Category: English

I was seven months pregnant when my cover was finally blown. The man who once claimed to cherish me—the crown prince of the Moretti Syndicate—didn’t hesitate. He shattered my teeth with the butt of his rifle, broke my ribs with his boots, and dragged me into the pits of a black-site dungeon. I miscarried in that cold, dark cell. He took the tiny, lifeless body away, and I never saw him again. Five years later, a little girl crawled into my cage and whispered: “Mommy, Daddy’s drunk. He’s crying, and he says he misses you.” 1 Five years ago, Silas Moretti beat me until the world went black, carried away my stillborn child, and vanished from my life. Since then, my world has been four damp walls, a bucket, and the endless dark. On the nights when the silence became a physical weight, I’d catch a rat just to have someone to talk to. It’s a miracle my mind hasn’t completely snapped. But my body? My body is a different story. Years without sunlight, the moldy air, the rancid scraps they call food—every joint, every old break, every inch of me screams in perpetual pain. This little girl is the first living soul to speak to me in half a decade. She said: “Mommy, Daddy’s drunk. He’s crying, and he says he misses you.” I stared at her, uncomprehending. Why was she calling me Mommy? Who was her father? I tried to answer, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. My vocal cords had withered from years of disuse. Panic flared in my chest, triggering a violent coughing fit. A spray of blood splattered across the girl’s pristine white dress. Terrified, she scrambled back and fled into the shadows. Great, I thought, slumped against the stone. More trouble. Usually, when the guards were bored or frustrated, they’d break in just to use me as a punching bag. They still haven’t forgiven me for the intel I leaked five years ago—the bust that crippled their empire, killed their men, and forced Silas to flee across the border with a handful of survivors. When they found out I was the mole, I became the Syndicate’s favorite target. They called me a traitor. I almost want to laugh. I never betrayed my badge. How could I be a traitor? Silas used every torture technique in the book on me. I begged him to kill me. “No,” he had growled back then. “I’m keeping your pathetic life. As long as you’re breathing, Leo will come for you.” Leo Vance. My husband. He was a detective, my partner, and my soulmate. His head is the only thing Silas Moretti wants more than my suffering. 2 Clang. Clang. The heavy iron gate groaned open. Steady, rhythmic footsteps echoed against the damp stone floor. This wasn’t the guard who usually tossed my slop through the slot. I retreated into the furthest corner, my eyes wide with a primal fear. The intruder held a half-empty bottle of bourbon. The sharp, boozy scent instantly filled the cramped cell. He put a cigarette between his lips. The flare of a lighter cut through the dark. The flame illuminated a face of sharp, chiseled angles and eyes that burned with the cold, predatory hunger of a wolf. Five years had passed, but I knew him in a heartbeat. My former “lover.” The king of the Moretti Syndicate. Silas. He leaned against the rusted bars, exhaling a cloud of smoke. The only sound was the faint crackle of the tobacco. “Elena. It’s been a while,” he rasped, his voice like gravel. I didn’t speak. I had forgotten how. “We’re moving,” he said, talking more to himself than to me. “The heat is picking up in this sector. We’re heading further out. We’ve made enough money to disappear forever. The men… they want me to leave you behind. They want me to put a bullet in your brain.” Do it, I thought. End this misery. “But I want your death to serve a purpose,” he continued. He stepped into the cell, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. His breath reeked of whiskey. The pressure he exerted was suffocating. “I need you to bring Leo Vance to me.” I met his gaze with absolute stillness. No anger. No joy. No hope. The void in my eyes infuriated him. He lashed out, his palm cracking against my face. Suddenly, blood began to pour from my nose. He hesitated, his hand hovering. “I didn’t even hit you that hard…” He hadn’t. The blood wasn’t from the blow. It was the sickness. I could feel my body shutting down. Death was already knocking. If I was going to die anyway, why would I ever help this monster hurt my husband? Silas used the sleeve of his expensive white shirt to wipe the blood from my face, then suddenly hauled me into his arms. I tried to struggle, but he held me in a death grip, resting his chin on my matted hair. “Elena, listen to me. Just listen,” he whispered, his voice dripping with a lethal kind of persuasion. “Did you see that girl? Her name is Mia. She’s your child. That baby five years ago? She wasn’t stillborn. She survived. You help me take down Leo, and I let Mia live. If you don’t… I’ll make you watch as I throw her into the sea.” I stopped struggling. My heart froze in my chest. 3 For the first time in five years, I was dragged out of the pit. The moment the morning sun hit me, I shrieked and scrambled for cover like a blind animal. Silas didn’t care. He dragged me by the arm, hauling me into a sprawling, opulent villa. Several women in heavy makeup were lounging on the massive leather sofas in the living room. “Silas…” they cooed, standing to greet him. One of them immediately pressed herself against him, kissing him deeply. Right in front of me, Silas returned the kiss with a savage, performative passion. “Bianca,” he said to the woman, “take her upstairs. Clean her up. Get rid of the smell.” Bianca shot me a look of pure venom. “Move it, bitch.” It took Bianca and two other women an entire afternoon to scrub the filth and the shame off my skin. Hot water hit my skeletal frame, revealing every jutting rib. I looked like a ghost draped in pale skin. Five years of hell had turned Elena Vance—the bright, fierce star of the DEA—into a hollow shell of a woman. Bianca roughly brushed my hair, her voice a low, sharp hiss. “Don’t get comfortable. Silas isn’t the man he used to be. If you want to survive another day, you stay invisible.” “Bianca. Out,” Silas’s voice boomed from the door. She gave me one last warning look and scurried out. Silas stood behind me, watching my reflection in the mirror. His long, calloused fingers traced my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Then they began to slide beneath my collar. I winced, my disgust flashing across my face for a split second. His hand stopped. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. “Look at you!” he spat. “You’re a walking corpse! No man would even look at you if you were naked!” “Daddy!” a small voice rang out from the hall. Silas’s grip instantly loosened. He let go of my hair. “Daddy! You finally let Mommy out!” Mia ran into the room, looking at me with wide, earnest eyes. “Mommy is so pretty! But she’s too thin. You need to eat more, Mommy.” I looked at her, and my vision blurred. Was she truly mine? Could this beautiful, innocent thing have come from my broken body? “Mia, how about Daddy takes us out for steak tonight?” Silas asked, his voice transforming into something terrifyingly tender. “Yay!” Mia cheered, jumping with joy. I couldn’t understand how a child could be so pure in a den of vipers. On the drive to the restaurant, she never stopped smiling, her eyes glued to the world passing by the window. Silas spoke to her with a gentleness that seemed impossible for a man who had broken my ribs. I watched them—this “father and daughter”—and my mind drifted back twenty years. To when I was five years old. 4 My father was a cop. He was always on duty, undercover, away from home for two hundred days out of the year. Every time he came home, I was overjoyed, clinging to his leg and peppering him with questions. On my fifth birthday, my parents promised to take me to McDonald’s. I was sitting on the back of my father’s bicycle, holding a colorful pinwheel. The wind made it spin and spin. The gears of fate began to turn with it. I only remember a series of deafening bangs. I tumbled off the bicycle. The world turned into a blur of blinding red. My parents lay in a pool of blood. I don’t know how long it was before a man ran over, scooped me up, and covered my eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” … That man took me home. At first, I didn’t eat, didn’t speak, and didn’t cry. I was an empty shell. The man had a son, Leo. Every day, Leo stayed by my side, talking to me, trying to make me laugh, playing Cops and Robbers with me. Later, we went to school together, did our homework together, and eventually entered the same police academy. After graduation, we joined the same precinct as homicide detectives. We solved major cases together, bled together, and sweated together. One year, I was injured on a mission. Before I was pushed into the operating room, Leo held my hand, crying as he told me he loved me. “Elena, you have to survive. I’m going to marry you.” Neither of us had ever dated anyone else. We knew we were waiting for each other. After I recovered, Leo took a day off on Valentine’s Day to take me to the St. Jude’s botanical gardens to see the winter roses. The snow sat heavy on the red petals. It looked like a classical painting. Under the winter roses, Leo proposed. We held each other and vowed to protect one another forever. 5 As we were leaving the gardens, a young man in a sharp black suit brushed past us. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled on Leo’s sleeve. “Does he look like someone we know?” Leo nodded. “I noticed too. Silas Moretti.” The Moretti Syndicate. We had been investigating them for two years, but they were shadows. We could never find a way in. But here was Silas, delivering himself to us. I wasn’t letting him go. “You go back,” I told Leo. “I’m going to tail him and see what he’s doing here.” Leo knew my temper. Once I decided on something, there was no turning back. “I’ll wait at the bottom of the hill. Stay safe. Do not engage.” I followed Silas into a small chapel. He knelt before the altar, lighting three candles and whispering a prayer. What, was he trying to seek redemption? Impossible. Silas Moretti was the iron fist of the syndicate. He was cold, ruthless, and psychotic. Heaven doesn’t take devils like him. He finished his prayer and left. I couldn’t tail him further, so I approached the usher. “Does that handsome guy come here often?” “Yes,” the usher replied. “A few times a month.” I had a bold idea: I would get close to Silas. I would infiltrate the Moretti Syndicate. Leo was violently opposed. I threatened to call off the wedding if he didn’t let me take this shot. “Leo,” I said. “This is the last one. Once the Morettis are gone, I’m quitting. I’ll take a desk job, marry you, and have your kids. Deal?” Leo didn’t speak. He was still furious. I staked out the garden for two weeks before Silas returned. I stood not far from him while he lit his candles. When he stood up, he turned and locked his piercing gaze onto mine. He walked toward me. Good. You caught his attention. “You’ve been watching me,” he said. “Do I know you?” “Maybe we should get to know each other,” I replied confidently. “Why?” “Because… you’re very handsome.” I made sure to blush as I said it. “Ridiculous,” Silas muttered, turning away. But every time he came to the chapel after that, I was there. Finally, one day, he said, “Beautiful, let me buy you dinner.” 6 I became Silas Moretti’s “girlfriend.” He brought me into hidden clubs and underground casinos. I fed every scrap of intel to the precinct. My superiors were terrified. They wanted me out. Silas was too dangerous. But three days later, Silas was taking me to a high-level meeting. It was the jackpot. I promised my captain that after this, I was done. I got the intel. I witnessed a massive illegal arms deal with an international cartel. After the deal, Silas was riding high. He had been drinking. He looked at me, a dark fire in his eyes. “Elena. You have an incredible body.” I felt a cold chill. In the two months we’d been together, he hadn’t touched me. He didn’t fully trust me. But today, he had let me into his inner circle. He trusted me now. And I had to prove my “loyalty.” He pulled me onto his lap and started unbuttoning my shirt. I grabbed his hand. His eyes narrowed. He picked up the gun on the table and pressed the barrel against my forehead. “Strip.” … I walked home in the light rain, my coat wrapped tightly around me. Leo had called eight times. I finally answered. “Leo… we need to break up.” I turned over all the evidence on the Morettis, filed my resignation, and disappeared. Seven months later, when Leo finally found me, my stomach was heavy. I was seven months pregnant. He held me tight. “Elena, the Morettis are gone. You’re safe. Marry me. Let me take care of you forever.” We chose a small restaurant in a neighboring town for a quiet wedding. Mostly Leo’s family and friends. His captain officiated. The weather was terrible. Dark clouds gathered in the afternoon, and by evening, a storm was raging. “Leo Vance, do you take Elena More—Elena Vance to be your wife? To love and protect her, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?” “I do.” 7 The memories faded as the car continued to move. The scenery outside grew more desolate. This didn’t look like a place to get steak. Finally, the car stopped in front of an abandoned factory. Silas told his men to watch Mia, then dragged me inside. “Before dinner, we have a little business,” he told me. “The cops caught my brother. I agreed to a prisoner exchange. You for him.” He turned on his radio. “Snipers in position. Once the exchange is made, the moment the cops try to take Elena away, open fire. Leave no survivors.” He grabbed my hair. “Tell me, do you think Leo Vance is the one coming for you? Your precious Leo?” I smiled. “You better pray he isn’t. He’ll bury you.” My smile enraged him. “You goddamn traitor!” Traitor? I never betrayed my faith. Twenty minutes later, the radio crackled. “Boss, they’re here!” Silas and his men racked their guns. The factory door opened. Three men walked in. The man in the middle was Silas’s brother, Marco. The other two? I didn’t recognize them. But they had the look of my former colleagues. Silas narrowed his eyes. “Where is Leo? Why didn’t he come?” “Silas Moretti! We brought your man!” the plainclothes officer shouted. “Let’s make the trade!” “I said Leo Vance personally! Are you screwing with me?” Silas roared, cocking his pistol. The tension was a physical weight. “Si… Silas.” It was the first time I had spoken in five years. “K-keep Marco. Let the two officers… go.” He shot me an icy look. “Why the hell would I do that?” “I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.” He ignored me. I slowly dropped to my knees, begging. “Don’t make me go. I want you. I want Mia. Let the three of us go… far away. Please?” His cold expression cracked just a fraction. He finally lowered his gun. “Leave Marco. You two cops, get the hell out!” On the drive back, Silas sat in a stony, dark silence. Mia was quiet too, playing with her toy. It was a realistic-looking toy gun. Back at the villa, Silas barked, “Bianca, take Mia upstairs!” As soon as they were gone, Silas spun around and slapped me across the face. “You think you deserve to be Mia’s mother?” He squeezed my throat. “If Leo doesn’t show his face, I’m going to kill you myself, you demon!” I just laughed. Blood poured from my nose into my mouth, staining my teeth. I probably did look like a demon. Silas let go in disgust, and I collapsed. I was dragged back to the hole. Familiar dark. Familiar damp. Familiar silence. I almost felt safe here. I curled into the corner, staring. I had learned how to zone out over the last five years. When I did, the memories would float and shift. Leo, Silas, my parents, my adoptive family. They were all so real. Clang. Clang. The iron gate again. It wasn’t mealtime. A flashlight beam cut through the dark. Behind it was a woman. It was Bianca. “Elena. Come here.” She gestured to the bars. She shoved a plastic bag into my hand. “Painkillers. They might help.” I didn’t understand why she was suddenly kind. Before she left, I asked her to leave the flashlight. I pulled a photo from under my pillow. By the light of the flash, I looked at the man in the picture. The only photo I had left of him. A handsome face in a police uniform. Bright eyes. A sunny smile. Leo, it’s been a long time. My mind drifted back five years.

