And… what about Nora?” Preston’s voice was a whetted blade. “The moment she forced Lacey into that surgery, she signed her soul over to me. Every ounce of pain Lacey felt, I want Nora to feel a hundredfold.” I swallowed back a sob, my lungs burning. “The cycle is almost up,” the man continued. “When do we ‘rescue’ her this time? If we leave her out there too long, she might get suspicious.” Preston let out a short, mocking laugh. “Suspicious? She spends every second of those kidnappings praying I’ll walk through the door. By the time I ‘save’ her, she’ll be more in love with me than ever.” I leaned against the wall, my vision blurring. I should have known. Our estate was a fortress, guarded by the best security money could buy. Yet, every time I was taken, the guards had been elsewhere. My parents had found me so easily because Preston had left breadcrumbs for them to follow—all the way to their graves. A sharp scream from upstairs shattered the silence. Preston’s face transformed into a mask of pure panic—an emotion he had never once wasted on me. He sprinted up the stairs. I stood there, frozen, as a team of on-call doctors rushed past me. Lacey had simply had a nightmare. That was all it took to move heaven and earth in this house. After a long while, I heard Preston’s voice booming from the landing, raw with misplaced fury. “Tell the next crew to move the date up. Lacey’s trauma is too deep. Nora needs to hurt more. Now.” I stared down at my arms, at the mottled purples and yellows of my skin. This was the man who used to fret over a mosquito bite on my ankle. My agony had become his therapy, and my husband was the architect of my hell. I tried to turn, to run, but my legs gave out. I hit the floor, the grit from the street digging into my open wounds. The noise drew him. Preston appeared at the top of the stairs and froze when he saw me. In an instant, his “loving husband” mask was back on. He ran down and gathered me into his arms, his touch making my stomach turn. “Nora! God, you’re finally home! I’ve been searching everywhere. Tell me who did this to you. I swear, I’ll make them pay.” Tears fell from his eyes onto my cheek. I felt nothing but a cold, hollow vacuum in my chest. I marveled at the performance. How many years had I been blinded by this acting? I let out a broken whimper, my lips trembling. He carried me to our bedroom, but his eyes flickered nervously toward the closed door across the hall—Lacey’s room. “I… I turned that into a nursery for the baby,” he lied, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I had to lock it. I didn’t want you to see it and be reminded of what we lost.” I stiffened in his arms. Another lie. I looked at his handsome face, and all I saw were the flashes of my father’s dying eyes and the blood on the clinic floor. The nausea surged. I couldn’t stop it. I retched, a dark, bitter bile spilling onto the expensive rug. Before I blacked out, I heard his voice, stripped of all warmth, whispering to someone nearby. “Take her back out. Just make sure you don’t damage her womb.” This time, perhaps fearing he’d pushed too far, the “kidnappers” only kept me for a day. Preston held me again when I “returned,” his voice a masterpiece of heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, Nora. They intercepted the car on the way to the hospital. Who are these people? Talk to me, honey. Let me protect you.” I looked at him and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. He didn’t want to protect me. He wanted to preserve my body so he could witness the death of a thousand more of my children. “The doctor is coming,” he whispered. “Just hold on.” But the doctor never came to my room. I heard the frantic footsteps in the hallway all night. Every medical professional in the house was in Lacey’s room. I lay in my own blood, my clothes fused to my skin by dried plasma, shivering until I passed out from the pain. When I finally managed to limp downstairs the next morning, Lacey was sitting on the sofa. When she saw me, she feigned a violent shudder of fear. Preston was instantly at her side, shielding her from me. “Nora, don’t start. Lacey is staying here for a while. She’s fragile. Don’t go near her.” I didn’t say a word. I walked past them, out the front door, and drove myself to the crematorium. When I went to claim my parents’ remains, the attendant handed me a small plastic bottle filled with a clear, caustic liquid. My heart stopped. “What is this?” “A woman came by,” the attendant said, looking uncomfortable. “She said the deceased died with ‘bad energy.’ She brought a priest and a gentleman. They insisted the bones be dissolved in this solution to… clear the aura, they said.” I hit the wall, my breath hitching in my throat. The world tilted. I dialed Preston’s number with shaking fingers. The call connected, and for a second, I heard the low, rhythmic sounds of intimacy. I pushed past the disgust. “Preston… my parents’ ashes. Why? Why would you do that?” “Lacey was having nightmares about them, Nora,” he said, his voice dropping into that calm, gaslighting tone. “The medium said their spirits were restless because of the ‘accident’ with the baby. We had to neutralize the remains. It’s for the best, really. Even for them.” I hung up. I went home, walked straight up to Preston, and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. When I turned to Lacey, Preston’s hand caught my shoulder and shoved me back. “Have you lost your mind?!” he roared. “They were two dead people, Nora! Get over it!” Lacey dropped to her knees, sobbing. “It’s my fault, Nora! Don’t be mad at Preston! Hit me if you have to!” The sight of her—the woman responsible for the erasure of my family—sent the blood rushing to my head. I reached for a heavy crystal ashtray on the side table. CRACK. Preston was faster. He grabbed the ashtray and slammed it into my forehead. “I won’t let you hurt her again!” he snarled, pulling Lacey into his chest. Blood poured down my face, blinding me. He didn’t even look back as he led her away. I sat on the floor, found the first aid kit, and stitched my own skin while my world burned. My phone vibrated. I answered, and the sound of the voice on the other end broke the dam. I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. “Silas… I couldn’t even keep their ashes. I’m done. I don’t want him anymore.” The man on the other end was silent for a beat, his voice a low, vibrating rumble of controlled rage. “Nora. I’ve booked you a flight for tomorrow night. Get to the airport. I’m ending the Moore dynasty. It’s time for the sun to set on that house.” Suddenly, a pair of large hands wrapped around my waist. I froze. Preston stood behind me, frowning. “Who was that?” “Nobody.” “Baby, I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered, kissing my temple. The smell of Lacey’s perfume clung to him. “You have to understand, I love you. I’ve always loved you. But Lacey lost a child because of you. I’m just trying to help you atone.” I nodded numbly. Atone. What a beautiful word for torture. He sat me down and opened his laptop, scrolling through designer catalogs. He ordered dozens of high-fashion pieces—all in Lacey’s size. Then, almost as an afterthought, he picked out two plain wool coats for me. “Lacey is delicate,” he said, not looking at me. “She needs the best to feel safe. You’re stronger than her, Nora. You don’t need the labels.” I looked away. He had forgotten that I was the one born into old money. I had spent my life in silks until I met him and lowered my standards to match his ego. He had mistaken my sacrifice for a lack of taste. A scream echoed from the garden. Preston bolted. I followed slowly, arriving to see a black viper coiled on the patio, hissing at Lacey. Preston didn’t hesitate; he lunged, snapping the snake’s neck with his bare hands. Lacey collapsed into his arms, weeping. When she saw me, she crawled to my feet, her eyes streaming. “Nora, I know you hate me for being with him, but I lost my baby too! Why would you put snake pheromones in my foundation? Why would you try to kill me?” My heart hammered against my ribs. Before I could speak, Preston’s hand blurred. The slap sent me reeling. He picked Lacey up and walked away, his eyes looking at me as if I were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. Hours later, two of Preston’s “security” men grabbed me. They dragged me to the back of the estate, to the pit where Preston kept his exotic reptiles. They threw me in. The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. Hiss. I clawed at the door until my fingernails tore. Snakes slithered over my boots, their cool, dry scales grazing my skin. I screamed until my throat was raw. The intercom crackled. Preston’s voice filled the small, humid room. “This is for your own good, Nora. You need to learn discipline. You can’t keep attacking Lacey. Consider this a cooling-off period.” I slumped against the wall, the darkness pressing in. Then, the audio changed. The sounds of Preston and Lacey in bed began to play over the speakers—a deliberate, psychological flaying. A heavy weight settled on my shoulder. A viper struck. When I woke up, the world was black. Not the darkness of the pit, but a flat, hollow nothingness. I reached out, tumbling from a bed onto a hard floor. I was blind. A familiar scent entered the room—sandalwood and expensive tobacco. “Nora, why won’t you just bow your head?” Preston’s voice was soft, almost pitying. “Just apologize. Lacey is so kind; she’d forgive you in a heartbeat.” I shoved his hand away when he tried to touch my face. His tone sharpened. “The venom wasn’t lethal. Your sight will return in a few days. I’ve already punished the person who put the poisonous snake in the pit.” I let out a jagged, cynical laugh. “Oh? And how did you punish her, Preston?” “She’s grounded,” he said, his voice turning defensive. “No TV, no phone, no shopping for a week. She’s learned her lesson. What more do you want, Nora? She didn’t mean for it to go that far.” He stormed out. On the day I was “released” from his private medical wing, my vision was still a milky blur. I fumbled my way through the house to find the bottle of my parents’ dissolved remains. Lacey met me at the door. With Preston gone, the mask vanished. She grabbed a handful of my hair, her face twisting into something demonic. “You’re still here? Why don’t you just go die like your parents did?” I wrenched myself away, grabbed my bag, and headed for the airport. Lacey watched me go, a cruel glint in her eyes. She pulled a small pill from her pocket and swallowed it. Within minutes, she was slumped on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. Preston returned to a bloodbath and went insane, racing her to the hospital. Lacey sobbed in his arms, “Don’t… don’t be mad at Nora… she didn’t mean to…” At the airport, I was barely out of the taxi when I was dragged into a blind alley. “Nora Whitlock, right? Someone paid us a lot of money to make sure you never walk again.” My brain felt like it was exploding. I fumbled for my phone and hit speed-dial. “Preston! Help me! Please!” “Lacey just lost her second child because of you, Nora,” Preston’s voice was like ice. “She’s in surgery. You’re really going to try the ‘damsel in distress’ act now? Go to hell.” He hung up. The men took my phone and smashed it against the brick wall. As the lead man unbuckled his belt, I closed my eyes. “Preston,” I whispered to the empty air. “You’re going to wish you had died in that pit with me.”

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The night before our wedding, my fiancée—a rising star Colonel in the Army—was in bed with my sister’s boyfriend. She was more than just a girlfriend; she was the woman my sister had treated like a soul-sister, the woman my parents had already welcomed into the family as a daughter. The shock of that betrayal was a jagged blade. It sent my sister, Natalie, spiraling. She crashed her car that same night and never woke up. My parents aged a decade in a single evening. I was hollowed out by grief, a ghost haunting my own life, looking for any way to join her. For months, our house was filled with nothing but the sound of muffled, broken sobbing behind closed doors. Eventually, my father made the call. We moved. We left the city, the memories, and the wreckage behind. Slowly, we stepped out from the shadow of that tragedy. I eventually found peace with Tessa, a woman whose love was a quiet harbor, and we had a beautiful daughter. Five years had passed. I honestly thought I’d never have to hear the name Maria Vincent again. Until my birthday. I walked into my office to find a box of maple-glazed pecans—the ones I used to crave—sitting on my desk. Taped to the lid was a note in a handwriting I recognized with a violent jolt of my heart: “Greg, it’s been a long time.” … My knuckles were bone-white as I gripped the box. Across the room, my senior advisor, Sarah, must have sensed the shift in the air. She hesitated before speaking. “Is it her?” I didn’t answer. I just kept my head down, focusing on the training schedules on my desk, though the words were blurring into meaningless ink. Sarah sighed. “I heard she put in for a transfer from the West Coast command. She’s back, Greg. Are you really going to keep doing this?” “Doing what?” I asked, my voice flat. “Avoiding the inevitable. You’re going to be colleagues again. And she was once your sister’s best—” “Sarah.” I cut her off, my pen digging so hard into the paper it tore. “In my sister’s life, there was no such person.” Sarah looked at me, her expression pitying. “Greg, it’s been five years. Do you still hate her that much?” “Yes.” The word was sharp, cold, and final. Sarah winced, shook her head, and quietly stepped out of the office. On my way out for the day, I ran into the Base Commander. She had been the instructor for both Natalie and Maria back at the Academy. After a brief briefing on the day’s exercises, her tone shifted, becoming uncharacteristically soft. “The orders came through today. Maria is officially back with the Eastern Command.” “Understood, Ma’am,” I said. The Commander stood silent for a few seconds. “Your sister was a soldier with a massive heart, Greg. If she were here, she wouldn’t want this bitterness to consume you.” Consumer me? Is that what people think? That the victim has to be the one to offer grace just to prove they have a ‘big heart’? I don’t understand why everyone is whispering for me to let it go. Does time somehow scrub away the blood? I’m the one standing on the moral high ground, yet I’m the one being held hostage by terms like “the bigger picture” and “comradery.” Comrade. Leader. Friend. Why is everyone speaking for her? I don’t want to understand her side, and I refuse to try. The early winter wind bit at my face as I walked to the parking lot. By the time I reached my driveway, I had carefully smoothed my expression into a mask of normalcy. Inside, my parents and Tessa were in the kitchen making dinner. My three-year-old, Zoe, was sitting on a stool, her small hands covered in flour, poking holes in a lump of dough. “Daddy!” Zoe dropped her dough and lunged for me. I scooped her up, kissing her dusty cheek. She held up her mangled creation with pride. “I made a biscuit for Auntie Nat!” My throat tightened, a sudden, familiar ache. “Good job, sweetie. It looks delicious.” When dinner was served, I filled a small plate and set it at the empty seat at the table. A neatly folded, older-style service uniform sat on the chair—it hadn’t been moved in five years. We kept it there like she was just away on a long deployment, a mission she’d be back from any minute. Zoe tugged at my sleeve. “Daddy, why does Auntie Nat only stay in the picture frame?” “Why doesn’t she come down to eat?” “When is she gonna play with me?” I looked at the photo on the wall. Natalie was frozen at twenty-four, her bars gleaming on her shoulders, her smile bright enough to break your heart. The room went silent. My parents’ hands faltered for a second before they went back to their plates. Tessa reached out under the table and squeezed my hand. I stroked Zoe’s hair, looking into her clear, innocent eyes. I couldn’t find the words. If Natalie were here, she’d be the perfect daughter, the best sister, the most amazing aunt. But there are no ifs in the cemetery. For five years, I thought I’d buried those memories along with the woman who caused them. I was wrong. It only took one box of pecans for the wound to rip wide open. The next morning, the moment I stepped into the training center, I ran straight into her. Five years hadn’t dimmed Maria. If anything, her edges were sharper. The softness of our youth was gone, replaced by a cold, striking beauty and the unmistakable, suffocating aura of a Special Ops veteran. A group of soldiers passed us, saluting me. I was so paralyzed I forgot to return the gesture. My eyes were locked on her face, and it felt like a giant hand was crushing my lungs. A dark, intrusive thought flickered in my mind: If only it had been her in that grave five years ago. If only Natalie were the one standing here today. “How have you been, Greg?” Maria spoke first. Her voice was steady, devoid of the emotion I was currently drowning in. I turned to walk away, but she grabbed my wrist. Her grip was iron. She was frowning, a hint of suppressed desperation in her eyes. “Greg, stop. I know I messed up back then, but I’m not some monster. I haven’t forgotten what your family did for me. I’ve carried that debt every single day. Can we just… let the past stay in the past?” I spun around, staring into her eyes. The hatred in me exploded, hot and stinging behind my eyelids. “You think it’s that simple? You think you just get to decide when it’s over?” Her frown deepened. “Greg, I know you’re angry. But it’s been five years—” “Time doesn’t change the facts, Maria!” She was silent for a moment. “What happened between me and Brooks… I’m sorry. To you, and to Natalie.” She looked at me with an agonizing sincerity. “The only reason I transferred back was to apologize to your faces.” That was the fuse. Five years of repressed rage caught fire. I wrenched my hand away with enough force to make her stumble. “Don’t you dare say her name!” My voice was a ragged whisper, and finally, the tears spilled over. I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and bolted. I had just made it into my office when the door slammed open. It was Riley, a close friend who’d just returned from a rotation at the border. She had been in Natalie’s unit back in the day. She grabbed my arm, seeing my red eyes. “I heard she was back. I finished my debrief early and hauled ass over here.” She searched my face. “You saw her?” I nodded. Riley started rolling up her sleeves, her eyes flashing. “That bitch really has the nerve. I’m going to go out there and break her arm. Right now.” I pulled her back, shaking my head. Riley stopped, looking at my pale face, her own eyes welling up. “Greg, if it wasn’t for your parents and Natalie, she wouldn’t have even finished the Academy. They paid for her mother’s funeral. They treated her like blood.” “And she turned around and climbed into bed with Natalie’s fiancé.” “People like that… they should be court-martialed for treason against the heart.” The pain in my chest was a dull, rhythmic throb. Riley was right. Maria Vincent deserved a reckoning that life hadn’t given her yet. Back then, Maria was Natalie’s best friend. They were inseparable. Maria came from nothing—her father died in the line of duty, and her mother was chronically ill. When her mom passed during our sophomore year, Maria didn’t even have the money for a casket. Natalie went to our parents, begging for help. My parents, being the people they are, didn’t just pay for the funeral. They became her safety net. Later, Maria worked herself to the bone to pay them back every cent, with interest. She even spent two years tutoring me in military theory to show her gratitude. We thought we had gained a family member. We thought we were looking at a woman of honor. We never imagined she would be the one to push our family into the abyss. And then there was Brooks. The man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law, the man who became the wedge between Maria and me. He was in the military band—charming, soft-spoken, exactly the kind of guy my parents loved. Back then, Maria and I were already engaged. The invitations were printed. But at every party, every dinner, I started noticing the way Brooks looked at Maria. It wasn’t right. It was a look of hungry, desperate longing. He never looked at Natalie like that. I tried to mention it to Maria a few times. She’d just laugh and ruffle my hair. “What are you imagining, Greg?” “He’s your future brother-in-law. There’s a code, remember? I’m not that kind of person.” She’d tease me, saying if Natalie knew I was being so paranoid, she’d think Maria was a bad influence. She was so convincing that I buried my instinct. But soon, they stopped hiding it well. The flirting became constant, even in front of me. Once, Brooks handed Maria his half-finished water bottle, and she drank from it without a second thought. My heart sank into my stomach. Maria and I had a blowout fight about it. “Are you really doing this? To Natalie? To me?” She stayed silent for a long time before looking up, promising me she’d keep her distance from him. For a while, she did. But the air between us turned cold. The intimacy didn’t just fade; it vanished. Three days before the wedding, I went to our new apartment to set up some decorations. I punched in the code and opened the door. The blood in my veins turned to ice. The bedroom door was wide open. On the custom red silk sheets—a gift for our wedding night—two figures were tangled together. Uniforms were scattered like debris across the floor. The box of decorations slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a deafening metallic crash. Maria bolted upright, her face draining of all color when she saw me at the door. “Get out!” she barked, her voice a low, defensive snarl. I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. I turned and ran, stumbling down the stairs into the hallway. My phone buzzed. A text from Brooks: “Sorry, little brother. Some things just can’t be held onto.” I collapsed in the stairwell, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. How could they? To me? To Natalie? Natalie. She had to know. I reached for my phone with trembling hands, but before I could dial, a call came in. Natalie had been in a horrific accident. The world went black. Natalie was in the ICU in a coma for seven days. The military surgeon stood beside me, his voice a low rumble of clinical grief. “Her brain activity suggests she might be conscious, Greg. But the trauma is too severe; her body simply can’t respond.” He adjusted his glasses. “Talk to her. If she has the will to live, there’s a chance she might come back.” I nodded, my throat too tight for words. “What caused the crash?” “Preliminary report says excessive speed. She lost control on a sharp curve.” Speed. Natalie was the most cautious driver I knew. Unless something had shattered her focus. Three days later, the police returned her phone. It was cracked but functional. I held it for a long time before typing in the code. It was Brooks’s birthday. There was one unread notification on her messaging app. It was from Brooks, sent the very hour I had caught them. I played the voice memo. The sound of his disgusting moans and Maria’s heavy breathing filled the quiet hospital room. I barely made it to the trash can before I was retching. Tears mixed with stomach acid as I collapsed onto the sterile tile floor. The smell of bleach was suddenly overwhelming, stinging my nose and searing my brain. So that was it. She had heard that recording. She had heard them, lost her mind, and sped home to find the truth. They killed her. I wiped my face, deleted the recording, and cleared the trash folder. I kept the secret. I didn’t tell my parents; they were already broken enough. I spent every day by her bed, talking to her. I told her stories from our childhood, gossip from the base, anything to keep the air filled with sound. But I never mentioned Maria or Brooks. A week in, her finger twitched. Before I could even call for a nurse, Brooks appeared. Through the ICU glass, I saw him standing over her bed, leaning down and whispering something. When he saw me, he had the audacity to smile. “Hey, Greg. I was just catching Natalie up. Telling her how much we’re looking forward to your wedding with Maria.” “She needs to hurry up and get better so we can all celebrate together.” The provocation was so blatant, so cruel, that I saw red. I hadn’t made a scene yet, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten what he’d done. I didn’t even realize I was moving until I had him by the collar. I slammed him against the wall and buried my knee in his stomach. Brooks gasped, sliding down the wall. “Greg, have you lost your mind!” Maria screamed, charging into the room. I tried to speak, but the words were caught in a knot of rage. Suddenly, Brooks let out a pathetic moan. “Maria… my stomach… it hurts…” Maria glared at me with pure venom. She knelt down, her voice dripping with a tenderness she’d never shown me. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re okay. We’re going to get a doctor.” I watched them disappear around the corner, their footsteps echoing away. I stood there, alone. Brooks was fine, of course. The doctor said he was just “shaken up.” I was at my breaking point. But for the sake of my parents, I swallowed the glass and kept moving. That afternoon, after sending my exhausted parents home to rest, I walked back toward the ICU. I stopped dead at the glass. They were in there. Brooks and Maria, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Right at the foot of my sister’s bed. I was paralyzed. Then I heard Brooks’s muffled voice. “When Natalie wakes up, I’m sure she’ll want us to be happy.” Maria held him tighter. “As soon as she’s stable, we’ll tell her the truth.” The words had barely left her mouth when the monitor let out a long, piercing shriek. Natalie’s fingers curled violently. The rhythmic mountain range of her EKG flattened into a single, terrifying horizon. “Doctor! Code Blue!” I screamed, lunging for the door. The hallway erupted. Doctors and nurses swarmed the room like white-winged birds. Everything was a blur of crashing equipment and tangled wires. The sound of the defibrillator echoed. “Clear! Two hundred joules!” “Again! Three hundred!” I charged into the room, shoving Maria and Brooks aside with a primal roar. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” Maria’s face was ghostly. She tried to say something, but the sheer madness in my eyes drove her back. She grabbed Brooks and retreated. The door slammed shut. I collapsed in the corner, the tears finally coming—silent and devastating. The alarm kept ringing, a hammer hitting the final nail into my heart. “Nat, please,” I whispered. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me here with them.” I got on my knees and begged whatever god was listening. But no one was listening. I watched as the woman who had spent her whole life protecting me was wheeled into the morgue. An hour later, all that was left of her was a handful of ash. … I couldn’t stay here. Being in the same command as Maria was an impossible weight. I decided to put in for leave to go home. As I waited for the elevator, the doors slid open. Maria was there. She didn’t just walk out; she practically lunged at me, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her voice was trembling, her eyes bloodshot. “Greg… why is everyone saying… why are they saying your sister is dead?”

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When my ex-husband, Arthur Vance, finally tracked me down, I was in the middle of picking out a cemetery plot for my late husband. The one I really wanted was too expensive, but I was terrified that buying a cheaper one would be doing him a disservice. Just as I was agonizing over the decision, Arthur asked me if I wanted to remarry him. The rejection that was on the tip of my tongue mutated into a very cautious question: “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur looked at me, completely taken aback. After all, the woman I used to be treated money like dirt. He nodded, his eyes showing a flash of heartache I couldn’t quite understand. “Yes. As long as you play the role of an obedient, well-behaved wife.” I agreed without a second of hesitation. And I learned exactly how to be a good wife. I stopped checking his phone. I stopped demanding he remember our anniversaries. I stopped caring when he refused to set boundaries with his female “best friends.” But eventually, he screamed at me like a madman: “I just wanted you to listen to me! I didn’t want you to stop loving me!” … 1 When Arthur Vance found me, I was looking at cemetery plots for my late husband, Liam. I was even wearing a small white camellia pinned to my hair in mourning. Thinking about how Liam had drained his entire life savings to pay for my medical treatments, and how he had ultimately died saving me during the earthquake… my eyes couldn’t help but well up with tears. We were supposed to be on our honeymoon right now… Just as I was sinking into my grief, Arthur sat down directly across from me. His eyes critically scanned my outfit. The woman who once wore exclusively haute couture was now sitting in front of him wearing a stretched-out hoodie and faded, washed-out jeans. I looked so pathetic there wasn’t a single trace of my former wealthy life left. He frowned deeply. “You left me just to live like this?” I froze for a second before finally recognizing him. My ex-husband. We had been divorced for five years. Seeing me stay silent, Arthur assumed I was just overwhelmed with joy. He said flatly: “As long as you apologize and admit you were wrong, we can remarry. How about it?” I originally wanted to tell him to go to hell, but then I remembered the plot I had just been looking at cost seven figures. Even if I delivered DoorDash for the rest of my life, I might never be able to afford it. Thinking of that, I asked him carefully, “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur stared at me in silence. Deep in his eyes, there was a flash of heartache I didn’t quite understand. He said, “As long as you’re a good, obedient girl, I’ll give you a hundred thousand. But if you act like you used to—throwing tantrums, acting crazy, and being constantly paranoid—then I’ll…” Before he could finish his threat, I immediately raised my hand in a pledge. “I understand. I will be obedient.” Arthur looked surprised. “Have you really thought this through? You used to be… you were never this easy to talk to.” I offered a helpless smile. “Like you said, Mr. Vance. That was how I used to be.” Used to be. I used to be the woman he held in the palm of his hand. I was Mrs. Vance, the envy of New York’s elite circle, and the most celebrated genius architect in the industry. Whether I relied on him or on myself, I could have lived an incredible life. But now? My reputation was completely destroyed. His childhood sweetheart had issued an industry-wide “blacklist” against me, making it impossible for me to find a decent job anywhere in the city. If I hadn’t met Liam, I probably would have just been a rotting corpse at the bottom of a cliff. Where was my former pride supposed to come from? Arthur’s expression shifted slightly. He frowned. “What did you just call me? Mr. Vance?” Looking at me sitting across from him—acting perfectly obedient, yet radiating a cold, impenetrable distance—Arthur felt like his heart had been submerged in water. It felt damp. Suffocating… Terrified he would get angry and take away my hundred thousand dollars, I quickly explained, “Did you forget? You were the one who forbade me from calling you ‘husband’.” Arthur’s face instantly went a shade paler. He remembered. He remembered that our marriage had been a secret. I was the Chief Architect at his firm. Publicly, everyone thought I was just a highly valued employee. And to make sure no one found out, he strictly forbade me from ever calling him “husband” at work. So, for years, I only ever called him “Mr. Vance.” Arthur looked annoyed. He rubbed his temples. “That was when you were at the company. We had to keep it professional. You don’t have to do that anymore.” A dense, prickling pain spread across my chest. Yeah. I don’t have to do that anymore. Because the career I was so fiercely proud of had been completely annihilated by him. I never had to play the role of his employee again. Unable to handle my silence, Arthur stood up irritably. “Come home with me.” I stood up obediently and followed him to his Cullinan. The moment I opened the door, I froze. The entire interior was customized in baby pink, and the dashboard was plastered with photo booth pictures of Arthur and Chloe. Chloe was his childhood sweetheart. She was also the spark that ignited our divorce. Noticing me staring blankly at the photos, Arthur panicked slightly and rushed to explain. “Chloe hurt her leg recently. My mom insisted she stay at our house so it’d be easier for me to drive her to and from work.” “You know how she is. She’s innocent, always has her head in the clouds, and likes this kind of childish stuff, so…” Before he could finish justifying it, I smiled and cut him off. “It’s pretty cute.” Arthur looked at my perfectly calm, unbothered face. “You don’t mind?” I shook my head, smiling. “Why would I mind? You two grew up together, you’re practically siblings.” “If something was going to happen between you two, it would have happened years ago. I never would have stood a chance.” 2 I thought saying that would make Arthur happy, but his face actually darkened by several shades. I had no idea why he was getting mad. Those were the exact words he used to say to me whenever I got jealous. Unfortunately, back then, I never believed in purely platonic friendships between men and women. So even when he said that, I still demanded he keep his distance from Chloe. He agreed to my face, but behind my back, he and Chloe were practically inseparable. Until the day I caught them at a gala. I lost my mind, screaming and hitting him. And the result? I was the one who suffered the brutal consequences. Did he forget all of that? Whatever. I didn’t care enough to manage his moods. I just looked down at my phone, calculating how long it would take me to save up enough for the cemetery plot. Arthur felt an absurd sense of unreality. He never expected that after just five years, I would completely, effortlessly accept his relationship with Chloe. But… this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Wasn’t I supposed to scream at him for crossing the line? Looking at my calm profile, Arthur comforted himself: It must be because she doesn’t want to lose me again. She’s too scared to get angry. At that moment, I remembered that a photo of Liam was still at my old apartment. I asked Arthur if we could swing by there first. Arthur refused immediately, looking deeply disgusted. “Do you honestly think my mansion has room for your garbage?” “Just call your landlord, tell them you’re breaking the lease, and have them throw it all away.” I opened my mouth, originally wanting to tell him that I wasn’t renting, that I owned the place. But on second thought, I just nodded submissively. That tiny, three-hundred-square-foot studio was the only inheritance Liam left me. There was no need for outsiders to know about it. The rest of the drive was silent. Half an hour later, I was standing in front of the house that used to be my marital home. In the front yard, the sycamore tree I had planted myself was thriving, looking lush and vibrant after five years of weathering the elements. I was a bit surprised. I distinctly remembered that on the day I left, Arthur swore he was going to rip this tree out by its roots. I didn’t expect it to still be standing here five years later. Arthur walked up beside me, looking incredibly unnatural as he offered, “I hired a Feng Shui master. He said this sycamore tree is good for my fortune, so I didn’t dig it up.” I nodded, wondering why he felt the need to explain that to me. I wasn’t narcissistic enough to think he kept the tree because he was still in love with me. Honestly, I was still waiting for him to tell me the real reason he wanted to remarry me. Very quickly, I got my answer. He wanted to remarry me… for his little childhood sweetheart. The front door opened from the inside. I saw Chloe, looking pale and fragile, being supported by a maid. She smiled brightly. “Arthur! You’re back!” I had already figured out on the drive over that she was living here, so I gave her a perfectly natural nod. “Long time no see, Chloe.” Chloe clearly didn’t expect me to be so calm. Her face wore its usual fake, saccharine smile as she greeted me affectionately, “Evelyn! It’s been so long.” “I told Arthur my birthday wish was for you two to get back together, and I can’t believe he actually went out and found you!” “It looks like Arthur really is my personal Santa Claus. He makes all my wishes come true.” If this were the old me, hearing those words would have shattered me. So the only reason I was brought back was because it was another woman’s birthday wish. But now? Not only was I not depressed, I looked at her with genuine, profound gratitude. “Thank you so much, Chloe. Mr. Vance told me you hurt your leg? Don’t worry, I will take excellent care of you.” This time, Chloe’s mask completely cracked. She stared at me in shock, forgetting to even deliver her next line. Arthur also stared at me in disbelief, trying to find some trace of sarcasm or fakeness in my eyes, only to realize I was being 100% sincere. The bizarre, suffocating feeling in his chest grew stronger. He quickly tried to explain, “Chloe is just joking with you. You’re my wife. If I want to remarry you, obviously it’s because I’ve thought about it from every angle.” I smiled and flattered him smoothly. “You are the CEO of the Vance Group. Any decision you make is obviously the result of deep, strategic thinking.” “Chloe’s wish was just a reference point. I get it. I totally understand.” I didn’t expect that even after I said that, Arthur still wouldn’t be satisfied. His face was dark as he glared at me, his eyes hiding a deep, probing confusion I didn’t understand. I looked back at him, blinking innocently. Ultimately, defeated by the clear, untroubled look in my eyes, he turned and stormed into the living room in a huff. I followed closely behind, but as I reached the doorway, Chloe blocked my path. Chloe leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Five years away, and your manipulation skills have definitely leveled up.” “Too bad that in the face of absolute favoritism, your little ‘playing hard to get’ routine isn’t going to work.” “Let me tell you the truth. Arthur only brought you back because I can’t get pregnant. He wants you to carry a baby for me, so I can officially marry into the Vance family without any pushback.” My heart skipped a beat. Have a baby? I couldn’t help but slowly rest my hand over my lower abdomen. Once upon a time, there was a baby growing there too. But tragically… it was murdered by its own father. 3 The look of absolute disgust on Arthur’s face that day was burned into my memory with crystal clarity. He had said: “A malicious, venomous woman like you has absolutely no right to bear my child.” I never imagined that five years later, he would actually want me to have a baby for him. But… I couldn’t have kids anymore either. If Arthur found out, would he throw me out on the street? Then what about the cemetery plot…? Thinking of this, I made a silent vow. I absolutely could not let Arthur find out. Just then, Chloe suddenly screamed and stumbled backward, her eyes turning red. “Evelyn, if you don’t like me, you can just say it… why did you stomp on my foot?!” The maid standing next to her immediately chimed in, pointing a self-righteous finger at me. “Madam, Miss Chloe already has an injured leg. With you stomping on her like that, she’s going to be in agony for days.” “You are truly…” Faced with these two dramatic actresses, I raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, then immediately bowed my head and apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I was well accustomed to Chloe’s two-faced performances. In the past, I used to constantly complain to Arthur about her, calling her a manipulative snake. Unfortunately, Arthur never believed me. He said I was insane with jealousy, maliciously twisting the actions of an innocent little girl. Even though this “little girl” was exactly one month older than me. Because of that, I had no intention of trying to explain myself to Arthur. I just offered a prompt, sincere apology. A short distance away, Arthur’s face darkened. Seeing him look over, I assumed he was going to reprimand me just like he used to. I immediately took the initiative: “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but I acknowledge that I hurt Chloe.” “I accept my punishment. I will go to the attic right now.” Having said that, I turned and started walking toward the stairs. The attic had a confinement room. It was a “reflection room” Arthur specifically had built for me. Every time I “hurt” Chloe or disobeyed him, he would lock me in there to reflect on my actions. For twenty-four hours. No food. No water. In the beginning, I used to fight back and struggle. But eventually, I suffered a miscarriage while locked in that pitch-black room, and it gave me severe claustrophobia. After that, the mere threat of it reduced me to a sobbing, begging mess on my knees. Thankfully, I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. During that earthquake, I was trapped in a tiny, pitch-black space propped open by Liam’s body. It was completely dark, and we were covered in blood. But as his life slowly slipped away, I felt the most profound, intense love I had ever known. He pulled me out of my final psychological shadow. It was just that this time, the price had been far too high. Without realizing it, my eyes began to sting and turn red. When Arthur grabbed my wrist, this was the scene he saw—my head bowed submissively, my eyes holding absolutely zero resentment, only a trace of raw vulnerability. I looked like a fawn that had been abandoned by its mother in the wilderness. A sharp pain pierced Arthur’s heart. The inexplicable rage that had just flared up in his chest was instantly extinguished. He asked, a mix of helplessness and confusion in his voice, “When did I say I was sending you to the confinement room?” I looked up, genuinely shocked and flattered. “Huh? I really don’t have to go?” My reaction instantly stung Arthur’s eyes. He actually felt a surge of regret for how he had treated me in the past. He explained awkwardly, “When I locked you in there before, it was because you were immature. You made mistakes and were too stubborn to admit them, so I wanted to teach you a lesson.” “Now, it wasn’t on purpose, and your attitude in apologizing was excellent. There’s no need for punishment.” As he spoke, he looked over at Chloe standing nearby and smiled warmly. “Besides, Chloe is so kindhearted, how could she possibly want you punished over such a minor accident?” Chloe’s mask almost ripped right off her face. She stared at me with an unfamiliar, deeply unsettled gaze. The corners of her mouth twitched into a stiff smile as she nodded. “Yeah, Evelyn. If you go to the attic, it’ll make me look like I’m being aggressive and demanding.” I shook my