Category: English

Married for eight years, everyone praised me as the happiest woman in the capital’s social circle. My husband was famously devoted, showering me with jewelry, buying me a yacht, and even renting out an entire island for my birthday. I, too, tirelessly played the role of the gentle, respectful, and frugal Mrs. Vance. Even the media described us as a rare example of deep affection in a marriage of convenience. Until the day my daughter was born. His little canary had her son delivered early by C-section, openly provoking me, the legitimate wife. Naive as I was, I thought he would consider our wealthy families’ reputations and send the mother and son abroad. I never expected that he would secretly swap my daughter for that illegitimate son. He even handed me a custody agreement, self-righteously forcing me to sign it. “I owe her, I must repay her.” “Our daughter will acknowledge you as her godmother. When she grows up, I’ll send her to Switzerland to study. Don’t worry, she will be a little princess everyone envies.” “And you will always be my wife.” I nodded, smiling as I took the pen and signed. He let out a long sigh of relief, thinking I had finally accepted my fate, completely unaware that today was exactly what I had been waiting for. 1 I handed the signed custody agreement to Arthur Vance. He glanced over it and nodded in satisfaction: “Get some rest.” Walking to the door, he looked back once more: “Oh, right, the son is named Leo. The daughter… is named Luna.” The door closed. The hospital room returned to silence. I stared at the baby boy in the crib, examining him. He was awake, looking at me with open eyes. That little face did indeed resemble Arthur, especially the eyes and the bridge of the nose. A wave of nausea surged up, and I covered my mouth, dry heaving. The nanny, Maria, pushed the door open and came in. Seeing the baby boy in the crib, she was startled: “Ma’am, didn’t you give birth to a daughter? How come…” I laughed self-deprecatingly: “This is Mia’s child.” Upon hearing this, Maria said indignantly: “Ma’am! How… how can this be! Who does that woman think she is, an illegitimate child becoming the heir to the Vance family?” “The precious daughter you carried for ten months and worked so hard to give birth to, are you really going to give her away to be the daughter of that D-list model?” “This… this is just too much bullying! How could you… how could you agree?” She was so angry her hands were shaking, every word expressing how unworthy this was for me. I looked out at the gray sky through the window, smiled bitterly, and shook my head: “Whether I agree or not… does it really matter?” Maria sighed: “But you are Mrs. Vance! Is there no justice anymore!” Justice? With Arthur, he was his own justice. I closed my eyes, and that familiar sense of powerlessness crept up again. It didn’t matter. My wishes had never mattered. After all, from the very beginning, the person Arthur loved wasn’t me. During his years abroad, he always had women around him, and Mia was the one who stayed the longest. She was beautiful, had a hot body, and knew how to act coy, completely bewitching Arthur. But in a top-tier wealthy family like the Vances, how could they ever allow a model who clawed her way up by showing skin to marry into the family? Old Mr. Vance, without a second thought, immediately ordered him back to the country to meet me. As soon as the news of our marriage of convenience spread, Mia started throwing tantrums. To coax her, Arthur piled all the best film and television resources of the Vance Group onto her. He forcefully elevated a hidden canary into the mega-popular, A-list actress she is today. He gave her whatever she wanted, eager to rip out his heart to compensate her. And now, he even wanted to swap my child for hers. Thinking of this, I took out my phone and sent a message to an old friend: [The fish has taken the bait.] 2 In the blink of an eye, Leo was a month old. The one-month celebration banquet was held at the Vance family estate. The five-story mansion was filled inside and out with peonies flown in from Holland, and the champagne tower was stacked higher than the one at our wedding. I wore an evening gown, greeting guests in the banquet hall. Arthur held his son, beaming with the pride of a spring breeze. The wife of the Chairman of the Apex Group walked over with a wine glass, smiling: “Mrs. Vance, you look glowing, you’ve recovered so quickly.” I smiled and thanked her, catching a commotion at the entrance out of the corner of my eye. Mia had arrived. She wore a Valentino haute couture dress, the neckline plunging almost to her navel, extremely sexy. The entire venue fell silent for a moment, everyone’s eyes focused on her chest. A massive pink diamond necklace sparkled brilliantly under the refraction of the crystal chandeliers. That necklace was the finale piece at last month’s Sotheby’s auction, sold for twenty million dollars. The media reported at the time that Arthur had won it as a postpartum gift for his wife. Now, it hung glaringly around Mia’s neck. Arthur’s eyes lit up the moment he saw her. He handed his son to the nanny and walked towards Mia. Mia habitually hooked her arm through his, the two of them pressing close together. Camera flashes erupted like popcorn, and reporters, like sharks smelling blood, all swarmed over. “Ms. Mia, what is your relationship with Mr. Vance?” “Is this necklace a gift from Mr. Vance?” Mia smiled at the cameras. As she raised her hand to brush her hair, a red mark on the back of her neck was exposed, glaringly stark against her pale skin. She tilted her head to look at Arthur, saying shyly: “Mr. Vance, you should be the one to say it.” Arthur put his arm around her shoulders, saying to the cameras: “Mia is a top-tier artist of our Vance Group, please don’t write nonsense! The company’s legal department will pursue anyone who publishes false information to the fullest extent.” The reporters looked at each other, faces full of disbelief, but ultimately, deterred by the Vance family’s power, didn’t dare to press further and dispersed resentfully. Several wives gathered around to comfort me. “Chloe, don’t take it to heart, men, you know…” “Exactly, they play around, but they always have to come home in the end.” I smiled and nodded, bringing my wine glass to my lips, only to realize my hand was shaking badly. A little champagne spilled on my hand, ice-cold. Mia walked over, arm in arm with Arthur. She stood in front of me, looking me up and down. “Chloe looks beautiful today.” I gave a faint smile: “Thank you. Ms. Mia is also very striking today.” She took a step closer, whispering: “Don’t worry, Arthur said it, you will always be his wife, no one can replace you.” As she spoke, she deliberately touched the necklace around her neck. I pointed to the necklace: “As expected of an eight-figure pink diamond, very flashy.” “Is it?” She chuckled softly, “Arthur also said it suits me. Unlike you, it would look old-fashioned on you.” Arthur frowned slightly: “Mia.” “Just joking.” Mia shook his arm, “Chloe won’t mind, right?” I nodded: “I don’t mind.” That night, the trending topics exploded. #MiaHickey# #TheCrownPrincessPalesInComparison# #ArthurAndMiaIntimateInteraction#. My name was sandwiched in between, utterly ridiculous. 3 Arthur didn’t return until late at night. Seeing me, he was taken aback: “You’re not asleep yet?” I smiled: “Waiting for you.” He walked to the side of the bed and said softly: “Next month, I want to take Mia and Leo to Switzerland for a vacation.” I put down my phone and replied evenly: “Sure, have fun, take lots of pictures.” “You… have changed.” He looked at me, hesitating to speak. I looked up at him: “Have I?” He stared into my eyes, saying earnestly: “You weren’t like this before. Back then, there was light in your eyes. Now… it seems like you don’t care about anything anymore.” I sneered inwardly. Of course I’ve changed. From the day Arthur swapped my daughter at the hospital, that Chloe was dead. The one living now is nothing more than a walking corpse wearing the skin of docility. But I just smiled: “People always change. You’ve changed too, haven’t you?” Arthur sighed heavily. He stood up, walked to the door, and then looked back: “If you want to go, you can come with us.” I shook my head: “No need. There are still things to do at the company.” After Arthur left, I immediately shed that docile skin. He went to Switzerland to live it up, and I turned around and enrolled in a top-tier EMBA program. The coursework was heavy, but I enjoyed it. Mia hadn’t forgotten me, though. Every few days, she’d send intimate photos of them, occasionally accompanied by a few boastful words. I replied patiently every time, even praising her photography skills. My calmness confused her instead. She probably found it boring and eventually stopped sending them. After Arthur returned to the States, he clearly noticed my changes. He probably thought my “understanding” was a compromise after being disheartened, and unprecedentedly, he began to try to make amends. Gifting Hermes today, booking Michelin-starred restaurants tomorrow. Even his tone became ingratiating. Once, when he was drunk, he grabbed my hand and said: “Chloe, can we go back to how we used to be?” I pulled my hand back and smiled: “How did we used to be? I’ve forgotten.” The light in his eyes instantly dimmed. No matter what he said or did now, it couldn’t stir even the slightest ripple in my heart. Right now, I was just waiting for the right moment to take back everything that belonged to me. 4 For Luna’s fourth birthday, Arthur made an exception and allowed her to come to our house to