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The world didn’t know it, but he was the real stand-in. At 2 AM, my ex called, saying he wanted to get back together. With red eyes, I agreed. But from the other end of the line erupted a thunderous roar of laughter. [I told you guys, this woman, Emily Vance, as long as I crook my finger, she’ll shamelessly crawl right back to me.] I didn’t get angry. I just asked him if what he just said still counted. [Nathaniel Hale, as long as you come back, you can do whatever you want to me…] Deathly silence on the other end. [Emily Vance! I’m fucking Liam Sterling! You better explain right now, who the hell is Nathaniel Hale?!] 1 In the middle of the night, I was running a slight fever. In a groggy haze, I heard my phone ring. I answered it. There was a lot of noisy commotion, and it took a while before a man’s magnetic voice reached my ear. [Emily, I miss you.] That familiar voice made my eyes instantly tear up. For the past few months, I’ve been relying on sleeping pills just to close my eyes. Hearing his voice again, I couldn’t help but choke up. [I miss you too.] Soon, the voice spoke again. [Emily, let’s stop fighting. Let’s get back together.] The man’s voice was like rich red wine, instantly intoxicating me. After the high fever, a layer of sweat coated my body, soaking through my clothes. My long nails dug into the edge of my phone case. I could barely suppress my sobs as I eagerly nodded in agreement. But then, a burst of thunderous laughter erupted from the phone. [Liam is the man! Two sentences and he’s got his ex-girlfriend begging like a dog!] [People actually fall for the middle-of-the-night ‘let’s get back together’ routine? Liam, where did you find this weirdo? When you were together, she treated you like a king. It’s been three months since you broke up, and she’s still hung up on you.] [That’s just our Liam’s charm. When they were together, he’d tell her to get lost and she would, obedient as a dog.] [One time, Liam was out on a date with another woman, and with one phone call, Emily came over just to drop off condoms.] [Are there really people that pathetic?] [That’s our Liam’s charm. I’ll take this penalty drink.] Unbridled mockery poured from the phone, finally replaced by Liam’s voice again: [I told you guys, Emily Vance is pathetic. As long as I crook my finger, she’ll shamelessly cling to me.] Liam’s voice was still deep and magnetic, but laced with a hint of smugness. Then, he said to me: [Emily, we’re playing Truth or Dare. Thanks for taking a drink for me.] His tone was dismissive, and he sounded ready to hang up. But I didn’t want to miss this hard-won opportunity. I pressed him urgently: [Did you mean what you just said?] He froze. Even the background music seemed to quiet down a bit. [Emily, are you sick in the head? You didn’t actually think I was calling you in the middle of the night to get back together, did you?] Liam cursed at me. I ignored him, persisting: [You said it, and I agreed.] As I spoke, I couldn’t hold back my cries. My voice took on a pleading tone, lowering myself to the absolute dust: [Nathaniel Hale, as long as you come back, you can do whatever you want to me…] No response from the other side. For a long, long time, it was a deathly silence. Then, a furious, low growl from Liam: [Emily Vance! You better explain right now, who the hell is Nathaniel Hale?!] 2 Nathaniel Hale. That name accompanied me throughout my entire youth. In a daze, I was transported back to when I was sixteen, the summer I first met Nathaniel. Those were the hardest days of my life. My grandmother, who I had always depended on, passed away. I became like a wild dog completely off the leash, letting myself rot in the mud. Caught in another vicious fight, my homeroom teacher issued a final ultimatum: if my parents didn’t show up this time, she would report me to the school board for expulsion. I didn’t care. Leaning lazily against the wall, I said indifferently: [My dad is in Canada, my mom is in Thailand, and I can’t reach either of them. Do you want me to invite my grandma up from the grave?] [Emily Vance!] My homeroom teacher, enraged by my attitude, grabbed me by the collar to drag me to the expulsion office. That was when Nathaniel Hale appeared. He hurried over and stepped in front of me. His first words were: [I’m sorry I’m late. I’m Emily’s older brother.] Brother? I froze, and so did the teacher. The teacher froze because the man standing before her had a clean, sharp aura, looking like he belonged to a completely different world than me, with my messy hair and heavy makeup. I froze because I never expected my parents to have an illegitimate child this old. So, I was extremely resistant to him. [Bullshit, I don’t have a fucking brother!] I cursed loudly, lunging forward to push him away. But Nathaniel, despite looking slim and refined, easily pinned me with one hand while calmly communicating and apologizing to my teacher. He promised that from now on, he would keep a strict eye on me. Due to his pleading, the teacher decided to give me one last chance. Nathaniel practically dragged me home. On the way, he shoved me into a hair salon, getting rid of my chaotic, colorful hair and the heavy makeup. The mirror revealed my original face. He stared at me for a moment, then smiled and ruffled my hair: [Look how nice you look as a student.] I didn’t dodge; instead, I took the opportunity to bite down hard on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. I failed. He caught my chin instead. [Tsk, such a fierce little girl?] [Get lost! I’m calling the cops, you kidnapper!] I mumbled my curses, my jaw held tight. Even though Nathaniel was very good-looking, it didn’t stop me from hating him, especially when he smiled—it was blindingly bright. I cursed, kicked, and hit him. Nathaniel didn’t get angry. He let me throw my tantrum. Only when I settled down did he slowly explain: [I’m not a kidnapper. Your parents entrusted me to take care of you.] [Bullshit. They don’t care about me. Otherwise, why didn’t they come back when Grandma died?] I tried to act like I didn’t care, but I still choked up when I yelled, glaring at him with red eyes. My cheeks felt a little itchy, and a little wet… Nathaniel fell silent. He let go of me, and after a long while, he promised: [Once you get into college, they’ll come back.] I thought for a moment and replied: [They’re dreaming.] 3 Whether I agreed or not. Nathaniel forcefully moved into my house. During that time, I called the police, but Nathaniel actually produced a legally binding guardianship document, signed by my parents, completely shutting me up. I gave up and started treating him like he was invisible. We had a two-bedroom apartment. I had one room, and Grandma had the other. Now he moved into Grandma’s room, and he really started acting the part, preparing three meals a day and taking care of the daily cleaning. A free maid? Why not. Once I figured that out, I accepted it with peace of mind. Except one thing was really annoying. He nagged me to come home every day after school. No matter which shady internet cafe I hid in, he would always catch me red-handed. As soon as I got home, he checked my homework. If I said I didn’t understand, he would actually sit by my side and explain it to me. Whatever I didn’t understand, he could teach. [Nathaniel Hale, tell me the truth…] Caught and dragged home yet again, I couldn’t help but ask: [Did you get bound to some mission system? If I get into college, do you get points or wealth? Or get cured of a terminal illness?] Nathaniel flicked my forehead. [Going to college is for yourself.] [Why go to college?] I rubbed my forehead, complaining: [I don’t even want them to come back…] [Do you really not want them to come back?] Nathaniel interrupted me, looking at me with a very serious tone: [Don’t you want to prove to them that even if you’re all alone, you can become excellent?!] My fingertips curled, and my heart surged slightly. He had a tiny teardrop mole at the corner of his eye. I looked into his eyes; they seemed to hold a galaxy, shining so brightly… 4 Midterm exams. I went from second to last to the top fifty in my grade. When I got my report card, no one around me could believe it. I was so happy. My mind was full of how to tell Nathaniel the good news that night. I’d lie and say I was still second to last, then extort a meal of braised pork ribs out of him. Nathaniel’s braised pork ribs were seriously delicious. I was thinking happily, but before school even ended, I was called into the homeroom teacher’s office… She suspected I cheated and wanted to cancel my score. That night, I went to a bar. 5 Nathaniel bailed me out of the police station. According to the police officer: During a spot check, the police caught a bunch of minors in the bar. I was the most conspicuous one, drunk in my school uniform, twisting and shaking on the dance floor with a bunch of shady characters, having the time of my life. Nathaniel’s face was very dark. I saw him whisper something to the police officer, sign a document, and then walk over to take me out of the station. Actually, I hadn’t drank that much, and after standing in the drafty police station hallway for so long, I was mostly sober. All the way home, Nathaniel didn’t speak to me. Seeing his stern face, I got angry too. I was about to storm into my room when he stopped me: [Stop! Don’t you have anything to say?] That one word ignited all the rebellion in my body. [I don’t need you managing me! Are you my dad, or my mom?! Do you really think a piece of paper gives you the right to control me?!] Nathaniel strode toward me. Even though he was skinny, when he kept a straight face, his aura was terrifying. Standing in front of me, he was a full head taller. Looking down at me, his face as cold as frost, his tone harder than ever before: [Do you know how disappointed your parents would be if they saw you like this?!] Hearing that, I slammed my backpack down as hard as I could and screamed hysterically: [How disappointed could they be?! The grass on their graves is taller than I am! What the hell do they know?!] I saw the ice on Nathaniel’s face crack, piece by piece. The air was stagnant for a long time before his deep voice finally broke the silence: [When did you find out?] My fists were clenched tight. The feeling of the alcohol rushing to my head returned, and my whole body felt uncontrollably hot. Biting my lip, I looked into his eyes and enunciated every word: [Stop treating me like a child. I understand everything. My parents have been dead for a long time! You hid it from me, and my grandma hid it from me too… I know a lot. I also know that they were undercover agents, and you’re a cop too!] 6 Groggy. Memories flooded my mind like a tidal wave, making my already throbbing head feel like it was splitting open. On the phone, Liam was still demanding an answer. I snapped back to reality and replied instinctively: [Where are you? I want to see you right now.] I missed him so much. I really, really wanted to see him right now. The other side went silent. I heard mocking banter in the background—some calling me shameless, others saying I was playing hard to get, and some teasing Liam, asking if he was getting anxious. Finally, Liam sent an address. I didn’t even bother getting dressed up; I just hurried over. When I got to the bar, Liam’s group was still there. Seeing my pale face, Liam, sitting right in the middle, froze for a second. [Emily, we haven’t seen each other in a few months and you look like you’re… dying?] I didn’t care. Ignoring all their mocking stares, I approached him. But when my eyes adjusted to the dim light and I saw Liam’s face clearly, an indescribable wave of fury washed over me. [Where is your teardrop mole?] I reached out and grabbed his chin, frantically inspecting his face. I hadn’t seen him in a few months. Liam’s face was different. The corners of his eyes, his nose bridge… and more importantly, the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye, the one just like Nathaniel’s, was gone… He didn’t look like Nathaniel anymore! Annoyed by my grabbing, Liam pushed me away roughly, his tone impatient: [That mole was ugly as sin. I’ve wanted it removed for ages. It looks much better now.] He touched his face, smiling confidently. But I suddenly started tearing at him like a madwoman. [Who told you to remove it?! You don’t look like him at all anymore!] I had searched so hard to find someone who looked so much like him, and now Liam had ruined it. In my anger, I turned my wrath on the man in front of me, getting up to leave, but my arm was forcefully grabbed. [What do you mean? Like who? That guy named Nathaniel Hale? Emily Vance! You better explain to me right now, who the hell is Nathaniel Hale?!] Liam finally remembered his previous question and interrogated me sharply. Someone tried to break up the fight. [Liam, calm down. Emily is definitely playing hard to get…] [Exactly. This guy probably doesn’t even exist.] Hearing this, Liam’s expression softened, and the look he gave me became a bit more contemptuous. He said: [If you want to get back together, show some sincerity. Don’t just make up some random ‘Nathaniel Hale’ or whatever, using a fake person to mess with me…] Before Liam could finish. I slapped him across the face. With one hundred percent of my strength. [Who are you calling fake?! Nathaniel Hale isn’t dead! He isn’t!] [Emily Vance, have you lost your mind?! Are you psycho?!]

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They say the night bus doesn’t just carry the living. I didn’t buy into that kind of urban legend. Not until I took the wheel for the graveyard shift. A few months ago, my life was totaled—literally. I survived a wreck that left my skull fractured and my memory full of holes. I knew who I was—Mason, born in the Rust Belt, blue-collar roots—but the accident itself was a blank tape. I just knew it was bad. After they cut me loose from the hospital, I was desperate for cash. That’s when I saw the flyer fluttering on a wet sidewalk: Transit Authority Driver Needed. Night Shift. Rural Route. High Pay. I used to drive rigs before the crash. Figuring it was fate, or maybe just dumb luck, I made the call. When I pulled up to the depot, my optimism died a quick death. The place was a concrete scar on the edge of town, half-swallowed by dead ivy and stained with years of water damage. A few buses were scattered around the lot like discarded toys, their doors rusting, their bodies dented. I couldn’t figure out how this fleet passed inspection. … The supervisor was a man named Hank. He looked like he was carved out of granite—forty-something, stiff, eyes that didn’t blink enough. After a test drive, he gave a curt nod. He pointed to the saddest vehicle in the lot, a beat-up 17-seater shuttle. “You start tonight. That’s your rig.” He laid out the route. 10:30 PM sharp. Depart from the Central Terminal, drive out to the turnaround at Blackwood Creek, rest for twenty minutes, drive back. “Five grand a month. Full benefits. Extra thousand for the night differential. You good with that?” Good? It was a lifeline. It was too good to be true. I walked into his office, ready to sign my life away. Hank stopped me, his hand heavy on my shoulder. “Mason, we run a tight ship. There are three rules. You break them, you’re out.” I nodded, desperate not to blow this. “Name them.” “First,” he said, deadpan. “You need to be unattached. Celibate. No women, no dating while you hold this contract. Purity of focus.” “I… I’m single. Haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” I was weirded out. I expected safety protocols, not a morality clause. “Good.” The tension in his forehead smoothed out. “Second: From the Terminal to Blackwood, there are five stops. You do not stop unless you are at a designated station. You hold at every station for exactly three minutes. Understood?” “What if a passenger is running late? Or needs extra time?” Hank shook his head. “Irrelevant. Stick to the protocol.” “Okay.” “Finally. Once the clock strikes midnight, you drive straight back. Doesn’t matter who flags you down. You do not stop.” He grabbed his coffee mug, signaling the end of the discussion. “Agree to these three, and the job is yours.” “Done.” I needed the money too badly to ask questions. I signed the paperwork, moved my stuff into the grim employee dorms that afternoon, and by 10:00 PM, I was heading to the bay. The bus was even worse than it looked in the daylight. The door hung loose on its hinges, and there was a jagged hole in the floorboard that whistled when the wind hit it. I checked my watch. Ignition. The outskirts of the city were brutal. No streetlights, just potholes and shadows. It took fifteen minutes to hit the first stop, a desolate patch of gravel called Willow Run. A guy with a briefcase became my first passenger. He was young, dressed like a junior associate at a law firm, but his face was slack, expressionless. He climbed on and walked straight to the back row without a word. No fare, no pass. “Hey, buddy,” I called out. “You gotta pay the fare.” He froze. He looked at me like I was speaking a dead language. After a long, awkward pause, he fished some loose change out of his pocket and handed it over. Something about him felt off. I kept glancing in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look at his phone. He didn’t close his eyes. He just pressed his forehead against the cold glass and stared into the blackness. Probably just burnout. We’re all hustling just to survive these days. The road was washboard-rough. It took half an hour to rattle our way to the second stop. Before the wheels even stopped rolling, the Suit stood up. As he passed the driver’s seat, he turned his head. “You should leave early. No one is getting on at this stop.” “Can’t do it. Policy says three minutes.” I answered automatically. By the time I turned to ask how he knew, he was gone. Swallowed by the night. “Fast walker,” I muttered. I waited. He was right. No one showed up at that stop, or the next three. It wasn’t surprising given the hour and the location, but it settled a heavy feeling in my gut. I finished the route, arriving back at the depot around 2:00 AM. The next morning, Hank cornered me while I was grabbing coffee. “First night go okay?” “Fine,” I said. “One weirdo in a suit. Tried to stiff me on the fare, but I made him pay.” “It doesn’t matter,” Hank said quickly. “We don’t rely on ticket sales for profit. Let him slide.” I swear I saw a tic in Hank’s jaw, a spasm of nerves, but he smoothed it over instantly. The second night, the Suit was there again. Same routine. Briefcase. Back row. Staring at nothing. This time, remembering Hank’s advice, I didn’t ask for money. At the second stop, he stood up. “Leave early. No one is coming.” At first, I thought he was messing with me. But a week went by, and he was my only passenger. Every night, same stop, same exit, same prediction. I joked about it to Hank. “Kid thinks he’s psychic. He’s never wrong.” Hank’s hand froze halfway to his mouth with a cigarette. “Don’t talk nonsense. It’s just coincidence.” Of course, the pattern broke the very next night. It was my eighth shift. I dropped the Suit off at stop number two. I tried to make small talk. “Let me guess, nobody’s coming tonight except you?” He offered a thin, cryptic smile. “Except for me? No one will ever get on your bus.” Then he vanished into the dark. I waited the mandatory three minutes. I was starting to feel foolish, wondering if this whole bus route was some tax write-off scheme designed just for that one guy. Then, a voice boomed from the darkness. “Hey! Open up!” I jumped. A bald, middle-aged man was pounding on the glass. I chuckled. So much for the psychic. The bald guy—let’s call him Tucker—seemed frantic. As soon as the doors hissed open, he scrambled inside. He scanned the back row where the Suit usually sat, his face draining of color. “Drive,” he wheezed. “Please, just drive.” But as soon as we pulled away, his panic evaporated. He sauntered up to the front, leaning on the safety rail. “First week, huh kid?” “Yeah,” I said, eyeing him. “How’d you know?” “I ride this route a lot.” Tucker grinned. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out. “Smoke?” “No thanks. And you can’t smoke in here.” “I don’t smoke usually,” he said, lighting up anyway. “Only when I’m on this bus.” I wanted to yell at him, but the bus was empty, and honestly, I was lonely. Tucker was chatty. He asked if the isolation got to me. I deflected, asking what he did for a living that kept him out so late. He didn’t answer. He just laughed, a dry, rattling sound. When we hit the third stop, Tucker flicked a loose cigarette onto my dashboard. “Take it. For the nerves. You’re gonna need it, seeing as no one else is gonna get on.” I took the cigarette, confused. Why is everyone repeating the same lines? I waited at the stop. Nothing. I shook my head, ready to pull out. Suddenly, a woman burst out of the shadows, running into the middle of the road. She was clutching a bundle in her arms. “Stop! Please!” I slammed on the brakes, the bus screeching to a halt inches from her hip. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Are you crazy? Running out like that with a kid?” She climbed on, breathless, apologizing over and over. “It’s fine,” I sighed. “Just be careful.” I looked at the bundle. It was a boy, maybe five or six, wrapped in layers of wool despite the mild weather. His face was visible—and it was wrong. Pale, with a bluish tint on his forehead. “Is he okay?” I asked. “He looks sick.” She didn’t answer, just hurried to the back. The boy lifted his head from her shoulder. His eyes were dark, like polished obsidian. He blinked at me. “Thank you, Mister.” He was smiling, but his skin looked like old bruises. “Listen to your mom,” I said, forcing a smile. “You’ll feel better soon.” “Okay,” the boy whispered. “But Mommy says I’m not gonna get better.” A chill went down my spine. Terminal? God, that was tragic. I drove them to the terminal at Blackwood. As she got off, the woman turned. She looked me dead in the eye and smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile; it was seductive, unsettlingly intimate. My ears burned. When I got back to the depot, Hank was waiting on the tarmac. He offered me a cigarette immediately. “How was the run?” “Fine.” I waved him off. “I’ve got one.” I picked up the cigarette Tucker had left on the dash. Hank’s eyes widened. He stared at the cigarette like it was a loaded gun. “Where did you get that?” “A passenger gave it to me…” I stopped. I looked at the thing in my hand. It was wrong. The filter was black with rot. The paper was stained brown, damp, and smelled like wet earth and decay. It smelled like a grave. I gagged and tossed it out the window. Hank looked pale. “Throw that away. Don’t take things from strangers.”