head, quickly explaining, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so used to…” Chloe instantly switched to playing the victim. “I knew it! Evelyn still blames me. It was my fault back then, I was immature and didn’t know boundaries, and it caused a rift between you two.” “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I formally apologize to you.” Arthur looked at me suspiciously. I knew exactly what he was thinking—he was wondering if I was trying to stir up drama again. I had just managed to dodge a punishment; there was no way I was letting Chloe trap me in another narrative. I put on my most sincere, earnest face. “How could you say that? I let go of all that a long time ago.” “Oh, by the way! Don’t you love my steamed sea bass?” “I’ll go to the farmer’s market right now, buy the freshest fish, and make it for you.” “But once you eat my fish, you’re not allowed to bring up the past anymore, okay?” My response effectively killed Chloe’s performance. She stood there awkwardly, watching me turn and run toward the front door. Before she even had a chance to speak, she watched Arthur walk right past her and chase me out the door. 4 Arthur grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowed. “I brought you back to be the lady of the house, not to be a servant.” I shook my head, looking completely unbothered. “It’s fine! I used to cook for Chloe all the time anyway.” Arthur opened his mouth, but it felt like a cork had been shoved down his throat. He couldn’t utter a single sound. He remembered a few years ago when Chloe had been pushed down the stairs. To make me “atone” for my sins, he forced me to act as Chloe’s personal maid for three months. Chloe was an incredibly picky eater, and I was never a good cook. The meals I brought her were repeatedly knocked to the floor, and I was forced to remake them from scratch. Back then, my hands were covered in burn blisters, but he never once felt an ounce of pity for me. After those three months, I firmly asked for a divorce. He blamed me for being unrepentant, and in a fit of rage, signed the papers. And that was the beginning of our five-year separation. Arthur sighed heavily. “You’re still blaming me for that, aren’t you? You’re saying this on purpose to remind me that I bullied you for Chloe’s sake.” “But honey, you were the one in the wrong back then. If I didn’t give the Miller family a proper explanation, the corporate partnership between our families would have been jeopardized…” “I’m not just your husband, I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation.” I didn’t expect that just volunteering to cook a meal would trigger another one of Arthur’s endless, self-justifying lectures. I had zero interest in hearing what he had to say. All I wanted to know was if he was going to drive me to the market, because the good one was pretty far away. When I made my request, I saw Arthur’s face turn incredibly bitter. It almost looked like… sadness. I had no idea what was wrong with him. I just rushed him, “Hurry up! If we get there late, all the fresh fish will be sold out.” Arthur got into the car with a dark expression. He drove me to the supermarket, quietly watched me buy groceries, and quietly drove me back home. Once we got back, he immediately jumped into a video conference call. Chloe sat closely by his side like a little bird, occasionally feeding him pieces of fruit. Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen prepping dinner, my mind racing: How the hell am I going to get Arthur to pay me my allowance? The cemetery sales rep had just texted me. Someone else was looking at that specific plot. I needed to pay the deposit immediately. … An hour later, the three of us were sitting at the dining table. I placed a tender piece of fish into Chloe’s bowl and asked, “Is it good?” Chloe raised an eyebrow in approval, immediately defaulting to treating me like a servant just like she used to. “The fish is decent. Tomorrow I want chicken stew with glass noodles, sea snails, and Australian lobster.” I immediately whipped out my phone, typing as I spoke: “No problem. Um… Mr. Vance, do you have time to take me grocery shopping tomorrow? If not, could you transfer some money to me?” “Otherwise, I don’t have any money to buy groceries.” Arthur stared at me in absolute shock. Then, he pulled out his phone and started transferring the money, while simultaneously telling Chloe: “Chloe, Evelyn isn’t a chef. If you want something specific, just tell Mrs. Higgins to make it.” Chloe’s face instantly turned an ugly shade of pale. She put down her chopsticks and looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I understand. I’m intruding on you two.” Saying that, she stood up to leave. “I think it’s better if I just go back to my own house. Otherwise, what happens if I say the wrong thing again?” As she turned, she suddenly fell to the floor. Her knee hit the hardwood with a loud, heavy thud. Just hearing the sound, you knew it had to hurt. Seeing this, Arthur rushed over and scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes were red as she tried to push him away. “Let me go, I don’t want you to hold me.” “Since Evelyn is back, everything I say is wrong, and everything I do makes you unhappy.” “It’s better if I just go home.” Arthur patiently coaxed her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t mean anything by it.” His gaze dropped to her knee, his voice filled with heartache. “Your knee… I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He carried Chloe and practically sprinted toward the front door. As he reached the exit, he suddenly turned back, only to see me sitting at the table, casually eating my dinner as if nothing had happened. He swallowed whatever explanation he was about to give and said coldly, “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” I replied obediently, “Okay.” The exact second they left, I immediately wired an $80,000 deposit to the cemetery sales rep. Arthur didn’t come home for the next few days. I was thrilled to have the peace and quiet. One afternoon, while I was enjoying some tea, the butler suddenly led a group of people into the house. He said Mr. Vance had sent them to deliver clothes, bags, and shoes. It was the latest season’s collections from all the major luxury brands, and I could pick whatever I wanted. I selected several classic, high-value bags and some staple clothing items, already calculating how much I could sell them for on luxury resale sites in a few weeks. That night, I went to sleep early. In my dreams, I saw Liam. He was standing in a field of wildflowers, smiling and waving at me. I ran over, threw my arms around him, and said excitedly, “Liam! I made a hundred thousand dollars today! Aren’t I amazing?” He hugged me, his eyes full of tenderness. “Don’t force yourself to suffer just for me.” I shook my head. I didn’t feel like I was suffering at all. Besides, compared to everything he did for me, the little bit of acting I was doing was absolutely nothing. Suddenly, I felt something cold and wet on my skin, accompanied by heavy, low panting. It violently shredded my dream to pieces. I opened my eyes in extreme annoyance and saw Arthur pinned on top of me, passionately biting my earlobe. A wave of intense nausea surged up my throat. I completely lost control, violently shoved him off me, and sprinted to the bathroom to vomit.

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Eight years after losing my daughter, my IVF treatments finally succeeded, and I was pregnant with a new life. But just one week before my due date, I was in a severe car accident, nearly killing both me and my unborn child. The driver who hit me was the exact same man who had run over and killed my daughter eight years ago. The moment I was discharged from the hospital, I went straight to the police precinct to provide a statement and press charges. But that very night, the case was dropped. At the station, I saw my husband—the man who hadn’t visited me a single time while I was fighting for my life in the ICU. Standing right beside him was a young, crying woman. “It was an accident,” the girl sobbed pitifully. “If Evelyn hadn’t gone out in the middle of the night, the crash wouldn’t have happened. My dad is innocent.” “Carter, I was separated from my dad for eight years because of her. I really don’t want to know what it feels like to lose him again. Please, you have to help me.” Carter pulled her into his arms, his eyes brimming with absolute devotion. “Shh, be good. I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to your dad.” … The words of confrontation choked in my throat. Before I could even react, Carter turned to me, his face turning ice-cold. “The charges have been dropped. I’ve already spoken to the District Attorney and signed a waiver of prosecution on your behalf. Drop it, Evelyn. Don’t pursue this anymore.” I stared into Carter’s calm, emotionless eyes. My voice was completely hoarse. “You know exactly how much I sacrificed to get pregnant with this child. You know how desperately I needed this baby. Why?” “Why are you doing this to me?” My voice was barely a whisper. Carter’s pupils trembled for a fraction of a second before hardening back into cold indifference. “We can always have another child. We can try again.” “But Chloe can’t lose her father again.” I let out a broken, hollow laugh. I lost all strength to argue. This was the eighth year since I lost my daughter. It was the ninth month of carrying my new baby. For eight long years, there wasn’t a single second where I didn’t pray to the universe to give me a second chance. I promised I would protect this tiny new life with everything I had. I swore I would never let her get hurt. But I never even got to see her face. Before I could even process what was happening, the suspect—Frank—was released from the holding cell. Walking out into the lobby, the heavy-set man gave Carter a sycophantic, greasy smile. “You’re a reasonable man, Mr. Vance. This whole thing was just a big misunderstanding. Honestly, maybe your wife is just cursed to be barren. No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t keep a kid.” “But hey, no worries! My daughter is currently carrying your seed, right? Twins, too! Now that’s what I call a real blessing.” I couldn’t even stand up straight. This man standing in front of me had destroyed my life twice. And now, he had the absolute audacity to stand here and mock me. I lost all control. I hurled the cell phone in my hand directly at his face. Frank didn’t dodge. The heavy phone smacked squarely into the bridge of his nose, and blood instantly gushed out. Almost simultaneously, Chloe let out a delicate, terrified shriek. “Why are you hitting my dad?! He was legally released! They proved he did nothing wrong! What gives you the right to attack him?!” She aggressively snatched my phone off the floor and hurled it right back at my head. I didn’t hesitate. I tilted my head to dodge it, and my eyes locked directly with Carter’s. His brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes filled with absolute disgust toward me. Seeing that the phone missed me, Chloe was visibly upset. She stomped her foot and rushed up to me, crying hysterically. “I know you’re not going to let this go! You’re still holding a grudge against my dad!” “Aren’t you just mad that my dad accidentally made you miscarry? Fine! I’ll make it up to you! Beat me until I miscarry right now! I have two babies in my belly—if I pay you back with two lives for your one, will that be enough?!” She grabbed my hand and forcefully yanked it toward her own face. I didn’t even move a muscle, but she violently threw herself backward, screaming as she crashed onto the hard floor. Before I could even blink, Carter shoved past me. He scooped Chloe up into his arms, turning back to glare at me with eyes full of pure rage. “Evelyn, do you have any idea that assault is a felony?!” “For years, my heart broke for you over losing Lily. I tolerated your manic episodes and put up with your irrational tantrums because I pitied you.” “But that doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want!” “If anything happens to Chloe or the babies, I swear to God I will not let you get away with this.” He turned and carried her out. Frank jogged obediently behind them. Nestled in Carter’s arms, Chloe shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice over his shoulder. Meeting her gaze, I thought I should be furious. I should be screaming. Just like I had been for the past eight years. But for some reason, in this exact moment, my heart was nothing but a desolate, dead wasteland. Suddenly, I just felt incredibly tired. 2 I stumbled out of the precinct, my steps uneven and heavy. My emotional state was terrifyingly calm. I hadn’t even made it home when Carter called me. “Chloe is an emotional wreck. I need you to come here and apologize to her. Promise her you won’t pull a stunt like that ever again.” “I’ll text you the address. I’m sending a driver to pick you up.” Carter’s voice was dead serious, driving needles directly into my heart. I couldn’t stop my body from trembling. “Apologize? What exactly did I do wrong?” His tone grew impatient. “Now is not the time to argue about who is right and wrong. Chloe is young. She gets scared easily, she’s pregnant with twins, and her hormones are all over the place.” “She just wants you to admit you were wrong and give her some peace of mind. You’ve been pregnant before. You should have some empathy for how she’s feeling right now.” I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Carter, I would rather die than apologize to the daughter of a murderer.” The line went silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was like ice. “Evelyn, are you deliberately forcing my hand?” Immediately after, I heard Chloe’s devastating, hysterical crying in the background. “Even if Evelyn hates me, she shouldn’t insult me like that!” “I was bullied my entire childhood because my dad was in prison! It’s my deepest trauma! How could she use that against me?!” I was so furious my vision blurred. My lower abdomen, still healing from the recent miscarriage, throbbed with a dull, sickening pain. I was about to scream back when the line suddenly went dead. I instinctively looked at my screen. My phone had died. Unable to call an Uber, I had to slowly, painfully drag myself all the way back to our house. At the front door, a mountain of newly delivered packages covered the porch. They were all the baby clothes and toys I had meticulously prepared for the new life I was supposed to bring into this world. Now, they felt like a cruel, mocking joke. Shutterstock Inside, the house was filled with the remnants of my sixteen-year marriage to Carter. There was no denying that once upon a time, Carter had loved me with every fiber of his being. Even when I fell into severe clinical depression after Lily died, he never complained. He patiently drove me to every psychiatrist in the state. About two years ago, I finally started to heal and wanted to look toward the future again. Because my body had suffered from the trauma, getting pregnant naturally was nearly impossible. I went through grueling cycles of IVF hormone injections and embryo transfers to prepare my body. In the beginning, Carter supported me without a single complaint. He found the best fertility clinics and hired the top specialists. But cycle after cycle failed, and I suffered multiple mental breakdowns. It was Carter who held me, comforted me, and promised me: “No matter what happens, I will always be right here with you.” Until I finally, miraculously got pregnant. I would never forget how ecstatic I was. I cried and thanked God over and over for giving my baby back to me. But it was a high-risk pregnancy. To ensure the baby survived, I gave up my career and my entire social life, staying on bed rest, guarding this tiny life with everything I had. I was just one week away from finally seeing her. And then, the “accident” happened. I collapsed onto the living room sofa. The massive, empty house hadn’t felt like a home in a very long time. When exactly did things start going wrong? Six months ago, I slipped in the bathroom, and I started spotting. It was my first major scare. In a blind panic, I called Carter. But the person who rushed through the door to take me to the ER was his executive assistant. After a terrifying night in the hospital, the doctors managed to stabilize the pregnancy. Carter didn’t show up until dawn. He smelled faintly of a women’s perfume. He told me: “There was a massive crisis with the new project. I’m so sorry.” I believed him. Five months ago, an anomaly showed up on an anatomy scan. I had a complete breakdown and called him frantically, but he didn’t pick up. I agonized for an entire sleepless night until noon the next day. When Carter finally answered, his voice was groggy. He had clearly just woken up. “Honey, don’t worry. We hired the best doctors. They won’t let anything happen to you.” There were so many other moments. Too many to count. Tears spilled over my eyelashes, falling drop by drop onto my hands. But why, out of all the women in the world, did it have to be his daughter? Carter knew better than anyone how much agony I went through when Lily died. I tried to end my own life multiple times. It was his love that kept me anchored to this earth. And now? I hugged my knees to my chest, the physical and emotional pain tearing me apart from the inside. Before I could even process my grief, the front door was violently kicked open. Carter stood in the doorway, his face twisted in absolute fury. “Why the hell did you hang up on me?!” “Do you know Chloe almost jumped off a balcony because of what you said?! You almost killed three people today, do you understand that?!” 3 I stared coldly directly into his eyes. “And?” “Tell me exactly which part of what I said was a lie.” Carter’s eyes darkened. He let out an exasperated, furious sigh. “Why can’t you just be a little more forgiving? Have some basic human decency! Is it really that hard to just say ‘I’m sorry’? Why did you have to escalate things to this point?!” Carter was practically shouting, totally losing control of his temper. I took several deep breaths, fighting through the heavy, dragging pain in my lower pelvis. My voice came out weak but sharp. “Carter. So she really is pregnant with your children?” He went dead silent. I let out a mocking laugh. “You cheat on me while I’m pregnant, get your mistress pregnant with twins, and now you have the sheer audacity to stand in my house and demand to know why I won’t apologize to her? Carter, do you not hear how absolutely psychotic you sound?” He didn’t look away. He stared right back at me without a shred of guilt. “Yes. I admit it. Those are my kids.” “I was slipped something at a corporate dinner by a rival firm. It was a setup to ruin me. If I had lost control, my entire career would have been destroyed.” “At first, I fought it. I held onto my sanity and told myself I couldn’t betray you. I called you, I texted you, I just wanted to hear your voice to ground myself! And what did you do?” “You got annoyed. You said you needed your sleep for the baby, and you hung up on me.” “If Chloe hadn’t miraculously been there… if she hadn’t sacrificed her own purity to save me, everything I own today would be gone!” Carter’s eyes were practically glowing with self-righteous justification. “The twins were an accident. But Chloe saved my life, and I owe her. I will not abandon her.” He stopped talking. I stared at him for a second, and then I just started laughing. It was true. At that time, I was on strict bed rest. I was so terrified of losing the baby that I shut out everything else in the world. I guess I ignored his needs. I didn’t see his “pain.” Looking at Carter, I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. Suppressing his anger, he continued: “Evelyn, it’s not that I don’t love you anymore. It’s just… after all these years, I’m just so… tired.” He crouched down, grabbing his hair in frustration. “I am so fucking tired, Evelyn.” “You lost Lily, and you’ve been depressed for eight years. I stayed by your side. I stayed devoted to you. Every time you broke down, every time you tried to kill yourself and made a massive public scene, my heart broke for you.” “But I forgot what happiness actually felt like. I was just numbly keeping you alive.” “Until I met Chloe…” When he said her name, a genuine, undeniable look of peace and happiness washed over his face. In that fraction of a second, I finally understood. There was no going back. In his mind, I was the anchor of his misery. And Chloe was his fresh, shiny new happiness. He was never going to choose me again. I looked at the face of the man who had pulled me out of the abyss so many times, and I finally let it go. If the future was only going to be darkness, then it was time to end it here. “Carter. Let’s get a divorce.” “I hope you’re happy. I really mean that.” 4 Carter rejected it without a second of hesitation. “Evelyn, we are not getting a divorce.” “All you have to do is go apologize. Once Chloe cools down, I won’t hold this against you, and I will love you just as much as I always have.” “Don’t worry. What belongs to you, I won’t give to anyone else.” He said it with such absolute certainty, and it was the most repulsive thing I had ever heard. “One wife at home, and a family on the side? Carter, how does that not make you want to vomit?” He swallowed his irritation and was about to argue when his phone started ringing frantically. It was Chloe. Through the speaker, the young girl was sobbing heavily, her voice choked with tears as she apologized: “It’s my fault, Carter. I shouldn’t have made things difficult for you, and I shouldn’t have forced Evelyn to apologize.” “Maybe our meeting was a tragedy from the very