Category: English

A prominent billionaire family in New York was hiring a high-paid “Sleep Consultant” with one single condition: You can coax the young master to sleep, but you absolutely cannot sleep with the young master. I got the job solely because I lacked ambition and loved money. After officially starting, the young master intentionally made things difficult for me. First, he got me drunk. Then, with his bathrobe half-undone, he tried to force me to violate my professional ethics and took pictures as blackmail. In a fit of rage, I used his bathrobe belt to tie his hands and feet, bullying him right back. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!” If I was going to lose my job, he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight either. 1 Looking at the massive line of gorgeous women ahead of me, I was dumbfounded. The “easy $10,000-a-month gig” my friend told me about had a waiting room that looked like a Miss America pageant. Everyone was dressed to the nines, in all shapes and sizes. Aside from me, every single person was busy touching up their makeup. The Vance family, one of New York’s absolute top-tier billionaire families, was currently mass-recruiting Sleep Consultants. They were incredibly generous, hiring seven candidates at a time, each given a one-night trial. Even if you didn’t pass the trial, you still got paid for a full week’s work. The only catch: you had to pass the initial interview. I graduated with a degree in psychology, although I hadn’t worked a single job related to psychology since leaving school. But $10,000 could solve a lot of my problems. My younger sister could focus on her SAT prep instead of working three part-time jobs over the summer. My grandmother’s nursing care fees would be covered, meaning we wouldn’t have to rely on my aunt’s charity and endure her constant sneers. Even if I failed the trial period, I’d still walk away with a couple of thousand dollars. But looking at this fierce, competitive “spectacle” in front of me… “Hey girls, are you all here applying for the Sleep Consultant position too?” I asked a few of the beautiful women chatting nearby, just to make sure I wasn’t in the wrong place. They looked me up and down, their eyes filled with disdain upon seeing my completely out-of-place, casual outfit. “Obviously.” “Heh, ‘Sleep Consultant.’ Who knows what that actually means,” one scoffed. “I heard from people in their circle that the young master, Arthur Vance, used to throw wild parties all the time when he studied abroad.” “Yeah, I heard Arthur Vance plays rough. He won’t get sleepy until he tortures someone to the point of passing out…” “No wonder they need one girl per night. Who could handle that?” “If you actually think they’re paying $10,000 just to have someone read bedtime stories, you’re kidding yourself.” I shuddered. So it really isn’t a decent, legitimate job. Sigh. Looks like I made this trip for nothing. I decided I was going to eat every single gourmet pastry provided in the waiting area to make up for the Uber fare I spent getting to this Upper East Side mansion. Just as I was full and preparing to sneak out, someone called my name loudly. “Next, Chloe Davis.” 2 When I pushed the door open, I let out a soft burp. The beautiful assistant leading the way shot me a glare, then bowed slightly to the person inside: “Madam, the candidate you requested is here.” The grand hall was opulent, with massive Impressionist oil paintings hanging on the walls. Sitting in the center of a plush sofa was a highly elegant, graceful woman. Her snow-white skin, maintained with mountains of money, made it impossible to guess her real age. She flipped through my written assessment, looking increasingly satisfied. “Are these your honest thoughts?” she looked up, scrutinizing me. At the time I filled it out, I just wanted to leave, so I answered randomly and had completely forgotten what I wrote. I just nodded. “You’re hired.” Me: ? “People who love money are easy to communicate with. You’re exactly who I’m looking for.” Mrs. Vance made the decision on the spot. I became the only person hired that day. Simply because my love for money was brutally honest, and I was the least ambitious-looking person in the entire building. 3 The head butler told me I was starting tonight. “The young master hasn’t slept a wink in three days.” “Why can’t your young master sleep?” I asked cautiously. The butler suddenly stopped walking. “You don’t need to know that, and please do not ask the young master.” As he showed me the layout of the mansion, he went over the rules, ending with a stern warning. “Miss Davis, please strictly adhere to professional ethics. Know what you are allowed to do, and what you absolutely cannot do.” “You may coax the young master to sleep, but you may not sleep with the young master.” “The young master has already chased away several young women with ulterior motives.” “If you are thrown out, do not expect the Vance family to show any mercy.” “I wish you success.” … Arthur Vance’s bedroom was at the very end of the third floor. Not even moonlight reached it. It was incredibly gloomy. Rumors said that Arthur Vance, the meticulously groomed heir to the Vance empire, had been ruined by his stepmother. Years ago, in a horrific car accident, Arthur’s biological mother and their driver were killed instantly. Arthur, who was in the same car, barely survived and spent over six months bedridden recovering. But in those short six months, his father had already remarried, and the new stepmother had even moved into his deceased mother’s bedroom. The son who survived completely changed. The once gentle, brilliant golden boy became dark, isolated, and highly volatile. He also developed a bizarre condition where he was entirely unable to fall asleep after dark. The previous Sleep Consultants hired for him either had impure intentions or terrible skills. In short, every single one failed. After getting the job offer, I immediately pulled out my phone and crammed on all the Vance family gossip. Who knew how much of it was true and how much was fake? Whatever. I’m here now, might as well make the best of it. I took a deep breath and knocked on the massive wooden door. $10,000, here I come. 4 “Enter.” The voice was freezing and depressed. “Good evening, Mr. Vance.” A massive wall of floor-to-ceiling windows had only a sliver of the curtains open, revealing the unbeatable New York City skyline. The room only had a few dim sleep lights on, flickering faintly. A subtle, dark fragrance floated in the air. The room was huge. The bottomless darkness felt like it could swallow a person whole. A tall, lean young man stood by the window, holding a glass of ice water, looking distant and unapproachable. He had probably just showered; the water from the ends of his hair dampened his collar. A silk bathrobe traced his perfect physique. The dark, ornate patterns made the skin on the back of his neck, his wrists, and his ankles look even paler and colder. Those broad shoulders, that narrow waist, that perfect V-taper… If you don’t show some restraint and dress like this, practically begging for it… No wonder the girls before me got the wrong idea. I coughed lightly twice to make my presence known. “You’re the only one today?” The young man turned around and glanced at me. His face, with striking, sharp features, was exposed in the moonlight. His eye sockets were deep, his eye color incredibly cold. Wait, buddy, do you normally do group sleep-coaxing sessions? “Mr. Vance, would you like to rest now?” It was my first time doing this, and I honestly had no idea how to start. Arthur Vance reached out, yanked the curtains shut, blocking out the last ray of moonlight, and walked toward the massive bed. I looked around. I didn’t see a single chair I could pull up to the bed. Am I supposed to sit on the young master’s bed to coax him? That doesn’t seem appropriate. Stand next to the bed? Like I’m giving a corporate presentation? He’d never fall asleep like that. Thankfully, there was a plush, long-pile rug surrounding the bed. I plopped down onto it. I pulled the book I had prepared out of my bag: Peppa Pig. Arthur leaned against the headboard, his eyes lowered. Seeing what I was doing, veins visibly popped on his forehead. Hold on, don’t get mad, let me explain. “Hehe, my nephew listens to this every day and falls asleep in five minutes.” He let out a cold laugh. “How old is your nephew?” I stammered, “Three…” I started reading Peppa Pig. I read, and I read, and then I zoned out… Shit! It was morning. I wiped the drool off my face. The bed was completely empty, leaving only the imprint of me slumped against the side of it. On my very first day on the job, I fell asleep before my boss did. RIP my career. 