celebrate. I got up early to bake her a cake. Just as I finished whipping the cream, Maria hurriedly knocked on the door: “Ma’am, Luna is here!” I didn’t even care to wipe my hands and rushed out. As soon as I walked into the living room, I heard intermittent piano playing. From a distance, I saw my daughter, wearing a beautiful princess dress, sitting on the piano bench playing. Mia leaned over and asked her: “Does Luna like playing the piano?” Luna nodded like a pecking chicken, answering in a childish voice: “I like it!” “Then we’ll play often from now on, okay?” Mia smiled and stroked her hair. Luna was even happier, saying loudly: “Okay!” She was so happy that she accidentally knocked over the amethyst vase next to the piano. The vase fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. Everyone froze. Mia’s face changed instantly. She grabbed Luna by the arm, yanked her off the piano bench, and raised her hand to slap her. Smack! A crisp sound. Luna’s head was knocked to the side, a red mark quickly blooming on her face. She stayed stunned for two seconds, then burst out crying, “Waah!” That crying sound was like a sharp blade, stabbing into my heart over and over again. I rushed over. Mia was still scolding: “You little brat! Do you know how much this vase cost? This was custom-made for me by Mr. Vance!” She raised her hand again. I grabbed the cake-cutting knife from the dining table. Before her hand could fall, I seized her wrist and gave it a vicious twist. Mia screamed and stepped back, being pinned against the piano by me. The piano let out a series of chaotic sounds. I pressed the knife against her neck and asked sternly: “Do you want to die?” The living room was in chaos. Leo was scared and started crying, and the nanny quickly picked him up. Mia struggled desperately to run. I just grabbed her by the hair, yanked her back, and slapped her hard several times! Smack! Smack! The crisp sounds were exceptionally jarring in the chaotic living room. She screamed and tried to protect her face. I backhanded her hard on the mouth, and blood immediately seeped from the corner of her lips. “You dare hit me! Arthur! Arthur, save me!” She cried and screamed hysterically. I raised my hand, wanting to continue teaching this reckless thing a lesson. “Chloe, stop it!” Arthur stood at the door, looking at me coldly. Mia cried out for help loudly: “Arthur, save me! She wants to kill me!” I pressed Mia down hard, looked at Arthur, and roared: “If Mia ever shows up in our house again, I’ll kill her!” “What did you say?” Arthur frowned. I sneered: “I don’t repeat myself!” Arthur was stunned. He had probably never seen me like this: eyes bloodshot, veins popping on my hands, like a mother wolf protecting her cub. Luna threw herself at me and hugged my leg: “Godmother…” Mia took the opportunity to struggle. I applied pressure with my hand, and she immediately didn’t dare to move. “Arthur!” she cried out, “Are you just going to watch her bully me?” Arthur was silent for a long time. So long that Mia’s cries grew weaker. Finally, he spoke: “Take her back.” The bodyguards standing by were also stunned. “Are you deaf?” Arthur’s voice rose. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, and only then did I let go. Mia was hauled up by them. She glared at Arthur in disbelief: “Arthur? You’re treating me like this?” Arthur looked away, “You go back first.” “Arthur! You—” She was dragged out, her curses growing further and further away. That night, Arthur uncharacteristically didn’t go to coax Mia. He leaned against the headboard, looking at his phone. I lay on the other side, my back to him. In the dark, he spoke abruptly: “You were too impulsive today.” I didn’t say anything. “But…” he paused, “Mia did cross the line, but I believe she didn’t do it on purpose.” I sneered: “She hit my daughter. Of course, you wouldn’t feel the heartache.” He sighed: “Don’t say that. Luna is also my daughter, how could my heart not ache?” I sneered, didn’t expose his lie, and just said: “Go to sleep.” He leaned over and hugged me tightly from behind. This posture was very intimate, like a real married couple. But I only felt disgusted. 5 On the first day of spring, Arthur rarely had free time and said he wanted to take the kids to the golf club. The men went to the course, while the wives sat in the lounge area, drinking tea and chatting. Luna sat next to me, drinking orange juice. “Luna, is your godfather good at golf?” Mrs. Sterling asked curiously. Luna put down her glass and said seriously: “My godfather doesn’t know how to play golf, but my daddy does.” “Really?” “Really.” Luna nodded. “My daddy said he hit a hole-in-one when he was 18, and even gave that little white ball to my mom.” Instant, dead silence. The wives exchanged glances. Arthur never played golf. He thought the sport was a waste of time. He excelled at trading stocks; he knew nothing about things on the golf course. But his arch-rival, Sterling Pierce, did. Sterling grew up in New York; golf was a required course for him. Fifteen years ago, at that charity golf tournament. Arthur forced himself onto the course to save face, but ended up making a fool of himself. While Sterling at the time, with an easy swing, sent the little white ball in a beautiful arc straight into the hole. The whole crowd cheered. Sterling took off his white glove and publicly handed that little white ball, signed with his name, to me, sitting next to Arthur. Arthur’s face at that time looked so awful he could kill someone. Later, that little white ball was hidden by me in the jewelry cabinet in the walk-in closet. My thoughts returning to the present, as I turned to pour juice for Luna, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Arthur standing at the door. He had heard everything just now. 6 That night, after Arthur came home, he went straight to the study. By ten o’clock, he still hadn’t returned to the bedroom. I went downstairs to get water and saw the light in the study was still on. Pushing the door open, Arthur was sitting in front of the computer. On the screen was the membership list of the golf club. “Not asleep yet?” I asked. He looked up at me and asked in a deep voice: “What Luna said today, what does it mean?” Holding my water glass, I looked bewildered: “What words?” Arthur stood up, walked up to me, “She said her dad hit a hole-in-one and gave the little white ball to her mom.” “When have I ever hit a hole-in-one? When have I ever given you a little white ball?” I thought about it: “She probably watched some cartoon. Kids can’t tell reality from cartoons.” “Is that so?” Arthur sneered. “Chloe, are you sure?” “Otherwise?” I retorted. “Do I really have a lover who plays golf and can hit a hole-in-one?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I startled myself. It was too sharp, unlike my usual self. Arthur was also stunned. He looked at me, looked for a long time, and finally waved his hand: “Forget it, go to sleep.” Although I obediently went to sleep, he didn’t. For the next few days, he began a frantic investigation. Asking the club manager, checking my spending records, questioning people I frequently contacted. Just as Arthur was preparing to dig deeper, Mia started causing a scene. She led Leo directly into the Vance Group, making a huge ruckus at the front desk. I happened to be waiting for the elevator and heard the mess outside. “I want to see Arthur! Now! Right now!” “Ms. Mia, Mr. Vance is in a meeting…” “What meeting! Tell him to come out!” I walked out and saw Mia with disheveled hair, her eyes swollen like walnuts. Leo was so scared he hid behind a chair and cried. The employees formed a circle, no one daring to step forward. Seeing me, Mia got even more fired up, “Chloe! Arthur doesn’t love you at all! He should have divorced you and married me long ago!” Before I could even speak, Arthur shouted sternly: “Mia, what are you doing!” “Me, causing a scene?” Mia screamed. “Arthur, you said you’d marry me once I gave you a son! Look how big Leo is now! How long are you going to make me wait?” Dead silence. A pin-drop silence. The employees lowered their heads, pretending they didn’t hear anything. Arthur grabbed Mia’s arm and dragged her towards the elevator: “We’ll talk upstairs!” “No! We’ll make it clear right here today!” Mia struggled. “If you don’t get a divorce, I’ll spill all those things—” “Shut up!” Arthur interrupted sharply, forcefully shoving her into the elevator. Although the farce ended, the news had already spread. Arthur was overwhelmed. Mia caused a scene every day, and the media caught wind of it, digging up the luxury mansions and cars she had received over the years. Arthur, while pacifying her, suppressed the news, temporarily shelving the investigation into Sterling Pierce. I took this opportunity to proceed with the next step. When we married, Arthur gave me 5% of the Vance Group shares, and over the years transferred more. Plus my family’s original holdings, I now held 20%. I had prepared the transfer agreements for these shares long ago. That night, Arthur came home later than usual. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he threw a stack of photos in front of me. I moved closer to look, and my breath hitched. The photos were all of me and Sterling Pierce. I smiled faintly: “Just old friends meeting for a meal, is it worth you hiring someone to secretly take photos?” Arthur picked up a photo of me and Sterling hugging, sneering: “Is this what old friends do? Chloe, do you take me for a fool?” I ignored him and turned to go take a shower. He grabbed my arm and roared: “Answer my question!” “What exactly is your relationship with Sterling Pierce?”