beginning. I shouldn’t have asked for so much. But I’m a traditional girl. Since my body is ruined and I can’t have a normal family, I don’t have the face to keep living.” “Carter… if there is a next life, I hope I meet you earlier. And I hope I don’t have such a shameful family background. I just want to love you, cleanly, just once.” The call abruptly disconnected. Carter looked like he was going to lose his mind. He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door, screaming at me as we moved. “All it took was one apology! Just one! But you had to push her to the brink of death!” “Evelyn, you better pray to God she is okay, otherwise…” I didn’t hear the rest of his threat. He shoved me into his car and sped through the city streets like a maniac. My consciousness was starting to blur. I felt a warm, thick fluid pooling beneath me, gushing out in waves. The internal injuries from the car crash hadn’t healed at all. I had forced myself out of the hospital on sheer adrenaline, desperate to seek justice. But now, my body was giving out. The pain became so blinding that it eventually turned to numbness. Carter was yelling the entire drive, but all I could see were his bloodshot, manic eyes. When we finally arrived at the hospital, he violently yanked me out of the passenger seat. He didn’t even look at me. He just dragged me down the sterile hallways. Walking faster and faster. Feeling my mind slipping away into the dark, I used the very last ounce of strength I had to beg him: “Carter… I can’t hold on… please… slow down.” “I’m really dying.” He didn’t stop. He walked even faster. I was only moving forward because his grip on my arm was dragging my dead weight. I lost count of how many times my knees gave out and hit the floor, only for Carter to violently yank me back up. Finally, we reached Chloe’s hospital room. The fluorescent lights were blinding, but my vision was completely black around the edges. Carter’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. “Apologize. Just apologize, and everything will be fine.” Will everything be fine? The question echoed in my decaying mind. If I apologized… would everything I lost come back? My beautiful Lily? The baby that was torn from my womb? The beautiful life I used to have? Would any of it come back? I opened my mouth, and slowly, agonizingly, I spoke. “I’m sorry.” I heard Chloe’s voice instantly lighten up. “Actually, I wasn’t trying to make things hard for you, Evelyn. I just wanted some basic respect.” “I didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t be judged. I’ve suffered so much unfair discrimination because of my dad’s past.” “So I just wanted justice.” “Since you apologized, I forgive you. It’s not a big deal.” As Chloe’s words faded, my consciousness completely collapsed. Everything that disgusted me, everything that made me sick to my stomach, everything that caused me agony… it all faded into perfect peace, turning to dust in the void. Memories flashed before my eyes like a movie reel. And it was all Carter’s face. Further back… further back… it was the three of us. Our family, holding hands, laughing in the sun. I reached out desperately, trying to grab those memories, praying I could stay in that moment forever. But in the end, there was only silence. Forget it. It ends here. All the love, all the hate. Let it all end. I closed my eyes and sank into the heavy dark. 5 “Evelyn, I just asked you to apologize! What kind of stunt are you pulling now?!” Seeing me collapse motionlessly onto the floor, Carter frowned, his eyes filled with absolute impatience. “I told you, if you just apologized, I would drop it! Chloe isn’t even mad anymore, do you really want to make her upset again?!” “Evelyn, what is the point of this? Can you stop disappointing me?!” He kept rambling, every word a bitter complaint. But my body on the floor didn’t react. He sighed heavily. From the hospital bed, Chloe immediately turned on the waterworks. “So she didn’t mean the apology at all! I should have known! She’s looked down on me from the very beginning, why would she suddenly give in? She’s just trying to frame me!” “When people hear about this, they’re going to say I bullied her until she passed out.” “Carter, just go take care of her. Don’t worry about me.” “I’ve always been completely alone anyway.” Chloe’s tears fell so perfectly, and Carter’s eyes practically melted with heartbreak. “She’s faking it! Don’t blame yourself, she is completely fine.” “I’ve dealt with her hypochondria for eight years, you think I don’t know her? Her ‘depression’ is just a pathetic excuse to run away from the fact that she failed to protect her own daughter.” “Chloe, I promise you, as long as I’m here, I will never let anyone hurt you again. Don’t be scared…” Carter pulled Chloe tightly into his chest, not sparing a single glance for my body lying near the doorway. Even though my soul had already left my body, even though my heart was completely empty, hearing those words sent a violent, agonizing tremor through my ghost. He was right. For years and years, I blamed myself. I blamed myself for failing to protect my baby girl. I blamed myself for taking that specific route home that day. I blamed myself for not throwing my body in front of the truck to save her. It was Lily’s sixth birthday. Carter hadn’t gotten off work yet, so I was taking Lily to the restaurant we had booked. Even now, every detail of that day was permanently burned into my soul. Lily was holding my hand, skipping happily down the sidewalk. “Mommy, can we go to Daddy’s office and surprise him?!” “I’ve never seen Daddy’s office! I really miss him, I want to see him right now!” I thought about it, smiled, and agreed. Because of that split-second decision, we took a detour. Less than 500 feet from Carter’s office building… A massive commercial truck, speeding out of control, barreled directly into the crosswalk. Everything happened in excruciatingly slow motion. I really did blame myself. For eight years, every time I closed my eyes, my brain replayed the scene. I constantly tortured myself, thinking: If I had just reacted a second faster… if I had just pushed her a little harder… If I hadn’t made that stupid, spontaneous decision, everything would be different. Lily was lying on the asphalt. She was covered in blood. Her eyes were open, and the very last thing she ever said to me was: “Mommy… do I still get to have my birthday?” Those words became the eternal nightmare of my life. Carter was right. I desperately wanted to escape. I couldn’t accept the brutal reality, which was why I tried to follow her to the grave so many times. But back then, he was the one who stubbornly stayed by my side! How could he use that trauma as a weapon to attack me now?! My phantom heart felt like it was being ripped apart. On the hospital bed, Carter was still gently stroking Chloe’s hair. Until a passing nurse let out a blood-curdling scream. “Oh my god, look at all this blood! We need help! Bring a gurney, NOW!” “The patient is completely unresponsive, HURRY!” The sheer panic in the nurse’s voice finally snapped Carter out of his trance. He looked down at me on the floor, a rare flicker of panic crossing his eyes. “What blood? What’s wrong with her?” He stood up and walked toward me, step by step, until he saw the massive pool of crimson spreading across the white tiles. Carter froze for a few seconds. He stumbled back, before crashing to his knees beside me. “Evelyn! Wake up! What happened to you?!” He grabbed my waist. The blood soaked instantly into his expensive shirt. Behind him, Chloe let out a terrified shriek. “Blood! I can’t look at blood! Carter, please come protect me, I’m so scared! I’m so scared!” Carter’s body violently flinched. The trauma team rushed in with a gurney. “Are you the husband?! Follow us! The patient is in critical condition, she’s crashing!” My body was hoisted onto the gurney. The doctors and nurses sprinted down the hall. Carter scrambled to his feet to follow them. But from the bed, Chloe’s crying grew louder. “It’s fine. I’ve always been the one left behind. When I was a kid, and now. People like me don’t deserve to be chosen.” “When I sacrificed my purity to save you, you did the exact same thing! You had just brutally taken my innocence, I was half-dead in that hotel bed, and the second Evelyn called and said her stomach hurt, you abandoned me in the middle of the night.” “And now… as long as Evelyn needs you, I will always be thrown away like trash.” “I’m so cheap. I never deserved your love. It’s fine, I finally see the truth. Carter… I overestimated your love for me. It ends here. Goodbye.” She struggled out of the hospital bed and ran out of the room, sobbing blindly. Carter froze in his tracks. He hesitated for exactly one second. Then, he turned his back to the trauma team and sprinted after Chloe. He completely ignored the shouting doctors. He caught up to Chloe and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I won’t leave you.” “No matter what happens, I will never leave you behind again.”

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My wife was six months pregnant and insisted on going on a business trip out of town. I begged her not to go, for the sake of our child. My wife reassured me, saying the more she earned now, the easier my life would be. As I helped her pack her lingerie bag, a spare phone I’d never seen before fell out. The screen flickered, displaying a private message. “You’re such a pervert, can’t you even stop when you’re pregnant?” I stared at the contact name for five seconds. Then I remembered: that name was “Master.” And I was “Good Guy.” … The bathroom door opened. I frantically shoved the spare phone back into the bottom of her suitcase, covering it tightly with clothes. Steam billowed out. Summer, wrapped in a towel, her face flushed pink from the heat, had very fair skin. She’d gained some weight since her pregnancy, her cheeks a rosy hue. By all appearances, she was a glowing expectant mother, immersed in happiness. She walked over, reaching out to touch my forehead. “What’s wrong? You look awful.” I instinctively recoiled a step, avoiding her hand. Summer’s hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “Didn’t sleep well,” I managed, forcing a smile uglier than a grimace. “Had a nightmare last night, worried you wouldn’t be able to handle the stress.” Summer sighed in relief, withdrawing her hand, and playfully rolled her eyes at me. “I told you I’d be fine. That client is really understanding. You’re more nervous than I am.” She sat on the bed and began to towel dry her hair. Looking at her swollen belly, that thorn in my heart twisted again. Five years of love, she was my wife, carrying my child. I still clung to hope, wanting to give her one last chance. If she could turn back now, for the sake of the baby, perhaps I could pretend I hadn’t seen that phone. “Wife, do you really have to go?” I knelt before her, looking up, my voice already tinged with pleading. “I’m not afraid of hard work. I can deliver food, drive ride-shares. Just stay home and focus on your pregnancy, and I’ll endure any hardship.” I looked into her eyes. “Please, don’t go. Can you?” Summer’s hand stilled on her hair. She lowered her gaze and sighed. “Darling, I’ve already signed the contract with the client. If I breach it now, I’ll have to pay triple the penalty.” She tugged at the towel wrapped around her, shifting her posture to reveal part of her calf. I stared there. Just above her knee, there was a coin-sized bruise. For the past two months, she’d always locked the bathroom door, not even letting me in when I brought fresh clothes. And on the rare occasions her arms and legs were visible, there were always inexplicable bruises. Last week, it was her inner left thigh. The week before, her arm. Each time I asked, my heart aching, she had a perfect explanation. “The bathroom was slippery, I accidentally bumped into something.” “I hit the corner of the office desk. You know pregnant women are clumsy.” I believed her, my heart breaking for her. I covered the entire bathroom floor with non-slip mats. I bought dozens of feet of corner protectors, covering all the sharp edges of our furniture. I wished I could turn myself into a ball of cotton and wrap her inside. Now it seemed, I was indeed a ball of cotton. A rotting piece of cotton, casually kneaded and used to wipe someone’s backside. What kind of bump would perfectly land on the inner thigh? What kind of fall would result in bruises that looked like they were forcefully squeezed by fingers? I stared at her calf, my stomach churning. Summer seemed to notice my gaze and pulled the towel down to cover her leg. She walked over, naturally draped her arms around my neck, carrying the pleasant scent of her shower gel. She buried her face in my neck, rubbing it gently. “Darling, help me blow dry my hair, please. I’m leaving first thing in the morning, and I want you to spend more time with me.” Yesterday, I would have considered it a sweet burden. Now, I felt only revulsion, every hair on my body standing on end. I rigidly picked up the hairdryer, my fingers running through her hair. The hot air roared, masking my ragged breathing. In her eyes, what was I? A sugar daddy providing a paycheck and a stable life? “How many days will you be gone this time?” I turned off the hairdryer, my voice so cold it even scared myself. “Three days. I’ll be back Sunday.” Summer turned around, wrapping her arms around my waist, her face pressed against my lower abdomen. “I’ll miss you, and I’ll miss the baby too.” I also thought of that child. Six months old. Was it my child? Once that thought arose, it could no longer be suppressed. “That client, male or female?” I tried to make my tone sound casual, turning to fold clothes. “A man, an old man in his fifties, quite verbose,” Summer complained, standing up to get a storage bag. My heart leapt into my throat. She opened the bag, checked it, but didn’t rummage to the bottom. “These few sets are maternity-specific, very comfortable to wear,” she muttered to herself, sealing the bag and placing it in the suitcase. I turned to pour water, no longer looking into her eyes, afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist slapping her. “Darling, did you pack that bottle of stretch mark oil for me? I’ll need it there too.” She smiled, walked over, and hugged me from behind, her hand caressing her belly. “The baby just kicked, do you want to feel it?” Her chest pressed against my back. But I felt not a trace of warmth, only the sensation of a venomous snake coiled behind me. She lied, without a flicker of hesitation, words tumbling out easily. This level of psychological composure wasn’t developed overnight. I gripped the water glass, my knuckles white. “Yes, I’ll miss you,” I said, taking a sip of water. What I swallowed, though, was a mouthful of bitterness. “Get some sleep. You have an early flight tomorrow.” I broke free from her embrace, got into bed, and lay down with my back to her. That night, I listened to the breathing beside me, my eyes wide open until dawn. In these five years, what else had she been hiding from me? What had she truly been doing on her “business trips”? At six in the morning, Summer got up. She put on a light layer of makeup, saying she needed to look well-rested for clients. She wore a loose trench coat that concealed her baby bump, giving her a somewhat youthful appearance. I stood on the balcony, watching her drag her suitcase out the door. “Darling, I’m off. I’ll text you when I arrive. You make sure to eat properly at home.” She changed her shoes in the entryway, turning back to blow me a kiss. I leaned against the doorframe, expressionless, and nodded. “Be careful on the road.” The moment the door closed, I grabbed my car keys and rushed out. I had already taken the day off from work; even if the sky fell, I wasn’t going in. To avoid being discovered, I didn’t take my usual SUV. I borrowed my neighbor Old Man Greg’s beat-up van, claiming I needed to help relatives move some goods. Summer didn’t take the subway. Instead, she hailed a taxi outside the complex. I trailed far behind, maintaining a two-car length distance. The taxi got onto the elevated highway, but its direction wasn’t towards the airport. My hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white from the strain. I recognized this road; it led to the city’s most exclusive wealthy district. Half an hour later, the taxi stopped outside “The Summit,” a private club. I knew this place; it operated on a membership basis, with annual fees starting in the tens of thousands. Rumor had it, it offered every kind of service and boasted excellent privacy. Summer got out of the taxi but didn’t go straight in. She stood at the entrance, looking left and right, then pulled out her phone to send a message. I parked my van under the shade of a tree across the street, rolling down my window a crack. Even from a distance, I could clearly see the expectant, excited expression on her face. Less than two minutes later, the club doors opened. A tall man in a black suit emerged. The moment Summer saw him, she ran over, completely disregarding her six-month pregnancy. She skillfully linked her arm with his. His hand immediately wrapped around Summer’s waist. Summer giggled, playfully punching his chest, pressing herself even closer. I sat in the car, feeling all the blood rush to my head. I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and frantically pressed the shutter button, taking pictures of them. Who was that man? I could barely make out his face. We first met five years ago on a stormy night, outside a convenience store. She had been evicted by her landlord for unpaid rent, huddled in a corner, soaking wet. I brought her back to my ten-square-meter rental apartment under my umbrella. That night, I cooked a bowl of noodles. She held the bowl, drinking every last drop of soup. She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, filled with dependence. “Alex, will you let me be your wife from now on? We’ll stay together forever.” When I got my paycheck, I bought her roasted sweet potatoes from a street vendor. She broke one in half and fed it to me, her lips smudged with black ash, her eyes curved like crescent moons as she smiled. That was Summer when she was with me—innocent, poor, but with a light in her eyes. She sat on the back of my electric scooter, her face pressed against my back, her arms wrapped around my waist. “Alex! I want to be with you forever!” Married for three years, together for five, I had pampered her like a princess. I handed over my entire paycheck, did all the housework, and never missed a holiday gift. We traveled to every corner of the country. After she got pregnant, she had some swelling, so I massaged her for half an hour every night. When she craved spicy and sour noodles from the east side of town in the middle of the night, I drove out to buy them without a word. I held her in the palm of my hand, yet she trampled me underfoot. I didn’t understand, truly didn’t understand. Was I not good to her? Why had Summer become like this? Just as they were about to enter, I typed, “Wife, are you at the airport yet? Have you checked in?” Less than a minute after I sent the message, she replied. It was a photo of her in an airplane seat. Outside the window were blue skies and white clouds. She held a glass of orange juice, her face bare of makeup. If I weren’t right outside the club, I would have absolutely believed it. The photo was clearly Photoshopped or an old one from her gallery. Then came a voice message. I opened it, and her sickly sweet voice made my scalp crawl. “Just sat down. Baby just kicked me. Darling, make sure you eat well.” She whispered, “Signal’s bad, I’m turning off my phone. I’ll contact you when I land.” I listened to that voice message, again and again. While she was wrapped around another man, she was still soothing the fool at home. Did she feel a sense of accomplishment, playing two men in the palm of her hand? I scoffed, a cold, bitter sound. But tears, disobedient, streamed down my face. I wiped my face and picked up the tracking software on that spare phone again. Last night, while she was asleep, I had installed a hidden GPS tracker on it. I hadn’t dared to look at the chat logs, afraid I would lose control and choke her on the spot. Even if she was just flirting online, for the sake of the child, I could play blind. The red dot flickered. It showed her location as this very building directly in front of me. Moving quickly, the red dot finally stopped on the 8th floor. Security at “The Summit” was very tight, with two burly men standing at the entrance. Without a membership card, there was no way in. I staked out the entrance for half an hour. Finally, a small delivery truck carrying groceries pulled up and stopped at the back door. Several uniformed workers were moving crates of seafood and liquor towards the back entrance. The foreman was talking to the guard, pointing at a manifest in his hand. While the guard was checking the delivery note, I quickly grabbed a worker’s uniform hanging on a nearby chair. I swiftly put it on, picked up what looked like the lightest box of vegetables, and, keeping my head down, followed the team. “Hey, new guy, hustle up!” the foreman in front yelled back, not noticing I was an impostor. I blended into the back kitchen access, and when no one was looking, I put down the box and slipped into the fire escape. Avoiding surveillance cameras, I climbed the fire escape floor by floor. The GPS on my phone showed Summer on the 8th floor. By the time I reached the 8th floor, I was drenched in cold sweat. I pressed myself against the wall, listening to the sounds coming from each room. Until I reached the door of room 888. That red dot was right there, perfectly coinciding with my location.

