Category: English

“Honey, I’m pregnant.” My wife, Juliet Bennet, walked up to me, holding a lab report, her face beaming with excitement. But I knew this child absolutely couldn’t be mine, because I had azoospermia. 1. My name is Leo Bennet, I’m 29, and my wife, Juliet Bennet, and I were college sweethearts. After graduating, we coincidentally landed internships at the same company. Working closely together for so long, we naturally fell in love. Juliet was not only beautiful, but her figure was stunning, with curves in all the right places. When we got married, all our relatives and friends said I was incredibly lucky to marry such a wonderful woman. I truly believed it, and so after marriage, I adored and cared for Juliet even more. But one issue always bothered me. For three years of marriage, we hadn’t been able to have a child. Because of this, I secretly went to a clinic for a sperm test. The result indicated azoospermia—a very low probability of conception. This news left me devastated, but what happened next fueled my despair into a raging fury. It was the second Friday afternoon after I learned about my condition. After work, I went to Juliet’s department as usual to wait for her to finish. But I waited for a long time, over half an hour past Juliet’s quitting time, and she still hadn’t appeared. Just then, Chloe, one of Juliet’s colleagues, came out. I quickly stopped her and asked, “Chloe, is Juliet still working late inside?” “Oh, Juliet? She went out with Mr. Potter at lunchtime for something, and I haven’t seen her all afternoon. As her husband, you might want to keep an eye on her.” Chloe said, then smiled and walked away. My expression froze. Went out with the manager and didn’t come back? Actually, working at the same company as Juliet for so many years, I had heard a few rumors about her. After all, Juliet was so beautiful. We started at the company at the same time, but she was now the head of the marketing department, while I was still a low-level salesperson. Many people in the company gossiped that she had only risen to her position so quickly by sleeping with the general manager, Mr. Ethan Potter. However, I didn’t believe this rumor. After all, Juliet and I had been together for so many years, and I knew her character and integrity very well. She wouldn’t do something like that. Still, the fact that Juliet went out without telling me left me a little uneasy. I pulled out my phone and called Juliet, but it only rang once before she hung up. Then, Juliet messaged me back on her phone: “Honey, I’m busy with something. Go home and eat first; don’t wait for me.” I didn’t think much of it and headed home after work. It wasn’t until around 11 PM that I heard the sound of keys unlocking the door. Juliet walked in, looking exhausted. As soon as she entered, I smelled alcohol and some other indescribable scent on her. I frowned and said, “Honey, how much have you had to drink?” Juliet waved her hand. “I was just drinking with Mr. Potter and a big client from the company. If I didn’t drink a lot, how could I close this client?” Seeing Juliet like this, I felt a pang of pity for her. I quickly helped her with her bag and urged her to go wash up and rest. While Juliet was showering, I put her changed clothes into the washing machine. Just then, her jacket pocket vibrated. I reached in and found Juliet’s phone still inside. I pulled out the phone and saw one unread message. On a whim, I entered Juliet’s lock screen password and opened the message. Seeing the content of that message, my face went pale. It was from a contact Juliet had labeled as “Major Client Ryan Potter,” and it read: “Juliet, you really satisfied me tonight. Come accompany me again tomorrow night, and your company’s project will be settled. I’ll pick you up from your office after work tomorrow.” Could it be that Juliet spent tonight sleeping with a client for a deal?! No, it couldn’t be. I refused to believe Juliet would do such a thing. 2. I held the phone, ready to confront Juliet as soon as she finished showering. When Juliet came out of the bathroom, I immediately walked up to her with the phone, displaying the chat history. I said, “Honey, what’s going on here?” Juliet took the phone, her face turning pale, then she put on a forced smile and said, “Honey, do you really think I’m that kind of person? Don’t worry, I won’t let him take advantage of me. The client tried to make inappropriate demands tonight, but Mr. Potter helped me reject them.” We had been married for so many years, and I still trusted Juliet. So I didn’t press the issue, and seeing how tired she was, I just told her to go to sleep. I thought the matter was closed. To my surprise, the next day after work, Juliet called me, saying she was meeting a friend for dinner and I didn’t need to wait for her. I didn’t think much of it at first, but as I walked past the company parking lot on my way home, I happened to see Juliet getting into a black Mercedes sedan and driving away. I saw an unfamiliar middle-aged man in the driver’s seat of that black Mercedes. Even I, with my easygoing nature, realized this was definitely the client from Juliet’s message yesterday. She told me she was having dinner with a friend, but instead, she secretly went to meet this client! If I hadn’t seen it by chance, I would still be completely clueless! A surge of nameless anger ignited within me. I couldn’t believe I trusted Juliet so much, yet she betrayed me like this, all for the sake of a deal. Then, those rumors circulating in the company before were very likely true. Thinking this, my hands and feet went cold, and my body trembled uncontrollably. I didn’t want to believe it was true, but the facts were laid bare before me, coupled with what I saw in her message yesterday—she had cheated on me. I angrily returned home, planning to confront her face-to-face when she came back! As I sat in the room, I suddenly noticed a pink ribbon peeking out from under the mattress. Puzzled, I went over and pulled back the mattress. What I saw beneath made my face go pale. In a small storage space under the mattress, there was a collection of various sex toys. Juliet and I had been married for so many years, but we had never used any of these. The conclusion was obvious: she bought these to use with other men. The thought of her being more uninhibited with other men than with me brought on waves of heartache; tears almost streamed down my face. My wife, she really betrayed me! I continued to wait for her. This wait stretched until past 11 PM again before Juliet returned home. As soon as she entered, I asked coldly, “You’re back?” Juliet nodded and said, “Yes.” “Which friend were you having dinner with, so late?” I asked, pretending to be unaware. “Just an old high school friend. We got a little carried away talking and lost track of time,” Juliet said with a smile. My eyes widened as I said, “High school friend? I think it wasn’t a high school friend, but rather your client, wasn’t it? I bet you even talked your way into bed!” Juliet’s face went pale. “What are you saying?” “You really think I don’t know anything? I saw it all! You got into your client’s car!” I shouted. “Oh, I was afraid you’d react like this when you found out. Honey, please let me explain. I didn’t mean to deceive you.” 3. Juliet began to explain herself. She said this client was crucial for her entire marketing department’s annual KPI, which is why she met with him today. However, she insisted she hadn’t done anything to betray me and had genuinely been discussing the project with the client. She claimed she rejected all of the client’s unreasonable demands, and in the end, because the client genuinely needed to cooperate with the company, they signed the contract. I snorted, walked to the bed, pulled back the mattress, revealing the sex toys underneath. “Then how do you explain *this*? You’ve never used these with me to spice things up. Who were you using them with?” Juliet’s face immediately flushed at the sight of the sex toys. She stammered, “Honey, actually… I bought these to use with you.” It turned out Juliet had bought these sex toys, intending to use them with me to spice up our intimate life, but after buying them, she was too shy to ever bring them up. So she hid them under the mattress, where they remained until now. Juliet pointed at the sex toys. “The packaging is still on; they’re unopened. I haven’t used them once.” I went to check, and it was indeed as Juliet said. Learning that I had unfairly accused Juliet, much of my anger dissipated, and at the same time, I felt even more guilty towards her. Actually, after discovering I had azoospermia, I already felt some guilt towards Juliet. After all, she had been with me for so many years, and I hadn’t given her a child. Her position and salary at the company were also much higher than mine. I felt somewhat unworthy of her. As long as she didn’t betray me, I would indulge her in everything else, considering it a form of compensation. For a period after that, Juliet’s and my life returned to normal. Since the project had been secured, Juliet no longer needed to work late or socialize. We went to and from work together every day, and gradually, I completely forgot about the previous incidents. But then, a month later, another event struck me like a bolt of lightning. It was Saturday afternoon. Saturdays were usually our day off, but Juliet mysteriously said she had a surprise for me that morning, then left. I was puzzled. It wasn’t our wedding anniversary, or a holiday, or her birthday. What kind of surprise could she have for me? I waited for this surprise until the afternoon. Around 4 PM, Juliet finally returned, her face beaming. Her hands were behind her back as she slowly walked towards me. I looked at her and said, “Honey, you’re so mysterious. What gift have you prepared for me?” She smiled even wider. “This gift, you’ll definitely jump for joy when you see it.” She exaggerated so much that it made me even more curious about this gift. She slowly brought her hands from behind her back to her chest. In her hands was a white A4 paper. I was even more puzzled. Was this what she called a gift? “What is this? A blank paper?” I asked. Juliet placed the A4 paper in front of me. “Take a closer look.” Upon closer inspection, it turned out not to be a blank paper, but a lab report. It stated that patient Juliet Bennet had a positive blood HCG test, confirming pregnancy. Wait, confirming pregnancy? And it had my wife Juliet Bennet’s name on it. Could it be…

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Five years after my death, I watched with my own eyes as Jane’s childhood friend drowned our child. When the detective called Jane, she was still eating strawberries that Julian had fed her. Hearing the detective’s words, she merely gave a cold laugh. “Dead? If she’s dead, bury her. Why are you calling me?” Finally, she arrived at the police station, a look of impatience on her face. “You said she’s dead. Where’s the body?” 1 My soul floated in mid-air, gazing at my daughter’s body entangled with river weeds. Jane’s voice reached my ears, pulling me back to a moment of haunting familiarity. We hadn’t truly “met” in nearly five years. After my death, I somehow became a spirit, bound to my daughter’s side. She was so small, living in an orphanage for those five years. Until Julian appeared, pressing her head into the river water, holding her down with brutal force. I knelt beside them, screaming, banging my head on the ground. I begged him to spare my daughter. I was already dead; what more did he want? But I was a ghost now, utterly useless, able only to kneel there. “Are you sure this is my daughter? She wasn’t this thin. If you’re going to fake a body, at least pick a more convincing one.” Jane’s voice snapped me out of my memories, but it only twisted the knife in my heart further. What did she mean by that? Jane held her hand over her nose, a frown etched on her face as she glanced at Lily’s small body. Then, with utter nonchalance, she said to the detective, “I’ve identified the child. Can I leave now?” A few younger detectives, unable to stomach her indifference, slammed their hands on the table and stood up. “That’s your daughter who died! How can you be so… so heartless!” She lifted her chin arrogantly. “Heartless? At least I showed up. Her father hasn’t even bothered to show his face! And you call me heartless!?” The detective was speechless. Beside them, I cried out anxiously, “I’m not! I just… I’m just dead.” But no one could hear the voice of a ghost. How could I be heartless towards my own daughter? She was the sole testament to Jane’s and my love, my only continuation in this world. I’d watched her, small and alone, crying in bed at night, clutching the little doll Jane had given her, quietly asking it, “Why doesn’t Mom want me anymore? Where’s my Dad?” Every time I saw that, my heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. Yet, her mother, for five whole years, hadn’t once come to see her. “We haven’t found the father’s contact number, so he might not know yet. You could try contacting him,” a detective’s voice chimed in. Jane scoffed. “So you’ve put on this elaborate show just for that, to make me humble myself and find him? I’m telling you, absolutely not!” With that, she turned to leave. But as she reached the door, she paused. A flicker of hope ignited within me, anticipating her turning back. She turned to the detective and asked, “Can I take the body now?” The detective nodded, and Jane instructed her bodyguard to carry my daughter’s tiny body. I was filled with the belief that she still harbored affection for our child, that she was in pain now. But I never imagined that as soon as we left the station, Jane would tell her bodyguard to dump our daughter in the pauper’s grave on the south side of town. She wouldn’t even spare Lily a proper glance, casually saying, “Since Brandon Sterling doesn’t even want to come see his own daughter, I certainly don’t need to keep this body.” Hearing those words, I felt my heart had been shredded to pieces, the pain so intense I fell to my knees, unable to utter a sound. I humbly clutched at her trousers, begging her, pleading with her to give our child a proper burial. But for five years I couldn’t comfort my grieving Lily every night, and now I couldn’t even ensure her body remained intact. I watched as little Lily’s body was tossed onto the heap of corpses like a rag doll. I screamed uncontrollably at Jane, “That’s our daughter! The daughter you carried for nine months and gave birth to yourself! Now your childhood friend has killed her, and you won’t even give her a proper burial!” But no matter how much I screamed, my heart tearing itself apart, I couldn’t change the fact that my daughter’s body was left there. Seeing my daughter’s body lying amidst the pile of corpses, Jane frowned. She murmured, “How did they make it look so real? Brandon Sterling really went to a lot of trouble to try and make me back down. But does he really think I’d believe this is Lily’s body? It’s laughable.” Beside her, I screamed, my voice breaking, “I’m dead, Jane, I’ve been dead for a long time! That really is our daughter! I’m not lying to you!” But no one can hear the despair of a ghost. Jane glanced at Lily’s body a few more times, then turned and walked away. She didn’t know why, but looking at the “fake” body on the heap, she felt an uncomfortable pang in her chest. My soul uncontrollably followed her. In the car, she was gently replying to Julian’s messages. “Our son wants the latest toy? Then just buy it for him. It’s perfectly normal for a two-year-old to love toys.” My body stiffened. A son. So, in the five years since my death, she had already started a new life with her childhood friend and had another child. “Jane, what… what were you doing today?” Jane’s voice faltered for a moment before she continued, “Brandon Sterling hired someone to make a fake body to try and make me back down. It’s truly laughable.” Soon after, Julian’s voice came through. “He’s been gone for five years now, you can just file for divorce… When are you planning to marry me?” Jane didn’t hesitate for a second, directly refuting him. “Divorce? Brandon Sterling hasn’t returned all these years precisely because he wants to divorce me. How could I grant him his wish? I’ll give him another month. If he still doesn’t appear, I don’t mind making that ‘fake’ body real.” The malice in her voice made my body freeze. I knew her methods all too well. Now, I even felt a strange gratitude towards Julian. At least he ensured Lily’s death wasn’t prolonged. I couldn’t imagine what Jane would be capable of if she were the one to act. When they arrived and Jane got out of the car, I felt a jolt of recognition. This was our old home. The house she bought, the renovations I did. Back then, I’d held her and said, “This is in a good school district. Our child will go to school here someday. We’ll take her together.” Jane leaned into my arms and said yes. That happiness, now, seemed utterly fake. We had truly loved each other so much. “Jane, you’re back! Our son and I have been waiting for you.” The door opened, revealing that the house’s interior had been completely redecorated. A new partner and child had replaced our old life. Jane hugged Julian. The little chubby boy tugged at her hand, saying, “Mommy, why are you only hugging Daddy and not me?” Jane knelt down and hugged the little boy. “Better now?” Watching this scene unfold, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Why was my soul still bound to this world? Inside, Jane sat on the sofa, and Julian put his arm around her. “Jane, our son’s birthday is coming up soon. Let’s go abroad for a few days.” Jane frowned and refused. “No. This coming month, I’m waiting for Brandon Sterling to return. If he still doesn’t, I intend to send him a grand gift.” Everyone knew what that “grand gift” referred to. Lily’s body. At this moment, I felt a twisted sense of relief. Lily, it’s better not to stay in this world. How would it feel to see your own loving mother plot your murder? But when Ben heard her words, the smile on his face froze. “Jane, he’s been gone for five years. Why… why are you still waiting for him? And that little girl, since she’s in an orphanage, why don’t we just leave her alone?” Jane shook her head. “I’ll never let them go.” Ben saw Jane’s determined expression and swallowed the words he hadn’t spoken. I wanted to tell Jane that the man lying beside her had killed our daughter. I wondered what her expression would be. Perhaps joy. I remember the first time Ben appeared in my life. Jane had just given birth. I hired a nanny for her and immediately went back to work. Though I knew Jane had money, I felt a man shouldn’t spend his wife’s money. But I never imagined that while I was at work, another man moved into my home. And he even spread false rumors online, claiming all my achievements were earned through immoral means. Every night when I returned home, Jane would confront me with the news. I explained again and again that it was all false, that I hadn’t done those things. All my achievements were from my own hard work. How could I betray our marriage? But Jane still didn’t believe me, and the company fired me because of the rumors. The day I was fired, I came home with bags full of my belongings. The moment I walked in, I saw my wife holding hands with another man. Our daughter was crying nearby from hunger, and Jane didn’t even spare her a glance. For the first time in my life, I lost my temper at Jane. I threw the things in my arms to the floor. “What are you doing!” Jane and Ben were startled. Jane glanced at me, then frowned and said, “What? Did your sugar daddy dump you? Is it only okay for you to find someone, but not for me?” I pushed Ben away like a madman. “How do I have a sugar daddy? I told you, those are rumors! Rumors!” Jane looked at me and said, “Whether they’re rumors or if you’re lying to me, you know best. I just saw the video from Ben; you’re still trying to deceive me.” “Video?” I instinctively countered. I hadn’t done anything like that; how could there be a video? My mouth opened and closed. I knew that no matter how I explained, Jane wouldn’t believe me now. Ben gave me a defiant look and said, “Well, I’ll be going then.” After he left, I hugged Jane, speaking incoherently, “I… I really didn’t do anything like that, darling… Darling, please believe me just this once, okay? You… you break up with Ben.” As I said those words, I felt pathetic. Begging my own wife to break up with her lover. But I loved her too much, and our child had just been born. What would happen to her without a mother? Besides, my wife was being misled, so… I was willing to give her another chance. Jane broke free from my embrace, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “I can break up with Ben, but you’ll have to stay home from now on.” I froze. Was she planning for me to be a househusband? But seeing her determined expression, I still nodded. “Okay, I promise.” It didn’t matter. As long as Jane and our child were still with me, I was willing to do anything.

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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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To help her assistant, who was evading taxes, my boss’s wife deliberately perjured herself, shifting the blame onto me. I was left speechless, punished by law, and detained for two months. After my release, I was ostracized by outraged colleagues, and my prospects for promotion were ruined. Seeing my quiet acceptance, my wife thought I had finally become compliant and announced a grand wedding to make it up to me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, consumed by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop, threatening suicide if my wife didn’t cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always indulged his every whim, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the wedding, publicly fleeing to comfort her assistant all night. Afterward, she calmly explained to me. “Bob is young and impulsive; I was just afraid something might happen to him.” “Besides, he helped a lot with your early release. Strictly speaking, he’s your savior, and I couldn’t just abandon him.” I looked at the couple’s rings, newly placed on her finger, and simply hummed, saying nothing. My wife, believing I had accepted her excuse, was quite pleased and, for the first time ever, promised to take me on a honeymoon trip once she had appeased her assistant. But she seemed to forget. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit with the court for a case review. From then on, we were no longer husband and wife. Just plaintiff and defendant. 1. The day after my wife, Scarlett Willow, fled our wedding, the company chat group was still buzzing with discussions about the events. Even at work, I received numerous pitying glances from colleagues. “What do you think? After such a huge shock, how will Nathan Stone retaliate this time? Will he cause a scene at the company with Scarlett? Or will he put up banners cursing Bob Barclay?” “Probably not, I saw he was pretty calm even after Scarlett ran away from the wedding yesterday.” “Maybe he was in there for three months and is afraid Scarlett will divorce him, so he doesn’t dare to stop her anymore.” As I walked into the office, several colleagues were roaring with laughter. They fell silent when I entered. In the past, I would have been angry, but now, I said nothing, pretending not to hear, and in the midst of their intense stares, I sat down at my desk. They were right; three months in prison had smoothed out my rough edges. Moreover, I had mentally prepared for their mockery. Everyone in the company knew about the scandalous relationship between Scarlett, her assistant Bob Barclay, and me. Scarlett and I had been together since college, our relationship always strong. After graduation, I excelled and was offered a high-paying job at the company, while Scarlett, with her mediocre qualifications, struggled to find work. It was I who pulled strings to get her hired. I stayed up until dawn helping her with tasks she couldn’t do, and I went out of my way to fix her mistakes. Later, during an internal promotion, I even voluntarily gave up my spot for her. No matter how tired or exhausted I was, seeing her happy made everything feel worthwhile. But two years ago, Scarlett risked being fired to exceptionally hire Bob Barclay, who didn’t even qualify for an interview. Her excuse to me back then was that seeing him reminded her of her past self. Even though I was annoyed, to help her, I personally and diligently trained Bob until he could work independently. I didn’t expect Bob to be grateful, but I never imagined I’d overhear him complaining to Scarlett, accusing me of constantly suppressing and insulting him. I couldn’t help but confront him, but Scarlett said I was guilty and, without any investigation, demoted me. After that, she targeted me everywhere for Bob. She’d dump Bob’s responsibilities on me; she’d put Bob’s name on designs I had painstakingly created; she even asked me to drive two hours in winter to buy Bob’s favorite breakfast. I thought she was just confused for a while. But who knew, during this tax audit, Scarlett, to protect him, colluded with other colleagues to report me, pinning the blame on me. She even used her status as my wife to plant false evidence in my room beforehand. Faced with this sudden betrayal, I was utterly speechless. During my three months of detention, she only visited me once. She said she would never divorce me. I thought she still had feelings for me, but who knew it was just to make me give up and not involve Bob. I scoffed at