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Chapter 1 After my parents passed away and our family went bankrupt, my brother and I were left with a million-dollar debt. To pay it off, he worked as a haunted house tester, and I worked as a corpse extra on movie sets. For five grueling years, we didn’t dare take a single day off, but the debt still wasn’t cleared. At the end of the year, seeing that we were only thirteen thousand dollars short, I gritted my teeth and signed up as a clinical trial subject. When it was over, I happily dragged the thirteen thousand dollars in cash to find my brother. Only to walk in on him on the phone: “Mom, Dad, Chloe has been doing really well. Enjoy your time abroad.” “She doesn’t like spending money anymore. The punishment can end next year.” It turned out my parents weren’t dead, and our family hadn’t gone bankrupt. The hardships and suffering of these past five years were all a punishment because I loved to spend money. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. … “Think carefully. Once you sign the contract, we are not responsible for any issues that arise.” This is what the pharmaceutical company staff reminded me during the clinical trial. She repeatedly stated that the contract we signed was legally binding. After taking the medication, I had to be observed for five hours. If there were no issues, even if I died afterward, I couldn’t hold them responsible. At the time, my mind was solely focused on having a good New Year with my brother, so I signed without hesitation. But now… Looking at the cash in my hand, I suddenly felt a wave of irony. I raised my hand and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve. I pushed the door open and went inside. My brother hastily hung up the phone. Turning around, his eyes immediately fell on the blood on my clothes. “What happened here?” His face changed, and he closed the distance between us in a few strides. Pressing my shoulders, he checked to see where I was injured. I brushed his hands away, my tone casual: “Fake blood from the set.” “That’s good. I thought you were hurt.” He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he noticed the money in my hand, his eyes narrowing: “Where did this come from?” “Chloe, you didn’t steal it, did you?” My heart sank, suddenly feeling like I didn’t know him at all. Stealing. Is this how he thinks of me? I clenched my fingers, waiting a long time before saying softly: “It’s a bonus from the director. For the New Year.” He frowned, still suspicious: “A bonus given directly in cash?” “Just tell me if you want it or not?” I gave him an irritated look: “Didn’t you say we only had thirteen thousand left on the debt? This is exactly enough.” “If you don’t want it, I can return it.” He was silent for a moment, then finally took the money. “I’ll go pay it off tomorrow.” Saying that, he changed the subject: “What do you want to eat today? I’ll make it.” I looked around. A three-hundred-square-foot studio apartment, you could see from one end to the other at a glance. A wardrobe, bunk beds, and a bathroom. There was no kitchen; cooking meant chopping vegetables on the coffee table. The fifty-dollar electric skillet had been used for five years. During that time, the cord had burned out twice and was wrapped in black electrical tape by my brother. I suddenly asked: “Ethan, aren’t you tired?” He turned back with a smile: “Not tired. My job is actually pretty easy, I just have to lie there.” “It’s mainly you. These past few years, you must be exhausted, right?” Actually, what I wanted to ask was: aren’t you tired of pretending like this? With billions in family assets, you could clearly be living a carefree life. But just to punish me with a life like this, aren’t you tired? Unfortunately, he didn’t catch my meaning. Then I guess I have to be more direct. I looked at him seriously: “Ethan, do you think I love spending money?” I still didn’t understand how exactly I loved spending money. Even though our family was rich, I didn’t really care about luxury goods. No matter what it was, nothing cost more than a few thousand dollars. In the circle of wealthy kids in Seattle, I was already considered an oddity. Ethan’s face stiffened. “Why would you ask that? You’re much better now.” “What do you mean ‘now’? What about before?” I pressed relentlessly. He frowned: “When Mom and Dad were still around, you really didn’t know how to save.” “They built everything from scratch, they used to be farmers. Everyone, including me, had to think carefully before spending money.” “But for your birthday, you would pester them to buy you gifts worth tens of thousands of dollars. What do you think?” I stepped forward, emotionally agitated: “Our family is so rich, can’t we even buy a ten-thousand-dollar phone?” “Then what’s the point of making money?” His face darkened: “Listen to yourself. It’s just a phone, what kind can’t you use?” “You’re just vain, always comparing yourself to those rich kids, which is why you demanded this and that.” “These past five years with nothing, haven’t you lived perfectly fine?” I stared at him in disbelief, my blood running cold. In his eyes, have I lived perfectly fine these past five years? I went to play a corpse every day, begging the director to let me on set more often just to earn an extra two hundred bucks. Sometimes in the mud, sometimes in stinking ditches. Lying there for over ten hours at a time. Resulting in a chronic condition of chills and severe menstrual cramps. My former rival, Mia, seeing my downfall, always found opportunities to mess with me. And I didn’t even have the room to fight back. Just because I wanted to have a good New Year with my brother, I went to be a clinical trial subject, and to this day, I don’t even know what’s going on with my body. Does this kind of life really count as fine? My stomach twisted in pain again, and I vaguely recalled Mia’s words: “Idiot, you brought this on yourself.” “I’m just going to follow you. Whichever set you’re on, I’ll be on. My family has money anyway; a casual investment is enough to get me in.” “For the next five years, you’ll just suffer in my hands!” I suddenly shuddered, the hairs on my body standing on end. Five years, why exactly five years? Could it be that Mia also knew something? My intuition told me there were definitely more things my brother and the others were hiding from me. So I clenched my fists, suppressing the urge to interrogate him, and said: “Okay, I’ll change.” Ethan set down the vegetables in his hands and patted my shoulder approvingly: “That’s right. Eat by yourself later, I have to go to work.” I nodded. After eating, my brother left for work. I tied up my hair, put on a mask and a hat, and quietly followed him. After leaving our run-down neighborhood, he made a phone call by the side of the road. Within five minutes, a black Maybach pulled up in front of him. I watched him get in the car. I quickly hailed a cab to follow. Half an hour later, he walked into a high-end steakhouse. I went in five minutes later, sitting in the booth behind him. Because I was nervous, I kept my head down and didn’t see who was sitting across from him. But upon hearing that person’s voice, I suddenly froze. “Ethan, I’ve been messing with Chloe just like you told me to, and she’s been behaving really well lately!” It was Mia! “Good. Only by suffering on the outside will Chloe know that money isn’t that easy to make.” My brother’s tone was flat, as if discussing the most normal thing in the world. “As a reward, I’ll make sure to look after your family’s business.” “Chloe can’t know about this right now. After the New Year, when my parents come back, I’ll talk to them.” My breath hitched, and my heart nearly stopped. When the waiter came to ask for my order, I didn’t dare make a sound. With trembling hands, I just pointed randomly at the menu. I motioned for him to leave quickly, afraid of drawing my brother’s attention. Mia’s voice sounded incredibly considerate: “Ethan, you told Chloe you were testing haunted houses, but you still have to take a detour home every day. Isn’t that tiring?” “Why didn’t you just go abroad with your parents back then?” My heart was hit by another massive wave. So my brother telling me he was testing haunted houses was also a lie. When I didn’t know, he was going home. So for five years, was I the only one suffering? My brother sighed: “Chloe is my biological sister. I couldn’t bear to leave her alone in the States.” “Besides, even though the company relocated overseas, it will have to move back sooner or later.” He sighed slightly: “The five-year punishment we agreed upon passed in the blink of an eye. Time flies.” Fast? I laughed bitterly in my heart. These past five years, every single day has been torture for me. Playing a corpse isn’t that easy. Under Mia’s instructions, I was always placed in the most exhausting and dirtiest spots. Whether it was windy or raining, I couldn’t move an inch. Over time, I developed chronic chills, and back and leg pain became the norm. And in their eyes, all of this was just a punishment. How ridiculous… “Mia, thank you for your hard work these past five years. Please accept this as a gift.” The conversation across from me continued. My brother handed Mia an exquisite gift box. Mia opened it and let out a gasp: “What a delicate bracelet!” My heart plummeted into hell. That was the one I had asked my parents to buy for me five years ago. At the time, they didn’t buy it, saying it was too expensive. It wasn’t like I absolutely had to have it, so I just forgot about it. Thinking about it now, perhaps this single bracelet was the spark that ignited my five-year punishment. But, on what grounds? Our family is so rich, why should I be punished for five years just because I wanted a bracelet? Why is it that Mia, whose family is not as wealthy as mine, can easily get what she wants? Was I unreasonable? Disobedient? Growing up, I had always been well-behaved and never went against them. Why did I have to suffer like this! My emotions broke the dam, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a bang, I slammed my hand on the table and stood up abruptly. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at me. My brother looked back, his face instantly turning pale. “Chloe, why are you here?” “Is it fun? Was it fun lying to me for five years?” I ripped off my hat and scarf, rushed over, and grabbed his sleeve: “How exactly do I love spending money? Why did you have to torture me like this!” Panic flashed in my brother’s eyes. He glanced around and grabbed me, his face looking awful: “There are too many people here. Let’s go outside and talk.” “You’re the one who has things to hide!” With red eyes, I shook off his hand and screamed hysterically: “You and Mom and Dad teamed up to lie to me. Lied that the family went bankrupt, that we owed money. Lied that you went to test haunted houses.” “But what’s the reality? They’re traveling abroad, you go home every day, and from beginning to end, I’m the only one suffering!” My emotions were spiraling out of control, tears streaming down my face: “Ethan, why exactly? Can you tell me?” “Please tell me, what does it matter if someone with billions in assets spends ten thousand on a phone?” My brother’s face darkened: “No wonder you asked me that this afternoon. You overheard my phone call with Mom and Dad.” Saying that, he grabbed my wrist again. This time he used a lot of force, trying to drag me out of the restaurant. A waiter suddenly ran over and stopped me: “Miss, you haven’t paid your bill yet. It’s five thousand dollars in total!” My brother froze, furrowed his brows, and said to me: “Why did you order such an expensive meal? Do you still not know how hard it is to make money?” All sorts of gazes fell on me. My brother intentionally stalled for a bit. It wasn’t until I was so embarrassed my face turned pale that he finally swiped his card to pay. Outside, Mia added fuel to the fire from behind: “Chloe, your parents and your brother meant well. It was to educate you. Don’t be ungrateful!” “What does it have to do with you!” A nameless fire scorched my heart. I forcefully broke free from my brother’s grip and slapped Mia across the face. She screamed and covered her face. Smack! The next second, my brother’s slap landed on my face. “Chloe, is this really necessary? If you weren’t so vain and greedy, would Mom and Dad and I have done this?” “You think you had a hard time these past five years, do you think we had it easy?” “You still dare to hit people? I see the punishment wasn’t enough!” I stood frozen in place. Hearing his cold voice, I felt my heart completely die. After a long moment, I raised my eyelids and spoke mockingly: “Is this still not enough?” “Then how about I pay you back with my life, is that enough?” “You’re still talking nonsense even now!” Displeasure flashed in my brother’s eyes. He called his driver and shoved me into the car. I asked with a smile: “Are we going home? Which home?” He didn’t even look at me, pulling out his phone to call our parents. “You guys come back. Yeah, Chloe already knows.” “I didn’t tell her, she overheard it herself!” Bang! My brother irritably threw his phone down. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of impatience: “You still have the nerve to cry?” “I’ve suffered a lot accompanying you these past five years, and in the end, I’m the one getting scolded.” “What exactly is there for you to cry about? Stop acting like you’re the one who suffered so much grievance!” I couldn’t speak, letting him scold me all the way to our old mansion. I hadn’t been back to this house in five years. Being pushed inside again, I only felt a sense of unfamiliarity. The piercing pain in my stomach started churning again. I couldn’t hold it back, lowered my head, and coughed up a mouthful of black blood. As I frantically tried to wipe it away, my brother saw it, but only sneered: “You’ve got your props all ready. Trying to make me feel guilty?” “You better save the act for when Mom and Dad get back. These little tricks don’t work on me.” My parents returned very quickly, arriving home early the next morning. My brother was unhappy about being scolded by them and forced me to sit on the sofa and wait all night. Having not slept all night, plus the stomach pain, I was covered in cold sweat and lethargic. But when my parents came back, I still shot up from the sofa. In my mind, they had died five years ago. Seeing them appear in the house perfectly intact now, I suddenly felt like I was dreaming. “Chloe, do you know what you did wrong?” My mom’s cold sentence yanked me back to reality. I stood frozen, my voice hoarse: “What did I do wrong?” My mom’s face darkened slightly: “Is it possible that after five years, you still don’t know how hard it is to make money?” “When we faked our deaths and went abroad, it was to make you understand that there will come a day when you can’t make money anymore, and there will come a day when the money runs out.” “It’s good that you know now, saving us from having a home we couldn’t return to.” My heart went completely cold, and my words started carrying emotion again: “So in the end, I’m still the one who burdened you?” “I really don’t understand. Our family has more money than we could spend in several lifetimes, and I never squandered it recklessly. Why did I have to suffer a punishment like this?” “Do you know how wronged I felt? These past five years I…” “Chloe, just admit you were wrong!” My dad suddenly came over and pressed my shoulders. His face was covered in tears: “To educate you, Dad hasn’t returned to the States to visit your grandmother’s grave in five years.” “It wasn’t easy for you, and it wasn’t easy for us either. Stop being stubborn!” “As long as you admit you were wrong, the punishment ends now, and our family…” “I’m not wrong!” I roared and threw off his hand: “What’s wrong is you guys, it’s your mindset! I did absolutely nothing wrong!” Smack! As soon as my words fell, my brother delivered a fierce slap to my face. “Is this the attitude you use to speak to Mom and Dad?” “Chloe, where is this grievance coming from? Where is this temper coming from?” “Did you think I had it easy these past five years? If I wasn’t worried about you, I would have gone abroad with Mom and Dad a long time ago!” My mind went completely blank, my ears ringing. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying anymore. Standing there for a long time, I nodded resignedly. “Give me back the thirteen thousand you took from me.” That was money I earned with my life. He shot me a disdainful look and made a phone call. Not long after, someone came in carrying my bag of money. I wiped away my tears, picked up the money, and prepared to leave. My dad looked at my back and was about to speak, but my mom stopped him. “Let her go. Let’s see where she can possibly go!” I closed the door, carrying the money back to the run-down neighborhood. I took out my keys and was just about to unlock the door when someone grabbed my wrist. “Little girl, this apartment has already been sold. You can’t go in.” “Was it sold to a guy named Hayes?” I didn’t even look up. The person said: “Yes, how did you know?” I gave a self-deprecating laugh, took my money, and left. I hadn’t walked two steps before that piercing pain in my stomach struck again. I went to a nearby hospital. While waiting for the results, I went to pay the bill. But not long after I handed over the money, I was pinned down by security on the spot. My mind was in chaos, and I didn’t even have the strength to struggle. In my shock, I only heard them saying something about “counterfeit money” and “calling the cops.” A little while later, the police arrived. The lead officer frowned and asked me: “Little girl, this money is all counterfeit. Where did you get it?” I couldn’t believe it. I frantically pulled the contract from my pocket and handed it over: “I don’t know! I earned it by working as a clinical trial subject!” “This has nothing to do with me!” She looked at the contract, her frown deepening: “You must have been scammed. This company is a criminal syndicate.” “Did they draw your blood?” My pupils contracted, and I nodded mechanically. The police officer sighed: “Their medication is fine, but the needles…” She couldn’t bear to finish her sentence. A sense of foreboding rose in my heart. Just then, the test results came out. The doctor handed them to the police officer: “It’s a stage three blood disease. Those scammers are too rampant!” “Ugh—” I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, coughed up a mouthful of black blood, and fell heavily, passing out. Before closing my eyes, I heard the police officer shout: “Contact her family quickly, hurry!”

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I was stuck in holiday traffic on the highway when I scrolled past a post. “What’s the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done in your life?” Underneath, the most liked comment caught my eye. “About to do it. Like, getting it on right under his wife’s nose… Should I livestream it for everyone?” Someone replied, asking, “Is it really that thrilling?” She replied: “We’re stuck in traffic, and I’m right behind their car. He’s going to come back here and keep me company in a minute.” Attached was a photo of the back of a car. My breath hitched because the license plate in the photo was exactly the same as mine. 01 At this moment, I turned my head to look at my husband, Arthur, in the driver’s seat. The cowardice of his youth was long gone from his features. The poor boy he used to be was a thing of the past. He was currently half-asleep, arms crossed, pretending to rest. A picture of peaceful tranquility. I admit, my mind was blank. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t want to believe it. I had firmly believed that the time, effort, and money I poured into him had nurtured a seed of gratitude and a sincere relationship. But… I looked down at my phone. The comments refreshed again. Someone objected: “Is it really okay to destroy someone else’s family?” The user named “Aching for Big Bro” replied quickly. “Lmao, Artie and I have been engaged in our hometown since we were eighteen. Our parents agreed, and we even threw a banquet.” “If this woman wasn’t rich and couldn’t help us establish ourselves in the big city, do you think I’d tolerate my man marrying someone else?” Seeing these words. I couldn’t help but recall how Arthur and I met. My heart pounded wildly. It was as if I was glimpsing some shameful conspiracy. I couldn’t hold back and typed a reply under the comment. “You guys… didn’t approach this woman on purpose, did you?” Almost the next second, “Aching for Big Bro” replied. One after another. Full of smugness and showing off. “Oh my, you guessed it? Baby, you’re so smart.” “When Artie and I first came to the big city, we were so poor we couldn’t even pay rent. But my Artie is handsome, so we came up with a plan. He’d deliver food and specifically target women driving nice cars, looking for a chance to ‘accidentally’ scrape them.” “The first two times were unlucky; we ran into cheapskates who insisted on compensation. It caused us to take out a bunch of online loans and almost drove us to death.” “We didn’t expect to strike gold on the third try. We ran into this stupid woman. Tsk tsk… really just dumb with too much money. Not only did she not ask for compensation, but later when Artie went to find her to pay her back, pretending to be strong and responsible, she actually took the bait.” “And now? After they got married, my house, my car, my bags… which of these wasn’t paid for by this stupid woman?” Below that was a pile of comments marveling at the audacity. “Impressed. Sister has opened up a new lane.” “Too bad my boyfriend isn’t handsome, boohoo…” “Your username is hilarious. Your lover boy sold his body for you, but at least his soul is with you.” Only I felt as if I had plunged into an ice cellar, filled with deep humiliation. Obviously, this stupid woman. Was referring to me… Chloe. 02 I finally clicked into the profile of “Aching for Big Bro.” Though apprehensive, though uneasy. But I had a deeper fear. That was to remain in the darkness of being deceived. My fingertip fell. The pinned post entered my vision. “August 8th. Of course, there needs to be a special sense of ceremony. Artie says it’s thrilling here.” The attached photo was clearly taken in a hotel bathroom. In the mirror, the woman took a selfie with a flushed face. Behind her, a man hugged her from behind. The man’s face was blocked, but the hand wrapped around the woman’s stomach was exceptionally eye-catching. Because, the platinum wedding ring on his ring finger was coldly reflecting the overhead light. This ring was the one I personally picked out and slipped onto Arthur’s finger. And August 8th was the day of my wedding. That is to say, on the day of our wedding. Right under my nose. They had a secret rendezvous in the hotel bathroom. Thinking of this, my stomach churned. I covered my mouth, forcing down the urge to vomit. I gritted my teeth and kept reading. “July 1st, the day Artie took wedding photos. The stupid woman was right outside, and we…” Attached photo: Champagne-colored curtains, very familiar. On the wall, a man and a woman’s hands pressed tightly against it. And this place was the changing room I had used. My finger mechanically swiped down. “October 15th, Artie let me come to his company! We’ll see each other every day from now on.” The attached photo was the company’s fire escape, a dimly lit stairwell, two hands tightly clasped. “November 3rd, lunch break, conference room date. The soundproofing is great, his wife would absolutely never guess.” The attached photo was the silhouette of a hug outside the frosted glass door of the conference room. “December 24th, Christmas Eve. The Benz Artie bought me arrived! Gotta be quick today, he still has to go home to keep that dumb bitch company. Unhappy.” Attached photo: Clothes scattered messily inside a car. The most recent post. “Tomorrow the dumb bitch is going back to his hometown with him for the holidays. So annoying. But he said he’d find a chance to comfort me on the road. Looking forward to it…” Having seen everything. The piercing pain in my heart almost sank into my bones. Following that was a wave of resentment, quietly rising from the bottom of my heart. You guys seem to really enjoy finding thrills in various situations, don’t you? Then I’ll give you more thrills than you can handle. 