5 I thought I was definitely getting fired. I was thrilled. Working one day and getting paid for a whole week? I was ecstatic. But the butler told me the young master was quite satisfied with me and wanted me to keep up the good work tonight. Satisfied? With Peppa Pig?! Taking this money was starting to make my conscience feel a little guilty. On the second night, I changed my approach. I asked the butler for some lotus seeds, longan, and lily bulbs, and made a bowl of soothing sweet soup. Arthur took a reluctant sip and offered his critique: “Too sweet.” I only made one bowl. Thinking he didn’t want to drink it, I grabbed it back and tasted it. “It’s fine! I only put half a piece of rock sugar in it.” He stared at his empty hand, then glared at the bowl in my hand, looking a bit angry. And because he was angry, he refused to sleep. Sigh. On the third night, I warmed up some milk for him, lit some aromatherapy incense, and started telling him gossip about my old boss. Yes, “Sleep Consultant” was just a side gig. During the day, I was a regular corporate drone working a 9-to-5. Arthur didn’t drink his usual ice water. He held the warm milk I gave him, tilted his head, and listened quietly. His eyelashes were very long. When he focused on someone, he looked incredibly affectionate. If the gossip I was spilling wasn’t so utterly unhinged, you’d think he was listening to a symphony. “You said he gets handsy with you guys?” Arthur suddenly interrupted. “Just smacking our butts or patting our shoulders as he walks by.” It was disgusting, but the girls were too angry and scared to speak up. His brow furrowed slightly, a trace of emotion rolling through his eyes. That night, I got really hyped up telling the stories, and he was completely engrossed listening. Sleep? What sleep? On the fourth night, I found a very long, incredibly boring, sleep-inducing movie. I dragged him to the mansion’s home theater to watch it. I preemptively chugged three cups of black coffee (which tasted like herbal medicine) to ensure I wouldn’t doze off before my client did. But when I woke up, the sky had fallen. Not only did I fall asleep. I fell asleep leaning against Arthur. Not only did I lean against him. I also drooled all over his shoulder. “…I’ll wash the shirt! I’m so sorry!” I was so terrified I practically bounced up, apologizing profusely. He slowly stood up, rubbing the shoulder I had been crushing all night. His long, elegant fingers started unbuttoning his shirt. I immediately turned my back— Daytime indecency is highly inappropriate! A soft dress shirt was thrown over my head, blocking my vision, and a large hand patted my head. “Dry clean only.” On the fifth night, I dragged the long-limbed Arthur into doing hot yoga. But my technique was flawed, and I almost bent him in half backwards. If it had been a different kind of “bending,” he probably would have chased me out and beaten me up. On the sixth night, I had him take a medicinal petal bath, then told him to lie face down on the bed. As the essential oils dripped onto his beautifully sculpted back muscles, I clearly felt Arthur shudder. I rubbed my palms together to warm them up and, copying a YouTube video, gave him a sleep-inducing massage. But for some reason, the muscles under my hands grew stiffer the more I massaged them. Wherever I pressed, it turned rock hard. The thin layer of muscle under my hands grew hotter and hotter, breaking out in a fine sweat. His face was buried in the pillow, and the tips of his ears were absurdly red. I whispered, “Mr. Vance, do you have a fever?” Then I was grabbed by the collar and thrown out of the room. Immediately after, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Tsk, this young master. Not only is he hard to coax to sleep, but he’s a germaphobe too. I washed my hands spotlessly clean before I started the massage! On the seventh night, before the sun even set, Mrs. Vance called me in for questioning. She was a bit surprised I had managed to last six days, but she didn’t call me in to encourage me; she gave me an ultimatum. “Arthur still hasn’t been able to fall asleep after dark these past few days.” “I heard you almost broke his legs?” I forced an apologetic smile. “Not broken, not broken. Tonight will definitely be the night.” “If you don’t succeed tonight, don’t bother coming back next week.” Tonight, it was do or die! 6 So that night, I brought a bottle of dry red wine to see Arthur. He was wearing the same silk bathrobe from the first time we met. The color was slightly different; this one was dark red. The fabric clung to him, highlighting the peaks and valleys of his muscles. The belt was tied loosely, his chest faintly visible through the deep V-neck. Dressing like this, what is he trying to do? I looked away, poured two glasses of wine, and handed one over. “Mr. Vance, thank you for putting up with my nonsense these past few days.” We had tried every sleep remedy in the book, even though they all failed. He took the wine glass but didn’t let go, his palm wrapping over my freezing cold hand. “Do you want me to drink this?” He stared at the dry red wine coating the inside of the glass, looking thoughtful. Getting drunk makes you sleepy. I refuse to believe I can’t drink you under the table. I nodded. He suddenly tightened his grip, yanking my hand toward him. Holding my hand, he downed the entire glass in one gulp. As I was staring in shock, his eyes locked onto my lips, and he suddenly leaned down— My lips were pried open by a soft, hot tongue. My jaw was pinched and tilted upward. The rich, intoxicating aroma of wine exploded between our lips as the sweet liquid was fed into my mouth. I choked in shock and shoved him away. The scarlet liquid spilled all over both of us. I struggled to stand up, but Arthur’s eyes darkened. He pinched my jaw again and fed me the other half of the glass. His lips were glistening, and the emotional tidal wave in his eyes was terrifyingly hot. My brain buzzed. An inexplicable, burning heat ignited in my chest, traveling from the points where he touched me all the way through my limbs. Arthur Vance had a volatile personality, but his body was truly a masterpiece crafted by the gods. From the strands of his hair down to his ankles, he hit every single one of my aesthetic preferences perfectly. By the time I fully processed what was happening, Arthur was already pinned back into the pillows by me. I took back the initiative. I only had one bold idea in my head: Make him cry. Arthur lay on his back, the corners of his eyes flushed red, his expression dark and unreadable, his breathing rapid. His bathrobe was half-undone, the collar wide open, his pale chest stained with a red hue. I grabbed his neck, my hand sliding down that collarbone I had been admiring for days. “Mr. Vance, are you feeling sleepy?” He let out a low, deep laugh, his voice incredibly raspy. “What do you think?” Saying that, he grabbed my knees and pulled me forward, positioning me exactly where he thought I should sit securely. I smiled faintly, leaning down intending to kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple— Click. A faint sound sliced through the quiet night. I paused, finally realizing something was wrong. The next second, the world spun upside down. I was thrown off the bed by Arthur. He rolled me up in the blanket, gathered all