the thought. My phone chimed with a message; I opened it to find it was from the lawyer I had contacted earlier. “The picture you sent last night is crucial evidence, but the file is too fragmented. The agency says it will take three days to restore it to its original state.” “However, other evidence is already conclusive. If you’re in a hurry, we can file the lawsuit now.” It was just an ordinary message, yet I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. After my release, I stayed by Scarlett’s side, putting aside our past grievances. She thought I was too scared to divorce her, that I had learned my place. But she didn’t know that every single day and night, I was searching for evidence to prove my innocence. Now, finally… I exhaled deeply, my voice firm. “No hurry, set the lawsuit date for three days from now.” “No matter the cost, no matter the price, this lawsuit must be won.” The lawyer was momentarily stunned, then stated solemnly: “Upholding justice is our mission. The law will not let any innocent person suffer injustice, nor will it let any criminal go unpunished.” After hanging up, I was about to turn off the screen when Bob Barclay sent a message. I opened it and saw a picture. He and Scarlett were in the kitchen. Scarlett wore an apron around her waist, her head bent as she cooked. Bob playfully pressed his cheek against hers, an intimate pose. Scarlett’s lips curved slightly, seemingly enjoying his closeness. But before, if I even lightly touched her, she would push me away with extreme disgust, saying she hated physical closeness with men. Now it seems she didn’t hate men, just me. “With one call from me, Sister Scarlett abandoned the wedding and stayed with me all night. Brother Nathan, you’ve been married to Sister Scarlett for five years, and she’s never been that attentive to you, has she?” His tone was as proud and provocative as ever. I knew he was doing it on purpose. Before, I had complained to Scarlett about him, but she wouldn’t even look at it. Instead, she’d impatiently ask if I had provoked Bob, otherwise, why would he pick on me and not others? She said she wouldn’t interfere in our “men’s disputes,” but after I angrily retaliated against Bob, what followed was Scarlett’s reprimand. She’d blame me for making a big deal out of nothing, accusing me of being petty and easily provoked by a single sentence. I scoffed, intending to ignore it, but then I noticed that if I didn’t reply, Bob would keep sending more photos. I saved each one and forwarded them to the lawyer as supplementary evidence. Then I blocked and deleted him. Less than two minutes later, Scarlett’s call came through. “Nathan, did you unfriend Bob?” As soon as I answered, Scarlett questioned me with a tone of disgust. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you know this kind of behavior is childish? Don’t forget, you and Bob still have to work together in the future. You unfriended him, are you not going to handle work anymore?” I said nothing. Whatever I said was wrong, whatever I did was wrong. Scarlett, however, took my silence as guilt, and her tone became even more aggressive: “Apologize to Bob, add him back, and I can let this go.” “Sister Scarlett, no matter what, Brother Nathan is your boyfriend. It’s not right for him to apologize to me. I’ve already forgiven him, so let’s just drop it.” Before I could speak, Bob said, his voice tinged with grievance. He seemed to be speaking up for me, but I knew he was trying to provoke. Indeed, Scarlett scoffed. “So what if he’s my boyfriend? I’m always fair; I don’t play favorites. I’m just afraid some people use the excuse of being a boyfriend to act recklessly.” “Nathan, I’m asking you one more time, do you know you were wrong?” I smiled: “Yes, I know I was wrong.” Wrong for not seeing through her sooner, for not returning her to Bob Barclay sooner. But before I could speak, Scarlett hummed in satisfaction: “Knowing you’re wrong is enough. Considering you’ve just been released from prison and might still be a bit disoriented, Bob and I won’t pursue this.” “Bob also helped a lot with your release this time. No matter how you look at it, you owe him an apology.” “No need to be so polite, Sister Scarlett, it’s what I should do.” “You’re just too kind. But, I’ve made up my mind on this, don’t refuse again.” “…” The two of them went back and forth, giving me no room to interject, and then Scarlett hung up. And I quickly realized Scarlett’s decision. It was her taking twenty thousand from my card and transferring it to Bob Barclay without my authorization. 2. When Scarlett Willow agreed to marry me, I gave her my bank card PIN to show my sincerity. I silently approved of her using my card, thinking we were a family, and besides, as a man, I should contribute more to our home. Initially, she only bought our daily necessities, but later, seeing my indifference, she started buying herself designer clothes, luxury bags, and cosmetics costing hundreds, even thousands. My monthly salary was thirty thousand, but by mid-month, my bank card would only have a few cents left, not even enough for a meal. I couldn’t help but mention it to her twice, and Scarlett, in a fit of pique, accused me of being stingy with money, declaring she would no longer rely on me and would become a “strong independent woman.” Later, she did stop extravagant spending, but I noticed that she still had fixed expenses of twenty thousand every month. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered it was for gifts for Bob Barclay. Scarlett told me to save money diligently, not even allowing me to buy underwear that cost ten dollars for three pairs, yet a pair of socks she bought for Bob cost three hundred. She preached frugality, while I patched up a pair of cheap market shoes for two years, she bought Bob two pairs of thousand-dollar sneakers within a month. She also insisted on meticulous planning; she’d even meticulously plan the exact grammage of ingredients for a meal for me, yet she and Bob would spend over ten thousand dollars on a single meal celebrating his birthday. … Thinking about it now, I felt increasingly ridiculous. However, large transfers require personal verification. Soon, Scarlett sent me a message as usual: “Verification code.” I glanced at our past chats. I didn’t know when it started, but the only messages Scarlett actively sent me were these three words. She had even complained that verification codes were bothersome and wanted me to link a sub-card for her use. But I, who had always been compliant with her every wish, for some unknown reason at that moment, was inexplicably prompted to refuse. Thinking back now, perhaps my subconscious self was already trying to save myself. I scoffed, ignored it, and after leaving the company, I first drafted divorce papers, then took the property deed to the nearest real estate agent. The house was purchased outright by my parents as our matrimonial home when we got married, specifically choosing a location Scarlett liked. During the transfer of ownership, to put her mind at ease, my parents even specifically arranged for me to add her name. However, over the years, whenever my parents wanted to stay for a couple of days, Scarlett would still complain, making me tell them I was busy with work. Thinking back now, I really was unfilial. Upon learning I wanted to sell the house, the agent informed me that Scarlett’s signature was still required. I told them I had proof of full payment, and after reviewing it, the agent explained: “This can be used as evidence in court, but if you follow the normal process, both signatures are still needed.” I understood. I couldn’t reveal my intentions to Scarlett just yet. Before going to court, I had to completely sever ties with her. After thanking the agent, I asked for a template of a power of attorney agreement and returned home. I had expected Scarlett to return late tonight, but upon opening the door, I saw her sitting on the sofa, her face grim. Seeing me enter, she cast a cold glance at me. She stood up and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a deafening bang. This was a ritual after every cold war, and I understood it meant she wanted me to apologize and appease her. Despite my reluctance, I sighed as I looked at the agreement in my hand, and walked to the door. Anyway, I’d apologized so many times; one more wouldn’t hurt. Moreover, this apology would allow me to reclaim the entire house. Thinking this, I pushed open the bedroom door. Before I could even step inside, her usual eyebrow razor was thrown at me. I instinctively dodged, but it still grazed my face, causing a sharp sting. Seeing that she had actually injured me, Scarlett froze for a moment, a complex expression flashing in her eyes. Then, she returned to her usual self. I expected her to make me kneel and apologize again, or transfer some money to appease her, as she used to do. To my surprise, she spoke earnestly for the first time ever. “Nathan, I know you’re still bothered by the wedding, but I explained to you yesterday, Bob is young and impulsive, he really could have done something reckless.” “My going to him was also for your sake. If something truly happened to him, would you really be able to live the rest of your life in peace?” I found it amusing: “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Scarlett sounded exasperated: “Not to mention he’s still a human life, he’s also our colleague. We’ve been together for so many years, how can we just watch him die?” “Besides, he helped a lot with your release this time. If it weren’t for his connections, do you think you’d have gotten out so quickly?” I found it amusing, like listening to a fantasy. Why didn’t she consider that if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have gone to prison in the first place? Moreover, my lawyer had told me that under normal investigation, my situation wouldn’t have led to three months of detention. Whether his “connections” were to help me or harm me, no one truly knew. I didn’t tell Scarlett any of this; she wouldn’t believe it anyway. Seeing my silence, Scarlett thought she had convinced me and chuckled. “This time I used your card also to earn some good karma for you. Your imprisonment this time might be because you were too stingy usually, so God couldn’t stand it anymore and made you bleed heavily.” “Do you really think I care about your petty few dollars?” After speaking dismissively, Scarlett noticed the documents in my hand. “What’s that in your hand?” “I’m going to sell this house.” “Sell the house?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow. I was deliberating what excuse to use to persuade her, but then I heard Scarlett cover her mouth and laugh: “So you’ve finally decided to listen to me and sell this one for a bigger house?” “I told you long ago, this house has bad feng shui, and the new development next door isn’t bad. I had someone look at it…” Scarlett chattered on. I realized that before my imprisonment, Scarlett had constantly urged me to sell this house and move to the newly developed property next door. To get me to agree, she’d praise it to high heaven, but I knew she was only doing all this because Bob Barclay was planning to buy a house there, and she wanted to move closer to him. I didn’t correct her; I nodded: “You’re right, I’ll go take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” Before, whenever there was some troublesome paperwork, I was always the one to handle it. So, Scarlett didn’t think much of it and signed the proxy agreement without hesitation. After she signed, I naturally flipped to the last page of the divorce agreement. “Why is this different from the first two documents?” Scarlett noticed the discrepancy and was about to look at the cover. Just then, her phone suddenly rang. She merely glanced at it, and her brows softened into a smile. She lost all interest in looking at the agreement, hastily signing the last page. “Alright, you can go now, I have things to do.” Scarlett waved me away. Even without her saying it, I knew the call was from Bob Barclay. Every night, they would talk for nearly half an hour before bed. I don’t know what they had planned this time, but for the next two days, Scarlett left early and returned late. I no longer kindly inquired, only to be chastised by her for being meddlesome, as I had in the past. This time, I focused on my own affairs. The next day, I went to the real estate agency and submitted the power of attorney agreement. To sell the house as quickly as possible, I listed the price very low. In less than half a day, a buyer viewed the house and closed the deal directly. On the third day, my lawyer informed me that the evidence had been successfully restored, and the court had already begun hearing the case. Everything was set in stone. As soon as the case reopened, all the injustices I had suffered would be returned twofold.