03 “Chloe, why do you look so pale? Are you feeling unwell?” Arthur’s gentle voice suddenly came from beside my ear. His eyes, as always, were filled with adoration and concern. I forced myself to hide the hatred in my eyes and barely managed a smile. We met three years ago. Just as the comment said. It was an accidental encounter. Arthur, delivering food, scraped my luxury car. His reaction at the time was to hold his head and cry bitterly. Desperately calling me “Miss,” begging for forgiveness. I was amused, and in the end, drove off without pressing the issue. What I didn’t expect was that he would show up in front of me punctually every month and give me all his salary. “Miss, I asked around, it takes thirty thousand to fix the car. Please give me a few more months.” Ridiculous as it sounds, I was moved by his character and sincerity. I was even charmed by his unique rustic simplicity, developing romantic feelings for him. I helped him grow, gave him financial support. Allowed him to go from having nothing to becoming the “Mr. Sterling” everyone else talked about. Now I was even accompanying him to his hometown for the holidays, giving him plenty of face. But now you’re telling me. From beginning to end, it was a trap. Any human being wouldn’t be able to stand it; their heart would clench in agony. I tried my best to suppress the agitation in my heart and squeezed out words. “I’m fine, just annoyed by the traffic.” Arthur shook his head, making a joke. “Everyone thinks they’re so smart, choosing to head home early for the holidays, and the result… everyone gets clumped together, stuck right in it.” I pursed my lips and didn’t speak. My gaze, however, glanced at the rearview mirror. I saw the door of the Benz behind us open. A woman wearing a cashmere coat and little high heels stepped out. The woman’s appearance was exactly the same as the blogger “Aching for Big Bro.” My brow furrowed slightly, but quickly smoothed out. Only the hatred in my heart grew colder. She walked with a swaying, alluring gait, making no attempt to hide. Arriving at the driver’s side, she bent down and lightly knocked on the window. Arthur very naturally rolled down the window, his tone laced with distance. “Hello, can I help you?” The woman’s voice was soft and sweet. “Oh my, sorry to bother you. Sir, do you know what’s going on ahead? How long will we be stuck here?” As she asked, her gaze casually swept over me in the passenger seat. In that brief moment of eye contact. I saw mockery and pity. As if saying: The mistress is standing right here, and you know absolutely nothing. I knew that if I hadn’t accidentally scrolled past that post. I wouldn’t have understood the meaning in her eyes at all. My hands resting on my knees. My nails had already dug deeply into my palms. But my face maintained a calm indifference, and I even gave her a slight nod, treating it as the courtesy between strangers. Arthur’s performance was worthy of an Oscar. He frowned slightly, shook his head, and his voice was steady. “Not too sure, they didn’t say on the radio. Probably an accident up ahead, we just have to wait.” His gaze was open, his tone natural. As if he were seeing this woman for the first time. “I see… alright then, sorry to bother you.” After saying that, she turned and walked back. As Arthur rolled up the window, he sighed. “Waiting dryly like this really isn’t a solution, and who knows how long we’ll be stuck. Chloe, how about I go up ahead and check out the situation? See if I can get some news, just to have an idea.” In this moment, I understood. The woman coming over to ask was a secret signal between them. I twitched my lips and gave a soft “mm-hmm.” Arthur got out of the car, walked forward, and soon disappeared from my sight. I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to him. Unsurprisingly, he would loop around in my blind spot and get into the Benz behind us. So, I only needed to pay attention to the live comments on “Aching for Big Bro.” 04 See, here it comes. I stared at my phone, motionless. “I just walked over to that stupid woman’s car. She was sitting in the passenger seat, looking all silly, and even nodded at me? Hahaha, I’m dying.” Someone replied: “Sister, you’re awesome. That kind of woman is probably so dumb that if she was sold, she’d help count the money.” Various mocking comments came flooding in. Someone asked: “Your Artie should be here soon, right?” “Aching for Big Bro” answered. “Hehe, here he comes, here he comes. I wonder if she can feel a little movement in the car in front?” The replies below were in an uproar again. If I had seen this ten minutes ago. I might have broken down, might have gone crazy. But at this moment, my mood was unusually calm. The corner of my mouth even curled into an extremely cold arc. You like thrills? You enjoy the pleasure of cheating right under my nose? You treat me as a stupid backdrop, mocking me wantonly? Very well. Then let’s play this game of yours a little bigger. 05 When the comments in the post refreshed again. “Artie is here, we’re going to start now.” Attached photo: Inside the car, discarded coats, a man’s and a woman’s hands intertwined with fingers linked. The replies reached a climax. But I slowly closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. When I opened them again, only clarity and resolution remained in my eyes. I looked up at the rearview mirror. That white Benz was parked quietly there. But looking closely, the body of the car was shaking slightly. Once, and then again. Now is the time. Without any hesitation, I pulled out a red window-breaking hammer from the passenger side glove compartment. The cold, hard touch brought me an inexplicable sense of power. I pushed open the car door, got out, and walked straight back. There were many drivers who had gotten out of their cars to chat nearby. In front and behind, there was an endless line of cars. I believed that in a while, this place would be no different from a bustling market. I walked to the front side of the Benz. No hesitation, no cursing. I just raised the window-breaking hammer high, poured all my strength into my arm, and smashed it down fiercely. 06 Crash… An ear-piercingly loud bang suddenly exploded. The tempered glass was instantly covered with spiderweb-like cracks, the center deeply caved in. “Ah…” At the same time. A woman’s terrified scream came from inside the car. The loud noise and the scream instantly startled everyone. Everyone cast their gazes over. “What happened?” “A car crash?” “Holy shit, there’s a woman smashing a car. Did they get into a fight?” “Look, look, this woman is fierce.” Discussions buzzed immediately. The crowd unconsciously gathered towards here. Soon, they formed a circle around the Benz and me. More people pulled out their phones. Lenses were aimed at this scene. I turned a deaf ear, my eyes icy cold, and raised my arm again. Crash… Crash… Crash… A few more consecutive hits. Finally, with a loud smash. The entire windshield completely shattered, collapsing inwards and revealing a large hole. Through this hole, everything inside the car had nowhere to hide. The driver’s and passenger seats were reclined, and clothes were messily tossed on the floor mats and center console. Two completely naked people were clearly visible. Arthur’s face, which had just smiled gently at me, was now pale as paper. After locking eyes with me, it was filled with unbelievable terror and panic. The woman’s smugness was long gone, leaving only the shameful ugliness and pathetic state of being exposed to the light. I looked at them and pulled a cold smile. I looked away, walked to the right side of the Benz, aimed at the passenger window, and raised the hammer again. “Chloe, don’t! Listen to my explanation.” Arthur finally reacted, an intense feeling of shame making his voice hoarse. “It’s not what you think, don’t go crazy, stop.” Explanation? Go crazy? I acted as if I didn’t hear him and smashed down fiercely again. Crash… Smash… The passenger side window shattered in response. The surrounding crowd erupted in even louder gasps and discussions, phones not leaving their hands. “My god, she caught them cheating.” “This woman is too fierce, looks like she’s from the car in front.” “In broad daylight, on the highway, with the wife’s car right in front, these two… tsk tsk tsk, really shameless.” “If it’s catching cheaters, then she smashed it well.” “Record it, record it, this is too juicy, this video will definitely go viral.” 07 Discussions rose and fell. Mixed with disdain and excitement. Arthur and the woman inside the drafty car. Were even more pathetic, dying of shame and anger. Of course, I didn’t stop. After smashing all the windows on the right side. I walked around to the back of the car and continued smashing the rear windshield. Finally, after a few loud crashes on the left side. At this point, all the glass on the entire car—front, back, left, and right—was completely smashed. And I stood there holding the window-breaking hammer, my face icy, only sneering. The accumulated hatred had finally dissipated quite a bit at this moment. Around us, the crowd holding up phones was three layers deep. Some even started live streaming. Although the viewership was high, they were quickly banned. However, the footage had already spread. Arthur had hastily thrown on his coat. His face was an array of colors, his eyes filled with infinite fear for the future. One could imagine how explosive this incident would become. The woman curled up in his arms, covering her face, and let out broken sobs. The cold winter wind was still howling into the car. Their bodies began to tremble uncontrollably. I finally spoke slowly, my voice not soft. “Everyone guessed right. The man inside is my husband. He agreed with this woman that they would do something right under my nose. “Since they like showing others, then I don’t mind letting everyone take a good look.” The crowd erupted in an uproar. They had indeed guessed right. The men watching the excitement couldn’t help but instinctively shrink their heads upon seeing me like this. The women, upon seeing it, all cheered me on, cursing the scumbag and the mistress to die a horrible death. I slowly walked over to the car door, pulled it open amidst the woman’s screams, cast my gaze upon her, and curled the corners of my mouth. “Little beauty, nice figure, huh? “Oh right, didn’t you like livestreaming your affairs online? Then I’ll let you livestream to your heart’s content.” The woman jerked her head up, the terror and shame on her face not yet faded, replaced by shock and sudden realization. She stared dead at me, her eyes filled with extreme resentment and remorse. “So you saw the post…” However, being exposed in such a pathetic state to countless cameras now made her hysterical. “Chloe, you lunatic, you bitch, you’ll die a horrible death. You think you’ve won? Artie and I won’t let you off easily, just you wait.” Arthur was originally still in a state of panic. Hearing the woman’s words, he suddenly reacted sharply. So the reason I found out wasn’t a coincidence, wasn’t an accident. It was actually because this stupid woman was livestreaming it online! Furious rage instantly flooded his heart. The next second, Arthur directly shoved the woman in his arms away. Because he used too much force, he pushed the woman completely out of the car, and she fell right in front of me. The woman’s screams grew even more terrified. She could only squat on the ground hugging her knees, shivering in the cold wind with barely any clothes on. “Mia Lin, you shameless slut.” Arthur pointed at her, his face livid. His mind was filled with frustration at her stupidity. At this moment, his brain truly processed the situation. What about his future? With this happening, I would definitely take everything back. Without me, he was nothing. How to choose between Mia and me? It was incredibly simple. He