the clothes I had shed during our struggle, and threw the whole bundle into the bathroom. “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow.” Through the frosted glass door, Arthur’s voice was cold and hard. “With these photos, that woman will never let you step foot in the Vance estate again.” Photos? A shiver ran down my spine. I suddenly understood Arthur’s inexplicably proactive and ambiguous behavior. What a brilliant honey trap. The warning from Mrs. Vance right before I was hired flashed through my mind: Whoever dares to climb into Arthur’s bed won’t be allowed to take a single penny with them. If these photos were exposed, wouldn’t all my hard work over the past seven days be completely wasted? My brain instantly sobered up. I pressed myself against the door, begging desperately: “Mr. Vance, I was wrong. You can file a complaint against me, but can you please open the door first?” No response from outside. I kept begging, “What I did just now was wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten handsy with my boss.” The silhouette outside the door shifted, seeming to hesitate. “I just want to apologize to you face-to-face.” The door opened. Arthur had his back to me, his voice angry. “Are you dressed?” I took a deep breath and walked step by step until I was right behind him. “Dress for what? Since you’re going to—” Then I violently kicked my leg up! I aimed directly at the leg I had almost broken a few days ago and stomped down with all my might. Caught completely off guard, he dropped to his knees on the floor. Taking advantage of the moment, I yanked the belt off his bathrobe and swiftly tied his hands and feet together. Finally, I bit down hard on that trembling Adam’s apple. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!” If I lost my job… He wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight either. 7 “Get off!” “You got it.” I obediently shifted my weight downward. “Hiss… don’t move!” The young man’s voice was terrifyingly hoarse, sounding like he was grinding his teeth into dust. He told me to get off, I literally went down, and now he doesn’t want that either. Tsk. So hard to please. Arthur’s hands were tied behind his back, his ankles bound together, and the other end of the belt was secured to the bedpost. He was arched over, his dark red bathrobe pulled down to his elbows, his forehead damp with sweat, enduring immense pain. I checked the spot I had kicked earlier; there was no redness or swelling. Why was he acting like he was in so much agony? “Get out…” He tells me to get out and I just leave? Then all my tough talk was for nothing! We haven’t settled the score yet! But honestly, foot pain… can it really hurt this much? Arthur’s eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing heavy. His eyelids were flushed, his lips slightly bleeding. The Adam’s apple I had bitten rolled slightly beneath his thin skin. Broken, muffled groans escaped his lips, like he was desperately trying to suppress something. Watching him made my face burn and my mouth go dry. Could this be an advanced version of a honey trap? I jumped off the bed. Using some life hacks I learned from TikTok, I efficiently dug out every single hidden spy camera and recording device in the room. I pulled out all the memory cards and tossed them next to Arthur’s face. “No evidence for you now.” Just as I was feeling smug, I heard the man chuckling into the bedding. “Are you an idiot? Have you never heard of cloud storage?” Right now, he was clearly the meat on the chopping block and I was the butcher, yet I still felt an overwhelming sense of defeat, like he had me completely figured out. I decided to go all in. I rummaged through the nightstand, found the silk sleep mask Arthur wore during the day, and slipped it over his eyes while he was distracted. The dark green mask hugged his sharp facial contours perfectly. A high bridge of the nose, a strong brow bone. A tight jawline radiating dangerous sex appeal, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every breath. “Chloe Davis!” The sudden darkness made him instantly tense up, his voice trembling. “Oh, so Mr. Vance actually knows my name.” I provocatively scratched him under the chin. After being called “Hey, you, that girl, come here” for days, I was already pissed off. My fingertips trailed down from his burning cheek. “Do you know how to write my name?” The muscles under my hand instantly tensed. I poured the rest of the dry red wine into a glass and dipped my fingertips into the scarlet liquid. Then, on his sweat-sheened abs, I started writing, pressing down hard with every stroke! 8 A few days ago, for the sake of my sleep-coaxing career, I specifically went and learned massage techniques. But after only a few presses, the young master threw me out and ran off to shower, acting like I had contaminated him. “Didn’t you say my hands were dirty?” I muttered as I wrote. “Now I’m going to use my dirty hands to write on your body, stroke by stroke!” I’ve always had a naturally cold constitution; my hands and feet are freezing year-round. Wherever I “wrote,” the skin beneath my “pen” turned bright red. By the end, the writing was illegible. The sweat and wine blended together, making his skin look as red as if he were having a severe allergic reaction. Arthur completely lost his ability to speak. The only sound was his wet, heavy panting. His fists were clenched tightly behind his back, his knuckles completely white. Some deeply repressed emotion was on the verge of losing control. Looking at the young master I had bullied so thoroughly, my brain felt like it was short-circuiting. While I was zoning out, the wine glass tilted, and the remaining liquid poured all over Arthur. The red wine trailed down his chest, over the V-line, and pooled down. Soaking into the dark red bathrobe. The sweet, intoxicating scent of alcohol exploded in the air. My heart raced. Staring at the wine spilled all over him, a terrifying thought flashed through my mind: I want to lean down and clean it up for him… No, no, no! Chloe! Lust is a knife dangling over your head! Arthur looked like he was in absolute agony. After screaming my name, he hadn’t said a single word. If it weren’t for his increasingly rapid breathing, I would have thought he passed out. He curled his body up like a tightly drawn bow, every muscle tense to the extreme. I gently tried to roll him over, but he desperately twisted away, seemingly trying to hide something. I glanced down, noticing the massive, poorly concealed tent pitching in his robe, then looked at the dry red wine in my hand… “Arthur Vance! There was something in the wine?!” I let out a delayed, high-pitched screech. Arthur smirked coldly. “You didn’t know?” How the hell was I supposed to know?! So that’s why he asked, “Do you want me to drink this?” He thought I spiked it! “If I knew, do you think I would have let you kiss… kiss me for that long?!” Thinking back to how he pinched my jaw, kissing me while feeding me the wine… he was trying to drag me down with him! What a sinister motive! Truly an evil capitalist with no good intentions! “I didn’t know there was something in the wine.