Category: English

I won a billion dollars in the lottery. I immediately called my boyfriend to share the news. But the first thing he did was yell at me: “I’m busy with work, I don’t have time for your nonsense! Unless it’s something big like you dying, don’t ever contact me again!” He hung up. I sighed, preparing to deliver my last food order before going to claim my winnings. As I knocked on room 301 at the hotel, carrying the food, the door opened to reveal my boyfriend, who was supposed to be away on a business trip. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist, and behind him stood my best friend, also wrapped in just a towel. 1. My boyfriend, Greg Vance, and I stared at each other, wide-eyed, for a full minute. “What are you doing here?!” “I should be asking you that! Weren’t you on a business trip out of town? You were too busy to even take my call, but you’re here… playing cards with her?” Greg yanked me into the room, then slammed the door shut. “Don’t shout outside; it’s embarrassing.” My eyes burned red with anger. “You should be embarrassed! You two were cheating on me!” My best friend, Chloe Hayes, draped herself over Greg’s shoulder. “Don’t use such harsh words. I’m Greg’s real girlfriend. We’ve been together for over seven years.” So I was the other woman. “You’re both despicable!” I raised my hand to slap Greg, but he grabbed my wrist. “Rovan Miller, that’s enough! I never even liked you. Chloe was the one who told me to be with you. Otherwise, do you think I would have stayed with you this long?!” Tears streamed down my face. I screamed at them, “Why?!” “For your money, you idiot! You didn’t even go to college; you graduated high school and started delivering food just to earn a few extra bucks to support Greg.” “You spent all your money on Greg. Greg took me out, bought me gifts, all with your money. I should actually thank you. Without you, what would Greg and I spend?” I trembled with rage. “You’re both shameless! I’ll fight you!” I grabbed Chloe by the hair, and we wrestled. “Rovan Miller, you’re pushing it! Let go of Chloe!” Greg was strong. He ripped me away, punching me in the face. I was stunned. Chloe took the opportunity to rush forward, pulling my hair and clawing at my face, cursing at me. They pinned me to the ground and beat me. Greg showed no mercy, his punches landing hard. I could only wail in pain. I thought about all those years with him; it was a colossal joke. Greg and I both came from humble backgrounds. I had no parents. His parents were farmers with poor health. We both got into college, but he convinced me to drop out and work. He said he’d marry me once he graduated and found a good job. I foolishly believed him. To earn more money and improve his living conditions, I didn’t even rest on New Year’s Eve. While everyone else was feasting and celebrating, I was out delivering orders, one after another, in the snow and sub-zero temperatures. Looking back now, my seven years were utterly ridiculous. 2. They finally stopped when they got tired. I was covered in bruises, lying on the ground, unable to get up. “Greg Vance, how can you do this to me? Aren’t you afraid your parents will turn against you?!” Three years ago, Greg’s father suffered a sudden stroke, leaving him partially paralyzed. I brought both of his elderly parents to the city and took meticulous care of them. They used to say I was like their own daughter, and if Greg ever did anything to wrong me, they would be the first to disown him. Greg scoffed. “You didn’t really think my parents genuinely treated you like a daughter, did you? They just said that to butter you up. If they didn’t say nice things, how else would you act like a maid and cater to them?” I refused to believe it. “Impossible! Your parents were genuinely good to me!” “You don’t believe me, do you? I’ll call them right now.” With that, Greg dialed his mother and put her on speakerphone. “Hey Mom, I broke up with Rovan. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to openly date Chloe.” “Son, your mother supports you. But if you break up with Rovan, will she still serve me and your father? Will she still give us living expenses?” “You don’t need to worry about money. I just closed a big deal. Once that contract is signed, I’ll get a two-million-dollar commission. Then I’ll hire a housekeeper for you, and she’ll definitely serve you better than Rovan.” “That’s wonderful! Rovan can finally get out! A delivery girl who didn’t even go to college—how could she be worthy of my son?!” I was utterly stunned, unable to believe what I was hearing. After hanging up, Greg kicked me again. “You heard it all, didn’t you? In my parents’ hearts, Chloe is the only daughter-in-law. And I’m about to be rich. Once those two million come in, we won’t be in the same league!” I laughed. “A mere two million.” Chloe, now wearing high heels, stomped hard on my hand. “You wouldn’t make two million delivering food for twenty years! Stop pretending!” She linked arms with Greg. “Darling, let’s go. Our nice little time together has been ruined by this lowlife, Rovan.” They walked out brazenly. I quickly called an ambulance, then the police. Thankfully, I was wearing thick winter clothes, so no bones were broken. After having my wounds treated at the hospital, I went home. But as soon as I reached my doorstep, I saw all my belongings thrown outside. My blood pressure shot through the roof. I immediately pounded on the door. Greg’s mother opened it and, seeing me, her face instantly changed. “Rovan Miller, my son has broken up with you. Grab your things and get out!” I had already planned to move out, but I hadn’t expected them to just toss my belongings. “I paid to rent this apartment. If anyone’s moving, it’s you! How dare you throw my things out?!” “Because there are three of us living here, this apartment is ours!” At that moment, her true shrewish nature was fully revealed. 3. I didn’t want to waste any more words on her and prepared to call the police, but then Greg returned with Chloe. “How are you not arrested?!” Chloe smirked triumphantly. “It was a mutual fight, and you were the one who started it!” My lungs felt like they were about to explode. My hands clenched into tight fists, fingernails digging into my flesh, but I felt no pain. Greg pushed me. “Why aren’t you gone yet? You’re not still trying to cling to me, are you? I’m telling you, there’s absolutely no chance between us anymore!” I glared fiercely at the people in front of me. “You’ll regret this. You’ll come begging on your knees!” They burst into sneering laughter, telling me I was dreaming. I only took a few items from the ground. Anyway, I had won a billion dollars in the lottery; there was nothing I couldn’t buy. After settling into a hotel, I went to the lottery office to claim my prize. The moment the billion dollars hit my account, the weight on my chest finally lifted. I couldn’t wait to see Greg and Chloe’s faces when they found out I was now a billionaire. I had just secured a beautifully renovated penthouse when I received a call from Chloe. “Rovan, our high school reunion is this weekend. You absolutely have to come; everyone from our class will be there.” “Okay, I’ll be there.” “You’re not just saying yes and then disappearing on the day, are you?” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be there. It’s been so many years since we saw our old classmates; I’m curious to see how they’re doing.” Chloe was undoubtedly organizing this reunion to show off Greg’s two-million-dollar earnings and take the opportunity to humiliate me. She probably never dreamed that I would be the most successful one in our class. The reunion was scheduled at a five-star hotel. I deliberately arrived a little late. Under the gaze of all my former classmates, I elegantly took my seat, dressed in a head-to-toe luxury limited edition outfit. “Excuse me, everyone, I’m late.” Chloe immediately rolled her eyes at me. “Rovan, you’re so over the top. Is that fake outfit of yours even worth a single ticket? Do you really think our classmates don’t know quality when they see it? Pfft.” My classmate, Maria, who sat next to me, kept staring at the white Hermes Birkin bag in my hand. “Rovan, can I take a look at your bag?” I generously placed the bag in her hands. “Of course.” “Maria, what’s so special about a fake bag? That bag, if real, costs over two million dollars. You could sell Rovan and she wouldn’t be worth that much.” She finished, prompting a burst of laughter from the guys nearby. “This bag is real. I work at Hermes.” “Then it must be a replica Rovan bought that even fooled you, the salesperson.” “This bag is definitely real. A replica can’t achieve this kind of craftsmanship.” Chloe immediately sneered, “Oh, Rovan, you didn’t happen to ‘borrow’ that bag from some wealthy lady while you were delivering food, did you?” “I know you’re afraid our classmates will mock you for not going to college and just delivering food, but you can’t steal other people’s things to show off! The amount for this bag is huge; it’s enough to get you years in prison.” “Considering we were classmates, we won’t report you. Just return the bag immediately and apologize publicly. Maybe the wealthy lady will take pity on you and not pursue charges.” 4. “Chloe Hayes, you need proof when you speak. If you accuse me of theft, I can sue you for defamation!” “I’m doing this for your own good, and you want to sue me? Everyone knows you’re dirt poor, why are you pretending?” Maria couldn’t help but say, “Maybe Rovan found herself a sugar daddy.” “Maria, you think too highly of her. What sugar daddy would be blind enough to want her?” Chloe walked around to my side, placing her own bag in front of me. “See this? This is real money, a hundred thousand.” She rolled her eyes at me. “A pauper, still pretending.” My classmates immediately looked at her with envy. “Chloe, it looks like you’re doing the best among us, with a hundred-thousand-dollar bag!” Chloe’s smile was triumphant. “It’s all thanks to my wonderful husband. He just closed a big deal, and the commission alone will be two million dollars. Everyone, order whatever you want today! My husband’s paying!” Everyone rushed to congratulate Greg, making him so proud he nearly burst. Greg, holding the menu, lifted his chin and told the waiter, “Bring out all your most expensive dishes. One Australian lobster for each person. And open ten bottles of your most expensive wine!” I smiled. “As far as I know, that contract of yours hasn’t been signed yet, has it?” Chloe scoffed. “So what? It’s a done deal, just needs the final signature.” “You haven’t even earned the commission yet, and you’re already buying such expensive bags and ordering such pricey dishes. What if the deal falls through, and you end up deep in debt?” “Shut your jinxing mouth! This deal is absolutely foolproof!” After the food arrived, everyone started chatting. “Did you see the trending news? A while ago, someone had amazing luck and won a billion dollars in the lottery!” “Oh my god, I’m going to cry with envy. How many lifetimes would it take to spend all that money?” “And I heard after she won, she immediately donated two hundred million, and even acquired several companies and invested in many projects. All these projects are incredibly profitable; it’s like money making money.” “That person has such good fortune, not only did she get an unexpected windfall, but everything she invests in makes money.” Seeing their heated discussion, I couldn’t help but say, “Actually, the person who won the big lottery prize… is me.” Everyone fell silent for a moment, then burst into roaring laughter. Chloe laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. “Rovan, stop dreaming! With your pathetic life, you can’t even win ten dollars, let alone a billion!” I simply smiled faintly, offering no further explanation. Chloe then announced publicly, “Classmates, Greg and I are holding our wedding in Bali! Everyone please come! We’ll cover your travel and accommodation!” “A Bali wedding must be so expensive! You two are really extravagant!” “My husband is the top salesperson! He’ll have a continuous stream of big deals and commissions in the future. The top salesperson’s wedding, of course, has to be grand!” After everyone finished eating and drinking, Greg called the waiter for the bill. He swiped three credit cards, but it still wasn’t enough to cover the meal. “How can the limit not be enough? Bring me the bill, let me see!” The waiter presented the bill. Our table had accumulated a total of five hundred thousand dollars in expenses. Greg instantly flushed red with anger. “How can it be this much? Aren’t you ripping us off?!” I scoffed from the side. “If you can’t afford it, don’t show off. You ordered such expensive things; I thought you two were loaded.” Greg, losing face, elbowed Chloe. “Lend me the fifty thousand dollars from your house sale, I’ll pay the bill first!” “No way! That’s my pre-marital asset!” “I’m not saying I won’t pay you back! I’m signing the deal tomorrow. The commission will hit my account, and I’ll pay you back immediately!” Chloe reluctantly took out her debit card and swiped for the five hundred thousand. My phone, lying on the table, suddenly rang: “PayPal deposit: five hundred thousand dollars.”