gave me an apprehensive glance and then started cursing at Mia. “It’s all your fault! You were the one who kept seducing me. You were the one who wouldn’t let go, using those dirty tricks to force me to give in. I’ve had enough of you.” He cursed fast and urgently, spit flying. In an instant, he threw all the dirty water, all the responsibility, onto this woman who was his childhood sweetheart. After cursing, he immediately turned to me. His face rapidly switched to an expression of remorse and pleading, his voice even carrying a hint of crying. “Chloe, honey, listen to me, listen to my explanation. It’s all my fault. I had a moment of confusion and was blinded by her. “It was her taking advantage of me when I was drunk… and then she got leverage on me. She kept threatening me like this. You’re the only one in my heart, Chloe. “I’ve only ever loved you from beginning to end. I beg you, forgive me this once. I promise it will never happen again. Let’s go home, let’s live a good life. I’ll listen to whatever you say.” He was a bit incoherent, his posture humble to the dust. As for Mia looking up at him with an expression of disbelief, she was completely ignored by Arthur. At this very moment, he only had eyes for me. I scoffed out loud. If Mia hadn’t recounted their story. I might have really been fooled by Arthur. I spoke slowly, filled with disdain. “Even at this point, you’re still acting? Still lying?” How could I not be disdainful? If he had protected Mia just now, I would have respected him a bit more. “Secretly meeting in the hotel bathroom on our wedding day, did she force you to do that? “Fooling around in the changing room while I was trying on wedding dresses, did she force you to do that? “Using my money to buy her a house, a car, and bags, did she force you to do that?” With every word I said, Arthur’s face grew paler. The surrounding crowd couldn’t help but gasp and start discussing. “This is too much, isn’t it?” “Right? If my husband trampled on me like this, I would tear him apart with my bare hands.” “What a pair of dogs…”

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During the year my social anxiety was at its worst, I decided to keep a rugged construction worker. Every time I asked him to stay the night, I was a nervous wreck. “E-excuse me, are you free tonight to… do that?” He leaned down and took a bite of my burning red cheek. “That? That’ll cost extra.” “N-no problem.” I nodded eagerly. Until I unexpectedly went bankrupt and decided to let him go with a heavy heart. The rugged man, smoking his post-coital cigarette, listened to me, then casually handed me a Centurion Black Card. “Take it. Keep paying for me.” “Who said you could let me go?” 1 I had been watching the handsome, rugged guy on the construction site across from my coffee shop for a long time. He arrived a week ago. His name was Arthur. The older workers seemed to think he was young and kept bullying him. They always ignored him, didn’t give him work to earn money, and marginalized him in every way. Arthur didn’t look too happy every day. I held back and held back, but finally couldn’t anymore. On his eighth day at the site, I summoned my courage and walked out of my coffee shop. Braving the roar of machines, the flying dust, and the curious stares of other workers, I walked up to Arthur, who was leaning in a corner, lost in thought. The man was tall, his profile sharply defined, exuding testosterone. My face was flushed, and I hesitated to speak. The man snapped out of it, paused for a moment when he saw me, and then grumbled: “Hey, coming onto a construction site without a hard hat, do you have a death wish?” He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, making his voice a bit muffled. Then, he took the hard hat off his own head and plopped it onto mine. I nervously adjusted the hard hat. “Hello, I-I have something to ask you.” “Me?” I nodded. Under the man’s indifferent gaze, I carefully said: “C-can I keep you as my sugar baby?” Arthur paused. “What did you say?” I was so nervous I kept swallowing, my eyes darting around, completely unable to meet his gaze. “I-I want to keep you.” “Um, my name is Chloe. I-I opened the coffee shop right across from the site. I’m not a bad person.” “Don’t worry, I’ll treat you well. I absolutely won’t insult you.” “And I’ll give you money every month. Three thousand dollars. That way you won’t have to suffer at the construction site, and you won’t be bullied by the older workers.” “Is that okay?” ……. Arthur didn’t say a word; he just slowly exhaled a puff of smoke. Through the swirling smoke, I acutely sensed him looking me up and down. His gaze swept frankly over my face, my neck… Just when I thought I was going to be rejected, he raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” 2 When the coffee shop closed for the night, Arthur also finished his shift. He stood behind me, watching me lock the door, and then followed me to a nearby hotel. I have social anxiety. Severe social anxiety. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say to this towering “kept man,” so I just kept my head down and walked. The more I walked, the more awkward I felt. The more awkward I felt, the less I knew how to walk. It was a vicious cycle of clumsy movements. Arthur didn’t seem to notice my awkward gait. As we passed a convenience store, he suddenly asked lazily: “Don’t we need to buy some tools for the crime, sugar mama?” My ears burned. “Um… the hotel nightstands should have them, right?” “I’m worried about the size not fitting.” “…Then please go buy some. I’ll transfer you the money.” My voice was as small as a mosquito’s. Arthur didn’t move, looking at me somewhat wickedly. “It’s only fun if we buy this kind of stuff together, right?” “!” My face felt like it was going to catch fire instantly. I hurriedly waved my hands. “N-no, I’ll wait for you up ahead.” After saying that, without waiting for him to speak, I kept my head down and scuttled away, arms and legs swinging awkwardly in tandem. Leaving behind only Arthur’s barely audible chuckle. Fortunately, I only waited a short while before he caught up with me, carrying a bag. We entered the hotel, got a room, and went upstairs. Because this was the most rebellious thing I had ever done in my life. It went without saying what would happen today. So my heart was racing like a trapped rabbit. Pounding wildly. It’s not that I hadn’t thought about bringing him home, but the soundproofing there was terrible. If the neighbors heard anything, it would be social death; I’d never be able to show my face again. So a hotel was the safest and most suitable place for our relationship. I secretly told myself to stay calm, but when I swiped the keycard to open the door, my hand shook a little, and it wouldn’t open. At that moment, a tall, solid body pressed up behind me. Arthur encircled me, wrapped his hand over mine, and swiped the card again. Beep. It opened. He asked in my ear: “You’re the sugar mama, what are you so nervous about?” 3 Arthur had a great body. An eight-pack and a V-taper. His muscles were knotted but not unappealing. Just standing there, the sexual tension was off the charts. Even the most naturally aloof woman would unconsciously look at him. I yield. This was the conclusion I had reached after secretly observing him from the coffee shop for a week. I just didn’t expect it to be this good. When he pressed against me, my entire spine almost melted. After Arthur gently pushed me into the room, my whole brain was buzzing. Whatever he told me to do, I did. Shower. Lie down. Very obedient. Arthur, who had showered right after me, stood by my bed and suddenly reached out, lightly poking my cheek. “Chloe, I’ll ask you one last time. Are you sure you want to keep me?” “Hold on. You do know what keeping me means, right?” I slowly pulled out my phone. And transferred three thousand dollars to him on the spot. My voice trembled slightly. “I know, and I’m sure.” “……” Arthur stared at me expressionlessly for a few seconds, then reached out and grabbed the convenience store shopping bag. He pulled out… A pile of snacks. Not a single NSFW item. ? ?? What about the promised fun?! Just as I was about to anxiously ask, a strawberry-flavored lollipop was suddenly stuffed into my mouth. It was sickly sweet. Arthur grumbled: “What do you know. Let’s just eat some snacks and watch a movie today.” 4 Arthur lay down next to me and actually started picking a paid movie on the TV. This bland turn of events really disappointed me a bit. I sucked on the lollipop, staring at him eagerly. “Arthur, you’re already kept by me, and you took the money. You can’t back out.” The man clicked the remote control loudly. “I didn’t say I was backing out.” I didn’t understand, and asked softly: “Then why aren’t you doing that with me? You know, that.” “Too fast. I’m afraid I’ll scare you.” “I’m not scared.” Arthur shot me a mocking glance. “Then why have you been shaking all night, not even daring to lift your head, scared like a rabbit?” “…….” Being seen through made me very embarrassed. “Not really.” “Really not? How come I feel like you’re very afraid of making eye contact with people? Is this what the internet calls social anxiety?” “Mm…” “You really have social anxiety. Then how do you run a shop?” “Customers order online themselves, then I make it behind the counter, and they pick it up themselves. As little communication as possible.” “What if a customer insists on getting close to talk to you? Like this.” Saying that, Arthur deliberately leaned in close to tease me. Only… Being so close, our eyes naturally met. Suddenly, no one spoke. I licked my lollipop. My social anxiety instinctively made me want to look away to avoid awkwardness. Suddenly, Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he said: “Hey, we can’t do that, but we can do other things. Wanna try first?” ……. I noticed his gaze landing on my mouth. Mustering my courage, I tilted my chin up at him. “Y-yes.” Then, the lollipop was pulled from my mouth. The candy hit my front teeth. Just as I was about to make a sound of pain, a shadow covered my vision. The sound of pain was blocked back down. 5 At first, Arthur’s kissing technique was surprisingly inexperienced. Of course, I didn’t notice. Because I was even more inexperienced. But Arthur quickly grasped the essentials. He supported the back of my head with one hand, our lips and teeth grinding together. We both used the hotel’s body wash, so we smelled exactly the same. Baked by his overly high body temperature. It was simply dizzying. After the lollipop was stuffed back into my mouth, I was still a bit dazed. Arthur didn’t bother me. His large hand roughly wiped the saliva from my mouth, and he continued looking for a suitable movie. After I came back to my senses, I gently tugged the hem of his shirt. “Arthur, I want to kiss some more.” “…….” The man, who was already trying hard to pretend to be calm, instantly lost his composure. He cursed under his breath. Threw the remote control aside and turned back. His gaze was intense. Like it was mixed with fire. So that night, we didn’t end up watching the movie. I still don’t know if my lollipop was thrown in the trash can or some random corner. No one cared at all. I only remember Arthur muttering hoarsely as he wiped the moisture from the corner of my mouth one last time. “Strawberry flavor really is sweet.” Although we ended up just chatting purely under the covers in the end, this development made me very satisfied and shy. Sitting in my coffee shop, I touched my still slightly swollen lips, happily looking at the construction site across the street. Dust filled the air. I couldn’t see Arthur. I didn’t care either. I just sat there fantasizing about the shape of Arthur’s muscles bulging when he worked. Suddenly, my phone, which was always on silent, showed an incoming call. Seeing the caller ID, my mood instantly plummeted. I stared at the phone in panic until the other party lost patience and hung up. I don’t know how long passed. Thump thump. The glass of the coffee shop was casually knocked on a few times. I looked up and met the eyes of my rugged “kept man.”