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For a year, I endured the bullying of the school’s alpha, Lucas Rothwell. When my head was viciously held underwater in the grimy sink, his face would twist into a mask of savage satisfaction. I never understood why he targeted me. Until that day, when in my struggle, I tore the chain of his cherished pocket watch. The photo inside—a picture of my mother and him—revealed the truth. He was my older half-brother. The son my mother had, in her deepest disappointment, given up. He bullied me because he hated me. That night, returning home, I no longer hid my bruises. When my mother asked, her voice laced with concern, I burst into tears. “Mom, someone at school is bullying me. Will you stand up for me?” 1. Ding-a-ling— The sound of the dismissal bell sent a shiver through my body. The moment my teacher left the classroom, I snatched my backpack and bolted. But I was caught at the bottom of the academic building. A few slacker guys saw me, their eyes lighting up. “Lucas was right! The little wretch was trying to run!” I was trembling all over, instinctively turning to escape. But as I spun, a strong hand grabbed my collar. I caught a faint scent of cigarette smoke from him… It was Lucas. The ringleader of the year-long torment I’d endured. This is it, a wave of despair washed over me. Soon, I was dragged between them, up to the top floor. This floor had no classrooms, only an abandoned restroom. This was their “sanctuary,” where they terrorized me with impunity. I never understood why, out of so many students, Lucas had singled me out. This secondary school had both a middle school and a high school section. I was just starting seventh grade, while he was already a junior. I couldn’t fathom why someone as ordinary as me could evoke such intense hatred in him. From the very first day I enrolled, he had appeared in my line of sight. He just stood there, outside my classroom, watching me with eyes like a viper, fixed on its delectable prey… When he bullied me, his face would sometimes contort into a grimace of twisted pleasure. Bang— I was shoved violently into the restroom. My body slammed against the dilapidated door, my arm aching. “Didn’t we tell you to come up here on your own after school?” A boy raised his hand and slapped the back of my head. “What the hell are you running for?” Seeing my silence, he slapped my face again. These were Lucas’s hangers-on, his “enforcers.” I clenched my fists, struggling to speak. “Today is my mom’s birthday. I want to go home and celebrate with her.” I was so terrified that I didn’t notice Lucas, who had been leaning against the wall with an impassive face, suddenly darken at my words. He strode over quickly, roughly pushing aside the boy in front of me. Lucas was tall and strong. He grabbed my collar, forcing me to stand on tiptoes to look at him. “What do you think you are…?” Lucas gritted his teeth, his eyes twitching slightly, his breathing unsteady, as if he was struggling to contain something. Before I could grasp the reason for his sudden outburst, he hauled me to the sink. The water in the basin was filthy and foul, probably unchanged for centuries. Lucas, without the slightest hesitation, slammed my head into the water. A suffocating sensation overwhelmed me, and I thrashed wildly. I had a terrifying feeling Lucas truly wanted to kill me… Why? My hands flailed incessantly, trying to grasp anything I could. In my struggle, my hand caught on Lucas’s clothes, my fingers snagging the chain around his neck. “You little bitch! Let go!” Someone pulled my hands away, but the chain snapped, too. The metallic clink echoed as it hit the ground. Lucas seemed to snap out of a trance, abruptly letting go. Exhausted, I collapsed to the floor, gasping for fresh air. When I came to my senses, I saw Lucas, uncharacteristically, scrambling on the ground, searching for something. His expression was panicked, his hands even trembling slightly. “Where is it? Where is it?!” he roared. “Find it for me, damn it!” His stunned cronies quickly snapped to attention and began searching on the floor. Watching their unusual behavior, my fingers curled slightly, accidentally brushing against something. I glanced down. It was a delicate pocket watch, broken open. Inside, was an old, somewhat blurry photograph. But my pupils dilated in shock, because I recognized the person in the picture. My mom… Before I could get a closer look, Lucas snatched the watch. He held it carefully, rubbing it repeatedly with his designer clothes, treating it like a precious treasure. “It’s broken, the watch is broken,” he mumbled, almost obsessively, then turned and quickly walked out. “Lucas,” a boy asked uncertainly, “what about this wretch?” “Whatever!” Lucas was fixated on the watch. “I need to get this watch fixed. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent!” 2. Thanks to that pocket watch, I had a rare chance to go home early today. A cold wind blew on the way home. My clothes were already half-wet, and now the chill felt biting. But I barely noticed it, my mind a chaotic mess. The moment I closed my eyes, I could see that photo in the pocket watch again. The gentle, beautiful woman was my mother, in her younger days. So, who was the little boy she was holding? Was it Lucas? What was their relationship? I’d always known my mom had been divorced once before and had another child. I was the child she had with my father after their remarriage. My parents had never hidden this from me. But I couldn’t connect Lucas with my mother’s previous child… But if Lucas really was my older half-brother, then all my questions finally had answers. Why he targeted me, bullied me… Because he was abandoned by our mother, so he hated me. Why did he threaten me after bullying me, telling me not to tell anyone at home? He also said his family was powerful and could easily shut down my mother’s flower shop… Because he was afraid. Afraid I would tell Mom. He was afraid Mom would find out he was bullying me! The more I thought, the more startled I became, my heart thumping uncontrollably fast. I started to run, the cold wind sharpening my thoughts. I had to ask Mom to confirm! What was usually a twenty-minute walk, I ran in ten. My mom looked surprised when I returned. “Home so early today?” Every day, Lucas bullied me, and to keep my mom from worrying, I’d lied, saying I was studying late at school. To prevent her from noticing anything, I always pulled down my long sleeves to hide the bruises on my arms before coming home. Mom, wearing an apron, came out of the kitchen and smiled at me. “Go wash your hands quickly, dinner will be ready soon.” Her gaze lingered on my hair for a moment. “Why are your hair and clothes a bit wet?” “I… an old lady spilled water on the sidewalk and accidentally splashed me.” “Then go take a bath quickly, don’t catch a cold.” I nodded, dropped my backpack, and went to my bedroom to get a change of clothes for a shower. When I came out, Mom had already finished dinner. Dad was away on a business trip and wouldn’t be home for a while. I sat at the dining table, looking at my mom’s gentle face, and hesitated before speaking. “Mom, I have a question for you.” Mom placed a chicken leg in my bowl. “Eat while it’s hot. What’s the question?” I deliberated for a moment, then asked, “Mom, do I have an older brother? What’s his name?” Mom’s hand, holding her chopsticks, paused, and the smile on her face stiffened slightly. “Why are you suddenly asking that?” “Just… a little curious.” Mom remained silent for a long time, barely eating any of her meal. I suddenly regretted it. I shouldn’t have asked, Mom suddenly looked so unhappy. But after dinner, Mom called me into her room. She handed me a photograph. “His name is Lucas Rothwell. He’s my first child.” I took the photo, my hands trembling slightly. This photo was identical to the one in Lucas’s pocket watch. 3. Eleanor Hayes hadn’t thought about that child in a long time. After all, she had long since acted as if she had never given birth to him. If her daughter hadn’t brought it up today, she might not have recalled him for a long time, nor would she have thought about her first failed marriage. She should have cut her losses when her husband started staying out all night. But her repeated concessions allowed that man to test her boundaries again and again. He began to smell of other women’s perfume. He would brazenly take his lovers on trips, claiming to be away on business. Eleanor was heartbroken. She believed that even if her husband betrayed her, the son she had given half her life to bear would always be on her side. But she was wrong. Despite showering Lucas with boundless patience and tenderness, giving him all the love she could, Lucas ultimately disappointed her. She heard little Lucas holding that woman’s hand and calling her “Mom.” He said his mother was messy and annoying, always nagging him, and that he wished he had a pretty, gentle lady for a mom instead. From that moment, Eleanor understood: Lucas was just like his father, an ungrateful wretch through and through. She was utterly disillusioned with this family. During the divorce proceedings, Eleanor relinquished custody of Lucas, striving to secure the best possible settlement for herself. She even remembered the reactions of the man and the little boy when she moved out of the Rothwell home. The older one was relieved. The younger one was ecstatic. “Yes! I can get a new mom! This is great!” Each cheer was like a thorn, piercing Eleanor’s heart. And like a knife, it severed the last shred of attachment she felt for that son. 4. After listening to Mom, I gently placed the photo on the table. “Mom.” I tugged at her hand. When she looked over, I slowly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the large and small bruises on my arm. “What is this?!” Mom grabbed my hand, her voice changing. “Did someone hit you?” I swallowed my tears and nodded slowly. “Mom, someone at school is bullying me. Can you come to school tomorrow and stand up for me?” … The next morning, when I arrived at school, my desk partner silently moved her desk away from mine. My own desk was overturned on the floor, its contents spilled out, covered in dirty footprints. I quietly righted my desk and glanced around. My classmates pointedly avoided my gaze. They were isolating me. Or perhaps, they were afraid of being associated with me and facing Lucas’s retaliation. During the break after the first period, a classmate I was fairly close with finally couldn’t hold back and followed me to the restroom. “Chloe Thorne, how did you get Lucas Rothwell so angry?” “I heard you broke his favorite possession, is that true?” “Is he just looking for an excuse to bully you?” My silence was taken as an affirmation. “That’s terrible!” At fourteen, the age of bursting righteousness, she frowned. “Why don’t you go to the teachers?” I paused. Teachers? Why hadn’t I? Either they would dismiss it as typical childish squabbling, vaguely pacifying me before sending me away. Or, upon hearing that Lucas was the aggressor, the teachers would pass the buck like a hot potato. After all, our school had an entire laboratory building sponsored by the Rothwell family. Anything involving Lucas was a hot potato to them. No one was willing to deal with it. Or rather, no one dared to. In the evening, after school, Lucas and his cronies cornered me again. His face was dark, and he seemed to be in a very bad mood. I noticed he wasn’t wearing anything around his neck. Had the pocket watch not been repaired? So, was he here to punish me today? My righteous classmate was, after all, still a child. Faced with boys several years older than us, she too felt afraid. She stood at the corner of the hallway, watching me being led upstairs. She hesitated for a long time but ultimately didn’t take a step. She squatted there, frustrated, running her hands through her hair. Suddenly, a pair of high heels appeared before her. She looked up. It was a beautiful, gentle lady. “Hello, student. Are you in class 7B? Have you seen my Chloe Thorne? I’m here to pick her up.” 5. Lucas pushed me into the abandoned restroom. I tripped over a broken mop handle near the door and fell directly to the ground. My face scraped against some stacked tiles in the corner of the restroom, and a sharp sting immediately flared. I propped myself up, feeling a warm trickle on my face. My hands trembled, afraid to touch it. Lucas’s reaction, however, was even more intense than mine. He knelt down, looking at my face, visibly panicked. “You cut your face…” He had always avoided my face when he bullied me. “You know what to say when you get home, right? Huh?” Lucas gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice laced with urgency. “Speak!” “You can only say you fell! Do you hear me?!” I ignored his sudden outburst. I just stared blankly, looking towards the door. Because of this unexpected incident, Lucas’s hangers-on were all crowded at the doorway, peering in. None of them had noticed when another person had appeared outside the door. I looked at my mother, who was so shocked she hadn’t spoken for a long time, and called out in a trembling voice. “Mom, it hurts…” “Chloe!!” I never thought someone as slender as my mother could unleash such powerful force. She pushed aside the boys blocking her path, rushing straight in, and pulled me into her embrace. “Mommy’s here! Don’t be scared, Chloe! Mommy’s here to stand up for you.” She carefully checked the wound on my face, her eyes red. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have come earlier.” She had planned to come earlier that morning, but I had stopped her. It was the grand opening of her flower shop branch today, a very important event. So, I had only asked her to pick me up after school that evening… I huddled in Mom’s arms, looking at Lucas, who was now utterly stunned. Mom also snapped out of her shock. She angrily turned, her gaze fixed on Lucas. The moment their eyes met, Lucas almost frantically looked away. Mom, too, unconsciously frowned. She found the despicable teenager before her somewhat familiar. Lucas felt incredibly tormented under her scrutinizing gaze. He turned, about to leave, but Mom stood up and grabbed his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going?! My daughter is beaten up like this, and you just think you can walk away?” … Lucas looked at the woman before him, his mother, who seemed almost unchanged from his memories. He parted his lips slightly, wanting to say something, but ultimately, no words came out. In his memory, his mother had once stood up for him with such fierce determination. He was small then, only five years old. Mom had taken him to the playground, and he was pushed down by an older child. Mom picked him up, patiently comforting him. Then, she marched angrily to confront the child and their parents. He clung to his mother’s neck, his frightened soul finding solace in that moment. He felt Mom was like a brave warrior. She seemed invulnerable and would never let him get hurt. But in the end, the person who hurt Mom the most was himself. He was swayed by the beautiful woman who often took him out to play. She told him that his mother, who fiercely fought for his interests, wasn’t gentle or elegant, and would embarrass him. She said his mother, who only knew how to bathe and cook at home, was incompetent and useless. The beautiful woman also said that a mother who truly cared for him wouldn’t hit or scold him, but would give him lots of candy and fulfill all his childish wishes. Little Lucas believed her. He thought that this beautiful woman, right before him, was the best mother in the world. He didn’t understand anything back then. So, he didn’t understand why Mom looked so disappointed and sad when she left that house. He also didn’t understand why the beautiful woman completely changed once she became his mother. He thought his mom would come back. But it was only now that Lucas finally realized. His mother wasn’t coming back. His mother had another child. His mother was even standing in front of him, and she didn’t recognize him.