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My dad scheduled my physical for high school enrollment. During the blood draw, I overheard the nurse confirm, “Is this the blood sample for the bone marrow typing?” I froze. There was nothing about that on my medical form. And typing? Who needed a match? The lab request slip fluttered from her hand. As she bent to pick it up, a few lines of text burned into my vision: Patient: Faye. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian’s Signature: Richard Walker. I snatched the paper and checked again. It was unmistakably the handwriting of my father, Richard Walker. Who was Faye? And why was my dad her legal guardian? I immediately dialed his number. “Dad, why does a physical require a bone marrow test?” There was a pause on the line, a flicker of panic in his voice. “The hospital must have made a mistake. But hey, an extra test or two can’t hurt, right?” I forced a laugh and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the hospital room listed on the form. 01 Walking into the room, I saw the girl lying in the bed. Her face was ashen, her body frail. Her features, especially around her eyes and brow, were a near-perfect mirror of my dad’s. A cold weight settled in my stomach. My fists clenched as I approached her. “Are you Faye?” She blinked, looking up at me, but before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind. I turned. It was her mother. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, still young, dressed simply. She had the air of a gentle, domestic woman. But now, she looked frantic. Her face was pale, her hands trembling slightly. “You must be one of Faye’s classmates?” she asked, her voice urgent and shaky as she rushed forward to grab my arm. “She needs to rest. Could you come outside for a moment? I need to talk to you.” I didn’t resist, letting her lead me out of the room. In the hallway, she let out a visible sigh of relief, then hesitated before speaking. “You are…” I held up the lab form, cutting straight to the point. “Why is my father’s name signed as your daughter’s guardian?” I demanded. “Ma’am, what, exactly, is your relationship with my dad?” The hospital corridor was busy with people coming and going, some of whom seemed to know her. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so direct. Her panic intensified, though she forced a smile for an acquaintance passing by. Then she turned back to me, her own smile strained. “Oh, that signature… my daughter is sick, and a charity foundation is helping with the costs. The person in charge was there when we were handling the payment, so he just signed it for us.” “My daughter’s last name is also Walker, it’s just a coincidence. Please don’t overthink it.” Her words were placating, meant to deflect. But as her eyes fell on me, I saw a flicker of something else, something malicious and possessive. I met her gaze and held it. She looked away, unnerved, and unconsciously ran a hand through her hair. That’s when I saw it. The diamond ring on her finger. It was familiar. A designer piece. From my mother’s favorite designer. He had been out of the industry for years but recently released a new collection that everyone was talking about. It just so happened to launch around my parents’ wedding anniversary. I’d secretly reminded my dad about it, suggesting he could get that specific ring as a gift for Mom. He promised he would, telling me to keep it a secret, that he wanted to surprise her. But on their anniversary, what he presented was a common, off-the-shelf piece from a department store. It wasn’t even real diamonds, just zirconia. He claimed that a time zone difference during an international conference call had made him miss the limited-edition drop. He said he’d have someone contact the designer for a custom piece later to make up for it. So, he hadn’t missed it. He’d bought it. He’d just given it to another woman. And fobbed my mother off with a cheap imitation. I bit down hard, suppressing the rage that was boiling up inside me. Staring at the woman’s awkward expression, I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “That’s a beautiful ring, ma’am. It’s the limited-edition piece, isn’t it?” “My mother waited forever for it, but she couldn’t get one.” She must not have expected a kid to recognize it. She froze, her face twisting into an ugly grimace. She quickly tried to hide the ring with her hair, stammering out a defense. “What designer? I… I wouldn’t know about things like that. My daughter just picked it up for me, it’s nothing expensive.” “I have to get back to my daughter now,” she said abruptly. “Oh, and please don’t mention any of this to anyone. We wouldn’t want your family to get the wrong idea.” With that, she turned and fled back into the hospital room. Watching her scramble away, I let out a cold, humorless laugh. Pathetic. What a coward. Without a second glance, I turned and left the hospital. The moment I was in the car, I contacted my grandfather’s assistant. “Mr. Finch, I need you to look into my father’s recent activities, especially his travel records and financial transactions. Be quick, but don’t let him know.” “And whatever you find, secure the evidence immediately.” 02 When I got home, my mom was in the kitchen, simmering a soup. When my dad was younger and building his business, his irregular meals had led to severe stomach problems. He’d even had surgery twice. Mom felt for him. A woman who’d never had to lift a finger learned to cook just for him. Soups, congee, medicinal broths… She single-handedly nursed his stomach back to health. She’d been doing it for as long as I could remember, almost a decade now. In two days, it would be my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary. And I had just discovered that my father was cheating on her. Watching her bustling around the kitchen, my simmering fury gave way to a wave of sorrow, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. She was in her forties, but her figure was trim and her skin firm. She looked like she was barely thirty. Only her hands told a different story. Her knuckles were slightly enlarged, her palms calloused, and the backs of her hands were traced with the faint white lines of old scars. She used to love getting her nails done. But she gave it up, saying it was inconvenient for cooking. I walked into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She jumped, then laughed, teasing me. “You’re back? You’re about to be a high schooler, and you’re still clinging to me like a little kid?” “Go on, get out of here. It’s smoky, and I’m busy.” When I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. She turned around, and her smile vanished the moment she saw my tear-streaked face. Her expression immediately tightened with concern. “Audrey, honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Wasn’t Dad with you at your physical? Let me just call him…” She started to reach for her phone. I grabbed her wrist, shaking my head violently. “Don’t call him!” My mom froze, looking at me with growing unease, waiting for me to explain. I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tight. “Dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Serena. She used to be his secretary.” My movements were stiff, my fingers trembling as I pulled my tablet from my bag. The screen lit up, displaying the files Mr. Finch had already sent me. The tablet’s glow illuminated my mother’s blanching face. I swiped through the pages, showing her one damning piece of evidence after another. “They got together not long after she started working for him. Back then… you had just found out you were pregnant with me.” “She quit less than six months later because she was pregnant too. Dad bought her a sprawling condo in The Azure Heights, not far from our house. The deed is in her name.” “When you were in your last trimester, swollen and unable to sleep, he was over there, making her prenatal nutritional meals. When you were in the hospital, fighting for your life during a difficult labor, he was with her, giving her massages and taking her on walks to ease her pain.” “While you were recovering from a C-section, he was at her prenatal check-ups, telling her to walk more so she could avoid having a C-section herself.” “Mom, that girl… his other daughter… is only six months younger than me. He cheated on you while you were pregnant.” The words tumbled out between sobs, my tears splashing onto the screen, blurring the text. My mom’s gaze was fixed, her eyes staring at the words and pictures as they slowly filled with tears, her own eyes turning red. “How could he…” she whispered. “Dating, marriage… twenty years. How could he…” I hugged her tighter, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mom, do you remember the fire we had at the house when I was little?” She nodded, her voice growing hoarse. “Of course, I do. I was on a business trip. Your dad was juggling work and looking after you, and for a second he turned his back, you’d set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to pull you out. He was so terrified afterward, he never left your side at the hospital. He said if he lost you, he wouldn’t want to live.” “After you got out of the ICU, he was a nervous wreck. He followed you everywhere, woke up in the middle of the night just to check on you. He kept telling me it was all his fault… I thought then that he truly loved you, that he cared about this family.” As she spoke, a bitter, icy sarcasm crept into her voice. I swiped again on the tablet, my finger stopping on a section of the investigation report. “What if I told you that fire was no accident?” “He thought I was asleep. He was in a hurry to go see them, so he tossed a lit cigarette into the trash can.” “The window was open. The wind blew the curtains into the can, and they caught fire. He had locked me in the room… I had no way of getting out by myself.” “And he wasn’t the one who saved me. A neighbor saw the smoke and called 911. The firefighters broke down the door and carried me out. He… he only rushed to the hospital much later.” “I was only a little girl, and I was in and out of consciousness. I never remembered the details clearly.” “You thought he was sticking so close to me because he loved me? No. He was afraid. He was terrified that one day I’d remember what really happened and tell you the truth… He was scared you’d get angry, and he’d lose the resources and connections from your family.” My eyes burned, whether from grief or fury, I couldn’t tell. All the happiness I thought I had was just an elaborate lie. The sorrow peaked and curdled into rage. I hated him. I hated him for deceiving my mother, and I hated him for doling out this fake, pathetic version of love to me for all these years. What were we to him? Stepping stones? But one look at my mother, and all I felt was a deep, aching pain for her. She was the one who was truly broken by this. I was about to say more when my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this Audrey Walker? We need to review some of the metrics from your physical. Please have a parent bring you back to the hospital for a more detailed examination as soon as possible.” I paused, forcing my voice to sound calm. “Okay, I understand.” Just as I hung up, both my phone and my mother’s buzzed at the same time. The text to me read: [Audrey, the hospital called about a follow-up test. Dad will take you the day after tomorrow.] The text to my mother read: [Honey, you know that French designer you love? A friend gave me two VIP tickets to his private collection exhibit. It’s the day after tomorrow in the afternoon. You should go, clear your head.] The day after tomorrow. The same day as my hospital appointment. He was deliberately sending Mom away so he could take me alone… My mother and I looked at each other. Not a word was needed. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when his whole scheme came crashing down. 03 Two days later, my father and I drove to the hospital. While waiting at a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, are you at the gallery yet? Was parking okay?” He was testing her. A moment later, Mom replied. “I’m here, just waiting in line to get in. Had to park a bit far, it was a bit of a walk.” She attached a photo of herself and a friend, smiling, in front of the gallery. My dad zoomed in on the picture, then texted again. “I heard they have Morning Fog on display. Did you see it? I remember you love that artist.” A few minutes later, another photo came through, this one from inside the exhibit hall. “Saw it. It’s even more stunning in person than in the books. A little crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. He turned to me, flashing a flawless smile. “It’s good your mom can finally relax a little.” Hypocrite. I pulled my lips into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. At the hospital, he played the part of the perfect father. Consultations, check-ups, questions for the doctors… He even gently covered my eyes when they drew my blood. If I hadn’t found out about his affair, about his other daughter… I probably would have melted into that warmth, nestled against him and acted like a spoiled child, just like I used to. The process was quick. After we got the receipt for the bloodwork, he glanced at his watch and spoke in a casual tone. “Audrey, you wait right here, okay? Don’t wander off. Dad’s just going to the restroom, I’ll be right back.” “Okay,” I murmured, looking down. The direction he headed was toward the hematology ward. After a moment, I got up and quietly followed him. The door to the hospital room was slightly ajar. I stood outside, peering through the crack. My dad was sitting by the bed, feeding medicine to Faye. The girl leaned against him, completely dependent, her voice thick with tears. “Daddy, I’m scared…” “Am I going to die? I don’t want to leave you and Mommy…” My dad gently wiped her tears away, his voice incredibly soft. “Silly girl, don’t say things like that.” “Daddy found the best doctors in the country for you, the best medicine. See? Daddy’s right here with you, isn’t he? My Faye is the bravest girl I know. You’re going to get through this.” Serena leaned in too, stroking her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy are here. For you, your dad has pushed aside all his work, running to the hospital every day, contacting specialists and professors… Remember that time you spiked a fever in the middle of the night? Your dad was in a meeting overseas, but he got on the red-eye flight the second he got the call. He stayed by your side for two days and two nights without sleeping. With Daddy here, you have nothing to fear.” A perfect little family, happy and whole. And I was the clown standing on the outside. I remembered when I was eight, I had acute pneumonia. My fever was soaring over 103, and I was coughing so hard I could barely breathe. My mom rushed me to the hospital, her hands shaking with fear. She called him, over and over, but all she got was a single text message back: “With an important client. Can’t get away. You’ll have to handle it.” That entire night, it was just my mother, holding me in the emergency room as I shivered through my IV drip until dawn. I found out later that on that very night, Faye had been throwing a tantrum, refusing to let him leave. His “important client” was them. My fingernails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t feel the pain. Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder. It was my mother. She gave me a look that said, It’s okay. Just then, the attending physician spoke with a smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Walker, please don’t worry. Little Faye’s numbers have been a bit unstable lately, but overall, her condition is manageable. With such dedicated parents supporting her, the child’s positive mindset is crucial for her treatment. Our team of experts has thoroughly reviewed the bone marrow transplant plan. We’re just waiting for the donor to be ready, and then we can proceed with the surgery.” “I’d do anything to save Faye,” my dad said, his eyes fixed on the girl, his voice firm and resolute. Anything to save Faye. Then what about me? The one being used as a “donor.” Were my wishes, my health, even worth considering? A dull, numb ache spread through my chest. My dad turned to the doctor, his tone confident. “I’ve already worked things out with the donor. We should be able to finalize the procedures today.” “As for the surgery, I’ll leave it in your capable hands. Please schedule it as soon as possible.” An older specialist standing nearby nodded in agreement. “Mr. Walker, you are truly a man of action, especially when it comes to your child.” “Rest assured, the operating room is ready. As soon as the donor completes the final pre-op examinations and preparations, we can begin. A child with such a resourceful and hands-on father is truly blessed.” The head nurse chimed in with a sigh. “It’s true. Mr. Walker is here almost every day, we’ve all seen it. It’s so rare to see a man who is both successful and so devoted to his family these days.” Another doctor added, “I heard that not only is Mr. Walker tirelessly working to save his daughter, but he has also personally established a special assistance fund to help other families in similar situations. That kind of compassion is truly admirable.” The room was filled with praise and compliments. They painted him as the perfect father, a paragon of virtue. A round of applause broke out. The atmosphere was glowing. My mother, holding my hand, pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her voice was cold as steel. “Richard, is this what you meant by a follow-up? Lying to me so you could use our daughter as a donor for your illegitimate child?”