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Makes sense. Seeing as you didn’t even know where to sit.” Hey! You don’t have to insult me too! “Then do you know who spiked it?” Arthur seemed to see through everything, but he just wouldn’t say. I brought the dry red wine. It was a $99 bottle I bought from the supermarket when it wasn’t on sale, which hurt my wallet. But those kinds of drugs are supposedly very expensive. A single pill probably costs more than my entire bottle of wine. The empty wine glass rolled onto the floor… The glasses were provided by the butler. The butler had no reason to harm his own young master. So the target had to be me. But why use a kamikaze tactic just to mess with a lowly temp worker like me? Weren’t they afraid the drug would be too strong and I’d actually sleep with their young master? “I thought you were smart.” Arthur scoffed. “I overestimated your ambition.” Now I was angry. Insulting my intelligence was one thing, but saying I had no ambition?! I am greedy for money and I love good-looking men. How does that mean I have no ambition?! Saying that, I yanked him closer to me, completely ignoring the red marks the belt left on him. “Since the misunderstanding is cleared up and I wasn’t trying to murder you… can we just keep tonight a secret? And my paycheck…” “No. You’re not getting it.” “You!” Fine! Playing nice doesn’t work, huh? Then I’ll play hardball! “If you don’t pay me, I’ll go ask Mrs. Vance. If Mrs. Vance doesn’t pay me, I’ll go to the tabloids and expose your entire family!” I threatened. “Heh. Make sure you contact a few different outlets.” How could his 98.6-degree lips utter such freezing words?! I was just debating my next move to torture him when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. “Arthur, it’s me.” The voice was languid and seductive. “I heard noises coming from your room. Are you okay?” It was Mrs. Vance. Arthur’s stepmother, Susan. 9 A minute ago I was boldly threatening to go to Mrs. Vance, but now that she was actually here, I chickened out. If she saw this room, this bed, her stepson, and the state he was in… I probably wouldn’t just lose my paycheck; I’d end up as the defendant in a lawsuit. Arthur’s face changed drastically. In three quick moves, he broke free from the remaining restraints on his hands and feet and ripped off the sleep mask. Then, he used the bedsheets to wrap me and all my belongings into a massive bundle and stuffed me directly into his massive wardrobe. “Don’t make a sound,” he ordered with a cold face, shutting the wardrobe doors. He also grabbed an incredibly ugly winter coat on his way out. I have been a law-abiding citizen for over twenty years. This was my first time hiding in a closet as a voyeur. It was stressful, thrilling, and terrifying. I held my breath and peeked out through the crack in the doors. I saw Arthur quickly pull his bathrobe shut, tie the belt tightly, throw on the ugly winter coat, and zip it all the way up to his chin. He was completely, hermetically sealed. “Why are you wearing so many layers? Are you not feeling well?” the woman asked in a sweet voice. “No. What do you want?” Arthur only opened the door a crack, standing rigidly behind it, with no intention of letting anyone in. “Arthur, I’m very worried about you.” The voice was melodic and filled with deep concern. First she hires someone to coax him to sleep, then she visits him in the middle of the night. For a stepmother to go to these lengths, it’s truly commendable. I was just getting moved by this display of billionaire family bonding when I was suddenly blinded by a flash of white skin. Susan forced her way into the room. Arthur instantly sprang back, like he had touched something filthy. I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. The scene unfolding in front of me was absolutely shocking. The Mrs. Vance who was so elegant and poised during the day was now knocking on her stepson’s door in the middle of the night wearing a sheer, lace slip dress. Her cleavage was half-exposed, her curled hair was loose, and her cheeks were flushed. Her immaculately maintained skin glowed softly in the moonlight, and the way she looked at Arthur was so deeply affectionate and ambiguous, she looked like a lovestruck teenager. She reached out, wanting to adjust Arthur’s collar, but he immediately dodged, completely unreceptive to her advances. “I’m fine. You should go back. My dad will be home soon.” “Your dad? Who knows where he’s off messing around. Where’s the girl?” Susan ignored her stepson’s clear signal to leave and walked straight into the bedroom. She glanced at the messy bed. “Wearing a sleep mask at night?” I broke out in a cold sweat. She paced around the room, and just as she was about to walk up to the wardrobe— “You don’t need to look for her. I kicked her out.” Arthur’s tone was hostile as he blocked Susan’s path. “I thought you liked her?” Arthur sneered. “Whether I liked her or not, couldn’t you see it on your security cameras?” I shivered. That little punk played me again. So the cameras were installed by Mrs. Vance, and she knew every single move we made over the past few days. My paycheck… is definitely completely gone now. “I was only worried about your safety, that’s why I…” Mrs. Vance took a step closer, her eyes glued to her stepson, practically pulling strings of affection. “Were you worried she was going to climb into my bed, or were you worried I was going to voluntarily sleep with—” SLAP! The crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. A clear, red handprint quickly formed on the side of Arthur’s face. But the very next second, Susan acted like she had a split personality, her voice full of heartbreak: “I’m sorry, Arthur, I just got anxious.” She tried to touch her stepson’s face, but he turned his head away to avoid her. “None of those girls are genuine, they’re all just after your money. Only I…” “Then thank you so much for your concern, Mother.” Arthur sneered. “Don’t call me Mother! I am not your mother!” Susan suddenly snapped, backing Arthur up against the edge of the bed. “You used to call me Ms. Susan…” Arthur scoffed. “Oh, so you still remember that you used to be my tutor.” Listening to this conversation, I felt like the oxygen in the wardrobe was running out. My brain couldn’t process the sheer volume of information being thrown at me. I was a little dizzy. No wonder Mrs. Vance was so hyper-sensitive to the candidates’ outfits during the interview and picked me, the most unremarkable one. No wonder she repeatedly emphasized that I could coax him, but absolutely could not sleep with him, and forbade me from having any inappropriate thoughts about Arthur. No wonder Arthur said that if Mrs. Vance found those photos, I would never be allowed back. Mrs. Vance is in love with her own stepson?! If that’s the case, then why did she make Arthur drink the spiked red wine? The butler gave me the spiked glass. It was obvious who gave him the order. Staring at the security cameras, knocking on the door at the perfect moment… She wanted to use me to drug Arthur, and then step in to take my place so she could sleep with him… I violently shuddered. Holy shit! Can someone please Men in Black flash my memory right now?! After accidentally stumbling upon the biggest, dirtiest secret of a billionaire family, am I even going to make it out of here alive?

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In my past life, I spent eighteen years as an orphan before finally being reunited with my biological parents. I never expected that my mother, Eleanor, who was pathologically obsessed with being the only woman in my father’s life, would hate me with a burning passion. For eighteen years, she had quietly “dealt with” any woman who got too close to my father. And naturally, she hated me too. The moment I arrived home and simply called out “Dad,” she slapped me across the face. “You little bitch! Think you can just walk in here, call him ‘Dad,’ and steal his attention?!” When my dad went to my high school for a senior parent-teacher conference, she waited until he got home and shredded my entire college application portfolio. “You still think you’re going to college?! I won’t let you use school as an excuse to steal my husband!” When college was no longer an option, my dad tried to send me abroad to study. The night before I was supposed to get my visa, she stabbed me to death in my own bed and sold my corpse to the dark web for snuff films. “Dead bitch! Thought you could take my husband away?!” I died with my eyes wide open, my face mutilated. The King of the Underworld took pity on my unjust death and granted me one wish. I made my wish quietly: “I want to be born into the absolute pinnacle of wealth and power. And I want to be born from a different belly—” 1 The King of the Underworld was truly a man of his word. With a loud buzzing in my head, I was stuffed into a warm, fleshy womb. I was just trying