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Chapter 1 Arthur cheated on me with a female subordinate who was twelve years younger than him. After I found out, he chose to return to our family. Until I accidentally saw an unsigned text message on his phone. [I’m getting married tomorrow. Can you come to Seattle to see me one last time?] It takes three hours to drive from our city to Seattle. If he left now, he would get there around 1:00 AM. Watching my husband pack his suitcase, I said softly: “Taking that many clothes, are you planning to sleep with her again?” “Oh, do you need me to pack a box of condoms for you two?” Arthur tilted his head back, his face showing a level of exhaustion I had never seen before. “Mia, I already chose you. What more do you want?” “Are you really not going to be satisfied until you drive me to my grave?” I remembered the look of sheer panic on his face when I caught him and Lily renting a hotel room. And just like the betrayed wives on TV, driven by absolute rage and heartbreak, I tore into them, hitting and scratching. I took photos of their disgraceful affair and exposed them online. Lily lost all face. Shortly after being fired from the company, she moved back to her hometown. Because of the scandal, a massive contract Arthur had secured fell through, and he was fired from his position as a director. And under the “condemnation” of his own conscience, he knelt before me, apologized, and returned to our family. After returning, he yielded to my every whim. If I said go east, he didn’t dare go west. Even when he was in the crucial stages of launching his own startup, he took on the unprecedented pressure of caring for our one-month-old daughter just so I could get a good night’s sleep. In just one short year, apart from being a bit busy and tired, his new company had gotten on track and was steadily improving. As his status rose, he enjoyed the prestige and admiration of those around him. It was as if he faced no karma at all. Oh, except for the early days when he overworked himself and caught a few severe colds. And this was what he called me driving him to his grave? How ironic. I smirked. “Arthur, how do you have the nerve to say that?” “Did you forget you swore you would never go looking for her again?” Arthur folded his clothes back into the closet one by one, finally closing the suitcase. “Mia, it’s been a long time since we visited Director Lee and the kids at the orphanage. Let’s go together tomorrow.” “Let’s go to sleep early before the baby wakes up. You know how fussy she gets when she’s fully rested.” Arthur’s nonchalant face held a trace of gentleness. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, but I didn’t feel the pain. I absolutely hated this act of his—dodging the issue and pretending everything was fine. He was the one who made the mistake! Why could he act so calm and collected?! I mocked him, “What about Lily? You love her so much. If you don’t go to Seattle, aren’t you afraid she’ll be heartbroken? Or are you afraid lightning will strike you for breaking your vow?” His expression remained placid. “Mia, those kids love the meat buns from that shop on the south side. Remember to bring some tomorrow.” Arthur was always like this. The colder and more detached he appeared on the surface, the more intense the emotions he hid inside. That was how he used to be with me, and it was how he still was with Lily. I couldn’t help but want to tear off his hypocritical mask. I pulled open a drawer, took out a stack of letters, and fighting down the nausea churning in my stomach, I read them aloud, word by word, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, you are like a cloud in the sky, untainted by a single speck of dirt. Seeing you made me realize such pure, crystal-clear goodness truly exists in this world.” “Everyone says clouds easily scatter, but I insist on keeping you, this precious cloud, hidden in my heart. Year after year, I will protect you and keep you as pure as the day we met.” Chapter 2 “All I seek in this life is to drift alongside you, never to be separated from dawn till dusk.” “Lily, the woman sharing my bed is not the one holding my heart. Only in the deep of the night, when dreams return, can I see your face as it was—so pure it makes my heart tremble.” A crack finally appeared in Arthur’s facade. He completely lost control and roared, “Shut up! Mia, I just made one mistake! Haven’t I atoned enough over this past year?!” “It’s in the past! Why do you always have to hold onto it?!” With a cold laugh, I grabbed a pair of women’s panties embroidered with twin lotus flowers and threw them at his face. “I’m holding onto it? Yeah, the love letters you wrote to her were so moving, I just had to collect them. A constant reminder to you that hidden in your heart is a pure, beautiful Lily!” “And furthermore, is that what you call atonement? Penny isn’t just my daughter. Taking care of her is just you fulfilling your basic responsibilities!” Arthur had always been romantic. When he loved someone, he constantly did cheesy things like this. In the past, I would pretend to be grossed out, but secretly, I loved it. I thought he would only ever love me in this life. Until one day, while cleaning out of boredom, I found this stack of paper in a box at the very bottom of his bookshelf. Over the course of two years, he wrote five hundred and twenty-one love letters for her. The twin lotus panties Lily gave him were her response to his deep affection. It was like I had opened Pandora’s box. The demons inside instantly devoured my soul. That day, due to the extreme emotional distress, I went into premature labor. And Arthur, unaware that I had discovered their dirty secret, continued to play the role of the star-crossed lover with Lily, right up until the moment I exposed them. The day I finished my one-month postpartum confinement, I stuffed that thick stack of love letters into my backpack and marched to his company, intending to expose them in front of everyone. But the receptionist told me Arthur had taken Lily out to run errands for purchasing. A female colleague, seeing my pale, weakened state, thought I was genuinely there to deliver documents to my husband. Out of pity, she said, “This morning I heard Mr. Vance tell Lily he was taking her to the Butterfly Hotel.” The last shred of hope in my heart shattered. I didn’t care about anything anymore. When I arrived at the hotel, the staff thought I was there to cause trouble, so I had no choice but to call the police. With the help of the police, I finally saw my husband in a suite, looking panicked but protectively shielding his mistress. I lost my mind. I fought desperately, cursed them using the most vicious language in the world, and took photos to expose them. The whole process went smoothly and wasn’t difficult, but it drained every ounce of my strength. Arthur rubbed his temples, impatient. “Is this really necessary? That time at the hotel, yes, I lost my mind for a moment, but that was the only time we were intimate. After you caused that scene, nothing happened between us in the end, did it?” I snapped back, “You don’t need to make your cheating sound so righteous!” “Arthur, you are truly despicable!” Arthur smirked, his tone calm and cruel. “Mia, do you know? The more unreasonably you act, the more beautiful Lily becomes in my heart.” “You can never compare to her. Let’s see how long you can keep this tantrum up.” My breathing grew heavy. I stared at him, my eyes locked onto his. He finally showed some emotion, but my chest felt like it was crushed by a boulder, suffocating me. The man whose eyes were once filled only with love for me had become hideous. I had considered just letting this go. He had repented, changed his ways, and returned to the family, and we had a baby daughter who needed us. But over the past year, every time he tried to share a bed with me, every time he wanted to be intimate, I always thought of the image of him and Lily entangled together. Chapter 3 It disgusted me to the point of nausea. I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. The grievances and resentment building up inside me finally erupted. I screamed, “Then divorce me and go marry her! Arthur, you don’t have to keep pretending to be so accommodating! Looking at you makes me want to throw up!” After saying that, I picked up the panties and ripped them to shreds. “Sluts! You’re both sluts!” Arthur watched my fury with a satisfied expression. He reached out and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “See? Ruining yourself like this just to provoke me, is it worth it?” “Mia, that incident is in the past. Why can’t you just live a normal life?” “We have a daughter now. Don’t bring up divorce again.” I slapped his hand away forcefully and gave no response. Our fighting woke our daughter, and she started crying relentlessly. I walked to the crib, picked her up, and rocked her. Arthur watched for a moment, then closed the bedroom door and left. After I finally coaxed Penny back to sleep, I went to the living room to get water to mix her formula, only to be hit by the overwhelming stench of alcohol. I looked at Arthur. He was sitting on the floor, his eyes glazed with drunkenness. Several empty liquor bottles lay by his feet. He looked half-dead. Hah, drinking alone to mourn his precious Lily getting married? His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, his expression shifting slightly, and with trembling hands, he pressed answer. “Lily, I’m here.” The woman’s voice on the other end was soft and sweet. “Arthur, she won’t let you come see me, will she?” Arthur’s eyes darkened. “Lily, she is my wife, and we have a daughter together. I have to be responsible.” “I understand, Arthur. You are a good man who takes responsibility. I know my judgment in men isn’t wrong.” Lily’s voice was light, as if she were about to break. Arthur gripped the phone tightly, his voice gentle. “Yeah. We shouldn’t see each other anymore unless it’s necessary. Lily, I wish you and him a happy marriage and a long life together.” Just as he was about to hang up, Lily pleaded: “Arthur, can you let me say a few words to her?” Arthur was silent for a moment before handing the phone to me. “Lily wants to say a few words to you. Keep your temper in check. Don’t scare her.” I didn’t take the phone, but Lily spoke as if she knew I was right there. “Mia, since he’s already returned to his family, I beg you to treat him better from now on. The grievances and exhaustion he suffers making money outside aren’t any less than yours.” “He doesn’t like spicy food. He likes sweet soup, especially mango sago pomelo. Don’t let him eat too much cold food in the summer; his stomach isn’t great.” “Oh right, I bought him a neck massager before. His neck and shoulders ache, so remember to massage them for him when you have time. Also, his career is on the rise right now, and you just had a baby not long ago. You should be careful when you two are intimate. Don’t get pregnant again and distract him. Remember to wear a condom…” I sneered. “Are you done?” “You are truly a cheap slut! You’re so far away, yet you still want to meddle in our lives! Since you can’t let him go, how about I box him up and ship him to your bed tomorrow?! Just in time to swap out your groom!” “Anyway, a shameless homewrecker like you shouldn’t be afraid of what people say, right? Might as well let everyone see this…” Arthur quickly yanked the phone away and roared at me, “Shut up! Are you out of your mind?!” I glared at him, my eyes filled with hatred. “She had the guts to do it, so I have the guts to say it. Arthur, the two of you are shameless scum! How dare you act all lovey-dovey right in front of my face!” From the phone came the soft, muffled sound of Lily crying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make your wife angry.” Chapter 4 Arthur’s face grew even darker. “Mia. Apologize.” All my reason was burned away by fury. It felt like I was back in the hotel catching them in the act. I beat him and scratched him frantically. “Apologize my ass! Arthur, are you even human?! You two will rot in hell! Rot in hell!” Arthur covered his face and shoved me away, furious. “Mia, are you deaf?! Did you not hear me saying goodbye to Lily just now?! If you keep acting like a lunatic, believe me, I will go to Seattle to find her right now!” When he said that last sentence, a flash of anticipation clearly crossed his eyes. He wanted to go see Lily. But he had to maintain the facade of a good man, making sacrifices and taking responsibility. Making me look like an irredeemable villain. Implying that I forced him to this point. I let out a cold laugh, ran back into the bedroom, grabbed the clothes he had just packed, threw them into his suitcase, and hurled it at his feet. “Get out!” “Arthur, just looking at you makes me feel dirty.” “Mia, you asked for this. Let’s see how you raise a daughter all by yourself without me.” Arthur’s lips curled into a callous smile. He grabbed his suitcase and left. The living room finally fell silent. It felt like all my strength had been drained. I collapsed onto the floor, hugging my knees, and cried silently. It wasn’t until my daughter started crying again that I forced myself up, shook the half-mixed formula until it was smooth, and took it back to the bedroom. I held my daughter’s tiny body and didn’t close my eyes all night. I was the one being driven to my grave. By him and Lily. For the past year since Arthur returned, our relationship seemed harmonious on the surface. But I was becoming increasingly unhinged. In the middle of the night, I would always dream of those two pale bodies tangled together on the hotel bed. I started crying uncontrollably. My whole body would shake involuntarily. I would scream, throw things, and use a knife to cut my arms. If Arthur came home even a little late, I would pick fights with him, dripping with sarcasm. Over and over again, I suspected he had another woman on the side. At first, he would patiently explain, but later, he just started sleeping in a different room. The relationship between us slowly froze over. It wasn’t until one day, when I stood on the edge of the eighteenth floor holding my daughter, wanting to jump, that I suddenly snapped awake. I almost died. I had become the “melodramatic” and “neurotic” postpartum woman Arthur complained about—I had postpartum depression. Standing on the roof, the cold wind cleared my head. I started trying to save myself. I saw doctors. I took medication. But today, Arthur, the very cause of it all, had pushed me back into the abyss. This disgusting, broken marriage… it ends here. I stayed awake until dawn. Arthur still hadn’t returned, but his parents showed up first. His father looked me up and down and started scolding me. “Fighting with Arthur again? Mia, if Arthur really liked that Lily girl, it never would have been your turn to be our daughter-in-law.” “It’s not that I dislike you, but you’re just petty and short-sighted. If you had just tolerated it back then, Arthur wouldn’t have been fired. He’d still be easily collecting his monthly bonuses, and he wouldn’t have to work as hard as he does now.” His mother dramatically picked up her phone and sighed. “Mia, our Arthur is so outstanding, it’s normal for him to have women throwing themselves at him outside. You need to hurry up and give him a son to tie him down, or you’ll be the one crying later!” Saying that, she shoved the phone in my face. It was Arthur’s Instagram post from last night after he left. In the photo, he was holding Lily tightly, wiping away her tears, his face full of tenderness. Chapter 5 [Traveled a thousand miles, just to see you one last time.] I opened my own phone, but I didn’t see Arthur’s post. That was when I realized he had blocked me from seeing it. I called him several times in a row, but he rejected every single one. Hanging up after the last attempt, I asked softly, “Are you sure he went to see Lily?” His mother looked incredibly smug. Right in front of me, she used her own phone to call Arthur. He answered instantly. “Mom, what’s wrong?” His mother said gently, “Son, where are you? Did you fight with Mia again?” Over the phone, Arthur’s flat tone seemed to carry a hint of disdain. “Not really a fight, it’s just her acting crazy again. Probably has too much free time sitting at home.” “I’m in Seattle right now. Mom, don’t tell Mia. I’ll be back as soon as I see Lily one last time.” The call ended in less than a minute. So, he really did rush over there overnight. It felt like a huge piece of my heart had been hollowed out, but strangely, I felt a sense of relief. Seeing I had no reaction, his mother tsked. “Hear that? Arthur is always complaining to me about how dull and stupid you are, only knowing how to fight with him every day. If it weren’t for the kid, he wouldn’t even want to stay with you!” “I think this Lily girl isn’t bad. I heard her parents were teachers. She’s more than good enough for my Arthur. Not like some people, an orphan with no parents, probably a jinx!” “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If someone likes rotten goods, then give it to them.” After calmly firing back that sentence, I picked up my daughter and left without looking back, leaving his parents cursing behind me. I knew they didn’t like me, so after marrying Arthur, I constantly tolerated them. But there was no need for that anymore. Since Arthur wasn’t in town, I would go find him myself. I went to a law firm, got a divorce agreement drawn up, and then hailed a cab to Seattle. Following the photo his mother showed me, I went straight to the hotel where they were meeting. In the grand ballroom, Lily, wearing a wedding dress, was about to exchange rings with the groom. Arthur watched from the audience, looking like half his soul had been sucked out of him. With deep affection and restraint, he said, “Lily, you have to be happy.” Lily’s eyes turned red. One on stage, one off stage. They looked exactly like star-crossed lovers being violently torn apart. I walked into the ballroom from the lobby, stood right in front of Arthur, and raised my voice. “Since you and Lily are so deeply in love, I’ll grant your wish!” “Arthur, let’s get a divorce!” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire ballroom went dead silent. Several people in the know pointed at Lily, whispering. “The bride had an affair with that guy. It was a huge scandal.” “What affair?! She rented a hotel room with a married man and got caught by his wife!” “Oh my god, is the wife you’re talking about her?!” Lily stiffened completely, her face turning ghastly pale. Arthur clearly didn’t expect me to chase him to Seattle. His expression turned terrifyingly dark. “Why are you here? Did you track me?!” Ignoring the inquiring stares of the entire room, he walked quickly toward me and scolded in a low voice, “Mia, this is not the place for you to throw a tantrum!” “Go back home right now!” I pulled out the divorce agreement and said pleasantly, “Sure. Sign this, and I promise I’ll never appear in front of you and Lily ever again.” The veins on Arthur’s temples bulged. “Mia, how many times do I have to tell you?! I am not divorcing you!” “Do you realize that your little stunt is ruining Lily’s wedding?!”