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Working late, pulling an all-nighter for a project, a message suddenly popped up in the “Future Millionairesses Club” chat. “Girls, I snagged four tickets to a ‘Mystery Bachelor Speed Dating’ party! Let’s go!” No sooner had Scarlett sent the message than Melody and Audrey quickly responded: “Count us in! Scarlett’s picks are always top-tier – handsome, rich CEOs, lives of luxury, here we come!” The group chat erupted in cheers. I sighed, glancing at the half-finished project. “My client needs this proposal by noon tomorrow. I’m only halfway done…” The chat fell silent for a moment, then, with unspoken agreement, they changed the subject. By the time I finished the proposal, it was 3:30 AM. I grabbed a quick bite downstairs and collapsed into bed, falling into a deep sleep. My next conscious moment was being jolted awake by a banging on my door. It was the police. “Ms. Huxley, you’re suspected of murder. Please come with us.” 1 My phone vibrated incessantly. I’d set it to do not disturb, then went back to revising the proposal. A few minutes later, Scarlett messaged me privately: “Hazel, the guys at tonight’s party are all incredibly handsome, young, and loaded – absolute bachelors. This is our one shot at a life of luxury! I worked so hard to get these tickets, are you really not coming?” I looked at the proposal, then at the message my boss had sent minutes earlier: “If I don’t get a satisfactory proposal by noon tomorrow, you’re fired.” Sighing, I replied to Scarlett: “I really can’t make it. I can’t gamble my job on something so uncertain.” I finished with two pleading, sad emojis. A life of luxury sounded nice, but I didn’t think I was cut out for it. I was meant to be a diligent worker bee, pouring my sweat and blood into my job, shining for the company. Scarlett’s chat bubble showed “typing…” for a while. Three minutes later, she finally sent just one word: “Okay.” I finally finished the proposal at 3:30 AM. Their last messages in the group chat were from 2:30 AM. I scrolled up through the 99+ notifications, seeing them, clad in their party outfits, getting into taxis headed for a “private luxury yacht” at the harbor. I bought some bread and milk from the convenience store downstairs. After eating, I passed out completely. I was in a deep, dreamless sleep when a loud banging on my door roused me. “What’s going on? An earthquake?” I scrambled out of bed, my mind still foggy, when a stern voice from outside the door spoke. “Is Ms. Huxley home? This is the Elm Street Precinct. We need your cooperation with an investigation.” I slipped on my slippers, my hair a mess, and opened the door to find three or four officers standing outside my apartment. The lead officer was a lean, middle-aged man. Seeing me, he held up his badge. “Ms. Huxley, good morning. I’m from the Elm Street Precinct. My name is Detective Prescott. You are suspected of homicide. Please come with us.” Other residents in the hallway, alerted by the commotion, opened their doors and peered out. “Can you believe it? Ms. Huxley, who looks so harmless, is a murderer?” “Right? You never know! Good thing the police caught her. Living next to a killer, that’s terrifying.” “…” Listening to my neighbors, my brows furrowed deeply. My sleep, interrupted after an all-nighter, left me inexplicably irritable. “Detective Prescott, even the police need evidence to make an arrest, don’t they? Without proof, how can you say I’ve committed murder?” Hearing my words, Detective Prescott gestured to a younger officer behind him. The officer immediately pulled out his phone and displayed several photos. My lingering irritation from being woken up vanished the moment I saw those pictures. A sharp ringing erupted in my ears. The officers kept talking, but I couldn’t hear a word, my gaze fixed on the screen, my eyes welling up with tears. In the photos, Scarlett lay naked, her body covered in countless shattered mirror fragments, amidst a pool of blood. Each fragment reflected her distorted, painful, and despairing face. 2 “Hazel Huxley, please come with us.” Detective Prescott’ expression was grim as he stared at me. The officers behind him watched me warily, as if I might try to flee. But I was fixated on that photograph, tears silently streaming down my face. She was alive and well last night. Why was she a cold corpse today? At the precinct, Detective Prescott sat across from me, his face impassive. “According to our investigation, the deceased’s last phone call was to you. Her last transaction was a transfer to you. And the button clutched in her hand? We found your fingerprints on it. All the evidence at the scene points to you, Hazel Huxley. Do you have anything to explain? For instance, where were you, and what were you doing, between 3 AM and 6 AM?” This was the eighth time Detective Prescott had asked me. I placed my phone on the table, displaying my chat history in the “Future Millionairesses” group. “Detective Prescott, I’ve already told you. Last night, they invited me to a ‘Mystery Bachelor Speed Dating’ party. I declined because I had to finish a proposal at home. Look, at 3:30 AM, I even sent the proposal to my boss.” I switched my phone to my conversation with my boss. The timestamp showed I had indeed sent a version of the proposal at 3:30 AM. “As for after 3:30 AM, once I finished the proposal, I felt a bit hungry, so I went downstairs to the convenience store to grab something to eat. After eating, I was so tired I just went to sleep. I must have fallen asleep around 4 AM. If you don’t believe me, the convenience store downstairs should have surveillance footage. Failing that, you can ask the store owner to testify.” Detective Prescott glanced at my phone. “Half an hour ago, we already checked. The store owner did see you, but he can’t remember what time he saw you last night. And most importantly, the store owner’s surveillance equipment is quite old. The timestamp on his footage from last night shows November 28th, 3:31 PM, but today is only November 23rd. In other words, his equipment can’t prove anything for you.” My only alibi was useless due to incorrect timestamps. A wave of despair washed over me, and I simply gave up. “Since you’ve already decided I’m the killer, why ask so many questions? Just arrest me.” A tense silence fell over the interrogation room. Just as I expected Detective Prescott to make the arrest, he sighed. “It’s precisely because the evidence at the scene is so overwhelmingly conclusive that we don’t believe you’re the killer.” “Then why am I here…?” I didn’t finish my sentence as Detective Prescott’ phone rang urgently. He answered, and whatever he heard caused his face to change dramatically. He suddenly stood up. His chair scraped back, clattering to the floor. “What… what happened?” Seeing Detective Prescott’ uncharacteristic agitation, a premonition of dread settled in my stomach. After hanging up, Detective Prescott looked at me with a complex expression. “Hazel Huxley, I hear you publish a novel on a certain writing website? Are you the author?” “Yes,” I nodded, feeling a pang of anxiety. How could this case be connected to my novel? Just as that thought crossed my mind, Detective Prescott spoke slowly. “Scarlett Price’s autopsy report is back. She died around 4 AM on the 23rd, from massive blood loss and emotional collapse. The wounds on her body were peculiar – shattered glass fragments meticulously embedded in a radial pattern. Doesn’t that passage sound familiar?” He spoke the last sentence softly. As his words hung in the air, he placed his phone in front of me. “Countless shattered mirror fragments embedded in her skin like diamonds, transforming her into a walking kaleidoscope, a vanity dying by her own reflection.” I stared blankly at the line of text, suddenly realizing it was a sentence from my ongoing mystery novel, serialized on that website. The chapter was published at 3 AM on the 23rd. While the content was newly released, I had designed this particular scene three months ago. “Hazel Huxley, think again. Is there anything you’ve overlooked? While we believe you, all current evidence points to you as the killer.” “Right now, only you can save yourself.” 3 Anything I’d overlooked? I stared blankly at the content on Detective Prescott’ phone. I used to be so proud of such a brilliant idea… But now, a single sentence from my novel had seemingly led to the death of my best friend. Slumping in the chair, feeling utterly lost, Scarlett’s horrific death played over and over in my mind, along with her message from last night: “Hazel, the guys at this party are all incredible – handsome, rich, absolute bachelors…” She was still thinking of me, even in her last moments, and yet I had, in some way, caused her death. Guilt and self-reproach washed over me, a dull ache in my chest. I clutched my head with both hands, but nothing came to mind. After finishing work last night, I’d seen them, dressed in their party outfits, heading to the luxury yacht… Right, the luxury yacht… With that thought, I abruptly looked up at Detective Prescott. “They said last night they were going to a luxurious private yacht at the harbor. Maybe that yacht is the key. We should…” “We’ve checked all the surveillance footage around the harbor. There’s no sign of any luxury yacht, nor did we see your friends going to the harbor.” Before I could finish, Detective Prescott poured cold water on my idea. So they were tricked? If they were lured out, it must be murder, premeditated by the killer. Using my novel content was merely a tactic to find a scapegoat. If that’s the case, then… the killer must have read my novel! After I relayed my thoughts to Detective Prescott, he was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a hint of resignation in his tone. “We’ve already had people investigate what you’re suggesting. As you said, your content was set to auto-publish at 3 AM, and Scarlett Price’s time of death was around 4 AM. That means the killer is hiding among the readers who purchased that chapter between 3 AM and 4 AM.” “But after our technical team checked, we didn’t find any unusual accounts.” The lead went cold again. I anxiously picked up and put down my phone several times, then carefully said, “I have a theory. Don’t you think the killer might be murdering people according to the scenarios I publish? If so, then the next two chapters…” “What are the next chapters?” Detective Prescott gave me a peculiar look, as if surprised that a young woman like me could devise such twisted scenarios. I cleared my throat, opened my author dashboard, and showed him the two unpublished chapters. The next two chapters were “The Performer Dies by the Audience” and “The Collector Dies by Their Collection.” Detective Prescott stared at them for a long time, then suddenly stepped out to make a call. Three minutes later, he returned. Detective Prescott wearily massaged his temples, staring at my novel’s content. “If that’s the case, then at 3 AM on the 24th, the killer might strike again.” I nodded. Then I heard him continue, “Since you’re the author, imagine yourself as the victim. How would you escape? Or, think about the loopholes in the scenarios you designed. Perhaps we can use those loopholes to track the killer.” Loopholes? I crossed my arms, leaned back in the chair, my brows deeply furrowed. Loopholes… When I designed this part, it was to grab readers’ attention, creating a twisted serial killer case. This serial killer specifically targeted single women, but each time before striking, he would find an excuse, saying that modern women were hypocritical, materialistic, and greedy… For example, the girl in the story, beautiful and capable, was chosen because the killer had once been rejected by a pretty girl, so he hated pretty girls. Thus, he chose “Death Kaleidoscope” as her method of death, embedding shattered glass into her body, scarring her face, leaving her to die in despair. But this design had a huge loophole. The loophole was… 4 Just as a faint idea formed in my mind, I heard urgent footsteps outside. Immediately, the young officer who followed Detective Prescott knocked on the door. “Chief, new intel.” Detective Prescott pushed the door open and stepped out. Through the door, I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I saw the young officer’s expression was grim, and upon hearing his words, Detective Prescott’ face completely changed. A few minutes later, Detective Prescott pushed the door open and came back in, his face terrifyingly dark. “Melody Chen is dead.” “What?” I shot up from my chair, looking at Detective Prescott in disbelief. “How is that possible? My next two chapters haven’t even been published yet, how could Melody die? How did she die? Is it like the plot I designed in my novel?” Detective Prescott gravely nodded at me. “Ten minutes ago, our team detected Melody Chen’s account going online. Immediately after, she started a livestream, but by the time the camera focused on her, she had already stopped breathing.” “We dispatched officers to the scene, Melody Chen’s home, but the killer had already escaped. We investigated all surveillance footage in the surrounding area but found nothing. The killer seems intimately familiar with her home’s layout, cleverly evading all cameras.” “And there’s something else peculiar…” Here, Detective Prescott gave me a strange look. “Our team found that all the fill lights at the scene were set to maximum brightness and couldn’t be turned off. And the victim’s phone, computer, backup phone, and four other devices were simultaneously looping a compilation of her past livestream ‘disasters.’” He paused after saying that, then continued, “I recall a line in your novel, where the serial killer, after murdering an internet streamer, said something like this:” “Let the performer be killed by incessant scrutiny in the replay of their own failures.” Seven devices simultaneously playing Melody’s past livestream ‘disaster moments’ exactly matched the content of my novel – letting her die in the replay of her own failures… A chill ran down my spine. It was as if an unseen hand had been laying out this plan long before any of us realized. “Detective Prescott, speaking of loopholes, something just occurred to me…” “What is it?” “I’ve written many mystery novels and designed many killers, but they all share a common trait. All serial killers take photos as mementos of their ‘masterpieces,’ and sometimes even return to the scene. The photos of Scarlett you showed me today, are you certain all of them were taken by your team?” Detective Prescott froze at my words. The person who called 911 this morning was an elderly cleaning woman, wearing a brightly colored cap. Because it was raining, she was also wearing a thick raincoat. When the officers arrived, the cleaning woman was waiting by the entrance, and upon seeing them, she even sent them a photo of the scene: “Young man, you wouldn’t believe it, that young lady bled so much, it was horrifying, take a look…” After sending them the photo, when they tried to find the cleaning woman again, she had vanished without a trace. Now that I thought about it, the cleaning woman’s height and build didn’t seem like a woman’s at all; it was more like… a man’s! So, the person who called 911 this morning could very well be the killer themselves?! Realizing this possibility, Detective Prescott quickly found the photo sent by the “cleaning woman.” He zoomed in frame by frame, and suddenly noticed something in a shattered mirror fragment on the victim’s neck. In that mirror fragment, vaguely reflected was an eye, with a mole at the corner of it. Upon discovering the clue, Detective Prescott immediately called the young officer, but when the call connected, the other party spoke urgently: “Chief, our team found Audrey Stone! She’s alive!”