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My mother was renowned far and wide for her beauty. My father, on the other hand, was utterly unremarkable in every way. His only real advantage was having grown up alongside her. Yet, my grandfather, with his old-fashioned ways, saw something in his steady, honest nature. I heard that on his deathbed, my grandfather promised my mother to him, and she wept for three days straight. Years later, when my father had an affair, she simply moved into a different room to sleep. It was then that my grandmother truly saw my father for what he was, privately cursing my grandfather for being a senile old fool who had ruined their daughter’s life. Only after I was grown and independent did she decisively file for divorce. When she and I moved back to the old countryside house to clear out her belongings, we found a leather suitcase hidden under her bed. Inside were an airplane ticket, an unopened letter, and a photograph of a man I’d never seen before. On the back of the photo, four words were scrawled: “I’m waiting for you.” My head swam, and suddenly I was back at an airport, twenty-five years in the past. A young woman in a trench coat, dragging a suitcase, sat down beside me and linked her arm through mine. “You little rascal, you’re truly loyal, actually escaping with me!” she chirped, a hint of nervous excitement in her voice. “Just wonder if Dad’s ‘honest’ apprentice will chase us. Hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.” It was my mother, before my grandfather’s dying wish had shackled her to that marriage. Mom, this time, please don’t look back. You belong where you’re meant to be. … I stared at my mother, dumbfounded. She was so incredibly beautiful then. It was hard to imagine this vibrant, enthusiastic woman, clutching her suitcase, would one day become that haggard woman in the kitchen, silently enduring the cooking fumes, barely exchanging a word with my father. “What’s wrong, you frozen?” She nudged my shoulder, her tone light but laced with guilt. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Regretting this crazy escape with me?” I snapped back to reality, my palms slick with sweat. “Evelyn, are you absolutely sure about this?” Her gaze darted away, her fingers unconsciously picking at the lock on her suitcase. “Dad’s going to marry me off to Liam Miller. The date’s practically set.” She gave a bitter laugh, a smile more painful than any frown. “Liam’s a good man, I guess. Honest, decent, Dad’s favorite apprentice. But the moment I look at him, I feel like my life is already over. He always gives me this feeling, like ‘I’ve done so much for you, you must be moved.’ Chloe, do you understand? I’ve never been south, never seen the ocean. I don’t even know what this free world Adam Grant talks about looks like. Am I really doomed to spend my entire life in that one alley, just circling the stove until I’m old?” I gripped her hand tightly. In my previous life, she had turned back at precisely this juncture. Because of my grandfather’s dying wish, she married my father. And what was the result? That “honest” man, Liam, started to resent her quiet dignity soon after I was born. Eventually, he found a woman outside who would drink and gamble with him, then turned around and accused Evelyn of being unfaithful and wild. “Living your whole life for someone else only ends in mutual destruction,” I said, looking into her eyes, enunciating each word. “Evelyn, you don’t owe anyone anything. If you go back now, you will regret it. Go find Adam. He’ll show you the world.” She paused, clearly unaccustomed to such talk. The teachings of that era told her that obedience was a virtue, and sacrifice was noble. “But Dad…” She bit her lower lip hard. “His health isn’t good. If I leave, it’ll be seen as unfilial. I don’t think I can bear the guilt of abandoning my name like that.” “A shoe that doesn’t fit will chafe your foot until it’s raw. That’s not the foot’s fault,” I said, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Liam’s ‘honesty’ has hooks in it. He’s being agreeable now because he’s claiming the rest of your life. Can you really bear that silent pressure?” A flicker danced in her eyes, and her breathing grew heavier. Just then, a hurried footsteps echoed. Liam was here. He was flushed from running, a button missing from his usually neat shirt, clutching a half-bag of steaming hot buns. He looked every inch the lovesick, clumsy, ‘honest’ man. Other travelers in the terminal turned to stare. “Evelyn!” he gasped, reaching out to grab her suitcase. “Stop this nonsense. Master’s so angry at home he can’t even eat. Come back with me. I won’t tell Master the details. We’ll just say you went out to clear your head.” His tone was nauseating. A condescending magnanimity, as if Evelyn were merely a petulant child who’d run away, and he, the generous adult. Evelyn turned sideways, gently evading his hand. “Liam, I’m not coming back,” she said, her voice soft. Liam froze, his hand suspended awkwardly in mid-air. “Evelyn, has someone been putting ideas in your head?” He shot a displeased glance at me. “I know you chase romance and think I’m boring. But isn’t life just about the daily grind? What can Adam give you? Today he’s in the south, tomorrow he’s in the northwest, no steady job. Are you going to go begging if you go with him?” “I’m not asking for handouts, I’m asking for freedom,” Evelyn looked at him, her eyes steadily growing colder. “You want a wife, kids, and a warm hearth, but I want the open world. We see life completely differently. Forcing ourselves together would be unfair to both of us. Liam, stop wasting your time on me.” Liam’s brows furrowed into a knot. He gritted his teeth, shook his head, and sighed. “You’re too naive. In this world, apart from your parents, only I will truly care for you. Do you really think the world out there is so easy to navigate?” He was about to say more, but the airport announcement suddenly changed. “Passenger Evelyn Cole, please contact your family immediately.” Old Man Johnson, from their alley, rushed over, sweating profusely and stumbling. He grabbed Evelyn’s arm. “Evelyn, quick! Go back! Your father collapsed! Heart attack! The doctor says it might be serious!” The airplane ticket slipped silently from Evelyn’s hand, hitting the floor. Her earlier resolve and yearning for freedom shattered completely at the mention of a heart attack. Her eyes instantly welled up. “Dad…” she whispered, trembling, her legs weak, utterly losing all her resolve. I bent down and picked up the ticket, a wave of intense helplessness washing over me. Does fate truly have such a powerful pull? When we arrived at the hospital, the hallway was filled with hushed sobs. My grandfather lay weakly on the hospital bed. He looked even older than I remembered, the tough resolve of a traditional man completely eroded by illness. Seeing Evelyn enter, my grandfather’s hand trembled as he reached out. “Evie, it’s good you’re back,” his voice was broken. “Your father has no other wishes in this life. Just to see you in a wedding gown, settled, before he closes his eyes. Liam is a good boy, I watched him grow up. He’ll take care of you. Then your father can rest in peace.” There was no scolding, no shouting. Only this heart-wrenching plea, the cruelest weapon of all. Evelyn knelt by the bed, covering her mouth, tears streaming between her fingers. She wanted to object, to speak of freedom, but looking at his almost ashen face, she dared not open her mouth. “Dad, I don’t want to marry Liam,” she finally managed to say, her voice as faint as a gnat’s buzz. “I have someone I like, Adam Grant, he…” “Silence!” My grandfather’s emotions suddenly flared. He coughed violently twice, his face turning purple. “That Adam Grant? Always gallivanting around, doesn’t even have a steady job! He’s too wild, a known playboy, not someone you can build a life with! Can he give you stability? Can he keep you from starving? Liam, I trained with my own hands.” My grandfather stared at her, his stubborn gaze chilling me to the bone. “Only by entrusting you to him can I rest easy. Do you want to see me die with regrets?” Evelyn turned to me, desperation in her eyes. She was like a little deer caught in a trap, surrounded by hunters with the moral pitchforks. At two in the morning, the hospital corridor fell silent. My grandmother, exhausted, had been taken to a relative’s house to rest. Now it was just my mother and me. “Chloe, am I completely useless?” She leaned against the hard chair, her face pale. “Can’t even control my own life. I despise this arranged fate so much, but I can’t bring myself to refuse.” I handed her a cup of hot water and gently took her cold hand. “Evelyn, your father’s illness isn’t your fault. You haven’t stolen anything, you haven’t cheated anyone. You just want to live your own life. You don’t owe anyone anything,” I tried to keep my voice calm. “Don’t blame his illness on yourself. These are two separate things.” “But he’s my father,” she said with a bitter smile, slowly sipping the water. “If I left, and he truly died of anger, I would live with that guilt for the rest of my life. How could I… how could I be so selfish?” I cradled her face, looking into her eyes. “Selfish people often live better lives. But kind people like you, who are always self-sacrificing, end up being eaten alive, bones and all.” I felt as if I was seeing her, decades in the future, sitting on a balcony late at night, gazing at the sky. She was silent for a long time. “Maybe that’s just who I am,” she murmured to herself, closing her eyes in pain. “No courage to leave, just self-pitying here.” In that moment, my heart ached so much I wanted to hold her tight. As dawn broke, Liam came in, carrying a thermos. There were dark circles under his eyes; he looked like he’d been up all night. “Evelyn, you haven’t slept all night. Have something to eat first.” He ladled out a bowl of porridge, blew on it, then offered it to Evelyn. “I talked to the attending physician. Master’s condition is temporarily stable. With continued rest, he should slowly recover.” “Thank you, Liam,” Evelyn took the bowl but didn’t touch the spoon. Liam sat beside her, maintaining a subtle distance—close enough to show intimacy, but not intrusive. “Evelyn, I know your mind is in turmoil. What happened with Adam, I can pretend it never did. As long as you stay, I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” His voice was low and gentle, but his gaze was locked on her. “Master always wanted us to be together. This is for your own good, too.” I stood nearby, unable to listen to his hypocritical words any longer. “Liam, you’re taking advantage of the situation,” I said, my voice cold, tearing through his facade without mercy. “You know Evelyn is distraught right now, and you’re using her father’s illness to bind her. What kind of man does that make you?” Liam turned his head. “Chloe Yeager, I’ve tolerated you long enough! Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble?” “Liam…” Evelyn looked up, trying to explain something. “I know your head isn’t clear right now. No need to rush your answer,” Liam interrupted her directly, standing up and adjusting his jacket, masking the possessiveness in his eyes. “I’ll wait for you. No matter how long, I’ll wait.” After he left, Evelyn looked at the steaming bowl of porridge, and tears streamed into the bowl. This tactic was truly vile. Liam was using my grandfather’s illness, using Evelyn’s guilt, to slowly erode her defenses. In the afternoon, I went back to the alley. At the reception room, the old caretaker handed me a letter. The envelope had no stamp, sent by someone entrusted to deliver it. It was addressed to Evelyn. It was from Adam Grant. I brought the letter back to the hospital, and Evelyn’s hands trembled as I gave it to her. Inside the envelope, besides the letter, was a photograph. Adam stood by the clear blue sea, tall buildings behind him, smiling brightly. It was the world Evelyn had always dreamed of. She sat on a bench, holding the letter, her fingers tightly clutching the edges of the paper. She desperately wanted to open it. But the thought of her critically ill father potentially dying from her rebellion made her press the letter against her heart. I knew she needed my guidance. “Open it,” I said, sitting beside her and patting her shoulder. “This is the way out you’re looking for.” She trembled as she opened the letter. In it, Adam wrote that he had settled down, found an apartment with a balcony where he could see the ocean. He said he understood her struggles, but he would wait for her there, until the day she was completely free. After reading the letter, a faint glimmer finally ignited in Evelyn’s eyes. “But I can’t leave,” she cried, covering her face in pain. “My father could die any moment.” I knew that she still needed someone to make the decision for her. My presence alone wasn’t enough. While she was fetching water, I picked up the photo and turned it over. On the back was Adam’s address in San Francisco. I pulled out a piece of paper I had prepared from my bag and quickly scribbled a message on it. “Adam Grant, Evelyn is trapped in the hospital right now, her father is critically ill. Her entire family is forcing her to marry Liam Miller, and she’s about to break. If you truly understand her, if you’re not just a coward who only knows how to write letters, please show up immediately. Otherwise, you will lose her forever. After this letter, no one else can save her.” I rushed to the post office at top speed and sent a registered express letter. This was the last chance. If Adam didn’t come, Evelyn would repeat the tragedy of her previous life. I stood at the post office entrance, watching the letter slide into the mailbox, silently thinking: Mom, this time, I will pull your happiness back for you. The situation deteriorated faster than I expected. Due to a violent coughing fit, my grandfather was rushed back into the emergency room. This time, it lasted a full two hours. When the doctor emerged, his face was extremely grim. “Prepare yourselves. The old man might not make it through the month. It’s a matter of days now.” These words became the last straw. My grandmother completely broke down in that moment. She had originally quietly supported Evelyn’s pursuit of happiness. But now, she suddenly grabbed Evelyn’s hand, crying hysterically. “Evie, I’m begging you! I’ll get on my knees for you, okay?” My grandmother actually started to kneel on the floor. Evelyn cried out, holding her close. “Your father was so stubborn his whole life. This is his only wish before he dies. Just grant him this one thing, just so he can rest in peace. Do you want to see him die with regrets?” The surrounding relatives and former colleagues also gathered around. My uncle stepped forward, sighing heavily. “Evelyn, filial piety is the greatest virtue. At a time like this, personal feelings have to take a back seat. You can’t be so selfish.” “Exactly. Liam is such a good boy, he’s been busy helping out all these days. Just agree, don’t let your father leave with bitterness.” Each sentence was like a heavy chain, clamping down on Evelyn’s neck, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even cry anymore. Liam walked over, his gaze sweeping over everyone. “Evelyn, don’t worry. As long as it brings Master peace of mind, we can have a simple ceremony first. After we’re married, I’ll treat you like a sister. I’ll never force you.” His tone was gentle and warm, making him sound like a paragon of virtue. I stood by, watching this absurd family drama, a furious fire building in my chest. “Treat her like a sister?” I said coldly, mercilessly tearing through his disguise. “Liam, do you even believe that? Marriage is a contract, not a stage for your self-righteous performance.” My uncle glared at me, pointing a finger at my nose. “You’re an outsider, what are you interfering for? This is our family business!” I ignored him, gripping Evelyn’s hand tightly. “Evelyn, don’t say yes,” I whispered in her ear. The hospital room door opened, and a nurse wheeled out my weakened grandfather. He stared fixedly at Evelyn, his gaunt hand clutching the bedrail. “Evie… say yes. If you say yes, your father will smile as he slowly goes. If you shake your head, your father will die right now before your eyes.” This was an overt threat. Evelyn trembled all over, the last bit of resolve keeping her standing finally crumbling. She closed her eyes, her lips moving. The word “yes” was on the tip of her tongue. In that very second, hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the hospital corridor. Bang! The hospital room door was flung open. A man in a dark trench coat stood in the doorway. His face was covered in dust, his hair disheveled—he had clearly traveled across half the country overnight. All the accusations and pleas ceased instantly. Adam Grant gasped for breath, walking straight to Evelyn. He firmly took her hand. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I’m late,” his voice was a little hoarse. “I promised to show you the ocean. How could I break my word?”