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The entire internet knows my relationship with the A-list actor is a disaster. They are eagerly waiting for me to be publicly rejected and humiliated on a celebrity divorce reality show. However, on the very first night, the normally aloof and untouchable superstar had a near-meltdown when he drew the “separate bedrooms” card. During our fireside chat, he pitifully complained to the whole world that I wasn’t spending enough of his money. In the heartbeat challenge, my single “Hubby” sent his heart rate soaring past 140. And when the producers handed him a fake divorce agreement, he completely lost his cool, crying his eyes out and threatening to sue the show. Netizens: [Well, I’ll be damned. So you’re the desperate housewife here, bro?!] [Ahhh, they tricked us! It’s a divorce show masquerading as a dating show! Why is this so good?!] [Girl, stop smiling! Turn around, your husband is about to drop dead from a broken heart!] 1 I’m a C-list actress, famous mostly for my scandals and my working-class background. I have the looks, the acting skills, the talent… wait, no, I just have the looks. My family background is average, and my public image is, well, debatable. My popularity always hovered around the lower tiers. That was until the news of my secret marriage to the top-tier superstar, Arthur Vance, broke out, shocking the entire internet. Besides the massive gap in our status and family backgrounds, there was another reason for the shock: everyone in the industry knew Arthur had a subtle hostility towards me. At an awards ceremony, across the crowded room, Arthur (who was standing dead center) and I accidentally locked eyes. Caught off guard, I maintained my bright, sweet, fan-service smile. The man, however, looked extremely uncomfortable. He quickly dropped his smile and, in a moment of panic, actually rolled his eyes. When the video leaked, his massive fanbase was incredibly confused. Arthur was known for being aloof and a man of few words, but he was also famously gentlemanly, polite, and emotionally stable. Yet, he showed such undisguised disgust solely towards me. Later, netizens dug up the few other times Arthur and I were caught in the same frame. No matter how brightly he was smiling a second before, his face would instantly freeze the moment he saw me. Add to that my naturally soft, whiny voice. In the eyes of the internet, I became the desperate wannabe, constantly throwing myself at him while he gave me the cold shoulder. Now that our secret marriage was exposed, these videos went viral again. Netizens relentlessly mocked me, claiming Arthur had a physiological aversion to me and was red in the face from anger. Hordes of haters tagged a divorce reality show on my social media: [Please, just divorce him! Let our Arthur go!] [This girl has some thick skin. How can she still smile when her husband clearly despises her?] [Poor Arthur. A guy who barely shows emotion was forced to roll his eyes. Imagine how miserable his life must be.] … Under the intense pressure from the internet, the divorce reality show actually sent us an invitation. Arthur and I were forced together by our grandfathers; there was absolutely no love involved. Our daily interactions were no different from strangers living in the same house. I had long had enough of this stagnant, dead-end life. I agreed to the show without hesitation, ready to secure one last massive paycheck before we divorced. Just as I was grinning like an idiot, counting the zeros on my compensation fee, I noticed Arthur staring at the contract with a complex expression, hesitating to sign. “What’s wrong?” I asked, a bit confused. “My pen is broken,” Arthur muttered, looking down. “There’s another one right there.” “That one’s broken too…” Sensing his reluctance, I assumed he didn’t want to waste his precious time on me. I put on my best whining voice to coax him: “It won’t take up too much of your schedule. Let’s just go, please?” “O-okay then.” Arthur stumbled over his words, the tips of his ears turning red as he hastily scribbled his signature. 2 The show invited three couples and opted for a 24/7 live-stream format. Before filming began, the director assigned a rough script and conflict points for each couple. But considering my decade-long lack of acting progress and Arthur’s massive status, the director ultimately decided to let Arthur and me freestyle. The moment I dragged my two small suitcases into the camera’s view, the viewer count and live comments skyrocketed: [Here they come! The most dramatic couple has finally arrived.] [LMAO, the contrast is brutal. The other couples either held hands or walked side-by-side. Not only is Arthur not walking with Elena, but he’s making her carry her own luggage.] [Tsk, so what if she schemed her way into a rich family? She’s still just a glorified maid with no dignity. They didn’t even have a proper wedding announcement. The Vance family probably doesn’t even acknowledge her.] It wasn’t just the live chat mocking me. Chloe, the female half of another couple, also noticed my disheveled state and threw a subtle jab: “Elena, a woman’s hands are very delicate. Liam never lets me carry heavy things. If people didn’t know better, they’d think you were Arthur’s hired help.” Chloe and I debuted around the same time. She was highly competitive and loved comparing herself to others. When she married the director, Liam Sterling, she posted endless updates showing off her entry into “high society.” But the Sterling family was nothing compared to the Vance Group. So when my marriage to Arthur was exposed, it was understandable that she was furious. However, I was here to make money, not to engage in catfights. I couldn’t be bothered with her. The commentators in the studio had probably done their homework and accepted my persona as the Vance family’s despised punching bag. Seeing my silence, they assumed I was swallowing my pride and looked at me with deep sympathy. Live Chat: [LOL, Chloe and Liam are on a divorce show because he’s ‘too possessive’? Are they sure they aren’t just here to show off? The gold digger must be so jealous seeing our Chloe so happy.] [It’s her own fault for shamelessly clinging to an arranged marriage from their grandfathers. If she’s miserable now, she only has her own greed to blame.] Just then, the camera panned. Arthur wasn’t looking as relaxed and carefree as everyone thought. He was struggling to push five massive, connected suitcases, arriving late to the scene. The other guests, who had been whispering and enjoying the show, froze for a second before rushing over to help, joking: “Arthur, aren’t you a minimalist? You’ve gotten fancy lately! Do you need help throwing this trash bag away?” Arthur coldly dodged their hands, looking displeased. I pushed through the crowd: “Uh, those suitcases are all mine. And that’s not a trash bag, that’s Arthur’s luggage.” Live Chat: [I’m dying! Turns out Arthur is the ‘maid’ here.] [So relatable! When my husband and I travel, all his stuff fits in one plastic bag.] [What’s so funny? Arthur looks furious, he clearly didn’t want to do it! To make a seasoned actor show his true feelings like that, this girl really is something else.] [Arthur, stop holding back! Explode already! Can’t wait to see Elena get rejected daily.] The show started stirring up drama immediately, having us draw straws to decide if we’d sleep in separate rooms. Me: “Can we skip the drawing? Arthur and I will just choose—” Before I could say “separate,” the usually silent man cut me off. “I’ll draw.” Chloe feigned sympathy: “It’s okay, Elena. I know you want to use this chance to share a room with Arthur. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” The live chat found this hilarious: [Judging by how disgusted Arthur usually looks, I bet they’ve never even shared a bed. That’s why Elena is so desperate. What a pathetic rich wife.] [Did anyone else notice? Arthur just secretly glared at Elena like five or six times in the last ten seconds. Those looks were lethal. This is too funny.] 3 Arthur nervously opened the slip of paper. Seeing the word “Separate,” both the live chat and I let out a massive sigh of relief: [Thank god they didn’t draw ‘Together’. That must have terrified Arthur.] [I mean, Elena is genuinely gorgeous, her voice is sweet, and her smile is adorable. If I were Arthur, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.] [Commenter above, are you insane?!] The host asked each of us if we were satisfied with the results. Chloe, who also drew “Separate,” looked pitifully at Liam: “I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m a little worried I’ll have insomnia.” The host deliberately asked me: “Elena, you must sleep alone quite often, right? Any tips to share?” I replied with maximum snark: “Sorry, I rarely sleep alone.” Who would understand? Arthur had the face of an ascetic monk who was utterly bored with the world. But in private, he was more insatiable than anyone. What his fans called “gentlemanly and polite”… Was actually him ravaging me half to death while playing deaf and dumb. Thinking back on it, I almost regretted that day when, driven by hormones, I burst into his bedroom wearing a bathrobe, sat on his lap, and said: “Even if it’s a contract marriage, we need to fulfill our marital duties.” One of the main reasons I was in such a rush to divorce him now was that my fragile body simply couldn’t handle that level of frequency. When it was Arthur’s turn, his thick, long eyelashes fluttered, and his voice was low and cold: “If I’m not satisfied, can I change it?” Not getting the expected answer, the host was a bit confused: “According to the rules, you can’t change it.” Arthur took a deep breath: “Can I draw again?” The host shook his head helplessly: “No.” A trace of hostility flashed across the man’s already deep, brooding features. I gently tugged at his sleeve: “Follow the rules.” Arthur nodded and walked away, his arms and legs moving stiffly in tandem. Live Chat: [Wait, does our Arthur actually want to share a room with Elena?] [How is that possible? He’s probably just saving her some face in front of the audience.] [Oh no, I actually think they’re kind of cute together. Elena said one soft word and Arthur instantly obeyed.] [Is that obedience, or is he just so annoyed he’s speechless? He was so mad he forgot how to walk normally!] Without Arthur working me over, I had a dreamless, refreshing night’s sleep. The next day, I woke up early. Chloe was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Liam. They were playfully arguing over whether to have boiled or fried eggs. Arguing and arguing, they inexplicably ended up hugging each other. Chloe even shot a provocative look at me, looking unkempt and fresh out of bed. It was as if she was saying: “So what if you married Arthur? My husband loves me, yours doesn’t.” The camera suddenly pointed at me: “Today is the Couples’ Telepathy Challenge. Random question: What does Arthur like to drink for breakfast?” “Iced Americano?” I guessed randomly. After getting married, Arthur started taking over his family’s business and was semi-retired from the entertainment industry. He woke up before dawn to go to the office. How would I know what he liked? Soon, the host caught Arthur, who had just returned from a morning run: “Arthur, what do you like to drink for breakfast?” “Hot latte.” The host chuckled: “Then what does Elena like to drink most for breakfast?” “Iced Americano,” Arthur replied without hesitation. “But I worry that drinking cold things all the time is bad for her health, so I often switch it out for a hot one.” I looked shocked: “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me?! I always thought the housekeeper bought the wrong thing. Hot Americanos are for dog—” Halfway through, I realized the risk of offending people and quickly swallowed the rest of the sentence. The host was even more surprised than I was: “Arthur, do you usually cook for Elena?” Arthur nodded slightly, a hint of pride in his demeanor: “She’s so tired every night; she needs more rest in the morning.” Chloe’s smug expression drastically changed, and she dropped her spatula. The commentators in the studio were grinning from ear to ear. 4 Failing to get the desired dramatic effect, the host stubbornly fired off several more compatibility questions. The final result: Arthur guessed every single one of my preferences correctly. And I barely managed to guess one question right about him. Even when the evening “Fireside Chat” began, I still hadn’t fully recovered my senses. Although we lived under the same roof and had “deep, negative-distance” contact every day, Arthur and I actually communicated very little. For one, we both had our own careers to hustle for. For another, Arthur was the textbook definition of an Earth sign. Repressed, man of few words, and completely stoic. I had wanted to ask him multiple times about those viral videos where he supposedly glared at me—did he really hate me that much? But he always anticipated my questions and dodged them. Yet now, he was acting like he knew me inside and out. Live Chat: [This is scary. Even the “wife-guy” Liam got a question wrong about Chloe, but Arthur got a perfect score! Is this really not scripted? It’s weirdly sweet.] [Just look at Elena’s shocked face, you know it has to be real. Her acting isn’t that natural.] Me: Thanks a lot, truly a backhanded compliment. [I’m dying of curiosity! If Arthur really despises Elena like the internet says, why would he cook for her?! But if you say he likes her, they act like they barely know each other…] [Agreed! This couple is so interesting! Everyone else gives off old married couple vibes, but these two have this bizarre, ambiguous tension.] The theme for the Fireside Chat was “Money.” Just looking at the topic, I knew this segment was mostly aimed at me. The host pointed the spearhead at Liam and Chloe first: “When filling out the questionnaire, both of you mentioned having some conflicts regarding family finances.” Chloe huffed: “Yeah, there’s a popular saying online: ‘Where the money is, the love is.’ But Liam still hasn’t handed over his bank cards to me.” The female half of the rapper couple joked: “But at least Director Sterling is really willing to spend money on you, Chloe. I always see you posting bags and jewelry worth hundreds of thousands on Instagram. Unlike my guy here, who won’t even set up a shared account for me.” Chloe looked down shyly: “It’s okay, really. Compared to material things, I value emotional connection more. But Elena is the one who truly went from rags to riches through marriage. She should have more to say about this than me.” I heard the hidden barb in her words and gave a sweet smile: “Marrying rich is indeed awesome. Once Liam reaches Arthur’s status, you’ll understand.” Chloe’s smile stiffened. See? If I give a real answer, she gets upset. Live Chat: [LMAO, the gold digger doesn’t have a single decent piece of jewelry on her body and she’s still talking tough. Truly, the more you lack something, the more you emphasize it.] [Exactly. To those crazy people shipping them earlier, please have some taste.] Host: “Arthur, have you and Elena had any conflicts regarding family finances?” At that moment, Arthur, who had been secretly watching me, complained pitifully: “I wish she would spend more of my money.” The live chat exploded: [Wait, I recognize every word Arthur just said, but put together, I don’t understand them at all.] [I’ve already screenshotted this and sent it to my boyfriend. We need more ‘conflicts’ like this, please!] [What is going on? The desperate housewife the show promoted turned out to be YOU, Arthur?!] [Is it possible Arthur feels Elena’s poverty is an embarrassment to the Vance family?] Arthur rarely spoke so many words in one breath: “You never even opened the jade, the pearl necklaces, the clothes, or the bags I bought.” I looked completely bewildered: “You bring things home and never say a word. How was I supposed to know they were for me?” Arthur’s eyes flickered, and the atmosphere became temporarily awkward. The studio commentators couldn’t help but laugh out loud, offering a sharp critique: “The most urgent thing for these two is to add each other on WeChat.” I pointed to the perfume sitting by the door being used as bug repellent, trying to salvage the situation: “It’s not like I haven’t used any of the things you bought…” The female rapper suddenly dropped her jaw and stood up excitedly: “That bottle of perfume could buy a courtyard house in Beijing! Elena, you’re actually using it as a room deodorizer?! That’s insane! God, what would it cost you to make me rich too?!” Hearing this, the other guests also gathered around, wanting to inspect it. That perfume didn’t even smell good. I only liked how the bottle looked and casually praised it. I thought it was just a cheap trinket… In an unnoticed corner, Chloe dug her nails into her palms, looking at Liam and muttering: “Didn’t you say no one would spend astronomical amounts on something so flashy and useless?” Liam shrugged casually: “Yeah, normal people wouldn’t. After all, not everyone can be Arthur Vance.” Chloe bit her lip, glaring resentfully at the perfume bottle. I wanted to take advantage of the chaos to talk to Arthur. But the man anticipated my move again. The moment my butt left the seat. Arthur immediately got up and went to the restroom. Leaving me standing alone in the wind. The live chat was also in a frenzy: [Stop, just stop. To those who said Elena was a punching bag living in living hell, can I please go suffer like that for a few days?] [Ahhh, is it possible Arthur likes Elena but is afraid of rejection, so he doesn’t dare let her catch him looking at her?] [Bro, being married for a year and still acting like a secret crush? Is this human behavior?] [But look at Chloe and Liam, they even feed each other. Even the rapper couple who fight every day occasionally hug and touch faces. Arthur and Elena don’t look loving at all.] [If he’s an Earth sign, it actually makes sense. Back when I had a crush, the person didn’t even know I existed.] [Whatever, this top-tier ambiguous tension is divine. I’m shipping it.]

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I’m a corporate drone. Specifically, I’m a woman living a double life. By day, I’m the high-flying marketing strategist expanding my company’s empire. By night, I’m the on-call, “professional partner” for my boss. Before you get the wrong idea—no, this isn’t some tawdry, “morally bankrupt” scandal. It all started because I made the mistake of looking at him just a second too long in a crowded room. 01 It started on a Tuesday. I was leaning over Maya’s desk in HR, trying to read the tea leaves of the current economy. I was convinced the axe was about to fall. Maya’s jaw dropped. “How would you even know that? I haven’t heard a whisper.” “Haven’t you noticed Nate Blackwell stalking the floor lately?” I whispered, nodding toward the glass offices. “Not really.” “He’s walked past this cluster of cubicles three times today. He’s trying to look casual, but he’s scouting. He’s observing.” Maya shook her head, unimpressed. “I still don’t get it. Why are you so obsessed with the CEO’s walking patterns?” “Because, Maya, we’re in the department that spends money without bringing in immediate revenue. When the market turns, we’re the first ones on the chopping block.” I was laying it on thick, and Maya clutched her coffee mug like a life preserver. “He’s checking our ‘work state,’” I continued, my voice dropping an octave. “He’s deciding which unlucky soul to sacrifice first.” Just as I was hitting my stride, I looked up—and locked eyes with Nate Blackwell’s 24-karat hawk eyes. My internal sirens screamed. To make matters worse, my computer screen was currently displaying a TikTok livestream of a chaotic cooking show. I dived back into my chair, burying my face in a spreadsheet. The moment I was sure he’d passed, I sent a string of sobbing emojis to Maya. Me: It’s over. He saw me watching a guy make a grilled cheese instead of working. Maya: Riley, your job is marketing. Watching trends IS the job. Why are you spiraling? But I remained restless. Nate was the kind of boss who lived for “maximum efficiency.” Despite the grueling hours and his icy demeanor, the benefits were incredible. And let’s be real: I’m pushing thirty. In this market, an unmarried, childless woman of “a certain age” is treated like a ticking time bomb by recruiters. The sword of Damocles was hanging over my head. I could see my future: middle-aged unemployment, followed by a lonely retirement eating canned soup. No. I had to pivot. I needed to make myself indispensable. I needed to become his right hand. So, I started staying late. Every single night. The plan was simple: I wouldn’t leave until he did. I wanted to burn the image of my hardworking silhouette into his brain. Unfortunately, the universe has a twisted sense of humor. I wanted to be his “right hand,” not have his hands all over me. It was 10:00 PM. The cavernous office was a graveyard of empty desks and humming monitors. It had become a game of chicken between me and Nate—who would break first? My stamina failed. My eyes felt like they were filled with sand. Just as I shut down my laptop, Nate appeared. He stepped out of his office, bathed in the soft glow of the recessed lighting. He scanned the room and found me—the sole survivor. “Riley, how long have you been with the firm? Are you happy here?” “Three years,” I squeaked. “And I’m more than happy. I’m dedicated. I’d basically die for this company.” God, Riley. Dial it back, I thought. Is this an exit interview? Am I being fired right now? “Good,” he said, leaning against a pillar. “How would you feel about some… extra income?” My heart plummeted. Extra income? Was that code for a severance package? I couldn’t even speak. I just shook my head violently like a broken bobblehead. He arched an eyebrow, looking at me like I was insane. “You don’t want more money?” I immediately switched to a frantic, “woodpecker” style of nodding. “Good. I have a mission for you.” I held my breath. Was it a high-stakes project? A hostile takeover? “There’s an investor gala this Saturday. I need you to attend with me. You’ll play the role of my wife. We need this round of funding, and the lead investor is… traditional.” The request hit me like a Category 5 hurricane. When the wind stopped howling, my brain was nothing but mush. Now it was my turn to look at him like he was insane. Wasn’t he married? Wasn’t his wife living abroad for some high-profile art thing? Why did he need a fake one? What if we got caught? 02 “Don’t ask questions you don’t need the answers to,” Nate said, his voice dropping to that smooth, dangerous frequency. “If we pull this off, you get a promotion, a raise, and your choice: a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus, or more equity.” He looked like the god of deals emerging from the shadows. Do you want the gold axe, the silver axe, or the iron axe? My years of cynical conditioning kicked in. In those fables, the people who pick the gold always end up dead. “I’ll take the equity,” I blurted out. By the time I got home, I realized I’d picked the “iron axe.” In a startup, equity is just a very expensive pile of scrap paper unless the company actually succeeds. If my acting was terrible and the funding fell through, the company would go bust, and my equity would be worth less than my morning coffee. The next morning, Nate handed me a “Dossier.” It was three pages, double-sided, size 10 font. It was everything I needed to know about “us.” He expected me to memorize it in forty-eight hours. He promised “random pop quizzes.” During lunch, he summoned me to his office. I hadn’t felt this kind of academic pressure since the SATs. Standing before his mahogany desk, I stumbled through the details of our “fake” first date. He sighed, the sound sharp and cold. “Your memory is… disappointing. How did we even hire you?” I bristled. “Sir, I’m an efficient marketer, not a Shakespearean actress. If I’m so terrible, why me? Look at the floor out there—there are dozens of women who’d kill for this.” Nate cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “First, you’re the only one near thirty. Second, you spend every waking hour here. I figured you didn’t have a boyfriend or a life to get in the way.” The truth stung. “Ouch. Point taken.” I stomped out of his office and headed straight for the breakroom to vent. Maya was there, and she snatched the paper from my hand before I could hide it. “What’s this? Height, weight, favorite color… Riley, is this a Tinder profile?” I lunged for it, shoving it into my bag. “It’s… nothing!” Maya narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t letting it go. “Fine,” I lied. “My mom sent me a dossier on a guy she wants to set me up with. She wants me to ‘study’ before the date.” Maya’s expression shifted to pity. “Oh, honey. That’s tragic. What’s he like?” “Him?” I scoffed. “He’s arrogant, ruthlessly pragmatic, and has the personality of a localized thunderstorm. Honestly, the only things he has going for him are his height, his legs, and that stupidly handsome face…” Maya’s eyes went wide. She started making frantic gestures with her eyebrows. I turned around. Nate was standing three feet behind me, holding an empty espresso cup. My mind went blank. How long had he been there? Had he heard the part about his legs? In a moment of pure, unadulterated panic, I blurted out, “Afternoon, Mr. Blackwell! Personally getting your own water? So down-to-earth!” Nate’s face was a mask of suppressed fury. “Riley. If this project fails, you can pack your desk.” “Understood! Have a great day!” I chirped, sounding like a demented cheerleader. He definitely heard the part about the thunderstorm. 