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Grandpa declared that whoever gets married first—my stepsister or me—would be the sole heir to the Sterling family estate. I looked calmly at my perpetually single stepsister. After all, my childhood sweetheart, Liam Crawford, had sworn he would only ever marry me. But the day before the heir was to be announced, he dropped to one knee in public and proposed to her. “Mia, will you marry me?” Just as panic began to set in, floating text—like comments on a live stream—suddenly materialized before my eyes: [“LMAO, Liam has been sleeping with Mia for ages. He’s complete trash.”] [“Girl, go find Ethan Vance! That boy has been secretly in love with you for ten years. He literally has the wedding bonuses ready.”] Half-doubting the bizarre phenomenon, I stormed right into the executive suite of Vance Corp, grabbed my long-time rival by his silk tie, and asked, “Ethan Vance, want to get married?” He set down his fountain pen, looking up at me with profound amusement. “You want me to play pretend with you? Have you figured out my compensation?” Much later, at our actual wedding, he got down on one knee. “The act is over. Now, it’s your turn to play this part with me for the rest of our lives.” 1 I sat in the dim corner of the banquet hall, swirling the champagne in my glass, listening to the hushed gossip of the guests around me. “Tonight is the younger Sterling daughter’s birthday bash, and it’s massive. She’s definitely going to be the heir, right?” “Not necessarily. Old Mr. Sterling made it clear: whoever ties the knot first takes the company.” “I heard Mia has never even had a boyfriend. But the older sister, Chloe, has that childhood sweetheart who’s obsessed with her.” The crystal chandelier overhead was blinding. I was only here to make an obligatory appearance. Just as I was about to slip out, I saw Liam holding a massive bouquet of red roses. He dropped to one knee right in front of my stepsister. “Mia, I’ve had feelings for you for a long time. Will you marry me?” Mia’s triumphant gaze cut through the crowd, landing precisely on me. She put on a flawless innocent act. “Liam, if you propose to me, what about my sister?” Liam followed her gaze. Meeting my ice-cold stare, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “She’s always been too competitive, like a tomboy. She could never compare to how gentle, sweet, and understanding you are.” Mia covered her mouth, giggling coyly as she tilted her head at me. “Sister, you’ll give Liam and me your blessing, won’t you?” I stared at the two of them and let out a cold laugh. I slipped off the promise ring Liam had given me and tossed it straight at them. I was unnervingly calm. “My blessing? Since you love collecting my garbage, you can have this, too.” The ring rolled right to Mia’s designer heels. The inside bore a glaring engraving: L Loves C. Mia’s smile stiffened for a second, but a determined glint remained in her eyes. “Sister, Grandpa is announcing the heir tomorrow. I hope you aren’t late.” I stood frozen in place, feeling as if a boulder was crushing my chest. It stung bitterly. Sterling Corp was built from the ground up by my late mother. I could lose Liam, but I absolutely refused to lose my mother’s legacy. I swallowed the fury burning in my throat and scoffed. “Have you ever seen an award ceremony where the winner doesn’t show up?” Without waiting to see their reactions, I turned on my heel and walked out of the hall. My words were tough, but honestly? I had zero backup plan. Where on earth was I supposed to find a husband on a few hours’ notice? 2 Just as my head felt like it was about to split open from stress, lines of glowing text began scrolling across my vision: [LMAO, Liam has been sleeping with Mia for ages. He’s complete trash.] [Go find Ethan Vance! That boy has been secretly in love with you for ten years. He literally has the wedding bonuses ready.] I forced down the shock of the floating words, my eyes glued to the name Ethan Vance. Wasn’t he my ultimate college rival? He had a crush on me? It felt more like he despised me. We had practically spent four entire years of college locked in a bitter cold war. During our freshman year, Ethan and I represented our respective colleges in the debate championship. Dressed in a sharp navy blazer, I stood at the opposition podium and delivered a cutting remark: “Mr. Vance hasn’t even held a girl’s hand before. How can he be so certain that love developed over time is more reliable than love at first sight?” Ethan had just pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, firing back with a cold smirk. “I don’t need a relationship to know that. I just have to look at how Ms. Sterling acts around her childhood friend.” That single sentence had completely destroyed my argument. Because back then, my devotion to Liam was borderline pathetic. The result? I lost to Ethan by a single vote. [Lmao, she actually thought Ethan was attacking her back then.] [Hahaha, Ethan was probably grinding his teeth into dust out of pure jealousy.] [How could the female lead ever be good enough for my Ethan when she was busy being Liam’s doormat?] [To the comment above: She was a doormat because she lost a game of Truth or Dare. The penalty was acting like Liam’s ultimate simp for a whole semester.] I snapped my attention away from the floating text, suppressed my racing heart, and drove straight to Vance Corp. Parking my car downstairs, I bypassed security and headed straight for the top-floor conference suite. After taking a deep breath outside the CEO’s office, I pushed the door open and walked in. Ethan was signing documents. His pale, elegant fingers gripped a Montblanc pen. Under the cuff of his black tailored suit, the faint blue veins on his wrist flexed. He didn’t even look up at the sound of the door. I walked briskly over to his desk. Reaching out, my slender fingers gently lifted his chin. I didn’t miss the intense flash of shock—and thrill—in his dark eyes. I leaned in close, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. With a lazy, upward lilt in my voice, I cut to the chase. “Ethan Vance, want to get married?” 3 His entire body went rigid. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the tips of his ears turned violently red in seconds. He instantly pushed his rolling chair back, putting distance between us. Leaning back, he looked at me with a teasing smirk. “Chloe Sterling. You want me to play pretend with you? Have you figured out my compensation?” [Ethan’s pride is thicker than a brick wall, I swear.] [The CEO’s ears are totally red! He’s obsessed with her.] [Chloe just has to curl a finger and CEO Vance turns into a loyal puppy.] I froze at his words. Compensation? I had stormed in here on a total impulse because of the floating comments. I hadn’t thought about paying him. Rather than stand here and let him mock me, it was better to just leave. I’d just pretend this whole embarrassing thing never happened. But just as my hand touched the door handle, Ethan’s long legs cleared the space around the desk. His strong, well-defined hand clamped around my wrist. With a firm tug, he pulled me directly into his chest. A subtle, familiar scent of lime and cedarwood filled my senses. It smelled incredible—the exact same scent he wore in college. I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the proximity. Sensing he had crossed a line, he immediately stepped back. He turned around, putting his back to me. [Hahahaha, Ethan literally can’t stop smiling.] [Look at him acting tough. He almost scared his own wife away.] I watched the comments and raised an eyebrow. He was… smiling? In the four years we spent as rivals, I don’t think I ever saw him smile. I honestly thought he lacked the facial muscles for it. Intrigued, I quickly stepped around him before he could react, catching him off guard. His eyes were crinkling at the corners, his gaze as soft and warm as a summer evening. He looked unbelievably gentle. Meeting my eyes, his pupils contracted. Clearly embarrassed, he brought a fist to his mouth and coughed lightly. “I can help you with this,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “We can discuss the compensation later.” I looked away, feeling my own cheeks heat up, and nodded in agreement. Once I secured Sterling Corp, I could afford whatever price Ethan Vance demanded. Seeing me still standing there, he teased, “Is the great Ms. Sterling lingering because she wants to buy me lunch?” I instinctively went to nod, but a loud commotion erupted outside the door. The next second, the office door was thrown open. A girl in a fluffy pink designer dress and sparkling heels barged in. Seeing her, the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Stella Dupont? What are you doing here?” She froze, equally shocked. “Chloe Sterling? What are you doing in my Ethan’s office?” 4 I scoffed. “None of your business.” Stella rolled her eyes with a loud dramatic sigh. “What? You spent four years losing to Ethan, and now you’re here to humiliate yourself post-graduation?” I kept my face perfectly neutral and ignored her. She was my other college nemesis. They say a castle can’t hold two queens. We were both daughters of prominent, wealthy families, constantly compared to one another since childhood. More accurately, Stella constantly compared herself to me. Spoiled rotten by the Dupont family, she demanded to have everything I had. I thought I was free of her after high school, but we ended up at the exact same university. Not only were we in the same major, but we were assigned to the same dorm. It was a nightmare. For four years, I had to exhaust myself fighting Ethan for the top spot, while constantly guarding my back to ensure Stella—the perpetual third-place runner-up—didn’t overtake me. I couldn’t relax for a second. College was more stressful than high school. Seeing I wasn’t going to take the bait, Stella turned to Ethan, her voice suddenly sugar-sweet. “Ethan, a new exclusive Michelin-starred place opened up downtown. I hear it’s amazing. Can I take you to lunch?” Ethan’s expression had been utterly blank since she walked in. “No,” he said flatly. “I’m having lunch with my girlfriend.” Stella’s voice jumped an octave. “Girlfriend?! Since when do you have a girlfriend?” Ethan reached out and pulled me to his side. “Since today.” Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “But Chloe has her childhood sweetheart, Liam! Why would she be your girlfriend?!” Then, as if a lightbulb went off, she gave Ethan a knowing, pitying look. “Oh, Ethan. We all know how it is. If you just wanted to make someone jealous, you didn’t have to use Chloe.” I instantly looped my arm through Ethan’s, flashing a sugary smile. “Do you really think you’re that important? That we’d put on a play just for you?” Stella’s eyes immediately welled with angry tears. Before storming out, she threw a parting shot. “Don’t get too smug, Chloe! You two are going to break up eventually!” “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a lifetime,” I fired back smoothly. She stomped her designer heel and bolted out the door in tears. I dropped my hold on Ethan’s arm, teasing him. “Who knew CEO Vance was so irresistible? You’ve got the Dupont heiress chasing you all the way to the office.” Ethan’s brow arched. His sharp, handsome face suddenly leaned dangerously close to mine, a low laugh escaping his lips. “And yet, a man as irresistible as me was still easily claimed by you.” My heart skipped a beat. I quickly looked away and stepped past him on the right. Dodging the tension, I kept my tone strictly professional. “Didn’t you say we were getting lunch? Let’s go.” After a surprisingly pleasant lunch with Ethan, I dropped him back at Vance Corp and drove home to the Sterling estate. 5 Right at the entrance, I bumped into Mia and Liam walking out of the mansion. They were disgustingly close. The moment Liam saw me, he looked incredibly awkward. Mia, however, offered a sickly-sweet smile. “Sister, how do you still have the mood to come home? If I were you, I’d be running around in a panic by now. Oh, right. You probably don’t have anyone left in your contacts to call, do you? Why don’t I introduce you to someone? I heard the second son of the Preston family just moved back from Europe. Maybe you two should grab a drink?” I gave a cold laugh. “You’re awfully invested in Wyatt Preston’s schedule. Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on him?” Mia choked on her words. Everyone in our social circle knew Wyatt Preston was a complete disaster—he swung both ways, burned through trust funds, and brought chaos wherever he went. Anyone with an ounce of dignity avoided him like the plague. No one in their right mind would want anything to do with him. Mia really couldn’t stand the thought of me being happy. Liam looked at me with deep disappointment, immediately stepping up to defend her. “Chloe, how can you be so toxic? Wyatt’s itinerary is plastered all over social media. How could Mia possibly be interested in him!” I looked at Liam and delivered three simple words: “Not worth it.” Hearing that, whatever lecture Liam had loaded in his chamber withered and died on his tongue. I bypassed them and walked straight into the house. The second I collapsed onto my bed, my phone buzzed with a text from my friend Harper. Harper: [Chloe! Our CEO is getting married! He literally just handed everyone in the company a $500 bonus envelope.] Image attached: Pink envelope.jpg Harper: [It’s so out of nowhere. I’m dying to know who managed to bag the untouchable ice king of Vance Corp.] Before I could even type a reply, the floating text appeared in my vision again: [Omg, Ethan is secretly losing his mind with joy!] [LMAO, why did this man already have stacks of cash envelopes ready in his office?] [Ethan is the king of secret crushes. He is fully prepared for this life.] Picturing Ethan lugging a briefcase full of cash bonuses around the office, I actually burst out laughing. After calming down, I texted Harper back: [Is there any chance… that person is me?] A second later, my screen was entirely filled with question marks. I gave her the heavily abridged version of the morning’s chaos, which resulted in a barrage of exclamation points. Harper: [You are insane! I bow to you!] I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Ethan’s contact and sent him a message. “The banquet starts tomorrow at 11 AM at the Starlight Country Club. Should I send a driver for you?” He replied instantly. “No need. I’ll drive myself.” “I heard you handed out wedding bonuses to your entire company?” This time, there was a long pause before the typing bubble disappeared and a message finally came through. “The company had a great quarter. It was a performance bonus. Don’t flatter yourself.” I rolled my eyes at the screen. If I didn’t have a magical stream of comments narrating his inner thoughts, I might have actually believed his nonsense.