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At 11:59 PM, a new post suddenly appeared on the Instagram of Ham Mellark, the celebrated Oscar-winning actor. “Happy New Year, and ‘Hazel’ new year.” It was a seemingly ordinary New Year’s greeting. Yet, the comment section was filled with a sense of lingering heartache. “He put ‘Hazel’ in quotation marks. Even in the new year, are you still thinking of her?” “My ‘Jazel’ ship broke up two years ago. Is there still a chance for them to get back together?” “If you two can just reunite, I’ll do anything!” The post’s popularity soared, instantly hitting the trending topics. #JazelHeartbreak became the top trending hashtag. More and more shipping fans were reawakened, some even flooding my comment section with messages. “Hazel, please look back at Ham Mellark!” “Hazel, your relationship was so strong back then, you even had a joint couple’s account. I don’t believe you two are truly over!” “Can you respond to this trending topic?” I ignored them all, simply folding the advanced stage stomach cancer diagnosis report. A draft obituary, set to auto-post two months from now, sat in my account’s draft box. Let that be the response they’re looking for. 1. My young assistant clutched her phone, casting a cautious glance at me. “Ms. Miller, should we respond to this trending topic?” I let the makeup artist continue patting thick foundation onto my face. “Don’t bother.” After all, in two months, there would naturally be a response. The assistant stood her ground, unmoving. I knew she had more to say. Sure enough, after a moment’s hesitation, she spoke: “Ms. Miller, actually… I was a huge fan of you two as a couple. I still remember your wedding like it was yesterday…” Realizing she had said too much, she quickly stopped herself. “I just wanted to ask, do you truly feel nothing for Mr. Mellark anymore? Not even a tiny bit?” The makeup artist’s movements slowed slightly, as if waiting for my answer too. Scenes from the past flashed before my eyes: from our first meeting on set to the monumental wedding that shocked the entire entertainment industry. I smiled, my voice soft but firm. “No.” “Not a single bit.” The assistant looked somewhat disappointed. The makeup artist said nothing, simply exhaling a quiet sigh. My agent, Serena, pushed open the door and entered then. After a brief chat, she suddenly spoke with a complex tone: “Ham Mellark will also be at tonight’s script reading.” I hummed in acknowledgment. Serena paused, then continued: “If you need some time, I can speak with the director. We can skip tonight’s reading first…” “No need.” I cut her off, patting her hand reassuringly. “I’ll be there on time tonight.” Serena said nothing, and silence filled the room. I looked at everyone’s expressions, feeling a little helpless. Aside from the fact that I was dying, so many years had passed, and I had long moved on. Yet, everyone around me seemed more heartbroken than I was. I smiled, changing the subject. “Alright, for now, I just want to focus on this project.” After finishing my makeup, I went to the restroom and reached up to remove my wig. The woman in the mirror stared back, her head completely bald. The makeup, thick as a mask, was meant to conceal the mottled patches on my face from my illness, making me look like a ghost. But thankfully, I’d always worn heavy makeup since my debut, so no one would notice anything amiss. The only time my makeup was natural was at my wedding to Ham Mellark. Thanks to him, after that grand wedding, my long-maligned public image actually improved significantly. Back then, I thought I had finally overcome rock bottom and ushered in a new beginning. I never imagined it was merely stepping from one abyss into another. 2. At 7 PM, I arrived at the hotel precisely on time. My assistant suddenly rushed over to tell me that the supporting actress with whom I had scenes had been replaced by Iris Lane. Iris Lane, the actress I never got along with. “Wasn’t the casting decided a long time ago?” My assistant looked confused. “Serena asked, and they said… it was the investor’s decision.” She paused, then lowered her voice. “They also hinted that it might be because we’ve been ignoring Mr. Mellark on social media, making him angry…” Hearing that, I twitched the corner of my mouth. All these years, Ham Mellark hadn’t changed one bit. To make me compromise, he’d pull out all the stops, even if it meant hurting me. I took a deep breath. As I pushed the door open, everyone’s gaze instinctively turned in one direction. The man sat in the corner, thick script in his finely boned hands. The atmosphere hung heavy for a moment, then, with unspoken understanding, everyone averted their eyes. In the latter half of the script reading, I went to the balcony for some air. As I walked out, I saw Ham Mellark standing there. Seeing me, he nonchalantly put out the cigarette in his hand. I politely apologized. “Excuse me, I didn’t realize anyone was here. I’ll leave immediately.” Just as I turned, my arm was grabbed. “Been avoiding me for two years, still not enough?” Without thinking, I shook off his hand. Ham Mellark frowned, his tone chilling. “Hazel Miller, I told you, my patience is limited.” “If you keep this up, I’ll make you disappear from Hollywood for good!” I certainly believed he had that power. Hadn’t he almost succeeded back then? Endless scandals, trending topics that couldn’t be suppressed. I didn’t look at him, walking off the balcony without a backward glance. Just as I entered the restroom, a sudden metallic taste filled my throat. I vomited a large mouthful of fresh blood, my crimson lips making me look even more like a hanged ghost. A tissue was handed to me. I turned, meeting my assistant’s red-rimmed eyes. “Ms. Miller, let’s not do the reading, okay?” “Let’s go back and rest…” I was about to refuse when my assistant suddenly choked out, “I saw Mr. Mellark yelling at you. You’re already like this, and you still have to put up with this outside. Didn’t he love you the most back then? Why is he treating you like this too?” “Ms. Miller, why did you two break up back then?” I looked at her. After a long moment, I reached out and gently ruffled her hair. It wasn’t surprising she felt so heartbroken. Ham Mellark’s love for me back then had indeed been passionate and extravagant. He showered me with countless resources, elevating me from an unknown talent to a hugely popular star. Then, at the peak of my fame, he married me, openly declaring to the entire industry that he was my rock. Everyone said I was lucky, that Ham Mellark was my good fortune. If Ham Mellark hadn’t fallen for another girl, perhaps we would have been very happy. No arguments, no divorce. We might have had a beautiful baby, and my illness would still have been treatable. Alas, there are no ‘ifs.’ 3. My memory of Clara Belle isn’t very vivid anymore. I only recall first hearing her name when Ham Mellark complained, brows furrowed. He said this young actress had no talent and was stubborn, probably a troublesome signing. Gradually, he started saying Clara’s progress was slow but she was diligent enough. “Her parents passed away early; she’s been struggling on her own until now, she’s a pitiful soul.” I paused mid-bite, instinctively looking up at him. I remembered how Ham Mellark’s affection for me had begun—he pitied my struggles. He started pouring massive resources into Clara Belle. I casually asked if he was giving Clara too much attention. Ham Mellark smiled, pinching my cheek. “Hazel, I just think she’s like you in your early years, that’s why I want to help her.” The affection in his eyes was so genuine, I believed him. Until he gave a role I had worked so hard to get to Clara Belle. I confronted him, asking Ham Mellark why. He, however, looked at the papers in his hand, not even raising his head. “It’s just one role, don’t be so petty.” I wanted to say it wasn’t about being petty; this role was one I had immersed myself in over several sleepless nights. But Ham Mellark cut me off. His tone was cold, his eyes showing impatience. “You’ve already achieved so much. What’s wrong with giving some opportunities to younger people?” “Your journey wasn’t easy either. Why can’t you empathize with others?” The very empathy he once felt for my struggles now became a blade he used against me. My body trembled, fighting back tears, as I argued fiercely with Ham Mellark. Until I pulled out my phone, intending to delete the couple’s account we had managed together for five years. Ham Mellark, his face dark, stopped me. He called the director, telling him to give my original role back. After a moment of polite conversation, he suddenly changed his tone. “Isn’t the supporting role in this series still open?” “Give it to Clara Belle. She’s more suited for a resilient and strong character like that.” With that, he didn’t look at me again, turned, and stormed out of the office, slamming the door so hard it echoed. For the next week, we worked as usual, maintaining appearances. We continued to hold hands, attending various galas together. But the moment we were out of public view, Ham Mellark would immediately let go of my hand, as if I were something unclean. His schedule also became a secret from me; sometimes, I couldn’t reach him for a whole week. I updated our couple’s account every week. Fans commented below: “Why are all these photos from last month? Haven’t you taken any new ones recently?” I didn’t know how to reply. Because I hadn’t seen him in a month. That day, I went to Ham Mellark’s agent for the first time, begging him for half a day to disclose Ham Mellark’s itinerary. I immediately rushed over by car. All the way there, my heart pounded inexplicably fast. When I got out of the car, the strap of my high heel suddenly snapped, and my ankle immediately swelled up. I endured the pain, limping as I opened the door to Ham Mellark’s hotel room, where he was supposedly resting. In the dim, ambiguous light, Ham Mellark and Clara Belle were tangled on the bed, their clothes disheveled. The sounds rose and fell, crawling into my ears like insects. But in that instant, my love, my future, the fans who deeply loved the ‘Jazel’ pairing—all of this overshadowed my heartbreak and fury at being betrayed. I backed out of the door, separating myself and the paparazzi who had secretly followed me from their space of pleasure.

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For eight years, I harbored a secret crush on Lucas Brooks. And then, I slept with him. The next morning, I heard him on the balcony, taking a phone call. “I told you, it was just a one-night stand. Marry her? Don’t be ridiculous. Just give her some money and send her on her way.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I got dressed, went home, and dragged out the box filled with eight years of memories from my closet. Secret photos, movie ticket stubs, a button he’d discarded. I dumped it all into a black garbage bag. As the garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything beneath its wheels, I let out a long breath. Later, that same man who said “just throw some cash at her” took a red-hot steel pipe through his back to save me. He lay on the ground, covered in blood, but he was still smiling. “Thank God… it didn’t hit your face. You’re getting married tomorrow, even if the groom isn’t me. You should still be the most beautiful bride.” Ivy Laurent POV For eight years, I harbored a secret crush on Lucas Brooks. And then, I slept with him. It was unexpected, absurd, yet somehow inevitable. I woke at six in the morning. London had been raining all night. The air was heavy with moisture and the lingering scent of us. My whole body ached. I didn’t even dare look at the man sleeping beside me. This was the deity I’d placed on a pedestal and worshipped for eight years, now reduced to evidence of my deepest transgression. I picked my clothes up off the floor. I’d barely gotten half-dressed when I heard movement from the balcony outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lucas was awake, taking a phone call. Through the half-open glass door, his voice was low and husky, lazy with post-coital drowsiness, yet it cut into my heart like an ice-cold blade. “I drank too much last night. Didn’t even see who it was.” The person on the other end must have been teasing him, because Lucas lit a cigarette, his tone distant to the point of coldness. “Who told you to drug her? Don’t use that kind of tactic again.” Through the curling smoke, he paused, irritation creeping into his voice. “I don’t like her, but we’ve known each other for years. Last night was her first time… What do you expect me to do? Take responsibility? Marry her?” A scoffing laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Not just anyone can walk through my family’s door, least of all her. What I feel for her is friendship at most.” “Enough. Keep this between us. As for compensation… I’ll have my assistant send her a card later. She can fill in whatever amount she wants. Enough to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. That’ll settle years of acquaintance.” My hands froze mid-button. In an instant, my blood ran cold. My hands and feet went numb. So in his eyes, my eight years of careful companionship, this one wild night-all of it could only be converted into a string of cold numbers. With the added phrase: “Don’t be ridiculous.” I didn’t cry. I dressed efficiently, left no note, took nothing, and slipped silently out of the villa that had trapped my youth. When I got home, my father was sitting on the sofa, sighing. Spread across the coffee table were a pile of photos, potential marriage candidates he’d painstakingly collected. “Ivy, I know you’ve got pride. You used to chase after Lucas all the time. But people like him, we’re not in their league. I’m getting old, my health’s failing every day, and I just want to see you settle down with someone ordinary…” In the past, I would have stayed silent, resisted, made excuses to retreat to my room. But today, I walked over and scanned the pile of photos. Not one looked like Lucas. That was good. I randomly pointed to one. “This one.” My father froze, hardly daring to believe it. “That’s Ethan Rivers. He’s a doctor, very refined. But he’s being transferred to the New York branch for a few years. If you marry him, you might have to leave home…” “It doesn’t matter.” I cut him off. “The farther away, the better. Set up a meeting for us.” My father was overjoyed and hurried to make the call. I returned to my room and pulled out a locked box from the depths of my closet. Inside was everything related to Lucas Brooks. Photos I’d secretly taken in high school, every movie ticket stub from the past eight years, even a button he’d carelessly tossed aside. I didn’t burn them. Burning things creates smoke, stings your eyes, makes people think you’re crying. I found a large black garbage bag and dumped everything I’d once treasured, along with the heart that had loved Lucas Brooks for eight years, into it. I tied the bag shut and threw it in the trash bin downstairs. The garbage truck rumbled past, crushing everything. I looked at my empty room and let out a long breath.

Ivy Laurent POV The meeting with Ethan went surprisingly smoothly. Ethan wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a refined, scholarly air. He spoke softly and politely. He didn’t have Lucas’s aggressive presence. He was like a glass of warm water. Good for quenching thirst. Good for living a stable life. “Miss Laurent, the matchmaker should have told you about my situation.” Ethan refilled my water glass. “Next month I’ll be going to New York. I’ll probably settle there permanently. If you’re willing, we can get married first, and you can join me after you’ve settled things here.” The pace was absurdly fast, like completing a task. But I only thought for three seconds. “Okay.” Ethan looked up, somewhat surprised. “Don’t you want to think about it more? After all, marriage is a big decision.” “No need to think about it.” I looked down, stirring the water in my glass. “I want a change of environment. A fresh start.” Ethan smiled, genuinely pleased. “What a coincidence. So do I.” We hit it off immediately. Though the meal lacked passion, it was remarkably relaxed. No one needed to look up to anyone. No one needed to force themselves to read obscure philosophy books or learn difficult video games just to cater to the other person. Since I’d decided to leave, the first thing I did when I returned to the office was submit my resignation. The editor-in-chief Mr. Evans looked at my resignation letter, frowning. “It’s not that I won’t let you go. You’re one of the pillars here. Losing you would be a real loss. Plus, you haven’t finished that London’s New Elite feature yet.” He tapped the desk, offering a deal. “Here’s what we’ll do. The first subject is Lucas Brooks. Everyone in London knows he never gives interviews, but you know him. As long as you can get his exclusive, even just ten minutes, I’ll sign off immediately and double your bonus for the month.” My fingers holding the resignation letter went pale. Lucas Brooks. Lucas Brooks again. I couldn’t shake his name no matter how hard I tried. “Mr. Evans, could we get someone else?” “No.” Mr. Evans’s tone was firm. “Only you can do this. If this article doesn’t get done, your resignation process could take three months.” I stood at the end of the hallway, looking out at the gray sky, silent for a long time. To leave London cleanly. To completely sever the past. One last meeting. After seeing him this one time, never again. I pulled out my phone and found the number I’d kept at the top of my contacts for eight years but never dared to call. My fingertip hovered over the screen, trembling, then finally pressed down. It rang once before being answered. The background was noisy, like people playing cards, then footsteps, and the surroundings quieted. Lucas’s voice came through the receiver, carrying a careless, teasing quality. “You’ve been avoiding me for three days. Finally willing to call?” So he knew I’d been avoiding him. I took a deep breath and spoke in a businesslike tone. “Mr. Brooks, our magazine would like to do an interview with you. When would you be available?” Two seconds of silence on the other end, then a soft scoff. “Ivy Laurent, since when did you learn to be so formal with me?” Lucas seemed to be in a good mood. He wasn’t angry about the distant form of address. “I’m at the club. Come now.” “It’s working hours…” “Then forget the interview.” Lucas cut me off, his tone carrying its usual arrogance and control. “If I don’t see you within half an hour, the interview’s cancelled.” He hung up without waiting for a response. I looked at the darkened screen and put my phone away. I turned and called to the photographer. “Let’s go. To the club.” The photographer looked shocked. “That place? He’s there? My god, you’re amazing. You actually got him to agree!” I said nothing. Amazing? This was a “privilege” I’d bought with eight years of blood and tears. And today, I was going to tear that privilege to shreds and throw it in the trash.