03 Once he disappeared, I let out a jagged breath. “What is his problem? Is he on a permanent power trip?” Maya looked like she was about to have a heart attack. She pushed me toward the door. “Riley, you have a death wish. You gossip about his personal life, you interrupt his coffee break, and you basically insulted him to his face. You’ve broken every rule of corporate survival in under five minutes.” “Details,” I muttered. But the bravado was fake. Saturday was looming, and it was a life-or-death situation for my career. When Saturday finally arrived, I followed Nate’s instructions to the letter. I was polished, poised, and draped in a dress that cost more than my first car. The target was Madeline Montgomery—a powerhouse investor who valued “family stability” above all else. Apparently, Nate and his real wife had quietly signed divorce papers months ago, but he couldn’t let that leak before the funding closed. Hence: me. “Riley, you’re shaking,” Nate said. His voice was soft, but it still carried that edge. “I’m fine. I’m not shaking.” Inside, I was a wreck. One wrong word and the whole house of cards would collapse. “If you aren’t shaking, then stop gripping my arm like a tourniquet. You’re cutting off my circulation.” He gently pried my fingers loose as we approached the entrance. “Mrs. Montgomery is at ten o’clock. Switch it on.” “Right. Mr. Black—I mean, Nate? Babe? Honey?” We hadn’t rehearsed the nicknames. That was a tactical error. As Madeline Montgomery glided toward us, I felt a surge of adrenaline. “Hey, Hubby,” I said, my voice dripping with forced sweetness. Nate flinched almost imperceptibly. Fortunately, Madeline was charmed. “Nate, I had no idea you and your wife were so… affectionate.” “She’s a handful,” Nate said, sliding into his CEO persona. They started talking shop. He pivoted from ESG initiatives to sustainable business models, then to the domestic childcare market. He was lecturing her. He was being “The Smartest Man in the Room,” and I could see Madeline’s eyes starting to glaze over. He’s losing her, I thought. He’s mansplaining to a billionaire. I couldn’t help it. I cut him off. “What Nate is trying to say,” I said, stepping forward with a warm smile, “is that modern women aren’t looking for just a product. They’re looking for time. Our goal is to liberate mothers from the soul-crushing logistics of childcare so they can actually enjoy their children. Don’t you agree, Madeline?” Madeline’s face lit up. “Exactly! You hit the nail on the head.” Women get women. It’s that simple. I spent the next twenty minutes talking to her about the nuances of the modern middle-class experience. It was literally my job. It was easy. As we were leaving, Madeline gripped my hand. “Riley, this was delightful. We must do this again.” “It would be my pleasure!” “Nate, do you still collect vintage Bordeaux?” she asked. “He loves it,” I jumped in before he could speak. “We have a cellar full of it at the house.” “How wonderful. Perhaps I could come by sometime this week to see the collection?” “Of course! You’re welcome anytime!” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to die. I had been so deep in the “wife” character that I’d invited a billionaire to a house I didn’t live in to see a wine collection I didn’t own. 04 The car ride back was silent and suffocating. Nate looked like he was vibrating with rage. I’d basically kicked the door down and set the house on fire. “Do you ever think before you speak?” he snapped. His words were like needles. “Look, I know my ‘brain-to-mouth’ filter is a little porous, but don’t blame this on me! This was your crazy idea! If you hadn’t been boring her to tears with market stats, I wouldn’t have had to intervene.” “Riley, it is after hours. You are currently my wife… my fake wife. Not my employee. Stop talking to me like I’m a subordinate.” “I don’t know how to talk to you in any capacity where you aren’t a jerk!” I muttered, my voice getting smaller. “Next time,” he said, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen, “keep your mouth shut.” “There won’t be a next time. I quit this side gig. Find someone else.” “If you can’t do the job, then just leave—” “Fine!” I slammed my foot on the brake as we hit a red light. Nate was in the middle of taking a sip of water, and the sudden jolt sent the liquid flying. He ended up coughing and gasping, drenched. Corporate Survival Rule: Never make the boss choke while he’s drinking. I’d checked another box on the disaster list. The next day, I went to my usual volunteer spot at the Golden Oaks Senior Center. Being around the elderly was the only thing that kept me sane. They didn’t care about KPIs or funding rounds. “Riley, dear, you look like you’re chewing on glass,” the director, Martha, said as she handed me some fruit. “What’s wrong?” Before I could answer, a nurse ran up. “Martha, Mrs. Gable in the VIP wing is having an episode. she doesn’t recognize her grandson. She’s getting agitated.” “I’ve got it,” I said, standing up. I was good at this. In the VIP suite, a woman was shrinking into her armchair, looking terrified of the tall man standing over her. I rushed in. “Rose, honey, it’s okay. It’s just your grandson…” I looked up. My tongue tied itself into a knot. “Mr… Mr. Blackwell?” I felt like the world’s biggest idiot. “You’re Rose’s grandson?” Nate looked helpless. He was a titan of industry, but here, in the face of his grandmother’s dementia, he was just a confused boy. “It’s not the right pastry,” Rose was crying. “This isn’t from the bakery on 4th Street. You’re an impostor! You aren’t my Nate!” I took the box of pastries from his trembling hands. I did a quick “magic trick” behind my back, switching a cookie from one hand to the other. “Rose, look. I found the real ones. I had them in my bag the whole time. Taste this.” She took a bite. The familiar sugar seemed to anchor her. Her eyes cleared, and a smile broke across her face. “Oh, yes. This is it.” I pointed to Nate. “And see? There’s your Nate.” Rose grabbed his hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Nate! You finally came to see me.” It was a beautiful, heart-wrenching moment. Then, Rose looked at me and beamed. “And I know you, too. You’re Nate’s wife!” I just stood there with a frozen, awkward smile. Great. Even the universe was in on the lie.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391279”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was simultaneously moonlighting as a sugar baby for two billionaire brothers. The older brother preferred sultry and seductive, so I showed up in lace lingerie and a bunny tail. The younger brother preferred innocent and pure, so I catered to his tastes with oversized white dress shirts and black thigh-highs. Because of my top-tier professional skills, I had never been caught. Until one day, I got sloppy, and a paparazzo managed to snap a few photos. The hashtag “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Kept Woman” skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. When the younger brother came storming up to the front door, absolutely furious, I was currently sitting on his older brother’s lap, acting cute and trying to coax him for a new bag. 1 The other girls in my sugar baby networking group felt incredibly sorry for me. They knew I was the kept woman of Liam Vance, the second son of the Vance family, but that Liam never, ever touched me physically. “Chloe is so gorgeous, why did she have to end up with a prude like Liam Vance?” “I heard Liam is saving himself for his first love, so he refuses to touch Chloe.” “Poor Chloe, living like a widow at such a young age. How is she supposed to survive this?” As I listened to them gossip, I grabbed two tissues and dabbed at nonexistent tears. It was true; Liam never laid a finger on me. He paid me $10,000 a month, and his only requirements were that I eat dinner with him, go for drives, and chat. This kind of lifestyle was honestly comfortable as hell. Because I had so much free time, I decided to take on another gig and found myself a second sugar daddy. Since moonlighting like this was a severe violation of professional ethics, I could only do it secretly. I didn’t dare let the other girls know. Right now, Harper was hugging me sympathetically. “Chloe, being deprived for so long is bad for your health. Why don’t you find a new sponsor?” “What about Arthur Vance, the older brother? He controls billions in assets, he’s unmarried, single, and super hot. Why don’t you go try your luck with him?” “Give it a rest,” another girl nearby chimed in to warn me. “I heard Arthur Vance already has a kept woman. She’s just incredibly mysterious; nobody knows who she is yet.” “Don’t go wading into those muddy waters.” I took a massive gulp of my drink, not daring to say a single word. Right at that moment, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Arthur Vance. “Wait for me at the penthouse tonight.” I obediently replied with an “Okay.” To tell you the truth, that mysterious sugar baby Arthur Vance was keeping… was also me. 2 Arthur was completely different from his younger brother. He was wild and unrestrained. His entire body seemed to radiate an endless, inexhaustible physical energy, and he absolutely loved tormenting me in bed. After walking into the penthouse, I took off my black trench coat, revealing the sexy fox lingerie set underneath. I even specifically accessorized with a fluffy pair of animal ears on a headband. Arthur was clearly very receptive to this. His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, his eyes instantly darkened, and even his breathing grew heavier. He unbuttoned his dress shirt with one hand, slowly pulled off his leather belt, and waved me over. “Come here. Sit.” I obediently sat on his lap, hugging his arm and acting spoiled. “I made this headband myself. Do you like it?” His scorching hot palm pressed tightly against my short skirt, his voice raspy: “I love it.” I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around his neck, using my softest, sweetest voice: “I saw a new limited-edition bag yesterday.” “Mhm. Buy it.” Arthur’s tone was dismissive, but the grip of his hand was strong. He squeezed my waist rhythmically, his fingertips slowly tracing circles on my skin. As our lips tangled together, he roughly yanked off my fox tail. He tilted my chin up, leaned close to my ear, and whispered: “Is my little fox illiterate?” “What?” I looked at him, confused, and blinked. The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk, and his hand moved to the zipper of my skirt: “I want to do a full investigation of my little fox’s academic credentials. Does that sound good?” In a haze of scorching, suffocating heat, Arthur held me on his lap. He was in a great mood today. Seeing how turned on he was, I took the chance to ask: “I want to buy a condo downtown.” “I’ll buy you one tomorrow.” He glared at me in dissatisfaction, increasing the pressure of his hands, making me let out a soft whimper of pain. “Little gold digger, stop thinking about money and focus on me,” he reminded me in a hoarse voice. Honestly, I didn’t want to be this money-hungry either. Arthur was incredibly good to me. Whether it was material things or emotional affection, he thoroughly satisfied me. I was dangerously close to actually falling in love with him. But that was the day I discovered the truth about this world. It turned out that the world I was living in was actually a smutty romance novel. The two Vance brothers were the male leads, and their shared “first love” was the female lead. And I was just the temporary female side character acting as a placeholder after the first love left. When the first love returned to the States, the two brothers would fight over her, getting violently jealous. Because the first love hated me, the brothers would find various ways to imprison me, torture me, and eventually lock me in a psychiatric ward until I went insane. The story ended with the three of them living shamelessly and happily ever after together. As for the minor side character, me? I died a miserable, tragic death in the dead of winter. Once I learned the truth, I immediately snapped out of my romantic delusions and focused entirely on grabbing as much cash as possible. The first love wasn’t due back in the country for another year anyway. I’d just work a little harder, hold down two jobs, and once I saved enough money, I’d run away. Right now, the tension in the room was skyrocketing, but my phone started ringing at the absolute worst possible time. Ring after ring, like a grim reaper demanding my soul. Arthur released his grip in annoyance, signaling me to deal with it quickly. I was just about to silence it when I saw a massive wall of texts from Harper. “Chloe, you absolute bitch! How could you hide this from me for so long?!” “We’re both sugar babies! What gives you the right to work two jobs and make double the money?!” “And here I was feeling sorry for you! Turns out you’re living better than any of us!” I slowly typed a single “?”. She replied immediately: “Stop playing dumb! I know Arthur Vance’s mysterious kept woman is YOU.” Arthur was sitting right next to me, his shirt already off, waiting for me. I didn’t have the time to ask her how she found out. I could only beg her: “Keep it a secret for me! I’ll explain everything later!” “Too late. Everyone knows.” A terrible premonition suddenly washed over me. My heart jumped into my throat. The next second, she forwarded me a trending topic from Twitter. The hashtag glaring back at me was: “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Kept Woman.” 3 My hand was trembling violently as I clicked on the link. There were two photos attached. The first one showed me eating dinner with Liam. He was feeding me a bite of food, wiping my mouth, and looking at me with eyes so full of affection you could pull strings from them. The second one was far more explicit. It was me and Arthur making out on an outdoor balcony. I was dressed in my little bunny outfit at the time. Those goddamn, unethical paparazzi! Invading my privacy and completely ruining my hustle! Harper was still messaging me: “Do the brothers know about this yet?” “No,” I replied honestly. Harper: “Are you insane?! I highly advise you to run for your life immediately.” “Arthur might not have seen the news yet, but my guy told me Liam definitely knows.” At the exact same moment, Liam sent me a text message. It contained just one simple word: “Excellent.” I shuddered in terror, tears almost springing to my eyes. Liam looked gentle and easygoing on the surface, but when he got angry, he was absolutely terrifying. Beside me, Arthur was getting impatient. With a long arm, he scooped me back into his embrace. “Are you done dealing with that? If you’re done, it’s my time now.” He grabbed my hand, guiding it from his thick pecs down his torso, letting me feel his rock-hard eight-pack abs, stopping right at his V-line. “Chloe, help me take this off,” he coaxed me in a raspy, seductive voice. But in a life-or-death crisis, who the hell has the mood for this?! I gritted my teeth and pulled my hand back. “Arthur, not tonight.” “I just got a message. My little sister is sick with a high fever. I have to go back and take care of her.” I pushed him away, grabbed my black trench coat off the rack, and threw it on. “Next time. We’ll do it next time.” Arthur gave me a look, forcibly suppressed his physical urges, and grabbed his car keys. “I’ll drive you.” “No need,” I was just about to refuse when the doorbell suddenly rang. From outside the door came Liam’s voice. It was impossible to tell if he was happy or angry. “Arthur, are you home?” 4 The moment I heard Liam’s voice, I was so terrified I dove behind the sofa. Arthur opened the door. Liam’s tone was freezing cold, cutting straight to the chase: “Arthur, do you know Chloe?” “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law.” Arthur crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “What, you know her too?” The corners of Liam’s mouth curled into a mocking smirk. “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law.” The room suddenly fell dead silent. So silent my heart was literally quivering in my chest. Arthur looked baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Haven’t you checked the trending news?” Liam quickly tapped his phone screen a few times and shoved it in front of Arthur’s face. “To put it simply, the sugar baby I’m keeping and the sugar baby you’re keeping… are the exact same person.” The air in the room froze solid once again. I have no idea what they said to each other after that. I stealthily crept toward the back door of the penthouse and escaped. I needed to get as far away from these two psychopaths as quickly as possible. Once I was out the door, I sprinted down the street, my mind racing as I calculated my future. Even though the promised designer bag and the condo vanished today, the savings I had hoarded over the past year still amounted to a few million dollars. It was enough to cover living expenses for me and the girls at the orphanage for the next few years. It was just a shame. I really wanted to hoard a little more. Seeing that I was getting further and further away from the penthouse, and no one was chasing me, I finally relaxed. I viciously kicked a pebble on the side of the road. “Those two idiots! If they had just been more careful, they wouldn’t have dragged me down with them!” Just as the words left my mouth, my neck suddenly felt cold. An icy hand hooked its fingers under my necklace. Liam appeared right in front of me. He stepped toward me, forcing me to back up several steps until my back hit a streetlamp pole. His tone was cold and thin, carrying a trace of cruel amusement. “Chloe. My brother is easy to fool, and I’m easy to appease. Is playing both of us brothers at the same time really fun for you?” I tried to run in the other direction. But over there, Arthur—wearing a white dress shirt, his neck bearing the red scratch marks I had just left on him—was walking toward me step by step. His expression was dark and unreadable. He looked down, rolling up his shirt sleeves, and quietly blocked my only escape route. “Chloe, I highly suggest you explain exactly what the hell is going on here.” With nowhere left to run, I leaned weakly against the streetlamp. My palms were sweating from pure terror, but I forced my face to remain perfectly calm. “I was just working two jobs, wasn’t I?” “When you guys hired me, neither of you said I couldn’t freelance on the side.” Liam looked like he was about to laugh from sheer rage. He reached out to grab my wrist. “Do I really need to spell that out for you?! Isn’t that just basic professional ethics?!” But he never got to touch me. Arthur’s lips were pressed tightly together. He intercepted Liam’s hand and gave me a long, deep look. His gaze was so freezing and intense I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I just dropped my head, staring at our long shadows cast by the streetlamp. Liam was about to say something else when his phone suddenly rang. It was the first love, Mia. The street was completely silent, and the voice on the other end of the line was crystal clear in my ears. “Liam, I’m back in the States. I just landed.” “I tried calling Arthur too, but he’s not answering. Could you do me a favor and let him know?” Oh, wow. The first love returned a whole year earlier than she did in the original plot. Liam was completely absorbed in the phone call. Seeing my chance, I bolted away from him. He was too busy talking on the phone; by the time he realized he wanted to chase me, it was too late. As for the other guy, I quickly glanced back over my shoulder. He was still standing in the exact same spot, his head tilted slightly, his right hand slowly tracing the red scratch mark on his neck. The streetlamp cast a thin shadow beneath his eyelashes, making his already complex expression look even darker and more unpredictable. From the looks of it, he had absolutely no intention of chasing me. Makes sense. The first love is back. Who has the time or energy to deal with a fake replacement? I figured as long as I avoided running into Mia and causing any conflicts, I probably wouldn’t end up with the horrific, tragic ending written in the original book. By the time I got back to the orphanage, it was 10:00 PM. The younger girls had all gone to sleep. I put the cash I had withdrawn into a thick envelope and handed it to the orphanage director, who was like a mother to me. This was a private orphanage that took in abandoned baby girls. Some had severe illnesses, some came from destitute families, and some were simply dumped here because they were born girls. For as long as I can remember, I had lived at this orphanage. The director was my mother, and the mother of all the children here. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with a severe heart condition and needed emergency surgery. The surgery cost was astronomical. I emptied out all my savings, but it still wasn’t enough. Driven to a dead end, that was when Liam Vance found me. 5 At the time, Liam stared at my face for a long while, smiling a very gentle, polite smile. “Chloe, you look exactly like the girl I love.” “I have a business proposition for you. Are you interested?” The so-called “proposition” was for me to accompany him for meals and chat with him. He would pay me $10,000 a month, with a minimum contract of one year. I had absolutely no reason to refuse. That very day, his secretary handed me a comprehensive checklist. It detailed all of Mia’s daily habits, her dietary restrictions, and her fashion style. The secretary strictly ordered me to memorize the list. I understood. Since I was playing a body double, I had to mimic the original perfectly. But during my very first dinner with Liam, I made a mistake. He had ordered a massive spread of food. During the meal, I picked up pieces of the assorted shrimp stir-fry a total of four times. Liam’s expression slowly turned sour. He lifted my chin, pointing a long, elegant finger at the plate of shrimp, and said softly, “Chloe, your acting was bad today.” “No matter how much she likes a dish, she would never, ever eat from it more than three times in a single meal.” His tone was airy and light. “You acted out of character this time. I’m going to have to dock your pay.” Three thousand dollars, gone just like that. My heart was practically bleeding. Later, the orphanage director suffered severe organ rejection after the surgery and needed expensive anti-rejection medication. It was another massive expense. I explained the situation to Liam and begged him for an advance on my salary. He smiled so hard his eyes curved into crescents, but his words were bone-chillingly cold. “Chloe, pushing your luck is a terrible habit. She would never do something like that.” He refused to give me the money, but I desperately needed it. So, when Arthur Vance offered me $100,000 a month, I nodded enthusiastically and agreed instantly. In front of Arthur, there weren’t nearly as many rules and restrictions. He never mentioned Mia, and I pretended I didn’t know she existed. Right now, looking at the heavy envelope, the orphanage director refused to take it. “Chloe, the money you’ve given the orphanage over the years is more than enough. You even paid for my surgery! I absolutely cannot accept this money.” I forced the envelope into her palm. “You have so many girls to take care of, please just keep it. Don’t worry about me. I have plenty of savings of my own.” “Also, Mom, I’m leaving.” I gently hugged the director. “I’m moving to Chicago. I won’t be back for a few years.” In New York, the Vance brothers could easily ruin my life with a snap of their fingers. It was best if I got as far away as possible. I booked a flight leaving in three days. During these two days, neither of the Vance brothers reached out to me, but Harper brought them up. “The original first love really is treated differently than fake body doubles like us.” “Did you see the fireworks over the Hudson River last night? They went on for over an hour, cost millions of dollars. I heard Arthur did it specifically to celebrate Mia moving back to the States.” I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with Arthur not too long ago. I was lying exhausted against his chest. He was idly playing with my hair and asked me in a raspy voice, “Chloe, besides money, is there anything else you like?” I thought about it and answered, “Fireworks. The kind that light up half the sky.” He didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that answer. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, and after a long time, mumbled, “Okay. Next time, I’ll put on a fireworks show over the Hudson River just for you.” It’s true what they say. Men are liars. He put on the fireworks show, alright, but it absolutely wasn’t for me. “Chloe, are you listening?” On the other end of the line, Harper was still blabbering away. “Tonight, Liam is throwing a massive, ridiculously expensive welcome-home banquet for Mia.” “Whatever she gets, you deserve too! Since you’re moving to Chicago, your girls are throwing you a massive farewell party right now!” Harper sent me an address. Thinking that I wouldn’t see her for a few years, I decided to go have one last get-together with her. But when I arrived, something felt wrong. Wasn’t this farewell party a little too high-end? Weren’t there a few too many people here? Amidst the clinking glasses and chatter, I spotted Mia wearing a blue, diamond-encrusted evening gown. Standing on either side of her were Liam and Arthur. All three of them turned and looked directly at me. My footsteps halted. I looked down and pulled out my phone. Exactly one second ago, Harper had sent me a text. “I sent you the wrong banquet hall name! The one in the front is Liam’s welcome party for Mia. Whatever you do, DO NOT go in there! It’ll be so awkward!” She sent a new location pin. “Come here. The girls are all waiting for you.” “Don’t be jealous of her fireworks show. I bought you sparklers!” I cursed Harper a thousand times in my head. I knew she was flaky, but I didn’t know she was this flaky. I kept my head down, planning to back out of the room pretending nothing had happened, when Mia walked toward me. “Are you Chloe?” She held a wine glass, looking at me with a sweet, assessing smile.