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My stepmother is a notorious “black widow.” Rumor has it she cursed her two ex-husbands to death—and then my dad. The moment my dad died, she didn’t hesitate; she had him cremated immediately. When my dad’s mistress showed up with her son to demand a share of the inheritance, they were completely dumbfounded. My stepmother was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, beaming from ear to ear, counting stacks of cash. “I’m rich! I couldn’t spend all this money in a lifetime.” I hid behind the dining table, too terrified to make a sound. My relatives came running, wanting to adopt me. While I was hesitating… A string of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Is the plot starting already? The female lead is going to be taken in by her relatives and tortured! I can’t wait!] [These relatives have black hearts. Once they get her inheritance, they’re going to sell her to some remote mountain village.] [So what? The male lead will make up for all her childhood suffering with his love later! A pure white flower growing in adversity, meeting her savior when she grows up… OTP!] Me: ??? What kind of tragic female lead gets a story like that? Is it too late to cling to my stepmother for dear life? 1 Not too long ago, my dad married a new wife. I hid in the shadows, watching this newly minted stepmother. She was stunning—bright, charming, and delicate. I finally understood why my dad married her. Even knowing the rumors that she cursed her two previous husbands to death, he still went ahead with it. Just for that face, he probably thought it was worth it. These men all thought they were the victors, the ones who finally tamed the beauty. Unfortunately, they all ended up dead. My dad, in fact, died a mere two months after the wedding. Some suspected my stepmother was behind it, but no one could find a shred of evidence. They could only attribute it to the supernatural. They said my stepmother was too toxic, born under a cursed star—anyone who touched her died. The very day my dad died, several women showed up at our door with their kids, demanding their share of the inheritance. My stepmother, having clearly won the championship of domestic warfare against these types, unleashed her full firepower. “Uncle Wang, throw these filthy things out!” Cutting off someone’s money is like killing their parents; how could these women just let it go? My stepmother looked delicate, but her words were razor-sharp. She brought out my dad’s urn. “Oh, look, he’s already burned to ash! Guess we can’t do a paternity test now. But hey, you can always go down there and look for him yourselves!” The women burst into tears. “Are you even human? Liangping’s body wasn’t even cold before you had him cremated!” My stepmother smiled sweetly. “I touched him. He was cold. Ice cold.” That smile sent shivers down my spine. I silently scooted a little further away. Eventually, the crying and screaming women and children were dragged out by the bodyguards. My stepmother lounged comfortably on the sofa, in a fantastic mood, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “I’m rich! I couldn’t spend all this money in a lifetime.” “Shame about the extra baggage, though.” I watched her, smiling one second and frowning the next, completely too scared to make a peep. She seemed to think I was a burden. Was I going to be homeless? Thank goodness I had my uncle, who had doted on me since my mom passed away. He had said just yesterday that he was going to take me away. A short while later, my uncle and aunt arrived. My aunt had cried the whole way there; her eyes were red. “Yinyin, why did your parents have to leave so early?” “Poor Yinyin, a little girl with no parents… what is she going to do now?” My uncle patted my head, looking heartbroken. “Poor child. You’ll come live with your uncle and aunt from now on.” They looked at me with such genuine affection. I snuck a peek at my stepmother. She didn’t look like she wanted to keep me around. Everyone said she was evil, but I hadn’t felt it. To her, I was just a stranger, exactly like I was to my dad. The scales in my heart were slowly tipping toward my uncle. Just as I was about to speak… A string of floating text suddenly materialized in the air before me. [Is the plot starting already? The female lead is going to be taken in by her relatives and tortured! I can’t wait!] [These relatives have black hearts. Once they get her inheritance, they’re going to sell her to some remote mountain village.] [So what? The male lead will make up for all her childhood suffering with his love later! A pure white flower growing in adversity, meeting her savior when she grows up… OTP!] [This evil stepmother doesn’t look like a saint either. She probably can’t wait to throw the female lead as far away as possible.] 2 I didn’t understand all the words. What’s a “male lead”? What’s a “pure white flower”? Seeing that I hadn’t moved, my uncle and aunt’s tone turned impatient. “Yinyin? Your aunt is talking to you!” Were the “relatives” mentioned in the floating text my uncle and aunt? Would they really sell me? I started to hesitate, unable to make up my mind. My uncle made the decision for me. “Alright, you take Yinyin. I’ll go talk to Chloe about this.” Ignoring my resistance, my aunt grabbed my arm and forcefully dragged me toward the door. I burst into helpless tears. My stepmother stood up, looking annoyed. “What, trying to kidnap a child in my own house?” Like grasping at a life preserver, I wrenched my hand free from my aunt’s grasp and ran toward my stepmother. Before I could even touch her sleeve, she dodged me with a look of disgust. Twisting my fingers together, I finally called out that word: “Mom… I don’t want to go with them.” It was the first time I had ever called her Mom. A look of surprise flashed across my stepmother’s face. She was speechless for a moment. “You…” My uncle grabbed my arm again, talking over me to my stepmother. “The kid is just throwing a tantrum. She’ll be fine once we get her home.” He turned and glared at me fiercely. “Both your parents are dead! I’m your closest relative. If you don’t come with me, who else are you going to go with?” “Stop annoying your mother and come with us right now.” In that moment, I started to believe the strange floating words. Maybe they really were going to take me away and sell me. I looked up at my stepmother with pleading eyes. She was my last hope. My stepmother ignored the man’s words. She looked down at me from her imposing height. “Have you thought this through? If you stay, you’re my daughter from now on.” “And you’ll be responsible for taking care of me when I’m old.” I hesitated, then nodded. My stepmother shot a cold glare at my uncle. “Did you see that? She doesn’t want to go with you.” My uncle let out a dry laugh. “You’re still young. You can have your own children later.” “This kid is skinny, scrawny, and not very bright. Keeping her around will only cause you grief.” My stepmother scoffed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming. I am her legal guardian now. Without my permission, no one is taking her anywhere.” Seeing her firm stance and the bodyguards standing at the door, my uncle didn’t dare force the issue. He probed tentatively, “Um, didn’t her father leave a sizable inheritance? We could help her manage it, so she doesn’t waste it.” My stepmother nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Oh, yes. Lots and lots of money.” Seeing their eyes light up with greed, she added, “But it’s none of your business.” That really ticked them off. Just as my uncle was about to lunge forward… The bodyguards sprang into action, lifting the two of them up and tossing them out. The floating text reappeared: [Wait, why is the plot changing? Is the evil stepmother actually going to raise the female lead?] [Ahhh! What about my male lead?! The female lead was supposed to be sold to the mountains by her aunt and meet the kidnapped male lead!] [Maybe the stepmother is going to sell her instead! Don’t panic guys, let’s wait and see.] 3 After my uncle and aunt made that scene, even though I was young, I realized they weren’t good people. If I couldn’t trust them, who could I trust? My stepmother? Would she really sell me, like the floating text said? After my uncle left, I tried to make myself as small and invisible as possible around the house, hoping she wouldn’t notice me. I was terrified that one day she’d remember me, decide I ate too much, and sell me off to the mountains. But she seemed very busy and I barely saw her for days. I breathed a sigh of relief. One day, while I was sneaking around the kitchen looking for food, her voice suddenly rang out. “What are you looking for? Have you eaten?” I clutched the hem of my shirt and whispered timidly, “I ate, Aunt Chloe.” “You little brat. When you need something, it’s ‘Mom,’ but when you don’t, it’s ‘Aunt Chloe,’ huh?” She scoffed, sounding displeased. “I was busy the last few days. How have you been eating?” How had I been eating? The same as usual, of course. Whatever the maids left over was my food. I told her the truth. She opened the fridge, looked at the leftover chicken bones inside, and frowned. “So, this is what you usually eat?” I nodded. What else was there to eat? I was just the lucky one out of all my dad’s illegitimate children to actually be brought home. And only because my mother got sick and died, leaving me with no one to care for me. After my dad brought me home, he completely ignored me and rarely came back. I was utterly forgotten in a corner. The maids were shrewd. Seeing how my dad treated me, they started giving me the cold shoulder too. If I was lucky, I’d get leftovers. More often than not, I’d go hungry for the entire day. After a long silence, my stepmother muttered a curse word I didn’t understand, then summoned all the staff in the villa. She announced in front of everyone: “What is their status, and what is your status?” “As my daughter, you eat leftovers? If word got out, I’d be a laughingstock.” “Elena, look at these maids. Point out whoever bullied you.” 4 The next day, all the maids I pointed out were gone, replaced by a fresh batch of young college students working part-time. My stepmother said college students were cheaper, competitive, and worked harder. And the government encouraged hiring them. I didn’t really understand. Until I saw the floors being mopped three times a day and the dining table covered in a rotating array of gourmet meals. Then I started to get the picture. I sat carefully at the dining table, smelling the aroma of fresh food, not daring to pick up my chopsticks. My stepmother, resting her head on one hand, pushed the food toward me. “Finish all of this. You’re not allowed to leave until you do.” I gulped. Was this real life? I put on a performance of inhaling the food like a vacuum cleaner, which made her frown deeply. “You have to eat like this from now on. Otherwise, people will think I’m a wicked stepmother starving you.” I nodded enthusiastically while chewing. After I was full and satisfied, the floating text appeared again. [What is the evil stepmother doing? Fattening up the daughter to sell her for a better price?] [This plot twist is brilliant! Letting the female lead experience warmth before brutally abandoning her—the emotional damage will be even greater!] [Look at this little dumpling of a female lead, she’s so obedient! No wonder so many men fall for her when she grows up.] My stepmother leaned back, stretching lazily. “Stop sleeping in that doghouse. It doesn’t even look fit for human habitation.” “I had a room cleared out for you upstairs. You’re moving up to my floor.” The way she paused between sentences nearly gave me a heart attack. Her last sentence sent my heart straight into my throat. I couldn’t help but think of the floating text that had just flashed by. Was it true? Was she really going to fatten me up just to sell me? … I spent the entire summer break walking on eggshells. Finally, the first day of school arrived. Thanks to my stepmother’s constant feeding, my health had improved drastically, and my cheeks had even developed a bit of baby fat. My stepmother loved it. She couldn’t keep her hands off my face, pinching my cheeks every day. I didn’t dare get angry, nor did I dare complain. When I got to school, everyone noticed the massive change in me. The skinny, scrawny girl had transformed into a pale, clean, squishy dumpling. I was even wearing a brand-new dress. I sat down at my desk, and the girl behind me, Jessica, kicked the back of my foot hard. “Elena, where’s my stuff?” I knew she was asking for her summer homework. I kept my head down, not daring to speak. My summer homework had been torn to shreds by one of the maids who used to bully me, along with Jessica’s copy. Seeing that I didn’t have it, Jessica started kicking my calves frantically. “Just wait until after school!” Ultimately, because I couldn’t hand in my homework, the teacher singled me out and made me stand in the back of the classroom as punishment. Because Jessica’s family had money and power, the teacher turned a blind eye to her behavior, pretending not to notice. After school, to avoid her, I specifically took the side exit. But I was still caught. Jessica and her gang surrounded me, dragging and pulling me toward the restrooms. This restroom was secluded, and rarely did anyone go there. Even if someone saw, no one would dare speak up. Jessica kicked me in the chest and shoved my head into the sink. “You motherless freak! How dare you not do what I tell you to do?” “You must have a death wish!” With that, the group took turns punching and kicking me until I was too weak to fight back. They were smart; they only aimed for places covered by my clothes. That way, no one would notice anything wrong with me. I lay weakly on the ground, trembling from the pain. “I’ll let you off this time. If this happens again, I’ll have someone kill you!” … [The evil supporting female character is this ruthless even as a kid? I love the ‘mean girl’ persona!] [The plot was getting way too derailed before, but it’s finally getting back on track.] [The female lead doesn’t even fight back when she’s beaten! She knows no one will come to save her. She’s so pitiful!] Things like this happened every week. Any resistance from me only resulted in worse retaliation. A flicker of confusion crossed my face. It seemed like no one was really going to come and save me.

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For three years, I voluntarily erased my existence. I became a ghost before I was even dead. To pay for the experimental treatments that would wake my family from their comas, I accepted a contract that no sane person would sign. I spent a thousand days living in the subterranean mausoleum of a superstitious billionaire, keeping a silent vigil for his deceased son. I survived on a liquid “purification” diet that stripped the flesh from my bones and turned my blood into sludge. Finally, just before the holidays, the miracle happened. My parents woke up. Even my brother, Cole, whose mind had been shattered by the accident, regained his clarity. I thought the nightmare was over. I thought I was walking back into the light. Then, Cole sat me down on the edge of my hospital bed and shattered my reality. “Nora, you’ve done well these past three years. I think you’ve finally learned your lesson.” He smiled, a terrifyingly casual expression. “When we have Christmas dinner in a few days, I want you to sincerely apologize to Tessa. Do that, and we can be a family again.” The air left the room. My beloved family hadn’t been sick. There was no coma. No paralysis. No brain damage. They had staged the accident. They had played dead for three years simply because they felt I was too “arrogant” for beating their adopted daughter, Tessa, for Valedictorian. They wanted to “break my ego,” to teach me “humility.” They wanted to teach me a lesson about life. But they didn’t know the punchline: I was actually dying. Why couldn’t they have kept the lie going for just a few more days? … 1 The specialist pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, flipping through my chart with a furrowed brow. “This pathology is… bizarre,” he said, his voice dropping to a professional murmur. “It’s rapid, aggressive. It looks like accelerated decay. I’ve never seen a living body shut down like this.” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Miss Vane, have you considered signing a body donation directive? Given the rarity of your condition, research institutes would pay a premium. A significant premium.” At the time, my eyes had lit up. Even though Mom and Dad were “awake,” rehabilitation is expensive in New York. Cole had no income. They needed every cent. So, without a second thought, I signed my body away to science. But now? Now the ink on that form felt like a joke. Cole said it was all a lie. He said if I just apologized to Tessa—sweet, fragile Tessa—I could be his little sister again. My hands trembled as I shoved the donation paperwork deeper into my coat pocket. “Why…” My voice was a rasp, like sandpaper on stone. “Why tell me now?” Why not wait until I was in the ground? Why give me this cruel clarity right before the end? Cole rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortably like a boy caught stealing cookies, not a man who had destroyed his sister’s life. “Tessa said she didn’t like lying,” he muttered. “She said she couldn’t stand the guilt. She told us if I didn’t make you apologize, she wouldn’t come home for the holidays.” He chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. “That’s Tessa for you. Always thinking of others. While you were… away, she showed us your photos every day. She was so worried.” Ah. I see. I let out a dry, rattling laugh. The irony was a physical weight in my chest. Seeing my expression crumble, Cole moved to comfort me, his hand hovering near my shoulder. “Nora, don’t cry. It’s not that big of a deal.” “Think about it. When you took that Valedictorian spot from Tessa, she didn’t say a word. She suffered in silence. If Mom hadn’t noticed her depression, we never would have realized how ruthless you’d become.” He was talking about three years ago. The graduation. I beat Tessa by a fraction of a GPA point. I became Valedictorian. The whole school cheered. Teachers told me my hard work had paid off. But at the dinner table, my family looked like they were attending a funeral. But I earned it! I spent nights fueled by cheap coffee and panic, studying until my eyes bled, all for the scholarship money. They saw me. They saw the light under my door at 3 AM. Why was I expected to hand it to Tessa on a silver platter? Cole shook his head, disappointment radiating off him. “Nora, why don’t you get it? You lack basic empathy.” “Tessa lost her parents. She’s an orphan we took in. She’s sensitive, fragile. And you? You flaunted that first-place trophy like a weapon.” “I don’t understand how my sister became so cold-blooded.” For a second, my mind drifted. I remembered why I fought so hard for that title. Mom and Dad had promised: If you get Valedictorian, we’ll take a trip. Just the four of us. A real family vacation. 2 Ever since Tessa moved into our brownstone, I became a ghost in my own life. She was quiet, so my parents bought her the world to solicit a smile. She came with worn-out clothes, so Cole raided my closet, giving my favorite dresses to her, telling me I should be “generous.” Even at the family portraits, Tessa stood in the center. I was pushed to the edge of the frame. I was a child too. Didn’t I deserve to be seen? Did Tessa’s “sensitivity” mean I had to set myself on fire to keep her warm? And for the last three years… God. I dropped out of Columbia. I worked three jobs until my body gave out. Then I found The Contract. The wealthy eccentric in the Hudson Valley. He wanted a “pure soul” to lie in the sensory deprivation crypt next to his dead son’s sarcophagus. To “guide the spirit.” The pay was astronomical. It covered the best private care facility for my “vegetative” parents. For three years, I didn’t eat a solid meal. I drank their proprietary “cleansing tonic”—a vile, chemical sludge. I meditated in freezing darkness. I became skeletal. People who saw me on my rare breaks crossed the street, thinking I was a walking corpse. I looked at Cole now. His skin was flushed with health. His eyes were bright. Did they ever wonder what I was doing for three years? Something inside me snapped. A cable holding up the bridge of my sanity just gave way. I grabbed the plastic pitcher from the bedside table and hurled it at the wall. “Get out! Get the hell out!” “Why?! Why did you do this to me?” “I bet Tessa is laughing her ass off right now, isn’t she?” At the mention of Tessa, Cole’s concern evaporated. His face hardened into a mask of ice. He grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong. Too strong. “Nora, calm down. You’re being hysterical.” “This has nothing to do with Tessa. This was a decision Mom, Dad, and I made together.” “If you want to blame someone, blame us. Don’t project your jealousy onto her.” He straightened his cashmere sweater, glancing around the sterile hospital room with disdain. “We’re hosting a gala dinner in a few days. New Year’s Eve. Come home then.” “Today is Tessa’s college graduation. I have to go. I won’t let your drama ruin her big day.” The door clicked shut. I collapsed into the mess of spilled water and plastic, forcing myself to relive the wreckage of my short life. Cole was twelve years older than me. He practically raised me while our parents built their empire. My first word wasn’t “Mama,” it was “Cole.” He used to call me “Bug.” He used to look at me like I hung the moon. When did my brother become her brother? Once Tessa arrived, it was like a switch flipped. He only had eyes for the “poor orphan girl.” A wave of nausea hit me. I bent over and retched, coughing up a thick, black fluid. I wiped my mouth and remembered the doctor’s warning. If you want to buy yourself a few more days, avoid stress. Any emotional shock could stop your heart instantly. I had planned to arrange my affairs. Spend one last Christmas with them. Die quietly in my sleep, knowing I had saved them. But it was a scam. My sacrifice was their punchline. I took a deep breath, the air rattling in my fluid-filled lungs. I called an Uber. Destination: Columbia University. My dream school. The place I gave up to save them. The campus was alive with blue gowns and mortarboards. I remembered my birthday wish from four years ago. “I’m going to get into Columbia. I’m going to make you proud.” Mom had kissed my forehead. Cole had smeared frosting on my nose. “You get into Columbia, Bug, and you’ll be the star of this family.” I looked up. There they were. Mom and Dad, looking elegant and healthy in designer suits, flanking Tessa like she was royalty. Cole was beaming. “Tessa! Happy Graduation!” 