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The company canceled our annual gala and distributed the budget to each department for a private dinner. I was stuck in traffic and arrived late, only to overhear our new male intern talking trash about me through the door: “Clara Hayes? She’s what, thirty-three? An old hag who hovers around my desk every day. It’s pathetic.” “It’s hilarious. She wants to date me? She wishes. I’m not gonna indulge her delusions!” “In a minute, I’m ordering ten portions of the most expensive items on the menu. Don’t worry, she’s paying—what’s she gonna do, not show up?” Everyone inside cheered, praising him for being the ultimate “Gen Z boss-buster” who was finally taking down toxic corporate culture. I quietly released the door handle and stood outside, listening until he finished ordering a $15,000 feast. Once he was done, I walked away and sent a message to the department group chat: “Family emergency came up, I won’t be able to make it tonight.” “Here is the $800 dinner budget the company provided. Eat well and have a great time.” On the ride home, I leaned against the car window, a slow smile curving my lips. Taking down toxic corporate culture? Sure. With this $15,000 bill, I’m going to teach you exactly how the real world works. 1. I sat in the back of my Uber, watching the notifications explode on my phone screen. The “Marketing Dept Family” group chat was practically on fire. Three minutes ago, right after sending those two messages and Venmo-ing the $800 budget into the group pool, I left the chat entirely. But I forgot about the unofficial, “no-managers-allowed” group chat. Right now, messages in that chat were refreshing at a rate of a dozen per second. Tyler Vance, the intern, had tagged me dozens of times: “Clara, what the hell is this? You made it to the door and then left?” “Are you a sore loser? You’re the department manager, you’re supposed to pay for this!” “Who is $800 supposed to feed? Are you tipping a homeless guy?” “Get back here and pay the tab! Don’t make me lose respect for you!” Following his messages were a flurry of photos. Maine lobster sashimi, one for every single person. Three bottles of wine that cost over three grand each, already uncorked. And a table overflowing with premium seafood. Just minutes ago, standing outside the private dining room, I had heard everything clearly. Tyler’s voice was loud and obnoxious as he ordered: “This, this, and this—give us the most expensive ones! Ten orders of each!” “Waiter, pop all those bottles and let them breathe!” “What are you guys scared of? Someone’s footing the bill tonight. Our Manager Clara is loaded. If she wants to date me, she’s gotta bleed a little cash, right?” The room had erupted into hoots and hollers. Someone tried to reason with him, “Tyler, can we even finish all this? Clara isn’t even here yet.” Tyler’s voice pitched up, “If we can’t finish it, I’ll box it up and feed it to my dog! We need to teach this touchy-feely female boss a lesson, let her know I’m not to be messed with!” “Yeah, Tyler’s right! Gen Z doesn’t hold back!” “Clara is always so stingy anyway, she deserves to bleed a little.” I let go of the door handle. Originally, I was going to walk in. Even though I was late, I would have just bought a round of drinks as an apology and moved on. But this dinner? I had lost my appetite. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Dave, one of the older guys in the office, texted me privately: “Clara, did you really leave? The food is already served, the bill is nearly $15,000. If you’re not here, who’s going to pay?” I replied, “Whoever ordered it pays. The company budget is $800. I transferred all of it.” Dave: “Stop messing around. Tyler is just a clueless kid, why stoop to his level? Hurry back, the waiter is hovering with the tab and everyone is getting really embarrassed.” Me: “I’m not embarrassed.” Dave: “You’re leaving everyone high and dry! The wine is opened, we can’t return it!” Me: “Tyler said he wanted to teach corporate a lesson. I’m giving him the opportunity.” I put my phone on silent and shoved it in my pocket. The Uber driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Where to, ma’am?” “Home.” The car merged into the night traffic. I closed my eyes, my head filled with Tyler’s arrogant voice. I am thirty-two this year. I’ve ground it out at this company for eight years to finally climb to the position of department manager. Tyler was an intern who started last month. He was decent-looking, but his work ethic was an absolute disaster. He messed up basic print jobs and lost data when making simple spreadsheets. Seeing that he was new, I gave him extra guidance and occasionally took him along to client meetings so he could learn the ropes. To him, this translated to me wanting to date him, making me a “creepy boss.” It even became his justification for burning through fifteen grand. Fifteen thousand dollars. I have savings, but I’m not a human ATM. My phone screen lit up again. It was an audio call from Tyler. I declined it. He called again. I blocked his number. A moment later, Marcus, the deputy manager, called. Marcus and I had always been at odds; he had been gunning for my job for years. I answered. Marcus couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice. “Clara, you really played dirty this time. Everyone was waiting for you, and you just bailed, leaving a room full of people hanging?” 2. “I had a family emergency.” “What emergency is more important than the department dinner? Tyler is practically crying his eyes out, saying you’re bullying the new guy.” “I gave you guys the $800 budget.” “$800? The tab is fifteen grand! Who’s going to cover the rest? We all split it? That’s going to ruin everyone’s holiday!” “Whoever ordered it pays.” “Clara, you’re the leader, you need to take responsibility. Tyler is new, he doesn’t know the rules. You’re a veteran, do you not know the rules either?” “I know the rules perfectly. The company rule is an $800 budget for the dinner. For anything over that, the person who ordered it is responsible.” “Are you really not coming?” “No.” “Fine, Clara. You’ve got some nerve. This isn’t over.” Marcus hung up. I stared at the neon lights flashing past the window. In the past, I was too responsible. I took the blame for everything and cleaned up everyone’s messes, which only spoiled them into thinking I was a pushover. When I got home, I took a hot shower and fell right asleep. I slept like a rock. The next morning, I arrived at the office right on time. As soon as I walked in, I felt the heavy atmosphere. Everyone was staring at me, their eyes filled with disdain, anger, and the gloating anticipation of a good show. Tyler was sitting at his desk. His eyes were red and puffy, the bags under them prominent, his face sagging like a miserable, deflated balloon. It was obvious he had been crying. Seeing me, he shot up from his chair and slammed a folder hard onto his desk. “Clara! Are you even human?” The office instantly went dead silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes locking onto us. I walked to my desk, set down my briefcase, and looked at him. “It’s working hours. What are you screaming about?” Tyler stormed over, pointing a finger right in my face. “Drop the act! You did that on purpose last night, didn’t you? You said you were treating us, and then you ran! You made every single one of us shell out over two grand just to leave that restaurant!” The other coworkers gathered around. Dave looked grim. “Clara, you really went too far this time. We’re all just working stiffs. How much do we make a month? Dropping half a month’s salary on one dinner, how are we supposed to survive the holidays?” Another female colleague chimed in sarcastically, “Exactly. Manager Clara makes six figures, so of course she doesn’t care about this kind of money. We aren’t like you; we have families to feed.” Marcus leaned against a cubicle partition, arms crossed, sneering. “Clara, when we were pooling our cash last night, everyone cursed your entire family tree. Tyler is just an intern, he had zero cash on him. He had to max out his credit card. You’re a real piece of work as a manager.” I looked at their angry faces. When they were scarfing down Maine lobster last night, they didn’t have these expressions. Back then, they were cheering, telling Tyler what a great job he did, waiting for me, the rich sucker, to foot the bill. I turned to Tyler. “When did I ever say I was paying?” Tyler’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t? When a department dinner is announced, isn’t it an unwritten rule that the manager pays? Besides, when I was ordering, you never said I couldn’t!” “I was stuck in traffic.” “That’s just an excuse! You just wanted to see me humiliate myself! This is retaliation because I rejected your advances!” Tyler raised his voice, “Everyone, be the judge here! Does a woman who maliciously retaliates against her employees deserve to be a manager?” “Advances?” I fired back. “When did I ever make advances on you?” “Don’t even try to deny it! You’re always calling me into your office, insisting on taking me to client meetings. Isn’t that just because you have an ulterior motive? I didn’t give in, so you held a grudge and set a trap to screw me over!” Tyler was getting more and more agitated. A grown man, crying on cue, putting on a sickeningly theatrical performance as the victim. 