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The day before my wedding, my mother caught my fiancé sleeping with my best friend. The shock triggered a massive heart attack, and she desperately needed a heart transplant to survive. Thankfully, I was a match. Without hesitation, I decided to donate my heart to my mother and receive an artificial heart myself. Faced with the astronomical medical bills, I begged my fiancé for help. He coldly told me he was “short on cash” and immediately ran off to the courthouse to marry my best friend, Chloe. Just when I thought I was out of options, Arthur Vance stepped in. He paid off all my medical debts and personally performed the surgeries for both me and my mother. When I woke up, Arthur held my hand and regretfully informed me that my mother’s body had rejected the transplant. The surgery failed. She was gone forever. He pulled my sobbing, devastated form into his arms, confessed his love for me, and begged me to let him take care of me for the rest of my life. Seven years into our marriage, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his best friend: “So it was you who gave Evelyn’s heart to Chloe… and you did it right in front of Evelyn’s mother. Man, that’s brutal.” “I didn’t have a choice. Her heart was a perfect match for Chloe.” “But you had already found another suitable donor! Chloe just had to wait half a day. Why were you in such a rush?” Arthur sighed. “I couldn’t stand seeing Chloe in pain. I wasn’t willing to make her wait a single second.” … Separated by only a heavy oak door, Arthur blew out a ring of cigar smoke in his study, his tone dark and complicated. “Since societal rules prevent me from marrying my niece, the least I can do is ensure she lives a long, healthy life.” His friend, Ryan, looked troubled. “But Evelyn has a rare blood type. It’s incredibly hard to find a matching heart for her. For the past seven years, she’s had to endure coughing up blood, agonizing chest pain, and she can’t even have children.” “Don’t forget, her artificial heart only has a month left before it fails. It needs to be replaced immediately. Are you really going to subject her to the agony of open-heart surgery over and over again for the rest of her life? Evelyn loves you. Just give her heart back. You’ve already prepped several backup donors for Chloe anyway.” Arthur didn’t even pause to think before snapping back: “Absolutely not! Having an extra backup donor is an extra layer of insurance for Chloe’s health. I will never take chances with her safety.” Ryan was getting agitated. “What about Evelyn?! I still remember the look on her mother’s face—crying tears of blood, dying with her eyes wide open in pure hatred. Aren’t you afraid Evelyn will kill you if she ever finds out the truth?” Arthur went silent for a moment before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “If she really wants my life, she can have it. I always planned on taking care of her for the rest of her life anyway.” “As long as Chloe is happy, I could die with no regrets.” My hand, gripping the doorknob, shook uncontrollably, the veins bulging against my pale skin. After recording everything on my phone, I fled back to our bedroom like a ghost before Arthur could catch me, sliding down the wall and collapsing onto the floor. Because my body had never fully accepted the artificial heart, my immune system was compromised. I was constantly weak, frequently coughing up blood, and tortured by sudden, stabbing chest pains. Arthur had told me back then that a heart transplant required a live donor. Since my mother had “passed away,” he couldn’t put my heart back into my body. I had thought to myself, It’s okay. At least my heart will be with Mom forever. No wonder when I begged to see my mother one last time, Arthur forcefully insisted I was too weak to leave the bed and rushed to handle her cremation and funeral arrangements himself. It turned out his so-called “salvation” and “deep love” were nothing but a sacrificial altar designed by a demon! He never performed the surgery on my mother! My mother and I… we were just sacrificial lambs offered up to the woman he truly loved! To ensure I would never suspect a thing, he actually wheeled my mother into the operating room first. He forced her to watch, completely paralyzed and helpless, as her own daughter’s heart was carved out and placed into another woman’s chest. She died crying tears of blood! Even without a real heart, my chest ached so violently it felt like it was ripping apart. I violently coughed up a mouthful of dark blood onto the carpet. “Evie?!” I didn’t know when Arthur had entered the room. Seeing me coughing up blood, he rushed over, scooped me up onto the bed, and gently wiped the blood from my lips, his face etched with absolute heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, Evie. I haven’t taken good care of you. Don’t worry, I’ve already sourced the best next-generation artificial heart for you. We’ll swap it out in a few days.” His eyes were red with guilt—the exact same reaction he had every single time he saw me in pain over the last seven years. I used to think it was because he loved me, and I would force myself to act strong, comforting him and telling him it was okay. Looking back now, I was impossibly stupid. “Arthur, the pain has been unbearable these past few years. Can I please just stop using the artificial heart?” Haven’t you already prepped several backup donors for Chloe? Then can you give my heart back to me? Arthur hesitated for only a second before smiling, stroking my hair gently. “Evie, don’t be silly. We don’t have a matching donor heart for you yet. If you don’t use the artificial one, do you expect me to just watch you die? I’d rather you kill me first.” We don’t have one? But the heart beating inside Chloe’s chest is MINE! My blood turned to ice. I forced a weak smile. “You’re right. I’m just being silly.” Under the guise of running a bath for him, I emptied an entire bottle of high-concentration sleep essential oils into the tub. When he came to bed, he fell into a deep, unshakable sleep within minutes. Perhaps he was dreaming of the woman he truly desired, because he started mumbling in his sleep: “Chloe… I will always protect you… even if it kills me.” Looking at the husband I had loved with all my soul for seven years, tears finally broke through and slid down my cheeks. I picked up my phone and called my best friend, Sarah, a brilliant surgeon who had just returned to the States after years of volunteering in Africa. “Sarah, I need you to do a surgery for me.” “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. See you in three days.” What is there to fear about death? Living a life worse than death is the true torture. I set my phone down, quietly picked up Arthur’s, and slipped into his study. Unsurprisingly, his passcode was Chloe’s birthday. I had no idea Arthur kept a secret, secondary Instagram account. He probably forgot to switch back to his main profile. His profile picture was a stylized graphic of two words: Loving Chloe. Such a blunt, simple declaration. I opened his feed. It was flooded with photos of Chloe. Every single caption was a testament to his hidden, obsessive love. “The first day she arrived at the Vance estate, I saw Chloe. Suddenly, I understood what it meant for a heart to beat for someone.” “Chloe got married today. I’m going insane with jealousy. I want to carve her open and hide her inside my own body, so she belongs only to me.” “I took Evelyn three times today. I knew her body couldn’t handle it, but I had no choice. I missed Chloe so much, I could only scream Chloe’s name over and over in my head, praying that the woman beneath me would magically turn into her…” Beyond that, there were endless photos of the extravagant jewelry and designer bags he had bought for Chloe. He had even purchased a private, heart-shaped island in the Caribbean under her name. And in all these years, the only thing Arthur had ever given me was this artificial heart that brought me nothing but endless agony and torture. While I was drowning in grief over my mother’s death and suffering through agonizing bouts of coughing up blood, Chloe was lounging beautifully on the soft white sands of her private island, soaking up the sun. My hand shook uncontrollably as I gripped the phone. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach, and I lunged toward the trash can, dry heaving violently. As I braced myself against the bookshelf, I accidentally knocked something loose. A hollowed-out book hit the floor. Inside the fake book was a stack of documents—several “Voluntary Organ Donation” consent forms, alongside a thick stack of wire transfer receipts. Arthur had been sending massive monthly payouts to the families of these potential donors, essentially keeping them on his payroll. There was only one condition: they were forbidden from donating their hearts to anyone else. Whenever Chloe needed one, they had to surrender it immediately. The very last form in the stack was mine. But the designated recipient had been changed from my mother to Chloe Vance. Back then, Arthur had shoved a massive stack of paperwork in front of me, claiming they were just standard hospital release forms. Panicking and desperate to save my mother, I signed everything without reading the fine print. This form must have been slipped in there. And my mother’s actual donation form? He probably destroyed it years ago. Arthur Vance, you really went to the ends of the earth for Chloe. After printing out the divorce papers, I sat alone on the living room sofa. My heart was a desolate wasteland. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, Arthur assumed I was just an early riser and suspected nothing. Perhaps feeling guilty about me coughing up blood last night, he played the devoted husband, personally cooking a perfectly balanced, nutritious breakfast. Seeing that I hadn’t touched a bite, he looked at me with tender concern: “Evie, why aren’t you eating? Are you feeling down?” “It’s nothing. I just miss my mom.” He sighed deeply. “Evie, I know. I constantly think about Mom, too. She was such a kind, gentle woman. It’s all my fault. I’m useless. I couldn’t save her back then. I still remember the way she grabbed my hand right before the end, begging me to make sure we lived a happy life together.” If my mother had possessed an ounce of strength to lift her hand, she would have used it to strangle him to death. Watching his sickeningly hypocritical performance, a wave of pure irony washed over me. I was just about to bring up the divorce when Arthur spoke, seemingly casually: “Evie, you’ve been so depressed lately. Today is Chloe’s birthday, and she just flew back into town. The family is hosting a huge banquet at the main estate. Why don’t we go? The lively atmosphere might cheer you up.” “I know you’ve avoided seeing her because of what happened with your mom, but it’s been years. Chloe didn’t mean for any of that to happen… She’s family, after all. She’s always been incredibly sensitive, and if we don’t show up, I’m afraid she’ll be heartbroken…” So this was his true motive. He wasted all that breath just to manipulate me into going so he could see the woman he loved. I cut him off: “Whatever you want.” Arthur smiled brightly: “I knew my Evie was the most understanding.” The moment we walked into the grand estate, I saw Chloe dressed like absolute royalty, clinging to her grandmother’s arm and acting like a spoiled child. The old matriarch laughed indulgently, feeding Chloe slices of fresh fruit from a silver platter. She was the center of the universe here. Chloe spotted me instantly. Her tone turned sharp and sarcastic: “Grandma~ you’re feeding me too much, I’m going to get fat! Oh, look, Aunt Evelyn is here. Why don’t you give her the leftovers? After all, she doesn’t have a mother to feed her.” My mother-in-law turned to look at me. Her eyes scanned my simple, inexpensive clothes, her face twisting into a sneer of absolute disgust. “Who let this sickly ghost in here? Are you trying to infect us with your poverty and bad luck?” “The Vance family is a prestigious medical dynasty. You dress like a homeless beggar every day; you’re an absolute embarrassment to my son. You’ve been married into this family for seven years, and not only are you a barren hen, but you have no brains either! Didn’t your dead mother teach you any manners before she kicked the bucket?!” Arthur wasn’t the biological brother of Chloe’s father; he was the son brought in by the patriarch’s second wife. Fearing her son wouldn’t be respected, my mother-in-law had always wanted Arthur to marry a woman from a powerful family to boost his status. But after Chloe’s father died in a car crash, Arthur proved his worth. He became the universally praised “Golden Scalpel” of the medical world, won the patriarch’s approval, and was handed control of the entire family empire. Only then did my mother-in-law hold her nose and allow Arthur to marry me. But because my health issues prevented me from getting pregnant, her hatred for me only grew deeper. In the past, Arthur would have at least offered a few words in my defense. But today, his eyes were entirely glued to Chloe, filled with an uncontrollable, burning longing. Chloe skipped over to him, intimately wrapping her arms around his bicep, pouting playfully: “Uncle Arthur! Did you bring a present for Chloe?” Arthur affectionately pinched her cheek: “Of course I did.” A team of attendants rolled in twenty-eight custom-made, haute couture gowns, each meticulously paired with a matching set of obscenely expensive diamond jewelry. Twenty-eight. For Chloe’s twenty-eighth birthday. She shrieked with joy and planted a massive kiss on Arthur’s cheek: “Wow! Uncle Arthur loves me the most! These jewelry sets are all limited editions! You spent way too much… what if some people get jealous?” Only then did Arthur seem to remember I was standing right next to him. My cheap, worn-out clothes looked painfully pathetic standing amidst the sea of glittering diamonds and silk. In all these years, Arthur had never once remembered my birthday, let alone bought me a single piece of jewelry or a nice dress. He looked slightly embarrassed. He reached for my hand, trying to explain: “Evie, don’t overthink it. I’m Chloe’s uncle, I’m just…” Chloe suddenly clutched her chest, furrowing her perfectly manicured brows: “Uncle Arthur… my chest feels a bit tight… I don’t know if my heart condition is acting up again…” Arthur instantly dropped my hand, spun around, and pulled her into a tight embrace, his face etched with sheer panic: “Why is your chest tight?! Does it hurt?! No, this is bad, I need to examine you immediately!” Without another word, in front of the entire extended family, he scooped Chloe up into his arms in a bridal carry and sprinted up the sweeping staircase without looking back. The guests turned their mocking, pitying gazes toward me. “No wonder Arthur would rather buy a mountain of couture for Chloe than buy Evelyn a single dress. A woman with such low-class origins isn’t fit to be a Vance, let alone wear luxury goods.” “If Arthur wasn’t bound by the optics of his uncle-niece relationship with Chloe, why would he ever settle for a gutter rat like her? I bet she used her mother’s death to blackmail Arthur into marrying her. Shameless bitch, stepping on her own mother’s corpse to marry into money.” The whispers grew louder. My mother-in-law, feeling she was losing face, barked at me: “You embarrassing disgrace, what are you still standing here for?! Get your ass upstairs! Haven’t you humiliated our family enough today?!” “My son performing surgery on your dead mother was a blessing she didn’t deserve. If she was too weak to survive it, how is that my son’s fault? The fact that you aren’t on your knees thanking him, and instead tried to extort him… you’ll get what’s coming to you!” My hands balled into tight fists inside my cheap sleeves. I let out a weak, hollow laugh. She’s right. Meeting Arthur Vance was the greatest curse of my life. Remembering the divorce papers securely tucked in my purse, I didn’t say a word. I turned and walked upstairs to find him. But as I stepped onto the second-floor landing, I saw them on the balcony. Arthur and Chloe, locked in a tight embrace. Chloe was leaning back against the marble railing, her arms wrapped around Arthur’s neck. “Arthur… listen closely. Is Chloe’s heart still beating too fast?” “Chloe, we can’t do this…” Arthur tried to make his voice sound disciplined, but the visible tension in his tailored suit pants betrayed him completely. Chloe aggressively pressed her lips against his, whispering seductively: “Are you saying you don’t want Chloe? I know I’m the only one in your heart, and you are the only one in mine. Even if you married someone else because you were scared of what people would say, your body still belongs to me. Let’s just lose control this once…” Arthur finally snapped. He grabbed the back of Chloe’s head, pulling her into a desperate, passionate, bruising kiss. The sound of fabric ripping was immediately followed by breathy, obscene moans. Listening to Arthur whisper sickeningly sweet, filthy promises to her, tears blurred my vision. I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran out of the mansion. I didn’t know how long I sat on the curb outside the estate gates before a bowl of scalding hot instant ramen was violently splashed across my chest. The boiling water shocked me back to reality. Chloe, having changed into fresh clothes, stood over me, holding a bottle of expensive whiskey. “Evelyn, did you like the sounds we were making up there? Your pathetic, retreating back looked exactly like a stray dog.” So she had seen me. “I heard your body is rejecting the artificial heart. Coughing up blood and dealing with chest pain every day must be absolute torture, right? You can’t even enjoy the rough, passionate love of a real man. But I’m different. Arthur can use the most aggressive positions on me, and I can take it perfectly. Even though you’re a piece of trash, I have to admit, your heart works phenomenally well. I felt amazing up there just now.” “You actually thought marrying my uncle would steal my spotlight? Keep dreaming. He only has me in his heart. You were nothing more than a temporary incubator for my spare parts.” “Oh, by the way… that day wasn’t the first time your mom caught me sleeping with your fiancé. That old bitch actually dared to call me a slut. So, I specifically orchestrated it. I had her tied up and forced her to watch me fuck your fiancé right in front of her face. It triggered her heart attack. When you offered to donate your heart to her, I just faked a little chest pain, and Uncle Arthur was so heartbroken he refused to wait a single second. He ripped your heart out and gave it to me.” “Ah, right. You were unconscious under anesthesia, so you missed your mom’s reaction. She stretched her arm out so far, her eyes bulging out of her skull like she was going to pop! She wanted to strangle us so badly! But what a shame… all she could do was watch helplessly as she was literally angered to death~ Serves her right. She insulted me, so I took her life!” My eyes widened in sheer, absolute horror. I never, in my darkest nightmares, could have imagined that this was the true cause of my mother’s death. My entire body shook violently. How could these monsters murder my mother and still act like they were completely justified?! I raised my hand high into the air to strike her, but Chloe was faster. She dumped the rest of the whiskey over her own head and let out a blood-curdling scream. The next second, I was shoved violently to the ground. Arthur wrapped Chloe securely in his arms and whipped his head around, roaring at me: “Evelyn! What the hell are you doing?!” Chloe cried pitifully against his chest: “Uncle Arthur! I just saw that Aunt Evelyn didn’t eat anything at the banquet, so I brought her some food and a drink! But she started screaming that I murdered her mother! She knocked the food out of my hands and poured alcohol all over me! If you had come a second later, she would have killed me!” “I made that ramen myself! I know it’s not fancy, but it was the thought that counted! The boiling water even burned my hands…” Arthur’s face instantly turned murderous. “Evelyn! Your mother dying of a heart attack was her own fault for having a weak constitution and sticking her nose into the affairs of young people! Before a wedding, it is completely normal for someone to have a change of heart! Chloe felt bad that you were hungry, and if you didn’t appreciate it, fine! But how dare you blame her for your own mother’s death?!” I stared at him in utter disbelief, listening to the sociopathic, twisted logic spewing from his mouth. “Arthur Vance. Tell me to my face. How exactly did my mother die? Did you actually give my heart to her?” Arthur frowned deeply. “Of course I did! Didn’t I already tell you? Your mother experienced severe acute rejection post-op! Heart transplants carry massive risks, how do you not even possess basic common sense?! Stop betraying Chloe’s kindness and apologize to her right now!”