3 “Thank you, Auntie. Uncle.” The girl who used to look like a frightened mouse was now a swan. She wore a tailored white dress under her gown, her smile practicing a perfect modesty. “And Cole… thank you. For everything.” Mom paused, feigning shock. “Oh, honey, why are you still calling us Auntie and Uncle?” “What should you be calling us?” Tessa blushed, burying her face in Mom’s shoulder. A muffled, sweet voice emerged. “Mom.” “Oh!” Mom’s eyes crinkled with pure joy. I hadn’t seen that smile in years. Not directed at me. For three years, I thought she was in a coma, her face bandaged, hooked up to machines in a private wing I wasn’t allowed to enter “for sanitary reasons.” I hated myself every day. If I hadn’t been so competitive. If I had just let Tessa win. It turns out, the coma was just a performance. A piece of theater directed by my mother to “fix” my personality. I stood behind a pillar, feeling like a sewer rat watching a royal wedding. Two students walked past me, their whispers drifting in the cold air. “How the hell did Tessa Vane get the Valedictorian award? She barely showed up to class. She was partying in the Hamptons every weekend.” “Shh. Money talks. I heard the Vane family donated a whole new wing to the library to secure her spot.” “Gross. And she does that whole ‘I’m so humble’ act. I heard she told the Dean she ‘didn’t feel worthy’ while her dad wrote the check.” I laughed. It was a wet, broken sound. tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know how much a library wing cost. I only knew that one day of ICU care for my “sick” parents cost me three days in the coffin. In that mausoleum, the air was stale and cold. When the stone lid slid shut, the darkness was absolute. Outside the stone, the hired mourners chanted. Inside, I lay perfectly still, terrified that if I moved, I’d disrespect the spirits. I wasn’t scared for myself. I was scared for them. Just hold on, Nora. Just one more day. Dad needs the ventilator. The darkness ate away at my mind. The “tonic” ate away at my stomach. Even the billionaire’s staff told me to stop. “Miss Vane, this is… it’s too much. The boy is dead. You’re alive. Please, go home.” I knelt before them, begging. “Please. The doctors said my mom moved her finger today. I need the bonus. I need them to walk again.” I sold my life, hour by hour, for a lie. I wiped my face and blended into the crowd. I watched them. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run up to them and tear their happiness apart. Am I not your daughter? Is blood nothing to you? I steeled myself. I stepped into their path. I lifted my head, ready for the confrontation. But they walked right past me. They didn’t recognize me. I was so gaunt, so withered, that my own parents looked through me like I was a dirty window. Cole even extended a hand to guide Tessa away from me, as if I were a beggar who might infect her. “Watch out, Tess. Keep moving.” 4 It felt like a physical slap. I stood frozen. They didn’t know who I was. As they walked away, Tessa paused. She glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes met mine. She smiled. A small, knowing curve of her lips. She didn’t say anything, but the message was loud and clear: I won. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Cole. “Nora, today is Tessa’s big day. I don’t want you showing up and causing a scene with your mood. Stay away. Understand?” “Be a good girl. Come home for New Year’s Eve.” New Year’s Eve? Would I even be breathing by then? I shook my head, wandering through the campus like a lost spirit. At least I got to see my dream school one last time. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the billionaire’s estate manager. “Nora? Look, I know you’re… retired. But we have a crisis. The caterer for a big event tonight is short-staffed. VIP clients. Easy work, just passing trays. Triple pay.” “I sent you the address. 7 PM.” He hung up before I could say no. Since my body failed, they had pre-paid some of my medical bills out of pity. I didn’t want to owe them. He called it an “advance on wages.” I looked at the address. The world tilted. It was my old house. The Vane Estate. When the “accident” happened, money hemorrhaged. I sold everything I owned. I couldn’t afford the mortgage on the estate with them in the “hospital.” I put the house on the market. A buyer scooped it up immediately for a suspiciously low price because I was desperate for cash. That money paid for three months of fake ICU bills. I looked at the banner hanging over the front gates: CONGRATULATIONS TESSA. They hadn’t lost the house. They had bought it back—or never really sold it. They probably used a shell company to buy it from me for pennies, stripping me of my inheritance while I thanked them for it. I put on the black server’s uniform. It hung off my skeletal frame. The head of catering barked orders. “The daughter, Tessa, is the jewel of this family. Do not spill anything on her. Do not look at her wrong. Or you’ll never work in this town again.” I kept my head down. I just wanted to work off this debt and go find a hole to die in. But the universe wasn’t done with me. Twenty minutes into the party, Tessa found me. “Sister? What are you doing here?” She was wearing a crown. A literal diamond tiara. She looked like a princess from a fairy tale. “I only heard about the… financial trouble recently. Are you okay?” She covered her mouth, feigning shock. “I already scolded Cole. How could he let you work as a servant? It’s so embarrassing.” “He promised me he’d apologize to you. Did he say sorry yet?” Her smile was flawless, but her eyes were dead. Predatory. I didn’t look up. “Excuse me, Miss Vane. I have work to do.” I tried to step around her. She stepped into my path, caught her heel on her own dress, and threw herself to the floor with the grace of a trained dancer. “Nora! I didn’t mean to steal your family! Please don’t push me!” 5 Before I could even process the act, a hand struck my face. Hard. My father. “Nora Vane! How can you be so vicious? I thought you had learned your lesson!” The room spun. My stomach churned, acid and blood mixing. Mom rushed to help Tessa up, checking her for imaginary wounds. She looked at me with deep, sorrowful disappointment. “If you want to be angry, be angry at us. Why attack Tessa?” “It seems the punishment was too light.” Punishment? What crime had I committed that required a death sentence? “Just because I got first place?” I whispered, the words bubbling up with iron-tasting saliva. “That’s why you tortured me?” Dad sighed, adjusting his cufflinks. “So, you know everything.” “Good. It was getting exhausting keeping up the charade.” “Yes,” he nodded, looking at me like he was explaining gravity to a toddler. “You are supposed to be the heir to Vane Enterprises. We have three hundred employees. They don’t need a selfish, arrogant CEO.” “You beat Tessa. You gloated. If we didn’t stop you, what would you do next? Crush a competitor? Destroy a family for profit?” “This was character building, Nora. We wanted to teach you sacrifice.” Sacrifice. I didn’t steal that grade. I didn’t cheat. I studied while Tessa slept. Is effort a sin? Is excellence a crime? Before I could speak, Dad turned to Tessa, beaming. “Some people just can’t be fixed. But Tessa… Valedictorian of Columbia. Humble. Kind. I’m not a stubborn man.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Tonight, I am proud to announce that Tessa will be the future CEO of Vane Enterprises.” Mom and Cole clapped, their faces glowing with pride. “As for you,” Dad looked at me with disgust. “Tessa is kind enough to offer you a monthly allowance.” “Admit your mistake, apologize to your sister, and take the money.” A monthly allowance. I laughed inside. I was a dead woman walking. What use did I have for money? And Tessa… the snake in the tiara… she would never let me see a dime. I looked at them one last time. I swallowed the blood rising in my throat. “Since you love Tessa so much,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You can just pretend your daughter Nora died three years ago.” I turned to leave. I couldn’t breathe the air in this house anymore. “Go!” Dad shouted. “If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back for Christmas!” Cole’s eyes flickered with a sudden, confused panic. He took a step toward me. “Dad, that’s too far. She’s still family.” Even Mom looked uneasy. But before anyone could say another word, a scream ripped through the crowd near the entrance. “Oh my god! She’s coughing up blood! Someone call 911!”

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I was a prim and strict secretary to CEO Aaron Kingston. In three years of work, I had never made a single mistake. Until this day, I ran into Aaron at a bar. I was drunk, and I rushed over, treating him like a dog and lecturing him all night. Afraid of losing my job, the next day I claimed he had encountered my twin sister. Aaron stared at me thoughtfully, and after a long pause, said, “Your salary goes up by two thousand every month. Send me your sister’s contact info.” 1 As exhilarating as last night was, that’s how utterly humiliated I felt now. Aaron Kingston sat in his office, his thin lips bearing a hint of blood, his long neck still showing distinct scratch marks—all my handiwork from last night. Guiltily averting my gaze, I thought I’d misheard him. I instinctively asked, “Pardon me, what did you just say?” My distraction caused Aaron’s brow to furrow slightly in displeasure. But he repeated, “Send me your sister’s contact info.” “May I ask what this is about?” “Personal business.” After a moment of silence, I said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingston, I may not be able to help you. Actually… my sister and I aren’t very close.” Aaron raised an eyebrow slightly, and I braced myself, continuing, “You may not know, but my sister and I parted ways after our parents’ divorce, and I haven’t been in touch with her for a long time.” “Not in touch for a long time, yet she called me ‘Kingston’s dog’?” Aaron scoffed. “Yesterday, your sister was quite rude to me. I’ve never met her before, so unless you mentioned me to her, how would she know who I am?” At that, my hairs stood on end. How could I have forgotten that part! Last night, I really had lost control. Drunk, I’d run into Aaron, marched up to him, and slapped him across the face. “Bold Kingston’s dog, why do you not kneel before your queen?!” It had completely stunned him. I don’t remember anything after that. When my memory started to return, Aaron was stripped down to just his tie, his hands tied behind his back in an X-shape, kneeling before me, calling me “Queen.” The thought made me mortified all over again. I cleared my throat. “Well, there’s still a tiny bit of contact, we’ve exchanged a few jokes, I didn’t think she’d take it seriously…” “My sister is just impulsive and reckless. If she offended you in any way, please don’t take it to heart.” “It’s already taken to heart,” Aaron said expressionlessly. “I won’t make things difficult for you. Find an opportunity to ask her. I believe she’d be happy to add me as a friend.” With that, he waved his hand. “You may leave.” Walking out of the office, my rigidly held posture finally crumbled. 2 I was known for being a prim and proper secretary. Meticulous in my work. Reserved with people. For three diligent years, I’d never made a single mistake. But in truth, being a secretary wasn’t my career plan. I intended to use it as a stepping stone to earn Aaron Kingston’s recommendation. Last week, I learned that a branch company was being formed, and there was a managerial position open. Aaron, as the head of the project, had absolute recommendation power. A few days ago, I had submitted my application, and the results hadn’t been announced yet. As soon as I reached my desk, a few colleagues gathered around. “Cara, has the transfer list been decided?” “No.” “It should be you, right? Mr. Kingston trusts you so much; it feels like there’s no one else.” “I think so too. Apart from the boss, Cara is the busiest person in the whole company. She probably hasn’t had a full weekend in three years, has she?” I smiled and shook my head. “Not necessarily. The boss has his own plans.” But despite saying that, I still held some hope. To my surprise, the next day, Aaron called me into his office. “The recommended candidate for the new company’s general manager position has been submitted to the OA for the board of directors’ approval and announcement.” I glanced at the list. Elaine Foster. She joined the company at the same time as me. The only difference was that I was assigned to the CEO’s office, while she remained in the business department. I held the list without moving. Aaron looked at me strangely. “Anything else?” “May I ask why I was passed over?” He was surprised I would ask. “No reason. You’re not suitable.” I pressed further. “Where am I not suitable?” Aaron’s eyes showed displeasure. “The new company needs someone who understands business, is bold, and innovative. You’re conservative and meticulous, too focused on minor details. You’re fine for administration, but not suitable for market development.” “But I…” “Alright, let’s not discuss this further. The list has been finalized on my end. Your job is to execute.” With that, his face darkened, and he lowered his head to review documents, ignoring me. This was his way of refusing further discussion. Aaron Kingston was known for being particular, with many strict rules. He liked his water at 45 degrees Celsius, only drank black coffee, wore only black jackets, and even had a preferred angle for his computer monitor. For three years, I meticulously observed his every habit, fearful of crossing his boundaries. Now, all I got was “too focused on minor details.” My heart completely sank. Taking a breath, I decided to speak again. “Mr. Kingston, there’s one more thing I need to report.” “Speak.” “You asked me to speak to my sister earlier. I’ve asked for her opinion.” Aaron’s expression softened slightly, and he looked up at me again. “What did she say?” “She said yes.” Aaron’s lips curved upwards. He hummed. “Alright, just send me her contact.” Then, thinking of something, he corrected himself: “No, you send her my contact. I’ll add her myself.” 3 After the list was released, I received many condolences that afternoon. “Mr. Kingston must have been reluctant to let you go. After all, you’re his confidante.” “It’s a competency trap. Mr. Kingston probably thought he wouldn’t find a suitable secretary without you.” “And for a new company, I think Mr. Kingston wanted a man. Women really don’t have an advantage in the workplace.” On the surface, I pretended indifference, saying I didn’t care much. But internally, my molars were grinding. Damn you, Aaron Kingston. This time, I’m going to make you regret this! Before leaving work, I registered a burner account. My profile picture was a side profile taken during my university days. Wearing a black slip dress, with wavy red hair cascading over my shoulders, I looked completely different from my current self, with my thick glasses and meticulously combed hair. After confirming there were no other issues, I pushed the contact card to Aaron Kingston. Soon, he added me. I accepted his request and was the first to reply: [Heard you were looking for me?] He replied almost instantly. [Yeah, shouldn’t someone be responsible after hitting a person? My knees still hurt.] [Then your kneeling posture must not have been up to standard.] [You’re right, it’s all my fault.] Before I could reply, he sent another message. I opened it. It was a picture. A selfie of a man kneeling behind an office desk. His face wasn’t visible, but the suit trousers indicated it was him. [Are you satisfied now, Your Highness?] Hiss—Playing such a dangerous game! I suddenly gasped, instinctively turning my phone away. But inexplicably, there was also a hint of secret excitement. I subconsciously glanced at Aaron Kingston’s office. The door was tightly closed. I couldn’t see what the person inside was doing. I tapped my phone, changing his contact name to [Aaron’s Dog]. When it was time to leave, a colleague leaned over. “Cara, it’s the department team-building tonight. Whose car are you riding in?” I paused, realizing it was the department’s annual dinner. The venue was a bar. But I was allergic to bars lately, so I immediately declined. “I have to work late, so I won’t be going.” As expected, a look of sympathy immediately appeared on their face. “The boss’s work pace is really insane. Only you in the whole company can keep up.” I forced a bitter laugh, not elaborating. It wasn’t until everyone from the department had left that I finally relaxed. My arms were sore from slapping him last night, and I wanted to take this chance to go home early and catch up on sleep. As I was shutting down my computer, footsteps sounded behind me. “You didn’t go to dinner tonight?” Although I didn’t particularly want to see Aaron Kingston right now, due to the promotion list, I managed not to show it, forcing myself to perk up. “No, I still have some work to do.” “Are you done now?” Unsure of what he was up to, I conservatively said, “Almost.” “Then I’ll wait for you. We can leave together shortly.” I paused. “Leave? Go where?” “Team building.” I was a bit surprised. “You’re going too?” Aaron Kingston raised an eyebrow. “What, I’m not allowed?” I immediately put on my professional fake smile. “Of course, you can go.” The ride was silent. Aaron Kingston sat beside me, crossing his legs. I remembered the photo he sent me, kneeling on a stool. I couldn’t resist glancing at him. He caught me looking. “Something wrong?” “It seems you have a scratch here. Do you need a band-aid?” In my nervousness, I blurted out a random excuse, pointing to his Adam’s apple. Then I immediately regretted it even more! That spot on his Adam’s apple was where I had bitten him! Aaron Kingston frowned slightly, opened his phone, and checked his front camera. His voice immediately cooled. “No.” I didn’t dare say anything. Unexpectedly, the next second, my phone started vibrating wildly. Aaron’s Dog: [You bit my neck.] Aaron’s Dog: [And your sister saw it too. How am I supposed to explain this?] I glanced at my phone screen, afraid Aaron Kingston would notice anything. I didn’t dare reply. Aaron Kingston tapped his fingers on his knee. Then he started texting again. Aaron’s Dog: [Hello? Why aren’t you answering?] Aaron’s Dog: [I’m not blaming you, just asking~] Aaron’s Dog: [Are you seeing someone else behind my back?] His typing speed was a bit too fast. I didn’t even have time to put my phone on silent. In the quiet space, my phone vibrated like crazy, doing a full dance. Aaron Kingston grew impatient, casting a glance at me. “Isn’t your phone a bit too loud?” he sneered. “Who is it, talking so much nonsense?” I quickly turned on “Do Not Disturb” and gave a couple of awkward laughs. “Sorry, my dog at home accidentally hit the keyboard.” 4 I was already annoyed, and then when I arrived at the bar, I discovered Elaine Foster was there too. My footsteps faltered. My stomach churned with renewed discomfort. Before, Aaron Kingston never attended department team-building events. Could it be that he knew Elaine was coming and came specifically for her? My established persona was always that of a professional, calm, prim secretary. I greeted everyone as I entered and then retreated to a corner. Everyone was used to my personality and didn’t pay much attention. Elaine saw Aaron Kingston and immediately stood up enthusiastically, surrounding him. She smiled and asked, “Mr. Kingston, I’m crashing your office team building. You don’t mind, do you?” Aaron Kingston lifted his eyelids. “Whether I mind or not, you’re already here, aren’t you?” That single sentence left Elaine completely speechless. Aaron Kingston was notorious for his sharp tongue. Elaine clearly hadn’t experienced it much. The woman’s expression stiffened. She said, “Mr. Kingston, I’d like to toast you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to gain experience at the new company.” Aaron Kingston subconsciously glanced at me. He cleared his throat. “No need for such thanks. It’s just picking the best from a bad bunch; we couldn’t find anyone else suitable.” Elaine froze again. I, who had been secretly enjoying the moment, suddenly realized something was off. Did that remark just insult me too?! I frowned, pulled out my phone, switched to my burner account, and opened the [Aaron’s Dog] chat. [Slap yourself. Right now, this instant!!!] Beside me, Aaron Kingston’s phone screen lit up. I could visibly see his expression turn strange, and he replied with a question mark. [Why?] Me: [Do I need a reason to give an order?] Me: [What, you can’t even do such a small thing?] Aaron Kingston pursed his lips: [It’s a company dinner tonight, surrounded by subordinates.] [Be good, I’ll let you do whatever you want when we get back tonight, okay?] Me: [No.] Me: [I can find someone else tonight.] The next second, Aaron Kingston raised his hand and slapped himself across the face. The private room fell into an awkward silence for a few seconds. Elaine was the first to react. “Mr. Kingston?” “Mosquito.” A mosquito in a bar’s private room in the dead of winter. I believed it. Elaine believed it too. After slapping himself, he looked down and sent me a message. Aaron’s Dog: [I just hit myself.] Me: [Oh.] Aaron’s Dog: [Satisfied?] I denied it. [I wasn’t even there. How would I know if it was real?] Aaron’s Dog: [Are you inviting me over?] Aaron’s Dog: [The left side hasn’t been slapped yet. Want to try tonight?] Me: ? Help me. This man is truly not normal! By the time the party ended, the red mark on Aaron Kingston’s face hadn’t faded. Truly worthy of being the CEO. He could be so hard on himself!

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