to guess what kind of woman the King had picked to be my mother, when I heard someone scream in pure terror: “I’m a man! How the hell am I pregnant?!” The scream pierced the night sky. The doctors in the examination room looked like they wanted to cut their own ears off. How were they supposed to know how Dominic Vance, the richest billionaire in Seattle, managed to get pregnant?! The attending physician finally stood up straight. Bearing immense pressure, he stuttered, “Mr. Vance… you are, indeed… carrying a child.” I, however, instantly realized what was happening and was ecstatic. Holy shit! The heavens have blessed me! I was actually reincarnated into Dominic Vance’s stomach! The King of the Underworld really came through! In my past life, my dad’s business deals were constantly being hijacked by Dominic’s father. I used to hear my dad screaming and cursing in his study all the time. Now that Dominic had taken over his family’s empire, he was even more ruthless and unforgiving, completely crushing my dad’s company without breaking a sweat. But a few years ago, a massive scandal broke out regarding Dominic. Despite having countless lovers, not a single one ever got pregnant. The reason? He suffered from azoospermia—he had a zero sperm count! Due to a severe injury in his youth, having a child was supposed to be literally impossible for him. So, for this pregnancy, Dominic would have to grit his teeth, hold his nose, and give birth to me no matter what. This was absolutely fantastic. Having died once, I was much more open-minded. I knew exactly what being born into a family like this meant. I was going to grow safely and healthily inside his belly, carrying the exact face that Eleanor hated so much. Didn’t you hate me competing for your husband’s attention? Didn’t you want me dead? Didn’t you want me to rot? In this life, I am going to rewrite my destiny with my own two hands… and then I will stand above her, looking down. I will tell Eleanor that her entire life was a joke. She was a nobody. What gave her the right to treat me like that? I came back to this life for one reason: revenge. I curled up quietly, determined to stay secure in the womb for the next ten months. Suddenly, a voice that sounded like a living nightmare echoed from outside: “I will have the hospital director fire you, believe it! You clearly haven’t asked around to see who I am! How dare you tell me ‘it’s against protocol’?!” It was Eleanor! A crisp slap rang out, followed by the sound of someone falling heavily to the floor. “I am going to find out today! Whoever dares to help that little bitch steal my husband, I will chop them to pieces!” My dad, Richard, trembled. His voice was tight: “Eleanor, let’s just go to a different hospital.” I felt my new dad, Dominic, carefully hold onto the bedrail, stand up, and stroll out of the room with a casual, arrogant swagger. “What’s all this noise about?” Richard went dead silent. Eleanor was about to unleash a string of curses, but Richard slapped a hand over her mouth. Dominic looked at them with sheer contempt. “Well, well, if it isn’t Richard. Haven’t seen you try to fight me in the boardroom lately. I guess you’ve been too busy helping your wife throw a tantrum in someone else’s hospital?” That single sentence turned my former parents’ faces the color of bruised plums. Dominic was the majority shareholder of this hospital. I cheered internally from inside his belly. That’s how you use your words! In my past life, this absolute menace Dominic should have been my dad! Dominic’s highly trained bodyguards swarmed forward, dragged Eleanor away, and tossed both her and Richard onto the sidewalk outside the inpatient building. Once Dominic walked back inside to finish his examination, I comfortably flipped over in his belly, stretching my limbs out so the doctor could check my fetal heartbeat. The doctor praised, “The ultrasound is so clear… what a good baby…” But catching Dominic’s dark, brooding, suppressed anger, the doctor immediately shut up. Completely baffled by the situation, Dominic had no choice but to take his magically appearing pregnancy home and become a pregnant man. Thanks to Dominic’s immense wealth and his private nutritionist, I ate incredibly well and grew very strong. 2 After getting pregnant with me, even though Dominic cursed constantly, he still meticulously got all his checkups, quit smoking and drinking, and started going to bed early. He sighed, “Good kid, you better behave before I give birth to you. Don’t cause me any trouble. Once you’re born, Daddy will spoil you.” I wanted to die laughing. Watching Dominic admit defeat was incredibly entertaining. By the second trimester, even though it was winter and he wore loose, thick hoodies to hide it, his belly grew noticeably bigger every single day. He was extremely busy with his empire. When he first took over his father’s business, plenty of people were waiting for him to fail, and countless uncles and board members wanted to usurp his position. He had survived kidnappings and car crashes, neutralizing every threat and retaliating tenfold. Ever since his infertility scandal leaked, the sharks were probably circling again. As his belly became impossible to hide, Dominic moved into a high-end, private recovery clinic. He told the public he was suffering from an illness that required total bed rest. Perhaps it was the lingering blood connection from my past life, or perhaps our karmic debt wasn’t settled, but I sensed that Eleanor was staying on the floor right below us. She was forty years old this year, officially a high-risk geriatric pregnancy. Remembering the torture she put me through, I let out a cold sneer. I intentionally rolled around in Dominic’s belly every day, making him feel restless, so he would secretly wander downstairs to get some air. Because I was a good baby and didn’t cause him morning sickness or pain, his pregnancy was actually pretty easy. Before we even reached Eleanor’s floor, I heard her vicious voice echoing from the stairwell: “I’ll teach you to steal my husband—” For eighteen years, no woman had been allowed to stay near my dad, Richard. Eleanor was the main reason for that. Now that she was finally pregnant again, her last hospital visit was purely to find out the baby’s gender. If they couldn’t produce an heir, the family bloodline would end. I heard the sound of her aggressively jumping rope, her feet slamming heavily against the floor. Thud, thud, thud. I snorted coldly. You reap what you sow. Dominic clearly heard it too and stopped in his tracks. Eleanor’s older sister sounded incredibly worried as she tried to stop her. “Enough, Eleanor, stop it! You’re going too far—” Eleanor looked resentful and deranged. “What if it’s that little bitch’s ghost?! What if she reincarnated into my belly?! That cheap whore!” She picked up an iron pipe and started hitting her own stomach hard, acting as if she couldn’t feel the pain. I literally didn’t know what to say. After a long while, Eleanor dropped the pipe, her face pale as she cursed, “Dead brat! If you dare try to steal my husband, I’ll throw you in an orphanage! And then I’ll hire a bunch of men to gang-rape you! Letting that little bitch live to be eighteen was my biggest mistake!” Inside Dominic’s belly, it felt like I was struck by lightning. W-What?! Her sister kept trying to reason with her. “What if it’s a boy? Why are you torturing him? You’re forty years old. Just live a quiet life with Richard. Isn’t all his money yours anyway?” Eleanor’s face was dark. “My intuition tells me it’s a girl! It’s a worthless bitch! It’s definitely that slut trying to steal my husband again!” Seeing that she couldn’t be reasoned with, her sister sighed and stopped talking. Dominic let out an amused, mocking smirk. I felt his disbelief, but I uncomfortably rolled over in his belly. Even though I never expected anything from that family, hearing such a venomous curse still chilled me to the bone. Sensing my unease, Dominic turned around and took me back upstairs to our suite. Dominic’s room was on the top floor. We rarely ran into Eleanor, except during checkups. 