Ivy Laurent POV This was London’s most exclusive private club, the place Lucas and his circle frequented. In the past, whenever I came here, I always felt awkward and inferior, trailing behind Lucas like a shameful little shadow. But today, I wore my press badge, held my voice recorder, and kept my spine straight. When I pushed open the private room door, smoke and alcohol fumes filled the air. A group of rich kids were laughing with their female companions. When they saw me enter, the room fell silent for a moment, then erupted in louder jeers. “Isn’t that Ivy? Long time no see!” “Wow, you’ve got some pull! Three days without seeing him and now you’re here to check up on him?” The man sitting in the center of the sofa wore a black shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing his pale collarbones. He was playing with a lighter, the flame flickering on and off, illuminating his sharply defined face-the kind that made countless women throw themselves at him. Lucas Brooks. He leaned lazily against the back of the chair, his gaze cutting through the crowd to land on me. His eyes lingered on me for a moment. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then smoothed out. He patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.” Like summoning a well-trained pet. In the past, I would have obediently walked over, sat down, poured him drinks, waited on him. But this time, I stood where I was and gestured for the cameraman to set up the equipment. “Mr. Brooks, we’re on a tight schedule. Let’s just do it here.” I pulled out my equipment. “About fifteen minutes.” The atmosphere in the room instantly chilled. Everyone exchanged glances. Lucas’s hand playing with the lighter paused. The lid snapped shut. He narrowed his eyes, his expression amused. “Ivy, what are you trying to pull?” “You’ve got it wrong, Mr. Brooks.” I turned on the voice recorder, meeting his gaze directly. “This is strictly business. If now’s not a good time, we can do this another day. Or I can have someone else take over.” I started to pack up my things. “Stop.” Lucas’s face darkened. He slammed his glass on the table with a sharp clink. “Everyone out.” He waved his hand at the others. Though curious, no one dared to anger Lucas. They all filed out with their companions, but as they passed me, their eyes held a voyeuristic gleam. The photographer hesitated. “Should I…” “Wait for me outside,” I said. The private room door closed. The vast space held only the two of us. The lighting was dim. The air was filled with expensive perfume and lingering cigarette smoke. Lucas stood and walked toward me step by step. He was tall, his presence overwhelming. He lowered his head, leaning close to my face, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “Still mad about that morning? Didn’t I say I’d have Steve send you a card? Not enough?” I stepped back half a step, avoiding his breath. “I didn’t accept the card. I already sent it back to your company’s front desk.” I lifted my head. “Lucas, that night was an accident. We’re both adults. It’s over. I’m here today purely for work.” “Over?” Lucas looked like he’d heard a joke. He suddenly grabbed my chin, his fingertips grazing my delicate skin. “Ivy, you’ve followed me around for eight years, and now you’re playing it cool? I don’t believe you feel nothing for me. That night, you clearly…” “That was the drug’s effect.” I interrupted him. “Mr. Brooks, I’m resigning. This interview is my last assignment at this company. After this, I’m leaving London. We probably won’t see each other again.” Lucas’s fingers tightened abruptly, the pressure making me wince. “Leaving London? Where to?” “That’s none of your concern.” “To avoid me?” Anger flickered in Lucas’s eyes. “Ivy, is this really necessary? Just because I never made you official? You never cared about that before.” “I was naive before.” I pried his hand off forcefully and stepped back twice, smoothing my wrinkled collar. “Now I’ve come to my senses. Someone like Mr. Brooks, up in the clouds-you’re not suitable for someone ordinary like me. I apologize for bothering you all these years. It won’t happen again.” I raised the voice recorder again. “Mr. Brooks, first question: regarding the Brooks Group’s strategic plans for next quarter…” Lucas stared at me. He laughed in fury and sat back on the sofa, lighting a cigarette, his expression dark. “Fine. Very good. You want an interview? Ask away. I’d like to see how long you can keep up this act.”

Ivy Laurent POV The interview was exceptionally difficult. Lucas didn’t cooperate. In fact, he deliberately made things hard for me. No matter what I asked, he answered carelessly, even deliberately steering the conversation toward his private life, trying to provoke me. “What are Mr. Brooks’s expectations for a future partner?” “Obedient. Well-behaved. Preferably not like some people, the kind who sleep with you and then pretend you don’t exist. Change faster than the weather.” Lucas exhaled a smoke ring, looking at me with mock amusement. My fingers tightened around my pen, but I still dutifully recorded his words. “Mr. Brooks prefers the obedient type. What about the recent rumors of a business marriage…” “Not interested.” Lucas cut me off, suddenly leaning forward, his gaze intense. “Lately I’ve been more interested in women who look proper on the surface but will do anything for a man in private. Got any recommendations?” I closed my notebook. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Brooks. I have enough material.” I didn’t want to stay a second longer. Just as I was about to stand, the private room door suddenly burst open. A girl in a white dress with long flowing hair rushed in, carrying an elegant thermal container. The girl was beautiful-the kind of bright, flamboyant beauty completely different from mine. “Lucas! I heard you were here, so I made you chicken soup!” The girl fluttered toward Lucas like a butterfly, naturally looping her arm through his and nuzzling against him affectionately. Charlotte Ashford. Also Lucas’s recent rumored girlfriend, the female lead in those ambiguous social media posts. Though that post was later deleted, everyone in their circle knew Charlotte was pursuing Lucas. Lucas didn’t push her away. His gaze traveled over Charlotte’s head, staring straight at me, seemingly waiting for my reaction. I just glanced once. I nodded politely at Charlotte. “Hello, miss Ashford.” Then I turned to Lucas. “Since Mr. Brooks has a guest, I won’t intrude further. I’ll send you the draft for review once it’s written.” I turned and left without a trace of reluctance. But I still heard the voices behind me. Charlotte sounded confused. “Lucas, who is she? She seemed kind of weird.” He suddenly shook off Charlotte’s hand and irritably swept the glass off the table. “Get out.” Charlotte jumped. “Lucas…” “Everyone get out!” Lucas roared. I ignored his tantrum. After leaving the club, the wind outside was cold, clearing my head. The photographer had been waiting anxiously in the car. Seeing me emerge, he quickly started the engine. “How did it go? Did you get it?” “Got it.” I tossed the voice recorder into my bag and leaned back in the seat, exhausted. “Back to the office.” Back at the paper, I worked through the night to finish the article. I sent the piece to Mr. Evans with a single line. “Assignment complete. Please sign.” Mr. Evans was probably surprised by my efficiency. He didn’t make things difficult and readily approved my resignation. The moment I finished the paperwork, I stood outside the company building, looking at this prosperous city, feeling only relief. I sent Ethan a message. “I resigned.” Ethan replied almost instantly. “Congratulations. To celebrate your freedom, dinner tonight? I’ve made a reservation.” I thought for a moment and replied. “Okay.” I didn’t tell anyone I’d already bought a plane ticket to New York for the day after tomorrow. This meal was a farewell. Farewell to the past, and farewell to this city.

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After a night of passion on our wedding day, my husband Derek White cupped my face and suddenly spoke. “There’s something I need to come clean about.” I lazily hummed in response. “I can’t marry you. Officially, I’m already someone else’s husband.” My whole body froze. My nails dug into my palms. “Who?” “A woman my parents forced me to marry years ago. I never mentioned her to you.” He sat up and looked at me with deep affection. “Evelyn, you’re the most important person to me. But she’s just a housewife who can’t survive without me. I can’t just abandon her.” “Why are you crying?” His brow furrowed with confusion. “We had the wedding, you’re wearing the ring, everyone thinks you’re my wife. Is a marriage certificate really that important?” I took half a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall. “We’re done.” He froze for a moment, then laughed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” “Then divorce her.” I insisted. Derek fell silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “She took care of my parents for seven years. No merit, maybe, but she put in the work. I can’t do something so ungrateful.” Seven years. I calculated the timeline, and a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. That year we had just graduated, and his lease was ending. I helped him move. He took a phone call and walked to the balcony. When he came back, he said it was work I believed him. Turns out that was his wedding day phone call. “Don’t look at me like that.” He walked over, reaching to put his arm around my shoulder. “Nothing ever happened between us. It’s just a formality.” “We’ve been together for ten years. How can she compare to that?” I pushed his hand away. The nausea intensified. He stood there, his tone growing colder. “Evelyn, think rationally. You’re going to throw away ten years over a piece of paper? How will you explain that to your parents?” “What about all our plans we’ve been saving for? You’re just going to walk away from all of that?” The door closed with a soft sound, like a sigh. I knelt by the toilet, dry heaving until tears smeared across my face. At 3 AM, I dragged out my suitcase and yanked clothes from the closet one by one, stuffing them in randomly. My phone lit up. His mother had posted on Ins. “Derek’s wife made me this roast beef. Delicious.” The picture showed a table full of food, utensils arranged neatly. In the upper right corner of the photo, half a sleeve was visible. I recognized that watch. It was the first gift I ever gave him. I’d saved three months of salary for it. Today he said he was having dinner with a client. I liked the post, then unliked it. His mother probably didn’t know that like came from her son’s mistress of seven years. 2 At 3:17 AM, I stood in the elevator watching the floor numbers descend. The elevator doors opened and cold air rushed in. That’s when I realized I was only wearing a thin knit sweater. My phone rang. It was my father. I stared at that name for a long time before finally answering. My father’s voice was soft. “Evelyn, Derek just called. He said you two had a disagreement?” I didn’t respond. “He’s been really good to you all these years. We’ve all seen it.” “Tell me, what has he done wrong?” What has he done wrong? Well, nothing really. That year I had acute appendicitis. He rode his electric scooter to take me to the hospital and fell on the way. His knee was scraped raw, blood running down his pant leg. When my parents arrived, he’d already treated his own wound and was limping around buying me fruit. When he was starting his business, things were hardest. He went three days without sleep, and the project still failed. He sat on the company building steps all night and only came home at dawn. The first thing he did was take a shower, then stick his face in front of mine. “Smell it. Does it smell good? New shampoo.” I only found out later he was afraid I’d smell the cigarettes and alcohol on him. He was good to me. But he was also someone else’s husband. “Evelyn? Are you listening?” “Yes.” “I need to tell you something.” “Dad, I have something to tell you too.” The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down. Tell him what? That your daughter was deceived for ten years? That your future son-in-law married someone else seven years ago? “Your mother is having heart surgery next month.” My father’s voice was calm, like he was talking about pork prices dropping at the market. “The doctor said she can’t handle any stress.” “Evelyn, I know you have your own issues to deal with, but right now, we need peace at home. You know your mother’s temperament…” I couldn’t hear the rest clearly. I don’t know when it started raining. By the time I came to my senses, my hair was plastered to my face, water dripping from my chin. “Evelyn!” An umbrella appeared over me. Derek stood in the rain, his shirt soaked through. He grabbed my wrist, gripping it tightly. I could feel his fingers trembling. “Get in the car first. We’ll talk about everything at home.” “That Ins post was deliberate. I was trying to get back at you.” “I never wanted to break up. I really didn’t.” He threw my suitcase in the trunk and pulled open the passenger door. “I’ll handle things with Mia. Just give me some time, okay?” “Your dad told me about your mom’s situation. I know some cardiac specialists. I’ll contact them tomorrow.” I sat in the passenger seat without saying anything. There was a faint fragrance in the car. On his collar was a very faint lipstick mark. I tilted my head, watching the windshield wipers sweep back and forth. He kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. The rain was heavy. The neon lights outside the window blurred in the rain, red, green, yellow, all mixing into a hazy glow. 3 I stayed at the hospital for two weeks. Derek never complained once. In fact, he did everything he could. He found the specialists, finalized the treatment plan, and even switched us to a south-facing private room. He knew my mother’s pre-surgery indicators better than I did. At night he sat with me on the hallway bench. When he got tired, he’d lean against the wall and doze off. The nursing station lights were dim yellow. Even in sleep his brow was furrowed, but his hand never let go of mine. When my mother was feeling better, she’d hold his hand and talk. “Derek, Evelyn can be stubborn. Please be patient with her.” He smiled and tucked my mother’s hand back under the blanket. “I’m the lucky one.” My mother looked at me, her eyes full of relief. I nodded without saying anything. But each day, the weight in my chest grew heavier. That afternoon, he was called away by the company.  I was carrying a food container toward the hospital room. When I pushed open the door, a strange woman was sitting by my mother’s bed. They’d changed caregivers. The woman wore light blue scrubs and was peeling an apple with her head down. Sunlight streamed through the window. She looked up and smiled at my mother. “My husband? He’s not a bad person.” “He’s just too softhearted. Women throw themselves at him, and he always says he’s afraid of hurting their feelings, can’t bring himself to cut them off.” My mother leaned against the headboard and sighed. “That must be hard on you.” She handed the peeled apple to my mother. “You’re telling me.” “Sometimes when I feel suffocated, I come out to find something to do, clear my head.” My mother’s voice was muffled. “If you ask me, those homewreckers have no shame at all.” I stood in the doorway, the thermal container in my hands growing heavier. My mother waved me over. “Evelyn’s here?” “Mia is such a good person, just unlucky. You don’t know what her husband is like…” “Mom, I brought you food.” I set the container on the bedside table and turned to the woman in blue scrubs. “Can you step outside? I need to talk to you.” The window at the end of the hallway was open, the smell of disinfectant dispersed somewhat by the breeze. “Were those words meant for my mother to hear?” She leaned against the wall. The gentle expression on her face peeled away like paper. “I was talking about my own family business. How does that concern you?” “This is between us.” I kept my voice low. “It has nothing to do with my mother.” “Between us?” She laughed. “Evelyn, you’ve been an underground mistress for seven years, and now you want to talk to me about ‘us’?” I clenched my fists. “You think he’ll actually marry you?” “You know that, right? He plays everyone.” “Your mother’s surgery? Who knows if it’ll even happen. She’s old. Her health isn’t great. Something could go wrong on that table…” The slap happened before I even realized what I was doing. My palm burned. She covered her face and stumbled backward. Her scream hadn’t even left her throat before it was drowned out by a voice from the other end of the hallway. “Evelyn!” Derek rushed over and pulled her behind him, grabbing my wrist. “Have you lost your mind?” She hid behind him, tears coming on command. “Derek… I just wanted to help. I saw her mother had no one with her… I don’t know why she got so angry. I didn’t say anything and she just…” I stared at Derek. “Ask her what she said.” He frowned, looking at me, then at her swollen face. “What could she have said?” “Evelyn, whatever she said, hitting her was wrong. When did you become like this?” I laughed, my eyes burning. “What have I become?” “Derek, it’s you who-” “Enough.” He cut me off, putting his arm around her shoulder and walking toward the elevator. “I’m taking her home. You calm down and think about whether what you did today was right.” 4 That night at 11:40, I got a call from the hospital. The nurse on duty said the original team of specialists had been urgently reassigned. The specific reason was unclear. I stood outside the hospital room holding my phone, hearing people talking at the far end of the hallway. “…that woman, she was the other woman for seven years.” “Really? She looks pretty decent.” “You can’t judge a book by its cover. The real wife even came to confront her.” I stood there silently, not moving. The next morning, my mother somehow heard about all this. She leaned against the headboard, her face ashen, and asked me. “Evelyn, tell me the truth.” I opened my mouth. She suddenly clutched her chest, her whole body tilting to one side. The heart monitor started screaming. My dad rushed in from outside, frantically pressing the call button. A nurse ran in, glanced at the situation, then ran back out. When she returned, she said the original surgical team wasn’t there. They could only stabilize her for now and wait for people to arrive. My dad grabbed the nurse’s sleeve. “Where are they?” “Didn’t you say everything was arranged?” The nurse shook her head and said she didn’t know. I put an oxygen mask on my mother, my hands shaking badly. Her eyes were half-open, looking at me. Her lips moved but no sound came out. I pulled out my phone and called Derek. It rang seven times before disconnecting. I called again. Still no answer. My dad paced back and forth, asking over and over what was happening. I couldn’t answer. I just stared at my phone screen, my finger frozen over the dial button. Then I tried calling from a different number. Mia answered, her voice lazy. “Looking for Derek?” “Let me talk to him.” “He’s in the shower. You can tell me whatever it is.” “Give the medical team back.” The other end went quiet for a few seconds before Derek’s voice came on. “Have you thought it through?” “Give them back.” Tears fell involuntarily from my eyes. “Please.” “I can do that.” He said, “Apologize to her. If she agrees, the team will go back.” I hung up and looked at the numbers on the monitor, then at my dad. He crouched in the corner, his hair mostly white now, shoulders hunched, like a dried-up tree stump. The elevator at Riverside Apartments was the slowest I’d ever seen. Mia sat on the sofa. There was fruit on the coffee table. She was peeling an orange. Derek stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to me. “You’re here?” Mia popped a piece of orange in her mouth and chewed. “Sit down.” “Actually, I don’t really want to make things difficult for you.” “But you know, getting slapped out of nowhere-anyone would need an explanation, right?” I didn’t say anything. She looked at me and smiled. “So apologize.” “I’m sorry.” She tilted her head. “Hmm?” “What did you say? I didn’t hear clearly.” “I’m sorry.” She sighed, crumpled the tissue into a ball, and tossed it in the trash. “Words alone won’t cut it.” “Kneel down. Slap yourself. Keep going until I say stop.” I looked at her coldly. She glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling window. “Derek, what do you think?” Derek didn’t turn around. I knelt down. My knees hit the tile floor with a dull thud. I raised my hand and slapped my own face. Once, twice, three times. My palm burned, my face burned. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or numbness. “Is that enough?” Mia didn’t answer. She stared at something behind me. My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket. “Hello?” “Evelyn…” “Your mother is gone. Her heart just stopped. We couldn’t wait any longer…” The phone fell to the floor. The screen shattered. Light seeped through the cracks like a spider’s web. I knelt there, staring at that broken screen. It was still lit, the call interface showing. The timer kept running. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Derek walked toward me and crouched down, his hand on my shoulder. “Evelyn? What happened?” “Is it your mother…” His voice paused. “Don’t panic. I’ll call right now and get the team back.” “I never really planned to withdraw them. I just wanted to teach you a lesson…” I looked up at him. This face-I’d been looking at it for ten years. In front of the dorm building, cooking noodles for me in our rental apartment, asleep in the hospital hallway holding my hand. But now it looked like a stranger’s. “Derek. My mother is dead.”