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At the welcome back dinner, my boyfriend peeled a shrimp for me. His childhood friend pouted beside him: “Brother, why don’t you peel one for me? You’re playing favorites~” My boyfriend’s usually cool face instantly flushed crimson. To ease the awkwardness, I raised my hands and said, “My nails are too long, you see. I’ll let your brother peel one for you in a bit.” At my words, the friend shot me a hysterical glance. “I’m so jealous of Sister Anya for having such long nails. “Unlike me, I have to do housework every day, and I’ve never had a manicure…” 1 The dinner table instantly fell silent. Only the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain broke the quiet. My male best friend, Chris Donovan, sat opposite me, his brow deeply furrowed. He slammed down the wine glass he had just raised. I, too, let my smile fade, offering no response. Willow’s words were venomous. With Frank Hayes’ intelligence, he could surely discern the hidden meaning in Willow’s statement. After all, when I was abroad, he often shared posts about “green tea” girls in our country. Back then, he’d often tell me that those “green tea” girls were so amateur, he could spot them a mile away. Yet now, after hearing Willow’s words, he merely turned to her and asked: “Why are you still doing housework? Didn’t you say your new job was very busy?” Willow bit her lower lip, her eyes instantly reddening. She lowered her head and said, in a wronged tone: “Frank, you know my family’s situation right now… Mom’s not well, so no matter how busy I am, I have to share the household chores.” She looked up, but avoided my gaze, timidly saying: “Not everyone can enjoy life like Sister Anya. I also want to get a manicure, but circumstances don’t allow it…” The two of them carried on, oblivious to anyone else, enacting a scene of deep childhood friendship. Chris finally couldn’t hold back. He crossed his arms and let out a cold laugh: “Willow, right? If you want to talk about your own misery, just talk about yourself. Why drag Anya into it? “What, Anya’s family is wealthy and she’s pampered? That’s her good fortune. Who are you being passive-aggressive for?” Frank seemed to just realize this was my welcome-back dinner. He turned, his gaze sharply sweeping over Chris. Then he looked at me, finally saying in a low voice to Willow, “Let’s eat first; we’ll talk afterward.” Willow’s tears instantly welled up and fell. “Frank, I didn’t mean it… Do you think I’m being annoying?” “Today was supposed to be Sister Anya’s welcome-back dinner, and you insisted on bringing me along, but I ended up spoiling it for everyone… “I’ll just leave now…” She said, making to stand up. Frank grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Every word she spoke revealed the depth of her relationship with Frank – that he had “insisted” on bringing her. The other girls at the table, all my university classmates, exchanged glances, cautiously observing my reaction. Chris gritted his teeth, ready to stand up and confront them. I reached out and gently pressed his arm. Frank keenly noticed my physical contact with Chris. His gaze instantly turned cold, fixated on Chris’s arm, which my hand was resting on, and he asked me in an unfriendly tone: “Mr. Donovan seems to have a strong opinion about Willow?” I still held Chris’s arm, not letting go. I simply turned to Willow, forcing a smile that held no warmth in my eyes: “How could that be? I think Willow is quite popular.” I paused, then slowly continued: “Yesterday, Frank’s cousin, Aaron, told me he sent you a large bouquet of 99 red roses the day before, and you accepted them.” I watched Willow’s face instantly stiffen, my smile deepening: “You have feelings for him too, don’t you?” 2 I did indeed have Aaron Hayes’ WhatsApp. As a distant branch of the Hayes family, that kid often asked me for favors back in the day. Yesterday, when he asked me about my return date, he casually mentioned that he was aggressively pursuing Frank Hayes’ “pitiful” childhood friend, Willow. Willow’s family and the Hayes family used to be neighbors and were very close. However, after Willow’s father succumbed to gambling, losing all their assets, they moved from the villa district to a resettlement area, and the two families gradually drifted apart. But I never expected that Willow’s connection with the Hayes brothers, Frank and Aaron, had never been severed. It was even this close. I just didn’t know if Frank knew about the bouquet of roses. After speaking, I took a sip of red wine, my gaze over the rim of the glass, glancing at Frank opposite me. He remained calm and unperturbed, as if he hadn’t heard. But his fingers gripping the wine glass were slightly white at the knuckles. My friends beside me reacted quickly, immediately starting to chatter and tease Willow: “Oh my god, 99 red roses? That definitely means he’s pursuing you!” “You accepted the flowers, so something good must be happening soon, right?” “Willow, why didn’t you bring that guy with you today? Did you not invite him?” “Aaron might be a cousin, but he’s quite accomplished in the Hayes family. Willow, you’re so lucky.” They spoke one after another, though their faces held smiles, their words implicitly confirmed Willow’s suspicion of “two-timing.” Willow, being roasted alive like this, finally couldn’t maintain her delicate, pitiful facade. She waved her hands frantically, explaining urgently: “No… no! Those flowers… I thought Aaron had no use for them anymore… “Sister Anya, you’ve misunderstood Aaron. He’s not pursuing me; we’re just like siblings…” She instinctively turned to look at Frank, her eyes full of pleading, but then shifted her attack to me: “I’m so jealous that Sister Anya and Aaron are so close; she’s only just returned and already knows so much about Aaron’s private life.” This tactic of deflecting blame was skillfully executed. Frank, predictably, shifted his scrutiny from her to me. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze holding a mix of inquiry and displeasure: “You and Aaron talk a lot? You were chatting with him before you even landed yesterday?” I put down my wine glass, the glass base clinking sharply on the table. “Are you asking this because you’re jealous of Aaron? Or are you worried I found out something I shouldn’t have?” 3 I majored in psychology abroad. Willow’s previous statement was meant to lure me into a self-incrimination trap. If I explained, “it was just casually mentioned,” or “I don’t contact him often,” then I would become the weak party under interrogation, and by default, I would be agreeing that I needed to report my contacts with other men to Frank. I had to address his motive, not prove my innocence. The moment I asked, Frank was speechless. He probably never expected that I, usually gentle and magnanimous, would be so sharp. Frank and I were introduced by our families, a typical business arrangement. Well-matched in social status, bound by mutual interests. Over the two years we’d been together, though there were no dramatic passions, our relationship was stable and respectful. We were both sensible and polite individuals; our conversations had never been this tense or filled with hostility before tonight. Even when I went abroad to study and he was so busy in the country that he didn’t reply to my messages for three consecutive days, I had never questioned him so boldly. His face kept changing. It was shock, the anger of having his thoughts exposed, and perhaps even a touch of panic at the situation spiraling out of control. Since this fire had already started, I would let it burn brighter. Before anyone could react, I took out my phone and dialed Aaron Hayes directly. The phone rang twice before connecting. “Hello? Sister Anya? What’s up?” Aaron’s nonchalant voice came from the other end. I put it on speaker, and my voice echoed clearly through the private dining room: “Aaron, I’m having dinner at the Pavilion. Your brother and Willow are here too. Since everyone’s here, why don’t you come over?” With that, without waiting for a reply, I hung up. Willow’s face instantly turned ashen, and she looked at Frank in terror. Frank abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. He suppressed his anger, growling: “Anya Shen, do you have to do this?! “Do you think things aren’t chaotic enough?!” I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, watching him calmly: “Since it’s a misunderstanding, calling the person here to clarify face-to-face, how does that make it chaotic? “Or are you afraid that if Aaron comes, some of your little act won’t be able to continue?” 4 Willow finally broke down, covering her face and sobbing softly, as if she had suffered an immense wrong. “Sister Anya… why are you making things so difficult for me… “Can’t I just leave…” Chris scoffed from the side, speaking for me: “It’s just calling Aaron over, how is that making things difficult for you? “Weren’t you happy when you received the flowers? Is it a misunderstanding or not, the person will be here soon to clear your name, why are you crying?” Frank sharply interrupted Chris, pointing at me with a stern tone: “Anya Shen, you’re being overly dramatic! Willow is sensitive; with so many people here, why do you have to make such a scene to embarrass her? “She’s my little sister, whom I’ve grown up with since childhood!” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, about to call Aaron to tell him not to come. Watching his impatient eagerness to protect Willow, the last trace of warmth in my heart completely froze. “Don’t want to face the situation after he arrives? “Afraid that your self-proclaimed unique position in her heart will be shaken? Or afraid that you’ll discover your deep affection was misplaced?” Frank’s movements stiffened. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me, his gaze icy cold: “What do you mean?” My best friend, Lisa, who had been silent by my side, finally couldn’t hold back. She muttered softly, her voice not loud, yet clear enough for everyone present to hear: “What’s with the act… Six months ago, I accidentally guessed Frank’s social media password, and he had posted private messages there only visible to one person… “Things like ‘waiting for you to grow up,’ ‘my forever knight,’ and so many photos of Willow… terribly ambiguous.” Silence once again fell over the private room. Willow suddenly looked up, denying vehemently: “That’s just because we’re close, Brother has always treated me like a sister!” Frank’s face completely darkened. He stared intensely at me, his eyes filled with disappointment and disgust: “Anya Shen, I never realized how manipulative you are. “You usually act so composed, yet secretly you pry into others’ privacy? And even go through old social media posts?” Lisa stood up, fuming, to explain: “I was just curious and tried it myself; I only mentioned it to Anya. “Anya even spoke up for you then, saying those were things of the past and she didn’t care about your history. How can you be so ungrateful?!” Yes, I really didn’t care about his past. Who hasn’t been young and foolish? Who doesn’t have a childhood friend? I also have my purely platonic best friend, Chris; our relationship is transparent and honest. Moreover, I went to study abroad after Frank and I officially started dating. Before I left the country, Frank had solemnly promised our parents that we were headed for marriage. He said we were well-matched, similar in personality, and the most suitable partners for marriage. Even after I went abroad, despite the time difference, he tried his best to accommodate my schedule. Last Christmas, he even turned down contracts worth tens of millions to fly to London to spend Christmas with me. We held hands and watched fireworks by the Thames. All these good things, I saw and kept in my heart. So I thought I could overlook his past, and I could even tolerate his “sibling affection.” But tonight’s welcome-back dinner completely opened my eyes. If I married him, it would mean constantly having to tolerate Willow, this “sister,” coming between us. Always having to give in to her, always watching her perform, always being held hostage by Frank’s logic of “she’s weak, so she’s right.” The thought of such a life was suffocating. 