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My mother kept a “Mistress Diary,” filled with photos of countless beautiful women. “When I was dating the billionaire, the competition was fierce,” she’d say, her eyes twinkling with a smile. “At one point, three women showed up at my doorstep to confront me simultaneously.” She’d laugh, her eyes crinkling. “Later, when I married your father, this diary was never updated.” That sweet smile vanished the day my father’s young secretary, heavily pregnant, arrived to provoke her. My mother added the secretary’s photo to her diary and sighed. “She’s so foolish,” she murmured. “How could your father, such a clever man, fall for such a simpleton?” My mother’s eyes welled up, and she couldn’t suppress a sudden cough, spitting out a mouthful of dark blood. She hid her cancer diagnosis report and then instructed Dr. Evelyn to falsify a clean bill of health. Dr. Evelyn cried, her voice choked with anger. “Eleanor Maxwell, do you really think this will make that scoundrel weep, make him see the error of his ways?” Dr. Evelyn cried. “Punishing others with your own death, aren’t you being pathetic?” But my mother just smiled, her gaze gently falling upon me. “The clean bill of health is for his secretary, Mandy Smith. What good is his regret to me?” She smiled softly. “I want to secure a future for my Ariel.” 1 When Mom and I left the hospital, Dad had already gone. He’d only left her a message: [My time is precious. You’re five minutes late, I’ve left.] Mom clutched her phone, looking dazed. I remembered the past too. I had hemophilia; since I could remember, I’d been in and out of hospitals frequently. Dad would always put down his work, waiting patiently. Mom would playfully tease him, “Aren’t you annoyed?” Dad would take me from her arms, kissing her cheek. “No, not at all. Every second I wait for you both, I’m happy.” I was nestled between them, feeling warm and happy too. Mom’s trembling fingers swiped away the message. She texted: [Did you send the falsified health certificate to Mandy Smith?] After receiving an affirmative reply, she led me back home. Mom used to walk lightly, and I often couldn’t keep up. But now, I had to support her to move. At home, she immediately rushed into the bathroom, throwing up a mouthful of blood. Afterwards, she looked up, staring blankly at the two overlapping handprints on the mirror. The blood was dark red, and I, terrified, quickly called Dad. On the other end of the line, I heard a woman’s laughter, but I was used to it and pretended not to hear. I cried, telling him that Mom had late-stage stomach cancer. Dad came home quickly. Seeing the stark red in the toilet, he immediately scooped Mom into his arms. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll find the best doctors for a second opinion right away. With me here, nothing will happen to you.” He had always said that the other women were just dalliances; Mom would always be his true love. He was a man of his word. But just then, the sharp click of high heels sounded, and Mandy Smith, in her white dress, appeared again. She held her head high, slamming a piece of paper onto Dad’s chest. “Darling, you’re such a fool, you don’t even know your plain wife is deceiving you!” she sneered. “Late-stage stomach cancer? It’s all a ploy to get attention!” She waved the paper. “This is from my friend at the hospital. She’s perfectly healthy!” I saw it clearly: that paper was indeed the falsified health report Mom had asked Dr. Evelyn to create. I opened my mouth to explain, but Mom held me back tightly. I could only watch as Dad’s face darkened. “Faking illness for attention, and even making Ariel lie for you.” He glared at Mom. “Eleanor Maxwell, you’ve really outdone yourself!” Dad, ignoring my protests, stormed out. Mom watched him leave with the woman, a faint smile on her pale face. I cried, my body wracked with sobs. “Mom, why did you pretend to be healthy?” Mom sighed softly. “Because Mandy Smith is too foolish. Too foolish to even think of accusing me of faking illness. So, I had to help her create the evidence.” She paused, her voice soft. “This is accumulating moral capital. The more I accumulate, the more he feels he owes Ariel…” She smiled faintly. “Besides, once your father discovers her report is fake, he won’t believe any report she presents in the future.” I didn’t understand. I only knew that Mom was dying, so I cried even harder. Mom wiped my tears, and as she did, she started crying too. “Simon Chen, you’re so smart, how could you fall in love with a simpleton like Mandy Smith?” Mom had once been a billionaire’s mistress, and Dad was a struggling man, humbly seeking investments. A glance across a banquet hall, and roses unexpectedly bloomed on decaying ground. Mom charmed the billionaire, securing a huge investment and numerous orders for Dad. Later, the billionaire went to jail, and Dad had become a titan in the business world. Amidst everyone’s mockery, he found Mom, who had been passed around several times. Without a word, they immediately married. After their marriage, Mom was pampered by Dad, becoming the most vibrant woman. Dad bought her a French chateau, gave her shares in his company. Even after she became pregnant with me, he spent a fortune to buy her the naming rights to a small asteroid. They could have been happy forever. Until my birth. 2 I suffered from hemophilia, so Dad hired a secretary with the same rare blood type. Her name was Mandy Smith, a bit clumsy, but quite likable. He said she was my “mobile blood bank.” But gradually, when the blood bank came to give me transfusions, Dad would frown with concern. Once, when I was critically ill, Mandy claimed to be afraid of needles, and Dad actually pulled out my IV line. I almost died that day; thankfully, the hospital contacted a blood bank in another province. When I woke up, I saw Dad holding Mandy’s hand, telling Mom: “I’m sorry, Eleanor, I’ve fallen in love with Mandy. As long as you accept it, you’ll still be my wife, and Ariel will still be my only daughter.” Mom calmly accepted the reality. She said, “My Ariel is still sick. If I divorce, I truly can’t afford to raise her.” Just like that, Mom became the most magnanimous wife in the entire city. So magnanimous that when photos of Dad with various young women from clubs surfaced, she personally handled the fallout. Each time, Dad would apologize to her and then transfer a sum of money to my account. Mom accepted it on my behalf, acting as if nothing had happened. Until a few days ago, Mandy Smith appeared, heavily pregnant. She said she was carrying Dad’s child, a boy. “He was ecstatic then, and I knew that fetus would eventually threaten Ariel’s position, so it had to be eliminated.” Mom’s eyes were hard. “And I’m dying soon anyway… I’ve been a parasitic vine all my life. In the end, I’ll use this life to pave the way for my daughter. I’m content.” As Mom spoke, she took out a brand new diary. A woman who barely finished elementary school, accustomed to a life of luxury, wouldn’t have the habit of keeping a diary. So she had to fake it. Her fingers were swollen; she could barely grip the pen. But she meticulously wrote down every detail of her years with Dad, word for word. After finishing, she sent the diary to be aged, then locked it in a safe. She made me memorize the safe’s code. “After I die, on the day your father misses me most, you’ll guide him to this diary.” Faking the diary took several days. Mom clutched her stomach, sweat pouring down her face from the pain. She gave me a black card and asked me to buy her some painkillers. It was so strange; it was only September, but heavy snow was falling. I didn’t have time to think much, falling again and again until I reached the pharmacy. Buying the medicine, swiping the card. “Beep, beep. This card has been frozen.” I froze. This was Dad’s secondary card, always with an unlimited credit limit. It couldn’t be frozen. I immediately called Dad. But the one who answered was Mandy Smith, her voice lazy. “That’s your father’s punishment for your mother, you know.” She purred. “He also told me to tell your mother to be a good wife and stop playing those manipulative games.” I screamed, “Impossible! It must be you who incited Dad!” Mandy Smith chuckled softly, then lowered her voice. “Yes, I incited him. So what?” She teased. “After all, I just mentioned that the baby in my belly wanted to see snow, and your father spent tens of thousands of dollars on artificial snow!” I looked at the bruises on my body, sobbing. So, this heavy snow, which had made me fall so many times, was a gift from Dad to his mistress. By the time I bought the medicine with my piggy bank savings, Mom had already fainted from the pain. I gave her the medicine. Mom’s eyes reddened as she looked at my injuries. I heard her call Dr. Evelyn. “He loves her more than I imagined.” Her voice was filled with a chilling resolve. “I must accumulate more moral capital for Ariel, and die an even more impactful death.” I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke up in Mom’s bed. Mom was gasping, packing things away. She threw our wedding photo into the fireplace. All her clothes and jewelry were sold off. As she was about to destroy the scarf she had knitted for Dad with her own hands, I rushed over to stop her. But she gently kissed my small face. “Mommy knows Ariel doesn’t want to let go. But Mommy must ensure that you are Mommy’s only relic.” I opened my mouth, unable to speak. Dad’s assistant called Mom. “Mrs. Chen, Mr. Simon just took Ms. Smith for her prenatal check-up and was photographed by reporters.” The assistant’s voice was neutral. “He asks that you quickly record an apology and clarification video to avoid affecting the company’s stock price.” 3 Mom responded faintly, then expertly set up the camera. I screamed in frustration. “Why should Mom bear Dad’s mistakes?!” I cried. “I don’t want Mom to be that humiliated person anymore!” I pushed the camera down, but Mom calmly set it back up. “Be a good girl, Ariel. The company will be yours eventually.” She smiled, a sad, knowing curve to her lips. “Mommy is protecting the company’s stock price now, which is also protecting your interests.” I still didn’t understand, but Mom’s eyes were so sad. In the camera lens, she was poised and dignified. “It’s all a misunderstanding. Ms. Smith is an employee of our company, with no one to care for her, so Simon kindly offered to take her to the hospital.” The video was released, and the internet was filled with mockery. Everyone said that my mother, the wife, was acting like a dog. But Dad was very pleased. He finally came home. Upon entering, he first hugged me, spinning me around, and placed a jade bracelet on my wrist. Then he kissed Mom, giving her a vibrant green safety charm. “This is my most magnanimous Eleanor,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ve unfrozen the card.” He looked into her eyes. “I wasn’t angry because you faked an illness or played tricks; I was angry that you cursed yourself. We’re going to grow old together, so please don’t say such unlucky things, alright?” Dad was so gentle. He must still love Mom and me, right? I watched him, mesmerized, and suddenly, the pain in my leg didn’t hurt anymore. After Dad left, I happily went to Mom’s side, wanting to touch the safety charm. But Mom scoffed, taking it off. She gently touched my head and showed me a news article. [Gemstone Legend! Mr. Simon Splashes Ten Million to Reveal Full-Green Jade, Cutting a Hundred-Million-Dollar Jade Bracelet on the Spot!] I looked at the full-green jade bracelet on Mandy Smith’s wrist in the accompanying photo. I suddenly realized. My child’s bracelet, nested with Mom’s safety charm, exactly formed the heart of a bangle. Oh. So Mom’s and my gifts were mere scraps from cutting Mandy Smith’s bracelet. I was furious, wanting to confront Dad. But Mom calmly contacted Dr. Evelyn, confirming the date for her euthanasia medication. She chose the date of her and Dad’s wedding anniversary. “That way, whenever he gets married, he’ll remember my death. Only by remembering me for a long time will it benefit my Ariel more…” I didn’t dare to cry in front of Mom. I could only hide in my room and count the days. I was going to lose Mom. Although Mom held me and told me she would become a star in the sky, I was already seven years old, and I knew those were lies. I couldn’t expose Mom; I didn’t want to make her sadder before she died. The next few days, Mom was very busy. She contacted an Uncle Ben, whispering with him for a long time. Then she carefully selected an evening gown, because Dad was taking her to a charity gala. Only her, not that awful mistress. For this, she even helped Dad appease Mandy Smith. But then she turned around and taught me how to provoke the now-calmed Mandy Smith: “Hehe, so what if he made it snow for you? You’re still my father’s plaything. At proper events like charity galas, the only one who can walk hand-in-hand with my father is my mother!” Mandy Smith was so easily hooked. She was so infuriated that she immediately took action. On the day of the charity gala, our family of three had just sat down. Mandy Smith, disguised as a staff member, appeared. She didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring at Dad with red-rimmed eyes. I clearly saw Dad’s throat bob. “Darling,” Mom pleaded, “this is a major event, give me some face…” But under everyone’s gaze, Dad still patted Mom’s hand. “There are so many people here, and Mandy is pregnant. I’m afraid she might get jostled.” He went to sit with his mistress. The whole room was filled with murmurs of disapproval. Mom seemingly lowered her head in embarrassment, but secretly, she shot a glance at Uncle Ben, who was not far away.

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