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Julian’s proposal—which I personally helped plan for my best friend Quinn—was a huge success. After the celebration died down, Quinn pushed Julian toward me with a grin, egging him on. “Julian, your turn! Why don’t you propose to Jenna today too? We’ll have double the celebration!” The spotlight swung onto Julian. I held my breath, waiting. But he only gave a faint smile, walked past everyone, and headed straight backstage. When he came out again, he was holding the hand of a girl covered in sweat, his tone casual and straightforward. “Come on, Quinn, don’t mess around. You only succeeded because Iris was backstage holding up the signs. You should really thank her properly.” “Absolutely! Let’s do Japanese food!” I stood awkwardly to the side, laughing at my own naivety. Seven years. I’d given Julian ninety-nine chances. This was the hundredth. And the last. Julian, I’m done waiting. The romantic music from the proposal scene still looped in the background. He smiled and walked over to me. The next second, he pulled a few pieces of candy from his suit pocket and held them out. “Today’s their day, after all. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to propose here.” “I picked these out while packing the wedding favors for Quinn. Saved some of the nice-looking ones.” He shook his wrist slightly, his voice gentle. “I didn’t eat any. I saved them especially for you.” “Thanks.” I lowered my eyes, took the candy, unwrapped one, and popped it in my mouth. Very sweet. So sweet it was almost cloying. “Jenna, is the candy good?” I didn’t know when Iris had sidled up to me, her head tilting toward my side. “I could smell the chestnut from way over there. I knew there’d be candy.” I didn’t respond. I just silently opened my hand and offered the candy her way. “Little glutton.” Julian suddenly laughed, his tone relaxed and natural. “Don’t steal hers.” As he spoke, he pulled out a few more pieces from that custom-tailored suit. My gaze drifted over—that pocket was now completely empty. “Quinn really splurged on this proposal. Even the candy is imported.” He turned his head, speaking casually to Iris. “Try some. Wedding favors—share in the sweetness.” Iris held the candy, tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes curving into crescents. “Thank you for thinking of me, Julian.” “After all, I was basically a human signboard for half the day. My arms are killing me.” “Take tomorrow off.” Julian replied offhandedly. “I’ll have accounting add a bonus to your check this month. Consider it compensation.” Iris’s eyes lit up, and she gave an exaggerated bow. “Thank you, Julian!” She chewed the candy, patting her chest energetically. “Julian, next time there’s something like this, call me again! I may not have much, but I’ve got muscle to spare!” “Count on me, and I guarantee you’ll be satisfied!” “Sure, sure. I’ll call you next time.” Julian looked at her, the smile on his lips impossible to suppress. Perhaps noticing my continued silence. His gaze finally returned to my face, pausing slightly. I spoke first. “The candy’s really sweet.”

When the banquet ended and I reached for my car door, Julian caught my wrist from behind. “Let’s go together. Take my car. Leave yours with Quinn—I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Before I could respond, he naturally took my bag from me, his other hand covering mine as he firmly shut the car door. I stiffened but didn’t argue with him anymore. People have to move forward. You can’t stay trapped in endless waiting, building your own cage. The car merged into the deep night. Watching the flickering neon lights outside the window, I suddenly felt so tired. Tired of Julian. Tired of these seven years of unresolved feelings. We drove in silence. Until he broke it first. “Are you angry?” “No.” My voice was flat. He turned to look at me, his brow furrowed into a tight knot. “Jenna, I know you’ve been waiting and it’s been hard. But the overseas projects are crushing me. I’m stretched too thin. I really can’t help it.” “How are we any different from being married right now? We’re just just not legally married yet.” “If you can’t wait, we can go to City Hall right now. We can get the license anytime.” Seeing my continued silence, a rare crack appeared in his usually composed expression. “What do I have to do for you to believe me?” I looked up, my voice calm. “You don’t have to do anything. I believe you.” like punching a pillow, Julian turned to me in bewilderment. “Then why haven’t you said a single word to me from the end of the banquet until now?” I turned back to the window. The neon lights still flashed tirelessly. Red, yellow, green—the same as every night for the past seven years. But I knew clearly in my heart that Julian and I could never go back. Back then, my parents strictly forbade me from dating, but when they found out I liked Julian, they relented. Mom smiled and held my hand, her tone full of approval. “The Wright family matches ours perfectly. Much more reliable than those social climbers out there.” “You two are in love—it saves us the trouble of an arranged marriage.” In the dim car, Julian’s profile was still sharp and handsome, the kind countless people chased after. But looking at him, I could no longer piece together the memory of that boy who used to blush when he smiled at me, who always put me first. I spoke softly, my voice so calm it felt foreign even to me. “Julian, let’s break up.” The car lurched violently. I pitched forward, nearly hitting the windshield. “Jenna, do you know what you’re saying?” The car stopped on the roadside. He turned his head. The cramped space left me nowhere to escape. I was forced to meet his gaze. The moonlight deepened. I had no energy to look at Julian’s increasingly dark expression. “The Ashford family rules—I told you when we first got together.” My voice stayed level. “Before thirty, if I don’t get married, I have to accept an arranged match.” I smiled slightly. “Next month on the tenth, I’ll be thirty.” The car fell silent. So silent only heartbeats remained. “So you’re breaking up with me to go through with an arranged marriage?” Julian’s voice trembled with anger. “Jenna, won’t you fight for us? Tell them you have someone you love. Marriage is just a matter of time.” “We will get married. I just… I’m not ready yet.” “I want to give you the best.” My chest suddenly felt blocked, sour emotions surging up. I couldn’t help asking one more time. “How much longer would I have to wait?” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. At this point, what was the use of asking these questions, waiting for his high-sounding excuses? “It won’t be much longer.” He reached out to hold me, his thin lips moving to kiss me. I turned my head away. His hand froze in midair, the light in his eyes gradually dying. “Jenna, you don’t trust me anymore?” His voice was hoarse with bitter laughter as he pounded the steering wheel. Just then, his phone rang abruptly. He straightened up, instinctively moving to open the door to take the call. I beat him to it, speaking softly. “I’ll get out. It’s easy to get a cab here.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and was suddenly stopped by him. “Jenna.” “Let’s just… let tonight’s unpleasantness end tonight.” “I’ve had your birthday gift ready for a long time. Next month, I’ll give you a surprise.” My hand on the door handle paused. “Okay. Thanks.” His phone rang again, with a sense of urgency. I understood. I quickly got out of the car. It was Iris’s custom ringtone. No matter how deeply Julian hid it, how could someone as sensitive as me not notice? I dragged myself home. My gaze fell on the notebook on my desk. Inside was everything about Julian and me, from burning passion to desolation. So much time had passed, I’d almost forgotten how Julian and I had reached this point. I sat at the desk, flipping through page by page, forcing myself to see the truth clearly. Until I reached page ten, where Iris’s name first appeared in my diary—also our first fight. Back then, she hadn’t even graduated yet but got an internship at Julian’s company. Fresh and green, with clear eyes. Like all college students entering society, carrying naive curiosity and vibrant energy. Julian at that time was full of disgust for her, frowning as he called her noisy. Said she was stupid, couldn’t even make a cup of coffee properly, his face full of impatience as he wanted to fire her. I watched Iris bow in apology with red-rimmed eyes and softened. I tugged on Julian’s arm, gently persuading him to give her a chance—everyone makes mistakes, as long as they learn from them. At that time, I thought I was saving a girl full of dreams who just needed guidance. That night, Julian pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window and took me all night long. He bit my shoulder, his voice domineering. “You like putting women around me that much? Beg me, and I’ll keep her.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, whimpering and begging for mercy as we moved, but my heart was so sweet. Later, Iris began infiltrating our lives at every turn. Gradually, Julian’s assessment of her shifted from stupid and noisy to sunny and lively. His indulgence of Iris gradually exceeded what he showed me. On our anniversaries, she could always appear with complete justification, tilting her head to offer a casual apology. Then sitting beside Julian without a care. When we were alone, Julian’s phone would ring at the worst times, the caller ID always showing Iris. Then he’d turn away and tell me, “Work comes first. I’ll be right back.” And then he could leave me behind with a clear conscience. It wasn’t like Julian had done anything terribly wrong. At least I’d never caught them in bed together. But looking at my diary, densely recording every single moment Iris intruded on our lives—once, twice, countless times… The ignored emotions suddenly lodged in my chest, so stifling I couldn’t breathe.

Just as I walked out of the office at noon, I saw Julian waiting at the entrance. Over six feet tall and straight as a pine, wrapped in a custom-tailored suit that showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He leaned casually against a limited-edition sports car. Drawing frequent backward glances from passing female colleagues. But the more dazzling he was, the more suffocated I felt. I walked toward him step by step, speaking in a voice only the two of us could hear. “Didn’t we already break up?” He looked up, casually removing his sunglasses, completely ignoring my words. “I made reservations at that French restaurant you love.” He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Jenna, stop being stubborn.” “It’s such a small thing, and you actually held a grudge all night and are still giving me the cold shoulder?” He was certain I’d soften, convinced he understood all my thoughts. He was also confident I would never leave. It belatedly dawned on me that these seven years had always been like this. My chest felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, sour emotions churning, choking me until I couldn’t breathe. I looked up, meeting his gaze, enunciating each word. “Julian, I already agreed with my family. I’m going through with the arranged marriage.” Julian’s smile froze on his face. “Jenna, you’re joking with me, right?” His voice carried a tremor that was hard to detect. The next second, he lunged forward. “I’m your boyfriend! You’re telling me to my face that you’re going to marry someone else? What do you take me for?” “Ex-boyfriend,” I interrupted him. Four words, light as wind but heavy as a thousand pounds, crashing between us. Julian squeezed his eyes shut, raised his hand to his forehead, and let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Jenna, you’re really something.” “You’re always so self-centered. You want to get married, so I have to disrupt all my plans to humor your tantrum.” “If I don’t go along with you, you threaten me with breaking up, with an arranged marriage. What makes you think I’ll always give in?” “Let me tell you, no one can control me. Including you.” I froze completely in place. I thought that from the moment I decided to give up on him, I wouldn’t hurt anymore. From the first time he abandoned me for Iris. From yesterday when he dismissed marriage talk with flimsy excuses. From last night’s thinly veiled phone call. I’d been holding it in, maintaining composure, not crying, not making a scene, not falling apart. I even wanted to part on good terms, to give closure to who we were seven years ago. But tears still fell because of these few baseless accusations from Julian. Like pearls off a broken string, falling endlessly no matter what. “Julian.” I heard my own voice shaking. “I can’t control you.” “But I can decide for myself.” I looked up. Tears blurred my vision, yet I was more clearheaded than ever. “I’ve decided to give up on you.”