3 During this ultrasound, I stretched my arms and legs out just like always and turned my face directly toward the wand. As fate would have it, Eleanor was right next door. She was begging the doctor to tell her the baby’s gender again, and the doctor was strictly refusing. “Ma’am, you are a high-risk pregnancy. If you abort this baby, it will severely damage your body, and you will likely never conceive again.” Eleanor started screaming, “But I don’t want a girl! What did I do wrong?! Check it right now! If you don’t check the gender, I’m not leaving!” Her sister finally seemed to snap. She marched up and slapped Eleanor across the face. “Shut the fuck up! You’re about to hit menopause, but your husband can still produce kids! If you keep acting crazy and he divorces you, you’ll be the one crying!” That single slap managed to silence Eleanor. She covered her face and started crying. Dominic closed his eyes in irritation, and I quickly moved around to soothe him. His mood gradually stabilized. I was never going to experience the slaps, the neglect, and the destruction of my dreams from my past life ever again. Sometimes, after a long day of reviewing documents, Dominic would awkwardly rub his belly. “Kid, you really make things easy for your dad. No pain, no insomnia, no puking. I’m pretty lucky.” I gently pressed against his hand through his stomach, pretending to be sweet. He sighed, “If you’re a boy, great. If you’re a girl… Dad will find you a husband who takes your last name. And you’re still going to learn how to inherit the company!” Me: …You’re an interesting guy, Dad. After multiple checkups, I figured out Eleanor’s routine. When her husband—my ex-dad—was around, she radiated maternal warmth, constantly murmuring about how giving him a child was her life’s only wish. But the moment Richard left, she went completely psychotic. She refused to eat nutritious food. She took massive doses of hormonal drugs. She drank alcohol like it was water. She even tried to steal neurological medication from the hospital pharmacy. “You little slut, trying to torture me with another pregnancy, huh? I’m going to starve you! Let’s see how much you can grow!” After two months in the clinic, while other pregnant women were glowing, she had tortured herself until she was nothing but skin and bones. Yet her eyes were filled with the manic, vindictive thrill of revenge. She even booked extreme sports tours—bungee jumping, skiing, high diving—she did it all. In contrast, Dominic was perfectly calm. He didn’t cause trouble, and he maintained a strict sleep schedule. I was growing strong and cooperative. Every time the doctors saw us, they were practically beaming with satisfaction, even if they were too scared of Dominic to praise him out loud. Years of high-stress corporate grinding had taken a toll on Dominic’s body, but this forced bed rest actually helped him recover. At the very least, he wouldn’t get knocked out by a simple flu anymore. One day, during a checkup, Dominic went into the private VIP room as usual. Eleanor was in the room next door. I heard her say, “Hey sister, looking at your pointy belly, I can tell it’s a boy! When’s your due date? Oh, I’m just curious.” I was baffled. When did this woman become so insane? After asking a whole string of pregnant women, she seemed to pick a target. While chatting with the woman, she let her true intentions slip and was brutally cursed out by the other mother. After that incident, Eleanor started looking at every pregnant belly and asking for due dates. She even intentionally threw herself down a flight of stairs once. The doctors and nurses were so terrified they didn’t dare hide it; they called Richard immediately. Richard stormed into the clinic and slapped Eleanor across the face. “What the hell are you trying to do?!” But I felt absolutely nothing. In my past life, when I was living in terror under Eleanor’s abuse, he just stood by and watched coldly. Did he care about his child? Not at all. All he cared about was his wife embarrassing him at the hospital. He had stood by and watched my suffering in my past life. He was one of my murderers too. 4 Dominic’s due date was originally supposed to be slightly after Eleanor’s, but because Eleanor had tortured her body so much during the pregnancy, she went into labor early but couldn’t deliver. When I finally left the warm placenta and saw the world for the first time… In the dead of night, a woman bleeding from her lower half dragged her paralyzed legs like a ghost, crawling into the neonatal nursery. First, she checked the ID bracelets on all the babies’ wrists. I felt a chill run down my spine, but then I relaxed. I was a girl. I didn’t have the parts she wanted. Eleanor would never swap me. I had nothing to worry about. Eleanor set her sights on a baby boy sleeping in the bassinet next to mine. She quietly slipped his wristband off, intending to go back to her own bed and swap the tags. Throughout this, I tried my hardest to pretend I was asleep. Don’t mess with crazy. But to my absolute shock, right as she was about to succeed, Eleanor used the faint beam of her flashlight and noticed me. The color drained from her face. In an instant, pure venom and terror crawled across her features. She screamed, “I knew it! I knew a little bitch like you wouldn’t give up! It was you eighteen years ago! How could I ever forget your face?!” Looking at her twisted expression, genuine fear gripped my heart. She snatched a cleaning rag from the nurse’s station and slammed it over my face. She grabbed a cup of scalding hot water and poured it directly onto me, while her other hand violently pounded against my chest. “I’ll teach you to haunt me! I’ll teach you to show your face in front of me! You subhuman piece of trash, you don’t deserve to be reincarnated into my belly!” Hearing my muffled cries, Eleanor grabbed a pair of umbilical cord scissors from a nearby cart and stabbed them viciously toward my mouth twice. Still not satisfied, she clamped her hand tightly over my mouth and started slapping my face. The oxygen in my lungs was slowly being sucked away. I kicked my legs in sheer terror. My head was spinning, and my skin was covered in bleeding scratches from her pinching me. Eleanor looked at me with a hatred that seeped into her very bones. She dug her fingernails into the bleeding cuts on my body, gouging them ruthlessly. I convulsed in agonizing pain. Watching my helpless, agonizing struggle, Eleanor took a deep breath. It was as if she had just absorbed some dark nourishment, and a long-lost smile of peaceful, blissful relief spread across her face. “In this life… just go ahead and die…” Hearing her words, tears of pure terror rolled down my cheeks. No. In my heart, I screamed Dominic’s name with everything I had. Hurry up and get here! Damn it, if I die, your bloodline is actually going to end! 5 A sharp gust of wind blew open the heavy doors. Dominic stood in the doorway, his face darker than a thundercloud, staring at the scene in the room. He gritted out, word by excruciating word: “How… dare… you… touch… her!” I was being choked so hard I was on the verge of passing out, yet I somehow still had the energy to be sarcastic in my head. See? Men are just built better for having kids. His physical recovery is insane. Only then did the bodyguards behind my freshly postpartum dad catch up, panting heavily. They stared at the scene in the room, absolutely horrified. It was only then that Eleanor reacted as if she had touched a live wire, immediately releasing her grip on my neck. She looked at the arrogant, cold-faced man in the doorway, and then looked back at me in pure disbelief. “What… what exactly are you?!” No one answered her. The doctors finally came rushing in from behind. As soon as they entered the nursery, one of them gasped, “Isn’t that the pregnant woman from bed number eight?” “Why is the patient from bed eight in here??!” A nurse stepped forward to tell her to go back and