5 Aaron Hayes arrived even faster than expected. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the show. But the moment the door was pushed open, Frank, as if startled, grabbed Willow’s hand and made to leave. “Let’s go, this meal is impossible to eat.” His face was cold, and he didn’t even spare Aaron a glance as he entered. I remained in my seat, unmoving. Just as he was about to step out of the private room, I spoke coldly: “Frank Hayes. If you take her out that door right now, our engagement can be considered over.” Frank’s footsteps halted. He turned, his gaze icy cold, looking at me as if I were an unreasonable shrew: “Anya Shen, there’s no need to be so aggressive. It’s just a meal, why do you have to make it a life-and-death struggle?” I stood up, walking towards him step by step, my high heels clicking decisively on the floor. It wasn’t until I stood before him that I retorted: “Who am I forcing? Did I make her cry at my welcome-back dinner? Did I make her publicly shame me for not doing housework? Did I make her accept another man’s flowers and then act innocent here?” Perhaps my presence was too intimidating; as I passed the doorway, I accidentally bumped into a waiter who was cautiously entering with a wine cooler. The waiter’s hand trembled, and the red wine bottle tilted. The dark red wine instantly spilled out, landing squarely on Willow’s pristine white dress. “Ah—!” Willow shrieked, shrinking into Frank’s arms. Aaron pushed open the door just in time to see this scene. From his perspective, he only saw me aggressively approaching, and then Willow was splashed with wine. His face instantly turned extremely grim, and he rushed over, asking: “Willow! What happened?!” Willow trembled all over, her voice tearful, yet she didn’t forget to “exonerate” me: “It’s okay… Aaron… Sister Anya didn’t mean it… “Don’t get angry with Sister Anya because of me… It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have come…” With that, she covered her face and made to cry and leave. Frank grabbed her hand, then forcefully pushed me. The force was so great that I stumbled back two steps, nearly hitting the corner of the table. Chris quickly steadied me, roaring, “Frank Hayes, what are you doing?!” Frank pointed at my nose, his eyes filled with disappointment and fury: “Anya Shen, I used to think you were cultured, generous, and gentle. I never imagined you’d resort to such petty tricks! “Publicly splashing someone with wine? Is this the upbringing of your Shen family? I truly misjudged you.” Looking at his righteous, protective demeanor, I suddenly felt utterly nauseated. My stomach churned. I took a deep breath, broke free from Chris’s support, and strode forward. I raised my hand. “Splat—!” A sharp slap echoed through the private room, even overpowering the background music. Frank’s face snapped to the side, a clear imprint of five fingers instantly appearing on his cheek. The entire room was silent. I shook my tingling palm, a cold sneer on my lips: “Misjudged me? Fine, Frank Hayes, that slap was for myself. “Since we’re settling scores, let’s settle them properly.” I stared into his shocked eyes, enunciating each word: “I recall your family’s new energy business in Europe was expanded through my family’s connections, wasn’t it? “It was I who braved a blizzard to run to a factory for you to negotiate when I was studying in the UK, and it was I who helped you connect with several key parliament members. “Since you say you misjudged me, and you think I lack proper upbringing, fine. Since those connections were established by me, I also know how to retract them.” The moment I finished speaking, before Frank could say anything, Aaron beside him got annoyed. He scoffed, his face full of disdain: “Sister Anya, you really think too highly of yourself, don’t you? “Stop using your family’s connections to pressure my brother. If our Hayes family truly had no capabilities, your Shen family’s connections wouldn’t do any good. “Business dealings are mutually beneficial, you think it’s your charity?” No effect? I looked at these arrogant and blind brothers, finding them utterly ridiculous. They must have been in good times for too long, forgetting what true resource barriers were. To actually choose to oppose an engagement, and their own interests, for the sake of this woman, Willow. I smoothed my slightly disheveled skirt, regaining my usual elegance and composure. “No effect, you say?” I scoffed, my gaze sweeping over Frank’s still-stunned face, finally settling on Aaron: “Then let’s test it out.”

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Three years into my cancer battle, I finally couldn’t hold on anymore. Before I found my release, I wanted one last look at the old apartment complex where I’d lived with my parents. I had intended to come quietly, leave silently. But unexpectedly, as soon as I reached the complex gates, I ran into my ex-husband, dressed in a sharp suit. Years had passed, and we had both changed. He had removed the woven bracelet I made for him, now wearing an expensive gold watch. I had shaved off the long hair he loved most, now wearing a hat to hide my bald head. We looked at each other for a moment before exchanging greetings. As we brushed past, Aaron Hayes suddenly called out to me. “Fiona Thorne, are you still angry with me?” I subtly curled my lips, shaking my head. There’s only anger where there’s love. And my love had long since been eroded. I didn’t look back, striding into the apartment complex. The last moments of my life, I wanted to keep for myself. For the once infinitely happy little home I had. 1 In the South, there is no autumn. Mid-October had just arrived, and the wind was already quite cold. I slowly walked to my doorstep. This was the apartment my parents were allocated before they got married. I was born and grew up here. Later, when Dad became the factory manager, we still didn’t move. Only because Aaron lived next door. I knelt down, reaching for the bottom of the flowerpot, but felt nothing. My heart jolted. The next second, strong hands lifted me, my back instantly pressed against a solid chest. Turning my head, Aaron’s face was already close to mine. “Why are your hands so cold?” I abruptly pulled my hand back, stepping away. Aaron stared at me, then pulled a pair of wool gloves from his own pocket. A leaf was embroidered near the cuff of the gloves, the stitching a familiar habit of Olivia’s needlework. I shoved my hands into my pockets, politely declining: “No trouble, I’m not cold.” “You’re usually so afraid of cold hands and chilblains…” Mid-sentence, he saw the embroidery on the gloves and paused. He silently put the gloves away, asking if I had forgotten my keys again. I nodded. Aaron offered to accompany me to the factory office to get a spare key, just like in high school. But we were no longer high school students, nor did we have any reason to go together. Aaron and I should have been strangers. Seeing an old man riding a bicycle in the same direction, I asked for a ride. The uncle readily agreed. After a few pedal strokes, he looked back. He smiled and asked: “Having a lovers’ spat?” “I often see that young man waiting by the door. Look how anxious he is when you get on the bike. Just scare him a bit, okay?” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, pulling my coat tighter. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been divorced for eight years.” “He lives there anyway. He’s not waiting for me.” The uncle chuckled awkwardly, then changed the subject. “Young lady, you used to live here too, right?” “Why choose to come back in October? It’s much warmer earlier in the year, you could’ve played by the river, it’s so refreshing then!” I looked back; Aaron had become a blurry little dot. In a blink, he was out of sight. I rubbed the hem of my coat, smiling bitterly: “I had intended to come back sooner.” “But August was for my mother’s funeral, September I was tethered to IV drips… and so it slowly dragged to October.” The uncle apologized, shutting his mouth, his face full of regret. I smiled, patting the uncle’s shoulder, “It’s alright, uncle.” “People are meant to die. I’ve come to terms with it.” After my diagnosis, many people pitied my youth, my lonely, ghost-like existence. But who cared? The day I divorced Aaron, I chewed up and swallowed the word ‘care’. The uncle listened quietly, dropping me off smoothly at my destination. As I thanked him and was about to enter the factory office, the uncle called out to me. His expression was conflicted, and he asked in a low voice. “Miss, why did you and your ex-husband divorce?” “I thought he seemed quite concerned about you. Given your current health, it would be good to have someone caring for you.” I listened calmly, then replied indifferently. “Divorce is usually for the same few reasons, isn’t it?” “I caught him in bed with my best friend.” 2 Aaron and I had known each other for seventeen years. Seventeen years. The red brick apartment complex remained, but the people were unrecognizable. I still remember that year in high school, I forgot my house keys. It was Aaron, who had just moved in that day, who accompanied me to the factory office to get them. The walk, which usually took forever, flew by in a few conversations thanks to Aaron’s company. We went to school together, came home together, spent winter breaks and summer holidays together. The day after our final exams, we held hands. We occupied the most youthful times of each other’s lives. Later, Aaron, whose parents had died young, wanted to ease his grandfather’s burden. During the summer break of his sophomore year, as he was braiding my long hair, he said he was dropping out of college to work. The thought of being separated from him made me run home, heartbroken. For the first time, I begged my father. I told him, I wanted to be with Aaron. Dad finished his tea from the thermos. He stared at me for a long time before asking. “You really can’t live without him?” Wiping my tears, I nodded emphatically. From the first time Aaron accompanied me to the factory office to get the keys. From when he stroked my long hair and said I was beautiful. I was certain that in this life, no matter what happened, I couldn’t be separated from him. Dad sighed deeply, and he and Mom discussed it for a long time. That afternoon, Dad went to the bank, came back with a bag of cash, and knocked on the neighbor’s door. Dad handed the money to Aaron and said, “Getting into college isn’t easy. Don’t worry about the money.” “Just focus on your studies. When you graduate and succeed, you’ll be able to take better care of your grandfather.” Aaron stared at the money in his arms for a long time, until tears streamed from his eyes, and he finally knelt down. He raised three fingers, swearing that he would work hard and repay this kindness by being a loyal servant in the future. Dad pressed down his swearing hand, helping him up. “I don’t need you to be a loyal servant.” “If you and Fiona are truly in love, then treat her well in the future.” Aaron nodded through his tears, promising to treat me well for all eternity. From that day on, we officially became a couple. He was diligent, passing his bar exam in his junior year and interning at the largest law firm in the country in his senior year. After graduation, he won his first difficult case, becoming famous overnight. Suddenly, he was a rising star in the legal world. He also kept his promise. Throughout our relationship, he cherished me, treating me like royalty. The day before our wedding, he looked at me, making a woven bracelet, and asked. “Could you put a strand of your hair in it?” “I want to have you with me wherever I go.” He ran his fingers through my long hair, his eyes shining as he said. “Fiona, I can’t live without you.” I smiled, my heart as sweet as honey. Everyone envied me for having a loving husband. No matter how busy he was, he would take a train from the provincial capital every week to see me. To spend more time with me, he would