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My roommate thinks her online boyfriend is a control freak and wants to transfer him to me. “He’s always checking my location and even tells me what to wear. You never had a dad, so maybe you’d actually like that kind of controlling older guy.” I was about to slap her across the face when a line of floating text appeared before my eyes: Stella is so clueless. This older guy is hot, loaded, and has more stamina than college boys. Just act cute a little and he’d give you his life! Older men do like to be controlling, but they control you by dressing you, cooking for you, buying you mansions, transferring you to good school districts, and making you go from community college to Harvard. Don’t worry, Claire is just a tool. Once the older guy realizes he’s talking to someone else, he’ll come back to find Stella, and then we’ll get the forced romance storyline we love. My raised hand gently fell, stroking my roommate’s face instead. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of this relationship.” Money or not doesn’t matter—what I really want is to get into Harvard.

After getting Stella’s alternate account, I immediately changed the password. As soon as I logged in, I was overwhelmed by the flood of messages. You there? Why aren’t you replying? Skipping class now? Why has your location been stuck at the dorm? Answer the phone. The last message was from two hours ago: I’ve already bought a ticket back to the States. You’d better give me an explanation. Seeing this, I quickly scrolled through their chat history. Just as Stella had said, this was an older man who lived abroad year-round. They didn’t chat much. But whenever they did, he’d ask what Stella did that day, whether she’d eaten, and if she was studying. He also urged her to transfer schools, go to grad school, get a doctorate. Of course, it wasn’t just lectures—he’d transfer money too. Five thousand at a time. For ordinary college students, that wasn’t bad, but for Stella, it wouldn’t even buy one handbag. Stella had tried asking the older man for more, but he refused. “I’ve looked into it. Most students’ living expenses don’t exceed two thousand. Five thousand is more than enough.” “Don’t flaunt your wealth. You shouldn’t be too flashy at school, or you’ll attract jealousy.” Those two sentences probably convinced Stella he was a cheap, preachy old man—lucky for me. It had been two days since their last conversation. Stella hadn’t replied to any of his messages, which must have driven him crazy. I quickly opened the text box and apologized. I’m so sorry! I’ve had a fever these past two days, been completely out of it, and my phone broke. Less than three seconds after I sent it, he called. I took a deep breath, declined the call, and typed: My throat’s hoarse, I can’t talk… This time he was silent for a few seconds, then sent a transfer. 100,000. Is it because I didn’t give you enough spending money last time? Are you angry? I counted the zeros on the screen, my fingers trembling slightly. A hundred thousand, just like that. Who said this old man was stingy? He’s incredibly generous! I didn’t accept the money and typed: I don’t want money. The older man: Then what do you want? I stared at that line, my heart pounding. I don’t want to go to school anymore. After I sent the message, the chat went quiet. At the same time, floating text appeared: Claire has such a big appetite, trying to become a sugar baby right after hooking up Too bad the male lead hates gold diggers like this. He likes ambitious people Just wait, he won’t reply. Older men despise this type the most My heart tightened, and I quickly added another message: I mean, I want to drop out and retake the SAT. Can you help me? Time ticked by second by second. I stared at the screen, palms sweating. One minute. Two minutes. Just when I suspected he’d figured out I wasn’t the original person and wouldn’t reply anymore, a new message popped up in the chat box. Okay. The day after receiving that message, I got a phone call. The caller said he was Mr. Quinn’s assistant and asked me to bring my ID documents to a café outside school. He wanted to discuss the SAT retake with me. Although Stella had never revealed her identity information while chatting with the older man, I was still nervous when I went. Fortunately, Assistant Lewis didn’t say anything after reviewing my documents. He just asked if I had a target university. I felt a bit embarrassed. “I want to go to Harvard.”

Assistant Lewis seemed surprised. The floating text exploded too. Claire, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about Harvard? Is that somewhere you can get into just by dropping out? This girl doesn’t actually think the older man can buy her a Harvard acceptance letter, does she? You’re community college level at best, just stick with your community college I knew this sounded absurd. The reason I ended up at community college was because I had a fever and missed one section during the SAT. After my scores came out, I’d considered retaking it. But my parents refused, saying I should start college early so they could support my brother sooner. Even so, my SAT score was over a hundred points higher than Stella and her friends. Just when I thought Assistant Lewis would tell me not to daydream like the floating text suggested, he simply nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll create a plan for Claire based on getting into Harvard.” I asked him what kind of plan. Assistant Lewis said they’d first help me drop out. Since the state I was in had too much competition, they’d help me transfer to Massachusetts and handle local enrollment procedures, then hire professional one-on-one tutors for me. Hearing all this left me stunned. Transfer to Massachusetts? Did that mean I could apply to Harvard as a Massachusetts resident? The educational resources in my previous state compared to Massachusetts were worlds apart! And one-on-one tutors? If I’d had one-on-one tutoring before, would I have had to randomly guess the last physics problem? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Assistant Lewis, how much will all this cost?” Assistant Lewis said, “Claire doesn’t need to worry about money. Mr. Quinn will handle it.” After discussing this, Assistant Lewis took me to the mall. He said Mr. Quinn had instructed him to buy me some clothes and a new phone. During this process, I learned the older man’s name was Cyrus Quinn. He started his own business, opened a small company, and was currently expanding overseas, unable to return for a year or more. I secretly looked up the name Cyrus Quinn online. Assistant Lewis had downplayed it, but seeing the words “Quinn Group,” I was still shocked. This is called a small company? Oh my goodness. Cyrus’s net worth was more than all the rich second-generation guys in Stella’s dating pool combined. Especially that face—more handsome than any celebrity. It’s over, now that Claire knows the older man’s real identity she’ll never let go Claire, get lost! The older man belongs to Stella Don’t worry everyone, once the older man discovers Claire isn’t Stella, he’ll dump her immediately Seeing the word “dump,” I instantly sobered up. Cyrus would come back looking for Stella eventually. But before that happened, I had to play the role of online girlfriend perfectly and treat Cyrus like my own father. So I immediately pulled out my phone and sent Cyrus a bunch of thanks and sweet nothings. I typed so fast that I accidentally sent: Thank you for supporting my education. When I make money I’ll definitely repay you. By the time I realized what I’d sent, it was too late to retract it. Oh no. I’m going to blow my cover. He’ll figure me out before I even take the SAT and I’ll fail before I start. Just as I was panicking, Cyrus sent a voice message. “Okay.” His tone was low. But I knew I had pleased Cyrus.

I had just returned to the dorm carrying bags of stuff when Stella came over and asked: “Claire, who was that man who dropped you off this afternoon? Did he buy you all this?” I paused. “That’s the online boyfriend you gave me.” Stella frowned, looking unhappy. “What did you do? When I was with him, he only gave me five thousand a month. Today he bought you so much?” Good thing I had the foresight. I quickly opened the bags to show her the contents. “Look, there’s a lot of stuff, but it’s all cheap. This T-shirt was only 99 dollars, the jeans 139. Everything added up is less than two thousand.” Stella’s expression softened slightly, but she still pressed: “Are you lying to me? I saw the car he was driving. That car costs at least over a million.” My heart skipped a beat, but my face remained calm. “That’s the company car. He’s just an assistant for someone, a high-level employee. He occasionally borrows the boss’s car for errands.” Only then did Stella relax. “I thought he was so rich.” She laughed mockingly. “But even an assistant—with your background, you’d have a hard time finding someone like that. He spent so much money on you, shouldn’t you thank me? Buy me dinner.” I pretended not to hear her passive-aggressiveness and said I should, asking what she wanted to eat. Stella: “Let me think about it. I’ll bring a few friends. You don’t mind, right?” I nodded. Within two hours, the news that I was being kept by a stingy older man had spread throughout the girls’ dorm. I didn’t bother with the gossip since I’d be dropping out soon anyway. I had just relaxed when I took out the clothes from the bags, picked a few to try on, and took a photo in the mirror. I sent the photo to Cyrus, hesitated, then added a line: I love all the clothes Assistant Lewis bought me today. Which outfit do you want me to wear tomorrow? Cyrus: From that day on, I started reporting my daily life. I had to ask what clothes to wear, where to go. I’d proactively send my location and even tell him when I drank water. It turned out Cyrus really did have a strong need for control. Whenever I obeyed him, he’d become very pleased. Assistant Lewis’s efficiency was exceptional. Within a week, my withdrawal paperwork was complete. When the dorm found out I was dropping out, everyone gathered around asking what I planned to do. In front of Stella, I naturally wouldn’t tell the truth, so I said: “My boyfriend says community college has no future. He told me to go home, said he can support me.” Seeing my lovesick appearance, my other two roommates strongly objected. “Claire, are you crazy?” Madison, who slept across from me, widened her eyes. “Even community college is still a degree. You’ll need it when looking for jobs later.” “Exactly.” Another roommate, Tiffany, also tried to persuade me. “Don’t be foolish. Men can’t be relied on. If you drop out for him now and he dumps you later, what will you do?”

The two of them went back and forth, practically wanting to pin me back in my seat. Before I could speak, Stella laughed mockingly. “You two are going too far. Claire is clearly going to live the good life.” Madison frowned. “Stella, how can you say that? She’s doing this because of your online boyfriend…” “Because of what?” Stella rolled her eyes. “Even if that man’s a bit stingy, he’s still more generous than most guys. Besides, Claire is willing. Why are you interfering so much? Don’t you know what it means to respect others’ choices? Mind your own business.” Madison and Tiffany were left speechless, their faces showing disbelief. I said nothing and continued packing my luggage. Stella was right—respect others’ choices. She definitely couldn’t imagine what my destiny actually was. After leaving school, I moved into a mansion with dedicated housekeepers and servants, and a family doctor on call 24/7. I only needed to have my meals prepared and clothes laid out for me. But while enjoying this, I didn’t forget to maintain my persona on social media. I posted lots of lovesick housewife content, saying I spent every day washing clothes, cooking, and cleaning for my boyfriend. My boyfriend also bought me gifts, though these were just stock images I found online, adding up to less than a hundred dollars total. Stella commented how envious she was. Then she turned around and told others in the dorm group chat: Claire is so stupid. He’s just using her as a free housekeeper. She actually thinks she can become a rich wife The floating text turned bitter about my lifestyle. Claire is so shameless, all this stuff clearly belongs to our Stella She’s even posting on social media to trick Stella, afraid Stella will find out the truth and come looking for the male lead No matter how the floating text insulted me, I didn’t get angry. After all, they couldn’t actually hurt me. On the third day after moving into the mansion, Assistant Lewis came over with a document folder. “Claire, this is your Massachusetts residency certification. It’s all processed.” Looking at that red booklet, my hands trembled. My parents dreamed of getting Massachusetts residency for my brother, and it had just landed in my hands so easily. Over the next week, Assistant Lewis brought several teachers. The language arts teacher had participated in SAT question writing, the math teacher had published study guides, the English teacher had been a university professor… I scheduled myself from 8 AM to 11 PM. Cyrus was very unhappy seeing this and forced me to only study until 9 PM, saying studying like this would cause a mental breakdown. I wanted to say this was nothing. But I didn’t dare contradict him. After all, this was my real sugar daddy. Just like that, I studied while posting social media to maintain my housewife persona and chatted with Cyrus in my spare time. In the blink of an eye, I was about to take the SAT. The night before the SAT, I was preparing to get a good night’s sleep when the floating text that hadn’t appeared in a while suddenly exploded. The older man is back! He’s here! The older man will soon discover Claire is fake and kick her out, then turn around to find Stella Hahaha, just thinking about how Claire worked so hard but won’t be able to take the SAT makes me happy My heart dropped. Cyrus was back? And he’d prevent me from taking the SAT? My hands moved faster than my brain. By the time I came to my senses, I was already at the door with my things. I could lose anything, but I had to get into Harvard. But as soon as I turned the doorknob, I crashed into a hard chest. I stiffly raised my head to meet a face even more stern than in photos. Cyrus looked down at me, his voice emotionless. “Where are you going?”

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The day Adrian Bennett made his comeback, he secretly hired his ex-girlfriend—the one who abandoned him years ago—behind my back. When I found out, he swore to me right there: “I just want to punish her. I have absolutely no feelings for her whatsoever.” I didn’t lose it. Instead, I made her Adrian’s personal assistant. Vivian grabbed my hand and promised over and over: “Don’t worry, we’ll only have a professional relationship. I would never come between you two.” I believed her. After all, when the Bennett family went bankrupt years ago, Vivian humiliated Adrian to no end just to get rid of him. Until the car accident, when Adrian threw himself in front of her without a second thought for his own life. That’s when I realized—all these years, Adrian had never gotten over her. When he woke up in the hospital, Adrian had lost his memory. Looking at Vivian and me standing by his bed, he asked: “Who are you?” This time, I pointed at Vivian and spoke first: “Mr. Bennett, this is your wife. I’m your personal secretary.”

Vivian pulled me out of the hospital room, asking in surprise: “Why did you lie to him?” I simply said calmly: “I know the person he loves is you.” Seeing her conflicted expression, I added: “Don’t worry, we’re not legally married yet.” She pressed on: “You’ve struggled alongside him for seven years. Are you really willing to just hand him over to me?” I nodded peacefully. “There’s nothing to be unwilling about.” I should even thank you. The moment Adrian was hit by that car, fragments suddenly flashed through my mind. I saw Adrian’s future—endless arguments because of Vivian. Because even though he’d lost his memory, his subconscious still loved Vivian. After recovering his memory, he finally realized the person he truly loved was Vivian. To make it up to her, he personally sent me—the obstacle preventing their reconciliation—to a psychiatric hospital. In the end, I died in a mysterious fire, my body completely destroyed. After seeing my own ending, I suddenly didn’t want to keep clinging on anymore. A flash of wild joy crossed Vivian’s eyes, though she forced down the smile at her lips. She bit her lip, looking reluctant: “Adrian has amnesia now and really needs someone to take care of him. Since you insist, I’ll help you look after him for now.” “But if he blames me when he gets his memory back…” I cut her off: “I’ll take responsibility for the consequences. You just focus on being Mrs. Bennett.” Vivian finally felt at ease. She smoothed out her skirt and turned back to the hospital room. I followed behind her, holding the payment receipt I’d just gotten. Watching her walk toward Adrian, I felt not a trace of bitterness in my heart. Only the lightness of setting down a thousand-pound burden. On the hospital bed, Adrian’s head was wrapped in thick bandages. Seeing Vivian enter, his previously confused eyes brightened. That look in his eyes couldn’t be faked. Even if his mind forgot, his heart would make the choice for him. The second the accident happened, he instinctively protected Vivian. And me? I sat in the back seat, watching the airbag deploy, watching him collapse in her arms covered in blood. I should have understood right then. Seven years of companionship couldn’t compare to a single tear from his childhood sweetheart. “You’re my wife?” Adrian’s gaze locked tightly on Vivian. Vivian’s body stiffened. She instinctively looked back at me. My face remained expressionless. I even nodded slightly at her, mouthing two words: “He means you.” Vivian took a deep breath, her face instantly filling with tender, heartbroken affection. She hurried over and grasped Adrian’s hand: “I’m here, Adrian. I’m here.” Adrian breathed a sigh of relief and gripped her hand even tighter. “You scared me. I thought I’d lost you.” “My head hurts so much. Have I been asleep for a long time?” Watching this scene of mutual affection before me, I felt like a superfluous decoration. In the past, whenever Adrian had so much as a headache or fever, I’d stay by his bedside day and night. Feeding him water and medicine, wiping him down, giving massages. He just took it all for granted. Now, his eyes were full of another woman. “Mr. Bennett.” I spoke in a businesslike tone, breaking through the intimate atmosphere. Adrian turned to look at me, his brow slightly furrowed. “I seem to have some impression of you. You are…” Vivian suddenly panicked, her eyes darting toward me in confusion.