rest, but the bodyguards immediately blocked her path. Dominic, wearing his untouchable, icy expression, finally spoke: “You’re Eleanor, right? You are suspected of aggravated assault and attempted murder of an infant. I’m afraid I’m going to have to invite you to have a chat at the police station.” My biological mother, who had controlled my entire existence in my past life, was now so terrified her face was completely bloodless. She screamed in disbelief, “How could this little bastard have anything to do with you?! I don’t believe it! You’re lying to me!” “Who are you calling a bastard? That is my daughter.” Laying in the warm bassinet, I looked straight at her with eyes filled with pure hatred. Surprise, Mom. I’m back. I brought my memories from my past life, and this time, I am a debt collector. I’m here to collect what you owe me. Eleanor shuddered violently. She suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my neck again. “I don’t care! Even if I die here today, I’m going to kill you!” “You reincarnated just to seduce my husband again, didn’t you?!” “You’re still alive in this life, so you’re still planning to do it, aren’t you?!” “I’ll strangle you, you little slut!” I started feeling oxygen deprivation again. Just as I suspected, Dominic’s bodyguards were hesitant to use force on a postpartum woman for fear of liability. “Mr. Vance, what about the little miss?!” Dominic’s brow furrowed deeply, his eyes locked onto me in Eleanor’s grip. Suddenly, a mocking smirk appeared on his face. “Eleanor, if I call your husband right now and show him what you look like at this exact moment… do you think he’ll be so disgusted he won’t be able to eat for three days?” “Have you not looked in a mirror to see the monstrous, pathetic state you’ve tortured yourself into?” Eleanor’s face drained of all color at his words. Seeing him actually pull out his phone to call her husband, she dropped to her knees in an instant. “Please! I’m begging you, please don’t call my husband! If he sees me like this, he’ll definitely go out and find another woman!” “Please, just let me go this one time…” The police finally arrived. Amidst the flashing red and blue lights of the cruisers, Eleanor was shoved into the back of a squad car. Safe in a man’s broad, warm chest, I fell into a deep sleep. I was just too exhausted and in too much pain. The physical limitations of a newborn body made it impossible for me to stay awake for long; it was an irresistible force dragging me into the abyss of unconsciousness. Dominic forced his eyes open just long enough to see me fall asleep. He handed my soft swaddle to a nearby bodyguard and muttered weakly, “Get my daughter the absolute best private neonatal care team…” My domineering, arrogant father, after delivering that weak command, finally rolled his eyes back and passed out.

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When they performed the caesarean section, my husband was buying a gift for his ‘first love.’ When he hung up my desperate call, he said, “What new game are you playing? Get lost! Don’t even look for me if you die!” Seven days later, he was embroiled in the horrific case of a dismembered pregnant woman. To identify the victim and find the killer, he worked tirelessly, barely sleeping. But eventually, the clues began to point, step by step, to me. His most hated wife. 1 After the killer dismembered me, they audaciously dumped my remains into the police station’s sewer system. Officers, clad in thick hazmat suits, spent a full day and night sifting through the foul-smelling sewage before recovering all the pieces. It took several forensic pathologists three days and nights to painstakingly piece my body back together, just barely forming a recognizable human shape. But… my left ear was missing. The police suspected this was a deliberate act of revenge by a criminal. My husband, Detective Captain Asher Rodriguez, was the youngest captain on the homicide squad, with countless complex cases solved under his belt. When his team first saw my remains, several officers were overcome with nausea, retching uncontrollably. Asher’s brows were deeply furrowed, his face ashen, battling the intense disgust. The forensic team handed them the reports and began detailing my condition. “Based on the autopsy results, the victim is female, between 22 and 25 years old. Cause of death was exsanguination.” “The victim had restraint marks on her wrists and ankles, multiple contusions across her body, and her head was repeatedly struck with a blunt object, resulting in a shattered and severely deformed skull.” “Additionally, the victim was pregnant and endured inhumane torture before her death.” Officer Rodriguez slammed his hand on the table with a loud smack. “They’re worse than animals!” The other officers echoed his outrage. “Such a brutal method of killing, it’s most likely a revenge killing!” “What kind of hatred could drive someone to be so vicious to a pregnant woman!” “The killer is too arrogant! Dumping the body in the sewer beneath the police station is a clear provocation to law enforcement!” “…” My husband, Asher, stared intently at the report. “It’s them.” The officers’ faces instantly grew grim. They—a massive international crime syndicate, a huge shadow looming over the minds of every officer. Countless colleagues had fallen each year because of them. But thanks to a decade of relentless effort by law enforcement, this transnational crime group had been entirely dismantled three months prior. Therefore, this case was highly likely the work of a few remaining members, committed for revenge and as a deliberate challenge to the police. 2 Just then, an officer walked in, carrying a shoebox-sized container. “Captain Rodriguez, it’s another one from… your wife.” Hearing my name, my husband’s face contorted with annoyance. “From now on, anything she sends, don’t give it to me. Just throw it out.” Officer Rodriguez sighed, patting his shoulder. “Still can’t let it go after all this time? Your father’s death… it wasn’t Emma’s fault… she was a victim too…” As he spoke, he took the box, opened it for Asher, revealing a transparent jar inside. Upon seeing its contents, everyone gasped in horror. Asher’s hand loosened, and the jar clattered to the floor. It was… a miniature doll. Even after hitting the ground, its pose remained unchanged; it even bounced slightly. The forensic pathologist carefully placed the doll into an evidence bag. With just a glance, he concluded, “It’s fake.” “Another one of her tricks to get my attention. She’s completely insane!” My husband’s single sentence condemned me. But this wasn’t something I had sent. Perhaps the officers also felt that sending such a doll was too much, as they all fell silent. Officer Rodriguez sighed, “Emma doesn’t seem like the type to play such a joke. Could there be some misunderstanding? You haven’t been home in a while; why don’t you go check on her?” “Hmph! What’s there to misunderstand? Sending something like this is just her way of threatening me, trying to make me lose the baby!” My husband sneered. “That kind of woman, full of lies, will even invent a child to get off the hook!” “Even if she really was pregnant, there’s no way I’d let her keep it. A woman like her doesn’t deserve it!” “The sight of her disgusts me! I’d rather focus on the victim, find more clues, identify her, and solve this case quickly.” I floated in the air, transparent tears streaming down my face. So… in his heart, I wasn’t worthy of bearing his child. Who was, then? His ‘first love’ ex-girlfriend? Perhaps thinking of when I had told him I was pregnant, Asher disgustedly tossed the doll into a nearby trash can. Then he pulled out his phone, unblocked me, and spoke in a chillingly cold voice. “Threatening me with a child will only make me think you’re lower than dirt!” “Give up. Even if you die, I wouldn’t spare you a glance!” But… I am dead… And I wasn’t lying… That dismembered body, it’s me… 3 My husband and the detectives gathered around a whiteboard covered with photos of my