always buy the earliest ticket for the next day. Even if it meant getting up at four in the morning. Once, I had acute gastroenteritis. I was too weak to get out of bed, and my parents took me to the hospital. When I opened my eyes in the middle of the night, I saw Aaron, who had a court case the next day, sitting by my bedside. The moonlight spilled over him; for a moment, I thought it was a dream. Until Aaron’s crystalline tear fell, landing on the back of my hand. “Darling, I’m not going to the provincial capital. I’ll stay by your side, alright?” I didn’t know how he had managed to come back so late at night without any transportation. I reached out to him, filled with tenderness, and he hugged me tightly. In that moment, I believed wholeheartedly. We would be happy like this forever. So, I quit my job and moved to the city where he worked. But what I didn’t expect was this. My surprise would turn into heartbreak. I saw him and Olivia, naked, lying on a bed. 3 Seeing the uncle’s shocked and worried gaze. I twisted my lips, speaking calmly. “He was in a deep sleep that day; he didn’t realize I had come.” “So, there was no argument between us that day.” “However, Olivia did open her eyes and see me.” In that moment, a pain as if my chest was bursting made it almost impossible for me to breathe. Like a sand painting washed away by a wave, no matter how beautiful, it vanished instantly. That night, Olivia carried a tin box and led me to the rooftop. “In elementary school, after my parents ran a pyramid scheme, swindled money, and fled the factory town, all the other kids hated me. Only you were willing to play with me.” “I still remember everyone saying we were like sisters, like ‘Bonnie and Clyde’.” “If it weren’t for you, I might still be trapped in that abusive marriage.” Olivia turned to look at me, opening the tin box in her hands. “So, I believe you have the right to know all of this.” Inside the tin box were stacks of letters. I opened one; it was Aaron’s handwriting. “You are still my pure white moonlight. You have the right to pursue happiness; let me help you.” “It’s my honor to fight for you. I will do my utmost to give you happiness.” “Fiona can’t live without me, but I can’t live without you.” The date on the letter was the day I asked Aaron to go check on Olivia, who was hospitalized due to domestic abuse. It turned out Aaron had been writing to Olivia all these years. The date of the first letter was even the day after our high school exams ended. “If I were stronger, you wouldn’t have to go work by the coast. I truly despise my own incompetence.” So in our sophomore year, when Aaron said he was going to work far away, was it to find Olivia? Those details I overlooked, Those trivial matters I had forgotten, At this moment, they clearly resurfaced. No wonder Aaron was willing to accompany me to see Olivia every summer break. No wonder after Olivia knitted me a sweater, she used the leftover yarn to knit a scarf for Aaron. No wonder a prominent lawyer like Aaron would unhesitatingly agree to help Olivia with her divorce case. It turned out, from the very beginning, I was the one who disrupted his plan to pursue true love. The summer night wind was now even more chilling than winter. “Fiona, all these years you sent me money, helped me find work. Without you, I wouldn’t be alive.” “I truly didn’t want to hurt you, but Aaron and I are genuinely in love. Please, let us be together.” Saying this, Olivia knelt before me. Back when Olivia’s parents fled, seeing her alone, I took her to my house for meals every day. I even begged my parents to adopt her as their goddaughter. She, and he… treated me like this? In an instant, mountains crumbled, the world overturned. Before Olivia could react, I rushed downstairs like a madwoman. I burst through the bedroom door and dragged Aaron out of bed. Aaron was first shocked when he saw me, then hung his head in silence. I threw the letters at his face, hitting him and questioning him. Why, if he didn’t love me, did he accompany me to the factory office for the keys? Why, if he didn’t love me, did he let me braid my hair into a bracelet for him to wear? Why… the day after we held hands, did he write a letter to my best friend? Seeing my uncontrollable sobbing, Aaron’s eyes also reddened. He held me with trembling hands. “Fiona, I didn’t not love you.” “I just… met Olivia earlier.” Almost ten years together… All the sweetness instantly turned into bitter poison. Was I truly the clown who stole their love? I didn’t believe it, and I wouldn’t accept it! I vented hysterically. Aaron just stood silently, letting my fists rain down on him. Until Olivia tried to intervene and I pushed her down. Only then did Aaron rush to her, panicked. I missed my hit, stumbling against the wardrobe. My hands hurt, my face hurt, but my heart hurt the most. “Aaron, I really can’t go on like this anymore.” Olivia clung to Aaron, looking pitiful. She was crying too. “If you can’t let go of Fiona because of gratitude, then let me leave alone.” “Anyway, I’ve never been as lucky as Fiona. I’m used to being alone.” “Don’t worry about me anymore.” Saying this, Olivia stood up and ran out. Aaron, who had been silent, screamed, his voice breaking. This was the first time I had ever seen him so distraught. Not even during his poorest days had I witnessed it. And his distress was for Olivia. I’m so tired. Was he with me only out of gratitude then… he truly didn’t love me. I leaned against the wardrobe, speaking weakly. “Aaron Hayes, if you dare to go after her.” “Between us, it’s completely over.” Aaron looked back at me with a complex expression. He still strode out after her. Hearing this, the uncle frowned, silently lighting a cigarette. But seeing my pale face, he extinguished it without a word. His face was filled with helplessness, and he murmured: “You never truly know what’s in a person’s heart.” Yes, you never know a person’s true intentions. If the story had ended there. It would have just been the dissolution of a relationship. A wound, a pain for a while, but eventually, it would slowly pass. But the next day, fate once again showed me its cruelty.

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I’ve been transported into a novel, playing the role of the male lead in a “stand-in” romance. It was the third year of my marriage to Scarlett Zinberg, and her “white moonlight” finally returned. “You know, I’ve never loved you. This is your compensation.” Scarlett said coldly, handing over a black card. I accepted it without hesitation. “Alright, let’s get divorced tomorrow. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness!” Because I knew that in two months, she would suffer a fire, be disfigured, and lose both her legs. Scarlett Zinberg, at this moment, was dressed in a white haute couture suit and skirt, with long wavy hair and exquisite makeup. Tsk, indeed a domineering female CEO, but unfortunately, she’s about to become crippled. Seeing me take the card and stare at her with a look of regret, Scarlett thought I was having second thoughts. “You’ve taken the card, now you want to go back on it?” Her tone was cold, and her expression held undisguised contempt. I picked up the contract and flipped through it, then said seriously: “My three years of youth are only worth thirty million? Scarlett, you’re the CEO of Zinberg Group, people would laugh if they heard that.” “You need to pay more!” Scarlett’s face instantly darkened. “Jackson Avery, you really only agreed to marry me for my money.” If the original character had heard that, he would have been heartbroken. Before, whenever Scarlett mentioned the name Vincent Sterling, he would be inconsolably sad. In the original story, this scene was even more chaotic. The original character would not only knock her card away but also cry and ask her what those years of companionship meant. Later, when the female lead was secretly meeting her “white moonlight,” he even attempted suicide by slitting his wrists in the bathroom. He loved Scarlett with all his heart, even willing to give up his budding acting career for her. Only because Scarlett said that after marriage, she had to quit the entertainment industry, he willingly became a househusband for her. If it weren’t for the three years of marriage, I believe the original character would have achieved greater things. “You can’t say that. I gave up my beloved job for you back then, shouldn’t you compensate me?” “I’m not like your ‘white moonlight’ Vincent Sterling; he’s now an international A-list star. If everyone knew you betrayed me for him, it wouldn’t be good for his reputation, would it?” My eyes held provocation and threat. “So what do you want?” Scarlett’s teeth gritted audibly. I glanced around the villa and smiled, saying: “This villa goes to me, and another twenty million. One villa, fifty million, to buy Vincent’s reputation—that’s a steal.” Scarlett’s face was grim, as if she had swallowed a fly, and she stared at me intensely. Just as my patience was running out, her red lips parted: “Fine.” “Then Scarlett, please leave my house now. I’m not used to sharing a roof with others.” I smiled as I asked Scarlett to leave, instructing the housekeeper to pack all her belongings. She slammed the door in a rage; no doubt she went straight to Vincent. In the original story, the movie star Vincent Sterling had been inseparable from Scarlett Zinberg since his return to the country. Even when the media caught them, they’d simply claim it was old friends catching up. Because the original character refused to sign the divorce papers, Scarlett and Vincent maintained a secret affair. Until Scarlett’s accident, Vincent distanced himself, but the original character remained by her side, caring for her devotedly. But I’m not a cuckold. I don’t want a woman who doesn’t love me. Scarlett Zinberg, this time I’m eager to see if your “white moonlight” will truly stay by your side and care for you, disfigured and disabled. Lying comfortably in the bathtub, I scrolled through the news. The trending topic of Scarlett picking up Vincent from the airport a week ago was still in the top ten. The hashtag #ScarlettVincentPerfectMatch# remained popular. Netizens commented on the topic: [Can’t you see it yet? That Jackson Avery is just a cheap version of Vincent, a stand-in!] [The real deal is back, the stand-in should be dismissed.] [Serves him right, I never liked him, he doesn’t work hard at all, can’t compare to Emperor Vincent.] … As I faced these comments, a memory suddenly surged into my mind. Three years ago, it was also in this villa. Scarlett was completely drunk, and I helped her to the sofa. She grabbed my hand tightly, her eyes blurry with tears: “Vincent, don’t leave me…” I frowned, gently reminding her that I was Jackson Avery. But she ignored me, pulled my head down, and kissed me. Her soft, hot lips made my head buzz, and I lost all reason. The velvet rug under the sofa was soft; we embraced and tumbled around on it. It wasn’t until she sobered up the next day that she found me holding hangover soup. Seemingly realizing what had happened, she clutched the blanket and frowned, asking me: “Why is it you?” Before I could reply, she said to herself, never mind. Five parts like him, that’s rare enough. Then, she asked me if I would be willing to be with her. My heart skipped a beat, and I said, but I’m just a small artist under your company, how could I be worthy? She reached out and caressed my cheek, smiling. “Do you know why I suddenly called you to drink with me?” “Because the first time I saw you, I thought it was him.” “Who?” I wanted to ask, but ultimately dared not, because a hint of sadness appeared between her brows. It was this striking sadness that captivated me. The absurdity and passion of last night also deeply fascinated me. Just like that, I suddenly went from a third-tier celebrity to the husband of a domineering CEO. There was no wedding, no reception, just a cold social media update from Scarlett. The entire internet exploded, in a frenzy, but the original character was deeply moved, because he was a love-struck fool. Too bad, I hate love-struck fools the