I signaled for her to relax, lying without changing expression: “Sarah Clark, your personal secretary.” “Since Mr. Bennett is awake, there are many urgent matters at the company that need handling. I won’t disturb your reunion with your wife.” I bowed slightly, my tone respectful and distant. Adrian seemed uncomfortable with my attitude. He unconsciously licked his dry, cracked lips, his gaze lingering for a second on the water glass I’d placed on the table. In the past, I would have already put the water to his lips, making sure the temperature was just right. But now, I didn’t move a muscle. Adrian waited two seconds. Seeing I had no reaction, his brow furrowed even deeper. He looked at Vivian, his tone carrying a hint of playful whining: “Honey, I want some water.” Vivian clearly had no experience taking care of people and fumbled clumsily trying to pour water. The result was that the water was too hot—as soon as she handed it over, Adrian flinched from the burn. “Hiss—” “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Vivian panicked and quickly grabbed tissues to wipe it up. Even though he’d been burned, Adrian endured the pain to comfort her: “It’s fine, not your fault. I was too impatient.” See? That’s the difference between love and no love. In the past, if I accidentally made his coffee a bit too strong, he’d lecture me with a dark face for ages, saying I couldn’t even handle such a simple thing. Now Vivian burns him, and he turns around to comfort her instead. I sneered inwardly and pulled out a set of keys and an access card from my bag, placing them on the bedside table. “Mrs. Bennett, the care work during Mr. Bennett’s hospitalization will be your responsibility.” “Also, Mr. Bennett is allergic to seafood, doesn’t eat cilantro, is particular about pillows, and must have a cup of warm black coffee every morning.” I rattled it all off at lightning speed. Vivian listened in a daze, nodding unconsciously. Adrian looked at me, confusion flashing in his eyes. “How do you know all this so clearly?” I met his gaze calmly and smiled: “As Mr. Bennett’s personal secretary, understanding my boss’s lifestyle habits is part of my job.” “Now that Mrs. Bennett is here, these responsibilities naturally transfer to her.” “After all, some intimate matters aren’t appropriate for a secretary to handle.” Adrian was left speechless by my response. He seemed to feel something was off but couldn’t put his finger on it. He could only wave his hand irritably: “Fine, go do your work.” “Yes, Mr. Bennett.” Without any hesitation, I turned and walked away. When I reached the door, Adrian’s voice came from behind: “Wait.” My steps paused, but I didn’t turn around. “Um… were the medical bills paid?” So he was worried about money. I turned around and waved the receipt in my hand: “Already advanced from the company account. It will be deducted from your dividends later.” “Mr. Bennett, rest and recover. I’ll take care of the company.” After speaking, I pulled open the door and strode out. The moment I closed the door, I heard Vivian complaining coquettishly: “Why is this Secretary Clark so cold? She has no warmth at all.” Adrian was silent for a while before saying in a low voice: “Maybe people with strong work abilities are all like that.” Walking out of the inpatient building, I took a deep breath. The air mixed the smell of disinfectant with osmanthus flowers. How nice. I was still alive. I took out my phone, removed Adrian from my pinned contacts, and changed his name from “Husband” to “Mr. Bennett.” Finally, I didn’t have to play the servant anymore. I just wondered how many days this pampered princess Vivian could last. You should know, Adrian’s foul temper—even his own mother couldn’t stand it. For seven years, I’d been the one who spoiled him rotten. Now, it was someone else’s turn to taste the bitter fruit.

Back at the company, the first thing I did was flip over the photo of Adrian and me on my desk. Before throwing it in the trash, my movement paused. In the photo, I was smiling sweetly, my eyes only for that high-spirited young man. Back then, to help him start his business, I ran sales during the day and accompanied him to drinking parties at night. Even when I drank until I had stomach bleeding, I didn’t dare tell him. He always said: “Sarah, once the company goes public, I’ll make up for it with a grand wedding.” Now the company was actually about to go public. But he’d given that promise to another woman. My face expressionless, I let go. Thud. The frame fell into the waste basket, burying those seven years of youth along with it. “Ms.Clark, about the contract with Mr. Wilson…” Assistant Andy pushed open the door and walked in. Seeing my action, he was startled. In the past at the company, everyone called me Ms.Clark. Although I was a co-founder, to maintain Adrian’s authority, I was willing to be the shadow behind him. “From now on, I am Vice President Clark.” I raised my head, my eyes sharp. “Bring me the contract. Also, notify all department heads—meeting in half an hour.” Andy froze for a moment, then straightened his back: “Yes, Ms.Clark!” That afternoon, I efficiently handled the documents Adrian had let pile up for half a month. Those problems I’d previously had to handle circuitously to save Adrian’s face were now resolved decisively. Exhilarating. Absolutely exhilarating. It turned out that focusing on making money instead of romance felt this addictive. It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that I dragged my exhausted but exhilarated body out of the company. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Vivian on SnapChat. It was a photo. In the hospital’s VIP room, Adrian was leaning against the headboard while Vivian held coffee for him to drink. Caption: [Although it’s tiring, seeing him depend on me makes it all worth it.] I opened the full image to look. That cup of coffee was bought from the hospital convenience store. Adrian’s brow was tightly furrowed, and there was even a bit of coffee foam at the corner of his mouth. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Adrian was so particular about things. In the past when he was hospitalized, the coffee he drank had to be hand-ground by me, and the beans had to be from a specific origin. Now? It seemed the power of love really was great—it could make him drink instant coffee. I casually replied with a [smile] emoji, then turned off my phone and went to sleep. That night was the most peaceful sleep I’d had in seven years.

The next morning, I was woken by urgent ringing. It was an unfamiliar number, but I knew who it was. When I answered, Adrian’s furious voice came through: “Sarah! Where the hell are you?” “Where’s my coffee? What time is it already!” Hearing this familiar bossy tone, I leisurely poured myself a glass of milk. “Mr. Bennett, it’s currently 7:30 AM New York time.” “According to labor law, this is my personal time.” “As for coffee, that’s something your wife should worry about, isn’t it?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then came Vivian’s tearful voice: “Adrian, it’s my fault. I didn’t know you only drink that kind of coffee…” “That coffee machine is too complicated. I broke my nail trying and still couldn’t figure it out…” Next came Adrian’s heartbroken consoling: “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Sarah didn’t do a proper handover.” He turned and yelled at me: “Sarah, as a secretary, you can’t even do a simple handover properly?” “Get to the hospital right now! Bring my coffee and a change of clothes!” “If I don’t see you within half an hour, you’re fired!” Beep— The call was disconnected. I looked at the darkened screen, a cold smile forming at the corner of my mouth. Fired? Adrian, you’ve probably forgotten. Half the company’s shares are under my name. Back then, to let you feel secure, I signed a proxy holding agreement, letting you shine in the spotlight. But now, it was time to take back what belonged to me. I leisurely finished my milk and did a full face of exquisite makeup. I picked out a red dress Adrian used to hate most and put on ten-centimeter heels. I didn’t buy coffee. I didn’t get his change of clothes either. Instead, I went directly to the company’s legal department. “Draft a share confirmation letter.” I paused, my eyes turning cold. “Also, check the cash flow of that recent project. I suspect someone’s been misappropriating company funds.” After handling these matters, I unhurriedly took a cab to the hospital. When I pushed open the hospital room door, it was already ten o’clock in the morning. The room was a complete mess. Coffee stains on the floor, along with shattered cup fragments. Vivian was crouched on the ground crying, her fingers wrapped in band-aids. Adrian sat on the bed with a dark expression, stubble showing on his face, looking somewhat haggard. Seeing me enter, the fury in his eyes instantly erupted. “Sarah! Look what time it is!” “Are you trying to rebel?” I avoided the mess on the floor, walked to the foot of the bed, crossed my arms, and looked down at him. “Mr. Bennett, such a temper isn’t good for wound healing.” “The coffee shop had too long a line. I couldn’t buy any.” “As for the clothes…” I glanced at the pile of dirty clothes thrown in the corner. Those were what he’d changed out of yesterday. Clearly Vivian found them too dirty and hadn’t touched them. “I see Mrs. Bennett isn’t very skilled at housework. Perhaps Mr. Bennett should hire a housekeeper instead.” “After all, I’m a secretary, not a maid.” Adrian was so angry at my attitude that he laughed. He pointed at me, his finger trembling slightly: “Good. Very good.” “Sarah, do you think the company can’t function without you?” “Believe it or not, I’ll fire you right now!” Vivian also stood up, wiping her tears, looking like she’d suffered a tremendous injustice: “Miss Clark, I know you have issues with me, but Adrian is a patient. How can you treat him like this?” “I may be clumsy, but at least I’m trying to learn. What about you? All you do is mock and ridicule!” This back-and-forth—they really were a perfect match. I pulled out a document from my bag and lightly tapped it on the bedside table. “Fire me?” “Mr. Bennett, before firing me, I suggest you look at this first.”

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My father-in-law Paul was killed by my wife’s male assistant who ran a red light, but the verdict ruled that my father-in-law was committing fraud by staging an accident. I filed lawsuits three times, and lost all three times. Just as I was preparing for my fourth appeal, I discovered that my father-in-law’s body had been stolen. I was about to call the police when my wife Corinna, a lawyer, suddenly came to me and threw twenty thousand dollars at me: “You should know I’ve never lost a case. No matter how much evidence you have, you’ll never win this lawsuit. You keep appealing just to squeeze out more compensation money. I already had someone sell your dad’s body to the black market. Got twenty thousand total—at least his life was used to its fullest potential.” “Stop harassing Anthony endlessly. He’s being merciful by not making you pay for the car repairs.” I finally understood why Corinna had been defending the perpetrator all along—she thought the person who was killed was my dad. I pushed the money back to her: “You’d better keep this money. I have no right to take it.”

Corinna thought I was refusing. Her voice shot up: “Twenty thousand isn’t enough for you?” “James, get it through your head—your dad was just an unemployed bum. Being able to earn twenty thousand with his life is already a great deal. Don’t push your luck!” I shook my head: “You’ve got it wrong. What I mean is, this is money you earned from your family member. Only you have the right to take it.” Corinna frowned deeply, her face full of disgust: “This is money from selling your dad’s body. What does that have to do with me?” “You think I’m like you, needing this kind of blood money?” Corinna came from a single-parent family. Her mother died early, and Paul raised her from infancy, feeding and caring for her through everything. To fulfill her dream of becoming a lawyer, Paul worked multiple jobs a day, wearing his body down with all kinds of ailments. Corinna saw it all and had always been extremely devoted to Paul. At first, I didn’t understand why Corinna stopped coming home the moment Paul died, focusing all her energy on being the defense lawyer for Anthony, the perpetrator. Turns out it was because she thought the person who died was my dad. I looked at Corinna with complete seriousness: “Corinna, I advise you to return this twenty thousand dollars and get your dad’s body back. He worked so hard to raise you.” I thought I’d been obvious enough, but Corinna still didn’t understand. She said angrily: “Are you out of your mind? When did your dad ever raise me?” “And you think the black market is some kind of place where you can just redeem things you sold?” “By now your dad’s body has definitely been chopped into pieces. How could you possibly get it back? Just take the money and stop making a scene!” Paul wasn’t my biological father. But he was a perfectly good person who was killed for no reason, forced to bear the label of fraud, and even had his body sold to the black market by his own daughter to be dismembered. Thinking of his tragic fate, my eyes reddened. “Corinna, you know how the black market handles bodies, yet you had the heart to sell Dad’s body there to be desecrated? Are you even human?” Corinna smirked: “It’s your dad, not mine. Why wouldn’t I have the heart?” “Besides, dead people can’t feel pain. Being able to sell to the black market for money at least gave your dad some value.” “Who told him not to watch where he was walking? Getting hit was bad enough, but he also gave Anthony nightmares for days!”

Looking at Corinna’s self-righteous attitude, I found it hard to imagine what her reaction would be if she knew the dead person was her father. Seeing I hadn’t responded, Corinna continued: “Honestly, I always thought your dad had the face of someone who’d die young. Even if he hadn’t been hit, he wouldn’t have lived long anyway.” “Getting twenty thousand now—you should be satisfied!” “Take the money and go to the office tomorrow with some gifts to apologize to Anthony. Then we can put this behind us.” With that, Corinna left the money and turned to leave. Watching Corinna’s resolute departing figure. I suddenly realized that the great lawyer who once fought for justice had now rotted through completely. This marriage should end too. The next day, I drafted divorce papers and went to her law firm. As soon as I entered the office, I saw Corinna, who had severe germophobia, kneeling on one knee, gently massaging Anthony’s feet with tender movements. In her eyes was a tenderness I’d never seen before. The moment Anthony saw me, he immediately acted panicked: “James, don’t misunderstand. I, I twisted my ankle, and Corinna was kind enough to massage it for me.” As he spoke, he pulled his foot back and tugged at Corinna, his tone urgent: “Corinna, explain quickly! I don’t want to lose my job…” Corinna affectionately patted his back, softly reassuring him: “Don’t worry, he’s here to apologize to you.” Then she looked at me with disgust, her tone cold: “Didn’t I tell you to bring some gifts? Why are you empty-handed?” “At your age, you don’t even know how to apologize properly?” Too lazy to argue with her, I coldly pulled out the divorce agreement from my bag and handed it to Corinna: “Sign it. We’re getting divorced.” Corinna looked at the divorce agreement and froze for a moment. Then she frowned in anger: “What are you up to now?” “You know my dad only recognizes you as his son-in-law. He’d never agree to us divorcing.” “You’re pulling this stunt just to get my dad to scold me, aren’t you?” So she still had her father in her heart after all. I pulled a bitter smile and said coldly: “Your dad will never scold you again.”