body, alongside their analyses and theories. Key points were circled. “The victim’s DNA hasn’t matched anyone, indicating she has no criminal record.” “There are no missing pregnant women in recent reports who match the victim’s age and height.” An officer remarked, bewildered, “How could a pregnant woman go missing for so long without any family looking for her? Does she not have family?” Asher twirled his pen, circling the word “child” on the whiteboard. “If we can’t identify the victim, finding the missing child for a DNA comparison might lead us to the father, which could then identify the victim.” I crouched by the trash can, desperately trying to pick up that fake doll, but my translucent hand passed right through it, unable to touch it. The clue you’re looking for right now is inside this fake doll… But you’ve thrown it in the trash… Then, he wrote “Dismemberment Scene” and circled it prominently. There was very little blood in the sewer, clearly just a dumping ground. Killers typically dismember bodies in places they are familiar with or consider safe and private. Most even return to the crime scene. If the dismemberment site could be found, the case would have a major breakthrough. Next, he circled “left ear” and added a question mark beside it. “We searched the entire sewer system, but couldn’t find the victim’s left ear or any remaining body parts.” “This means the killer didn’t dump those parts here.” “But why dispose of them separately? This particular part likely has a distinguishing mark that could identify the victim.” Asher paused in his analysis, his brows slightly furrowed, staring at the words “left ear.” I unconsciously touched my own left ear. On my left earlobe, there was a burn scar. It was from the first time I cooked for Asher; scalding oil had splattered onto my ear, forming a blister and leaving a scar. Asher was very apologetic and applied ointment for me every day. So, he knew perfectly well about the mark on my left ear. “The killer tortured the victim for several days before cruelly murdering her. There must be a grudge with the victim, or her family.” “Revenge…” An officer suddenly looked at Asher. “Captain Rodriguez, could the killer be a criminal we arrested, holding a grudge against us, and that’s why they tortured the victim and dumped her in our sewer, to provoke us…” “No, that doesn’t quite fit. None of our officers’ family members are pregnant… and how could someone go missing without it being reported?” Asher’s eyebrow twitched, as if something had occurred to him. But then he shook his head, as if dismissing his own thought. Asher, in that moment, did you remember? I once told you I was pregnant. But you only thought I was jealous of your ‘first love,’ lying about pregnancy just to manipulate you… Alas, you missed that clue again… If you asked which police officer those criminals hated most, Asher Rodriguez would definitely be number one. If he hadn’t been so cold to me, if he’d just gone home, he would surely have found the clues I left for him. He paused, then immediately plunged back into work, dividing the officers into several teams, each with assigned tasks. One team would conduct interviews, checking for any missing pregnant women. Another team would search for the primary crime scene and any remaining body parts. A third team would visit hospitals, as a pregnant woman like the victim would most likely have prenatal records. In addition, an expert was specifically brought in to reconstruct my skull. The expert could, based on principles of human anatomy and the characteristics of my facial bones, age, and soft tissue data from my body, sculpt my skin and hair onto a plastic model. Once my skull was reconstructed, it could be matched with ID records through the public security system, directly confirming my identity. However, this skull reconstruction would take some time. Asher rubbed his temples, his face etched with fatigue. Buzz, buzz, buzz. He pulled out his phone. Seeing the caller ID, a gentle smile appeared on his face. “Elara, I’m so scared…” “Where are you now? Okay, don’t move. Lock your windows. If you’re scared, turn on all the lights and wait for me to get back!” He hung up, checked the time. It was almost 10 PM. “Everyone, head home and get some rest. We’ll discuss anything else tomorrow.” My heart instantly shattered. Asher was a workaholic; he often disappeared for days on a case, and I never dared to disturb him. But now, a single call from her was enough to make him drop everything and rush back to her… In your heart, I could never compare to her… 4 I floated along, following Asher to a house. It was a residence he owned before we married. It’s ironic, I only learned after I died that the house he said he had rented out was actually occupied by her. Elara Rodriguez, Asher’s ‘first love’ ex-girlfriend. She was the hostage he rescued from criminals three months ago. And in those three months he spent away from home, he must have been living with her here, right? My heart started to ache again at the thought. Elara suffered from post-traumatic stress. He was afraid the criminals would seek revenge and find this hostage rescued by the police. He was even more afraid his beloved Elara would be harmed. So, he, usually so calm and collected, sped home, pushed open the door, his voice trembling. “Elara?” Elara was curled up in the corner of the sofa. Hearing Asher’s voice, she darted into his arms like a startled rabbit, clinging to him tightly. Asher’s body stiffened slightly, then he wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her soft hair, comforting her in a low, tender voice. “It’s alright, don’t be scared, I’m here…” Elara cried, tears streaming down her face, “Where were you? I was so scared without you…” Asher gently explained, “The dismemberment case, the autopsy results came out today. It’s been a bit hectic.” Elara’s eyes flickered, and she pulled away from his embrace. “Oh? Did you find any clues?” “Yes, the victim was a pregnant woman. It seems to be a revenge killing. Her identity hasn’t been confirmed yet; there are no leads.” “A pregnant woman… how truly pathetic…” She spoke with feigned sorrow, but her eyes glinted with hidden triumph. Her hypocritical demeanor made me want to vomit! She was clearly trying to glean details about the case! Asher, who had always been tight-lipped about cases when dealing with me, was completely unguarded with Elara. Was this the difference between love and not loving? Because he loved her, she was the ‘first love’ he once yearned for but couldn’t have, so in front of her, all his principles vanished. He seemed eager to share with Elara. “The killer brutally dismembered the victim, so we suspect it’s a remaining member from three months ago, deliberately provoking the police.” Elara gasped, seemingly terrified. “That’s… too horrifying… Did you find out who it was?” “Not yet,” Asher said, looking very worried. “It’s highly likely to be remnants of the crime syndicate. I’m afraid the killer knows you’re still alive and might target you.” “Don’t go out recently. If anything unusual happens, call me anytime.” Elara nodded obediently. She softly changed the subject. “Asher, you come here to be with me every day. Won’t she… be unhappy? After all, she’s your wife. Didn’t she say she was pregnant…” At the mention of me, Asher’s face instantly chilled. His expression softened again when he looked at Elara, as if afraid of frightening her. “Why bring her up? If it weren’t for her, my father wouldn’t have…” He frowned. “You should rest now, it’s getting late.” Elara said, “But I’m scared…” “Don’t be. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, then I’ll leave.” I floated in mid-air, watching my husband guard Elara’s bedside, gently coaxing her to sleep, with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. They looked so perfect together. I had always been an outsider… But Asher, the person you’re now cherishing is a demon…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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