most; idiots should die! I texted Scarlett: [What time should we meet at the city hall tomorrow?] She quickly replied: [You, really agree to divorce me?] I impatiently replied, otherwise? Watching you trend with Vincent every day—I don’t have a cuckold fetish. She seemed very angry, replying only two words: [Ten o’clock.] Wrapped in my bathrobe, I began to revel in the spacious villa. After tomorrow, I’ll be a multi-millionaire! Too excited to sleep, I went to the city hall with dark circles under my eyes. Scarlett and Vincent arrived together. Thinking about the paparazzi photos of their candlelight dinner last night, I looked at them with disdain. Truly despicable, spending the night together before the divorce was even final. Seeing my dark circles, Scarlett’s brows furrowed slightly, and her gaze held a hint of mockery. “I suppose you spent the whole night plotting how to get more money, didn’t you?” Vincent also chuckled, “Mr. Avery, do you really think fifty million isn’t enough?” I nodded earnestly, “Hmm, just because of your movie star status, another twenty million.” Only a fool wouldn’t take free money. Scarlett’s face turned ashen, but Vincent stopped her. He pulled out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, “I knew you wouldn’t let go that easily. Here’s fifty million, from me personally. But you must sign an agreement never to interfere with us again.” I took the card, my heart thrumming with excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll sign all your agreements!” After swiftly signing the papers, I received my divorce certificate. Seeing the undisguised happiness on my face, Scarlett’s expression turned grim, and she asked me: “Aren’t you sad?” I immediately shook my head, “Congratulations, Ms. Zinberg, on being with the person you truly love. I consider my mission accomplished!” Seeing her speechless, I explained using popular internet slang: “The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel, so I know my place.” Vincent, standing by, applauded my clear-headedness, then put an arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, a smug look on his face. “Scarlett, when are we getting married?” My heart blossomed with joy. The thought of Scarlett being disfigured and amputated in two months made me eager for them to marry sooner. Apparently annoyed by my reaction, Scarlett muttered “another day” and stomped off angrily. I felt a little disappointed, but also relieved. After all, I had no ties to her anymore. Whatever happened to her in the future was none of my concern. In the original story, after Scarlett became disabled, the original character, in an attempt to prove his true love for her, eagerly rushed to care for her. When Vincent abandoned Scarlett, she finally realized that only the original character truly loved her, and she confessed her regret. The original character was moved by her and spent the rest of his life with her, disabled as she was. Tsk, the thought of having avoided that fate made me incredibly pleased. In the original story, Vincent had initially broken up with Scarlett because her father’s company was in trouble. Her father suffered a heart attack from stress, and Vincent fled abroad with his money. Later, with the help of Scarlett’s uncle and business partners, the company was saved, but her father passed away not long after. Scarlett took over as CEO and immediately contacted Vincent, confronting him about why he couldn’t stand by her in difficult times. Vincent blamed her deceased father, claiming the chairman had paid him to stay away from her. Hearing this, Scarlett begged him to return, promising that no one would ever stand in their way again, and then forced the original character to divorce. Despicable! Both of them were equally despicable! I suddenly thought of a way to permanently shackle this conniving duo together. 2 Back at the villa, I called my former agent, Agent Rose. She was shocked by my idea of returning to the entertainment industry. “Don’t be ridiculous, didn’t Scarlett dislike you being in showbiz?” I poured her a drink and placed the divorce certificate in front of her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she mumbled, no wonder the news about Vincent and Scarlett has been trending so high recently, and Scarlett hasn’t had anyone take down the hot search. Seeing that I was now free, Agent Rose promised to try and find some opportunities for me. I specified that I wanted to be in the same film crew as Vincent, even if it was just a small role. She said she’d figure something out, albeit with some difficulty. After seeing her off, I switched to enjoyment mode: buying a sports car, pampering myself, and even enrolling in fitness classes. During their three years of marriage, the original character hadn’t bothered much with his fitness or appearance, as he no longer worried about work. In just one month, I regained my broad shoulders, narrow waist, and six-pack abs; my face also became fair and handsome. With the stylist’s efforts, I looked exactly like the handsome young “puppy” I was three years ago. Agent Rose called, saying she had secured me the role of the third male lead; the original actor’s schedule had unexpectedly opened up. I gladly accepted, thanked her, and rushed to sign the contract. Over the past month, news of Scarlett and my divorce had spread. She and Vincent were constantly seen together, practically making their relationship official. Seeing me, a hint of surprise flashed in Scarlett’s eyes. Vincent looked me over and chuckled, “No wonder Scarlett chose to marry you back then. Looking at you now, you do bear some resemblance to me.” Then, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “A stand-in should know their place. How dare you show up here?” I smiled and said, “Why shouldn’t I? You two aren’t married yet, so you can’t stop me from signing a contract.” Scarlett ultimately didn’t stop me. The movie was about to wrap up, and they couldn’t afford any delays. I was indeed a suitable candidate. Once filming began, Vincent and I often acted opposite each other. He was truly an A-list actor, his performance excellent. I, on the other hand, frequently messed up scenes due to not having acted for three years. Scarlett would often visit the set to bring Vincent snacks and fruit, then turn around and pretend to criticize me, though her gaze was complex. Outtakes of my NG shots were uploaded online, and netizens started criticizing me again. [This pretty boy was dumped by the CEO and still has the nerve to work at her company?] [Such terrible acting, no wonder the CEO chose the movie star over him.] … Faced with these negative comments, I decided to fan the flames. I hired someone to anonymously leak videos of Scarlett wiping Vincent’s sweat and Vincent feeding her fruit on set. The crowd went wild, calling it “so sweet” and wondering if good news was on the horizon. Fandom culture, as it always is, they always want to force their favorite ships together, completely disregarding others. Scarlett and Vincent were being pushed into marriage by the entire internet. Some fan-shippers even staked out their homes and caught intimate footage of the two kissing in a luxury van after work, heading back to the villa together. Thus, at the wrap-up party at the end of the month, Vincent couldn’t resist orchestrating a proposal. In front of all the staff, he knelt on one knee with a large bouquet of roses and placed a diamond ring on Scarlett’s ring finger. “Scarlett, we’ve missed three years. I don’t want to miss you again. Please let me take care of you for the rest of your life, okay?” Scarlett was incredibly moved, took the flowers, nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. I watched from the sidelines, nobody knew I was barely holding back laughter. In ten days, Scarlett was going to suffer a terrible fate. Vincent, you are so selfish, will you really take care of her, disabled, for the rest of your life? Soon, I would find out the answer. Vincent, seeing my inscrutable expression, took her hand and led her to me. “Mr. Avery, thank you for taking care of Scarlett these past three years. From now on, I hope you can keep your distance. After all, you once loved Scarlett so deeply, and the way you look at her makes me uncomfortable.” Scarlett looked at me, a hint of apology and evasion in her eyes. Her gaze towards me had been complex recently, seemingly appreciating my progress and my indifferent attitude towards her. Ultimately, it’s just human nature to want what you can’t have, to be drawn to what remains indifferent. Vincent couldn’t help but notice her attention towards me, which is why he rushed the proposal. I smiled faintly, completely composed: “Alright, this show is wrapped, and my contract with your company is almost up. Don’t worry.” With that, ignoring the disappointment in Scarlett’s eyes, I turned and left. As if unwilling to give up, that night I received a text message from Scarlett. [Don’t you have anything to say to me?] I cursed her inwardly for being such a pain and replied: [Me keeping my distance, isn’t that exactly what you wanted? Congratulations on finding true love.] She didn’t reply again; she seemed quite angry. That night, I saw the trending news: Scarlett announced her wedding to Vincent would be held in Jeju Island a week later, broadcast live online. I was so happy I popped open a bottle of champagne and laughed out loud. Before, I was a little disappointed, as it was just a proposal. Even if Scarlett had an accident, Vincent wouldn’t be obligated to stay with her. But after holding the wedding, it would be different. They would exchange vows, witnessed by the entire internet. Even if Vincent wanted to shirk his responsibilities like in the original story, it would be difficult. Soon, their wedding took place as scheduled. Scarlett posted a set of photos of them happily kissing on the island. I hired some online trolls to question and sing a different tune. Vincent, predictably, couldn’t hold back and posted their marriage certificate. [From today, we are legally married, and I will take care of you for the rest of my life.] I applauded, even giving the post a like. The next day, they both canceled all work and left for their honeymoon. On the third night of their honeymoon, I scrolled past a piece of news. [Zinberg Group CEO suffers severe burns and falls into a coma during hotel fire on honeymoon.] In the comments section, everyone was shocked, leaving messages for Vincent, encouraging him to stay by her side. Vincent, however, wished he could smash his phone: “F**k! The doctor says she’s not only disfigured but also needs amputations. How can I spend my entire life with a cripple?!” The couple’s fans, however, didn’t see it that way. After Scarlett fell into a coma, the comments section was flooded with fans praying for her, even tagging Vincent, lamenting: [Fortunately, big brother is with big sister, no matter how difficult it is, they won’t be afraid!] Vincent’s comments section was also inundated with messages, with fans praising him for being responsible and a true man. Vincent, rendered speechless by the praise, could only grip his phone tightly and curse: “If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have come back! Why did I have to fight that brat for this useless position?!” My account was also flooded with messages from fans, urging me to visit Scarlett in the hospital. After all, we were married for three years, and she didn’t have any deep grudge against me; I just switched companies. These people are always so fantastical, their words like farts. Some fans spoke up for me: [She dumped our Jackson, insisted on being with Vincent, provoked him right to his face, and forced him to switch companies—and that’s not a deep grudge?] [It’s just changing companies, not forcing him out of the entertainment industry. Not going means holding a grudge, your idol has such a small mind!] [No wonder he’s a flop, too petty!] I was amused by these people’s values, but I did decide to go see Scarlett. For no other reason than to see her miserable state.

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