Corinna’s expression changed slightly. She asked: “What do you mean?” I looked grave: “Go home and see for yourself.” Corinna glared at me impatiently: “Stop being so cryptic with me.” “So what if your dad died? Why are you still going on about it?” “Get lost. Don’t embarrass yourself at my office. I’m not divorcing you!” Seeing this, Anthony, who had been watching the whole time, suddenly wiped away non-existent tears and sobbed theatrically: “James, even though I bought my license and I’m not a good driver, that day really wasn’t my fault!” “Are you bringing up divorce now to threaten Corinna into sending me to prison?!” Anthony spoke as if he were the real victim who’d suffered the greatest injustice. That tearful appearance broke Corinna’s heart. She pulled Anthony into her arms: “Anthony, don’t cry. As long as I’m here, you’ll never go to prison.” Then she glared at me furiously: “James, Anthony is still a kid. Do you have to target him like this?” “You think threatening me with divorce will make me stop defending Anthony? Dream on!” “Let me tell you, your dad died for nothing, and you won’t get a penny in compensation, let alone harm a single hair on Anthony’s head!” Watching Corinna stand against me to protect the perpetrator who killed her own father. I couldn’t help but feel sad for my father-in-law again. Forget it. Since even his own daughter had taken this stance, what was there for me, an outsider, to say? I took a deep breath and said word by word: “I’m getting this divorce no matter what.” Corinna angrily tore up the divorce agreement on the spot, threw the pieces in the air, and said through gritted teeth: “You want a divorce that badly?” “Fine! I’ll grant your wish!” “But let me tell you, even if we divorce, I’ll be the one drafting the agreement. I’ll make you lose all reputation and leave with nothing!” “And I’ll make my dad see clearly that the son-in-law he liked is nothing but a vicious man who uses his own father’s death to scam money and sue for profit!” Through the fluttering paper scraps, I saw Corinna’s ruthless, determined eyes. And the barely noticeable triumphant smile at the corner of Anthony’s mouth. In the end, I said nothing and turned to leave the law firm. After returning home, I silently began packing my belongings. Just as I was dragging my suitcase downstairs to the apartment complex. A large group of people suddenly swarmed toward me.

They each held cameras or phones, frantically filming me: “Look, it’s him! He taught his elderly father to commit fraud by staging accidents!” “After his dad was killed committing fraud, he used his father’s death to greedily extort money. When extortion failed, he filed lawsuits to scam money! He drove a college graduate to depression, and the poor guy nearly committed suicide several times!” “Fortunately his wife is a righteous lawyer who helps the right side regardless of family ties, always fighting for justice and defending the innocent victim. Otherwise who knows what would have happened to that young man!” “Now he blames his wife for not going along with his schemes, so he’s threatening her with divorce. He’s even packed his bags and is about to leave!” Sharp accusations rang out endlessly. Through the crowd, I saw Anthony and Corinna’s gloating faces behind them. So this live broadcast was Corinna’s method to destroy my reputation? The response was indeed massive. The on-site hosts hurled accusations non-stop, and various live streaming channels were filled with constant abuse: “This man is truly despicable! For money, he’d even sacrifice his own father’s life?” “What parent could live long with such garbage for a son?” “Like father, like son. His dad getting hit was divine justice!” “Right, why wasn’t anyone else hit, but specifically his dad? That proves his dad must not have been a good person either!” Public opinion fermented quickly. In moments, my photo topped trending searches across the internet. Labels like “scumbag” and “trash” all became synonyms for my identity. As these hosts fanned the flames. The onlookers who gathered at the scene couldn’t help but start throwing eggs and rotten vegetables at me. I walked through the garbage on the ground, passed through the crowd, and approached Corinna: “Corinna, do you really have to be this ruthless?” Corinna frowned slightly. Before she could speak, Anthony tearfully jumped in: “James, even though your father died, I haven’t had it easy either!” “I’m begging you to let me go. Stop going after me!” A flash of heartache crossed Corinna’s eyes, then she looked at me resolutely: “James, you brought all this on yourself.” “Your dad getting hit by a car was entirely because he was trying to commit fraud. You shouldn’t have kept suing and harassing Anthony over this.” “Anthony’s new car was damaged by your dad. He didn’t make you pay for repairs because he’s kind, yet you keep going on and on. With such a malicious son like you, no wonder your dad died young!” As soon as she finished speaking. My dad suddenly emerged from the crowd, looking at Corinna: “Who died?”

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My ex-husband Johnson, who I’d been divorced from for five years, sent me a message saying our child missed me and wouldn’t stop crying. In a moment of weakness, I bought a plane ticket and came back. The moment I walked through the door, I found Johnson holding his wife, grinning smugly. “Marta knows I have an ex-wife. She got jealous and insisted I call you back here to punish you.” Johnson knew full well I was allergic to seafood, yet he had someone place a basin of shrimp in front of me and told me to peel all of it. My son, whom I hadn’t seen in five years, chimed in, “You may have given birth to me, but Marta is my mom. You’re nothing but a nanny.” What the hell were these idiots thinking? Couldn’t they see I was already married? Seeing me standing there motionless, Marta slammed her knife and fork heavily onto the table. “Why isn’t she moving? Didn’t you say your ex-wife was obedient? That she wouldn’t dare go west if you told her to go east?” “Don’t be angry, Marta. She’s just slow to react, hasn’t processed it yet.” Johnson said softly before turning to me. “Peel the shrimp.” Just like he’d ordered me around five years ago. The child beside him—my son, whom I’d carried for ten months and struggled to bring into this world—stood on his chair and spoke to me in the same commanding tone as his father. “Didn’t you hear my mom wants to eat shrimp? Hurry up and peel them!” I couldn’t help but find it laughable. “I never should have come back to see you people. You disgust me so much I want to throw up.” After saying that, I took out my phone to make a call, but a bodyguard nearby snatched it away and threw it on the floor. In an instant, my phone shattered into pieces. “What are you doing?!” I frowned, stunned by this operation. “Marta said you’re staying here for three days to be properly punished until she calms down. Don’t contact the outside world for these three days. We’ll send you away when the time comes.” Johnson’s voice was calm as he placed a peeled shrimp into Marta’s mouth. When it came to matters concerning me, he never asked for my consent—not five years ago, and not now. “I’m already married, Johnson.” I looked at him, raising my hand to show them the ring on my ring finger. Under the lights, it sparkled brilliantly—a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg, glittering endlessly. Johnson stared at my face for a moment, then sneered. “Don’t try to fool me with such a clumsy lie. Everyone knows you’re damaged goods that I, Johnson, threw away. Who would want you?” Marta laughed too. “Listen, stop trying to fool people with a fake ring, okay? There’s only one pink diamond ring this big that I know of, and it was bought by some mysterious tycoon. Are you telling me that mysterious tycoon is you?” “Not me. My husband.” Marta laughed even louder, pointing at my nose. “You? Someone would want you? A second marriage? Please, do you even think before you speak? Besides, that mysterious tycoon isn’t even in Minnesota.” “Come peel the shrimp. Don’t make me say it twice.” Johnson grabbed my wrist and pressed me down into the chair in front of the dining table. “What if I don’t peel them?” “If you don’t make Marta happy, I’ll dig up your mother’s grave and scatter her ashes.” Johnson looked into my eyes, as if trying to see into my heart. We hadn’t seen each other in five years, yet in those contemptuous eyes, I surprisingly saw a trace of longing. That longing was as disgusting as he was. “You’re forcing me.” “As a daughter, you didn’t fulfill your filial duties while she was alive. Do you want to disturb her peace in death too?” Johnson asked me, pointing at the basin of shrimp in front of me. “Peel.”

I took a deep breath. Alex had some business to attend to for the next couple of days, but he’d arrive in Minnesota in two days to take me home. I just needed to hold on for two days. “Fine, I’ll peel them.” “No gloves!” Marta threw the gloves into the trash can and folded her arms. “What kind of punishment is it if you wear gloves?” I suppressed my anger and began peeling with my bare hands. In an instant, red bumps appeared all over my hands and arms. It was itchy and unbearable. After finally finishing the basin of shrimp, Marta looked at them with disgust. “These shrimp don’t have your contagious disease, do they? I feel dirty just looking at them.” Fortunately, there weren’t too many shrimp, or I definitely would have ended up in the hospital. “Is Marta brain-dead? Who told you allergies are contagious diseases?” “How dare you insult my mom!” George got worked up and shoved a shrimp into my mouth. I felt my breathing become rapid. Seeing my reaction, Johnson panicked a little. “Alice, what are you pretending?” “She’s acting so convincingly. It’s just one shrimp, but you’d think she ate poison. Feed half the shrimp to her and half to the dog. I don’t want to eat any of it.” Marta snorted and went upstairs. I curled up in discomfort. I heard Johnson say, “Do as the lady says. Get the family doctor here. If anything happens to Alice, treat her immediately.” Before leaving, Johnson also removed the diamond ring from my ring finger. “What are you doing?!” I shouted at him. “Even though you lied, hearing you say another man gave you this ring disgusts me. After all, you were once my woman.” Johnson threw the ring into the trash can. “Alice, you’ve gotten bolder after five years.” “But I haven’t forgotten how you used to beg me to spend more time with you.” After Johnson said this, he went upstairs. Because of the allergic reaction, I didn’t sleep well all night. The family doctor only gave me some allergy medication. In my daze, I thought about the past. I’d married Johnson initially just to get money from him. My mother was seriously ill in bed, and I needed money for her medical expenses. I didn’t care who he was sleeping with. Johnson’s mother told me that as long as he stayed at my place for one more day and I gave birth to a child sooner, she’d give me money to leave. “All the women Johnson finds are too dirty—they don’t even know whose child they’re carrying. I need a Johnson family child. Once you give birth to this child, you can leave.” Johnson played around a lot. He would drug me and make me please him. He even posted photos of my private parts—with pixels covering them—to his friend group. I was utterly humiliated. My mother was literally angered to death after those photos were exposed. After Mom died, money didn’t mean much to me anymore, but I was pregnant then. In a moment of weakness, I kept the baby. After giving birth, I left without looking back. That day at the hospital, the doctor even called him. “Mr. Johnson, congratulations on your son.” Johnson just mumbled something vague and hung up. I left. Although the doctor strongly urged me to rest in the hospital for a while, I didn’t want to stay there at all. I didn’t want to see Johnson ever again. I went to Johnson’s mother, and she tried to persuade me. “Johnson knows you gave birth today. He specifically went to buy supplements for you and is hosting a banquet. He hung up because he was really busy.” “Alice, without Johnson’s consent for you to carry this child to term, do you think you could have had such a smooth pregnancy?” “Stay. Johnson may not say it, but I can tell he really likes you.” “But all I feel for him is hatred.” My face was full of disgust. Hearing the word “like” made me sick. “You can’t go back on what you said. Please let me leave.” From that day I left until now, five years had passed.

I was sleeping groggily when I was awakened by being drenched. When I woke up, I saw George standing to the side holding an empty basin, with Marta clapping. “well done.” My allergic reaction had just subsided, but this basin of cold water made me shiver violently, and my head throbbed painfully. “What are you doing?” “Are you here on vacation? Sleeping so soundly.” Marta said with her arms folded, then looked at George. “George, tell her what we’re doing today.” “Racing!” George threw the basin on the floor and clapped his hands. “What fun is racing without some entertainment?” Marta said with a smile, then ordered me in a commanding tone, “You, come with us.” That’s how they brought me to the racetrack. It was a vast, empty space with several luxury racing cars parked there. Johnson was standing there too. Seeing them bring me over, he frowned. “Why did you bring her?” “What, do you feel sorry for her?” Marta pouted. “How could I? You’re my wife.” Johnson patted Marta’s head and squatted down to put a helmet on George. I’d already been drenched with a basin of cold water, and now with the cold wind blowing, I was shivering even more. “Since I’m your wife, what if I want to drag her behind the car? Would you say yes?” Marta tilted her head, shaking Johnson’s arm. My eyes widened. “What did you say?” Dragging someone behind a car—how dare they? “That might kill someone, Marta.” Johnson looked troubled and glanced at me. “Her life is worthless. If this gets trending and you get criticized for it, it wouldn’t be worth it.” A flash of jealousy crossed Marta’s eyes, then she pushed George forward. “George wants to do this too. Besides, we’ll give her protective gear and won’t drive too fast. What’s wrong with that?” “Didn’t you say I’m your wife? Are you going to side with an outsider over your wife?” George also tugged at Johnson’s arm. “Dad, Dad, I want to do this.” “Didn’t you also say? This woman once knelt for three days and nights and was whipped a hundred times without dying. This is just playing racing with her. What could happen?” I never imagined the child I’d carried for ten months and struggled to bring into this world could be so cold-blooded and heartless. “George, I should never have given birth to you.” “If I’d known you’d turn out like Johnson, I never should have brought you into this world.” I started coughing. The allergic reaction hadn’t completely subsided, and now I felt cold all over. When I touched myself, I was burning hot. I had a fever. “Enough, Alice. You were the one who shamelessly married me back then. I didn’t want to marry you.” “You’re also the one who ran away right after giving birth to George at the hospital. What right do you have to say such things?” Johnson’s eyes looked like they were about to shoot fire. “Do you know how much I wanted to kill you when I came back with all those supplements and couldn’t find you?” Following his gaze, I surprisingly saw a hint of grievance in his eyes. “That’s because I never loved you, Johnson.” “I only got together with you for money. I told you that five years ago.” “Fine, fine.” Johnson nodded, grabbed me, and pushed me forward. I hit the car’s side mirror, making my head even dizzier. “Tie her to the back of the car. Don’t give her protective gear. Just drag her for five laps.”

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