3. The whispers around the office grew louder. “That’s so gross, using her position to harass a male subordinate.” “She always looked so professional, I never thought she’d be so dirty behind closed doors.” “Someone like her should be fired!” Taking him to see clients was because he was new to marketing and needed to learn the business. Calling him into my office was because his weekly reports lacked any logical structure, and I had to walk him through fixing them step by step. To them, this translated to “ulterior motives.” “Tyler, if you’re going to make accusations, you need proof,” I said coldly. “Last night, you ordered those dishes yourself. Ten portions of each, and only the most expensive ones. You’re the one who said you wanted to teach corporate a lesson and have everyone box up the leftovers. What, now that you can’t afford the bill, you’re throwing dirty water on me?” “I did that to liven up the mood!” Tyler shrieked. “And I thought you were going to pay for it! Who knew you were such a cheapskate! If you couldn’t afford it, you should have said so! Stop acting like a big shot!” “The company’s dinner budget is $800. I transferred the full amount to you all.” “What is $800 going to do? It doesn’t even buy a single bottle of wine!” Tyler pulled a stack of receipts from his bag and slammed them on my desk. “The total was $14,800! Minus your $800, that’s $14,000! You have to pay this! Pay everyone back their money!” I didn’t even glance at the receipts. “Whoever ate, pays.” “You!” Tyler was shaking with rage. “You backstabber! You’re not even human!” “Clara.” Marcus walked over and patted my shoulder. “Don’t make this so ugly. We’re all in the same department, we see each other every day. Yeah, it’s a lot of money, but it’s not like you can’t afford it. Just treat it as a tax to avoid bad luck and squash this. Otherwise, if the CEO hears about this, it’s going to look really bad for you.” He was threatening me. Using my career to threaten me. If it were the old me, for the sake of departmental harmony and the bigger picture, I might have just pinched my nose and paid it. But now, looking at Marcus’s hypocritical smile, Tyler’s self-righteous greed, and the coworkers ganging up on me like an angry mob. I suddenly realized that this job, being their manager, was utterly meaningless. “Marcus, if you’re so generous, why don’t you pay for him?” I looked right at him. Marcus’s smile stiffened. “Clara, that’s uncalled for. You caused this mess, why should I pay?” “I caused this?” I laughed. “Tyler ordered the food. Tyler opened the wine. You guys are the ones who put it in your stomachs. I didn’t eat a single bite, didn’t drink a single drop, didn’t even step foot in the room. How did this become my mess?” “Because you’re the manager!” Tyler yelled. “The manager has to take responsibility!” “A manager is responsible for the work, not for footing the bill for your endless greed.” I swept the receipts off my desk onto the floor. “I am not paying a single cent of this.” “Ah!” Tyler screamed, as if he had been dealt a fatal blow. “Clara! Just you wait! I’m going to report you! I’m going to let the whole company know what kind of person you are!” He spun around and stormed toward the CEO’s office. Marcus looked at me and shook his head. “Clara, you’re done. Tyler has connections high up, and you know how the media environment is these days. If this blows up, you won’t be able to handle the fallout.” The other coworkers dispersed, retreating to their desks to whisper. “This is gonna be a good show.” “Manager Clara is definitely going down this time.” “Serves her right for being so cheap.” I sat down and opened my laptop. Report me? Great, I was just worrying about how to blow this up myself. 4. I opened my phone and located the audio recordings I had saved last night. I recorded them while standing outside the private dining room. I had originally intended to send them to the CEO to explain the situation, but they were going to be far more useful now. In the recording, Tyler’s voice was crystal clear: “Hilarious, she wants to date me? She wishes. I’m not gonna indulge her delusions!” “In a minute, I’m ordering ten portions of the most expensive items on the menu…” “You guys box up the leftovers, I’m making Clara pay the tab!” I transferred the audio files to my laptop to back them up, then started drafting an email. Not a resignation letter. A work report. A report regarding the marketing department’s recent budget overruns, the chaotic management of interns, and attempts by certain employees to commit corporate embezzlement via company dinners. Half an hour later, the HR manager notified me to go to the conference room. When I walked in, Tyler was sitting across from the CEO, Mr. Henderson, crying his eyes out. Henderson was a balding man in his fifties who hated conflict and loved sweeping things under the rug. Seeing me, Henderson frowned. “Clara, what is going on? A simple team dinner, how did it turn into this mess?” Tyler jumped in, “Mr. Henderson, you have to help me! Manager Clara is bullying me! she intentionally set a trap to screw us over, making every single one of us lose a ton of money! And… and she even…” He feigned embarrassment, biting his lip. Henderson tapped the table impatiently. “And what?” “She sexually harassed me!” The conference room went dead silent. Henderson’s face instantly darkened. In the corporate world, financial disputes are one thing, but the moment the words “sexual harassment” are uttered, a hard line has been crossed. “Clara, is this true?” Henderson stared at me. I pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked him in the eye. “No.” “You’re lying!” Tyler pulled up a few screenshots on his phone and handed them to Henderson. “Look, Mr. Henderson, these are her daily chat logs! Texting me late at night, insisting on driving me home! When I refused, she started making my life miserable at work!” Henderson took the phone. His frown deepened. I could guess exactly what those texts were. Just standard late-night overtime texts: “Did you make it home safe?” or “I need that proposal on my desk first thing tomorrow.” But clipped out of context by someone with an agenda, these normal check-ins and work demands could easily be twisted. “Clara, how do you explain this?” Henderson pushed the phone toward me. I glanced at it. Just as I thought. It only showed the fragments of me asking “Where are you?” and “Do you want me to give you a ride?”, completely deleting the voice memos right before them where he whined, “Manager Clara, I can’t get an Uber and I’m so scared.” “Out of context,” I said. “Mr. Henderson, you can check the full chat history.” “I deleted it!” Tyler yelled. “Those gross messages, I felt dirty just keeping them! Thank god I had the presence of mind to take screenshots!” “Playing the ‘dead men tell no tales’ card, huh?” I looked at Tyler. Tyler avoided my gaze, shouting even louder at Henderson. “Mr. Henderson, even though I’m a guy, I still care about my reputation. If I wasn’t pushed to the brink, why would I expose this? Now the whole department knows what kind of person she is, how am I supposed to work here?” Henderson sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them. “Clara, regardless of what happened, you really handled last night’s dinner poorly. You’re the leader, you need to be forgiving. Tyler is new, he doesn’t know any better, you need to cut him some slack.” Exactly as I expected. Sweeping it under the rug. “So, what are you proposing, Mr. Henderson?” 5. “How about this. You cover the bill for last night’s dinner. As for the harassment claims… since there’s no hard evidence, Tyler, don’t go spreading this around, it’s bad for everyone. Clara, you apologize to Tyler, and we’ll turn the page on this.” I almost laughed out loud. He wanted me to cough up $14,000 and apologize? This was his idea of a resolution? “Mr. Henderson, I am not paying that money. And an apology is completely out of the question.” I looked Henderson dead in the eyes. “First, I didn’t order the food. Second, I never harassed him.” “Clara!” Henderson slammed his hand on the table. “What kind of attitude is this? I am trying to protect you! If this blows up, the company will have to fire you to protect its reputation! With a reputation for harassing subordinates, how are you ever going to find a job in this industry again?” “Exactly!” Emboldened by Henderson’s backing, Tyler grew even more arrogant. “If you don’t pay up and apologize, I’m going to expose you online! Let the internet judge you! Let’s see how you live with yourself after that!” “Expose me?” I looked at Tyler. “How exactly do you plan to do that?” “I’ll post it on TikTok, on Instagram! I’ve already got the title figured out: SHOCKING! Creepy Female Boss Fails to Seduce Gen Z Intern, Traps Him with $15,000 Dinner Bill!” Tyler looked incredibly smug. “I’ve got a lot of followers, you know. The second I post it, you’re going to be canceled permanently!” Henderson’s face changed. “Tyler, stop this nonsense! Do you not care about the company’s reputation?” “That depends on how Manager Clara behaves.” Tyler crossed his arms, looking like he had me backed into a corner. “Either you pay the $14,800, plus an extra $5,000 for my emotional distress, and we settle this privately. Or, I post the video, and we burn together!” Looking at his face, the last shred of pity I had vanished. This was extortion. Naked, blatant extortion. “Mr. Henderson, you heard him.” I pointed at Tyler. “He is extorting me.” A flash of awkwardness crossed Henderson’s face, but it was quickly masked by impatience. “Clara, just pay the money and be done with it. Twenty grand isn’t that much for you, don’t lose the forest for the trees.” “And if I refuse?” “Then you are refusing to follow company orders!” Henderson’s face darkened, his knuckles rapping against the table—thud, thud, thud—like a death knell. “Clara, you need to think very carefully about the consequences.” I stood up. Buttoned my suit jacket, one button at a time. “I have thought about it very carefully.” I looked down, placing my phone face-up on the table. The screen was on. The voice memo recording app was open. 04:47, and still ticking. Tyler’s face drained of color in an instant. “Since he wants to expose things—” I picked up my phone, hitting “Save” right in front of his eyes. “Let’s expose it all.” Henderson was stunned. “Clara! You—” I didn’t look back. Behind me came the loud crash of a chair tipping over, and Henderson’s furious roar: “If you walk out that door today, don’t bother coming in tomorrow!” I didn’t stop walking. “Whatever.” The door closed behind me. The hallway was long. The click of my heels on the tile echoed steadily, one step at a time. Henderson said don’t bother coming in tomorrow? Fine. Because tomorrow, I might not be the one getting fired. Back at my desk, I started packing my things into a box. My coworkers whispered around me, looking at me like I was already a ghost. Marcus walked over, feigning sympathy. “Clara, why do this? Why fight over money? Why fight with Mr. Henderson? You leave now, and all your hard work these past few years goes down the drain.” “Marcus, you don’t have to play the good guy here.” I placed a picture frame into the box. “You’ve been eyeing this position for a long time, haven’t you? It’s yours now.” Marcus couldn’t hide the gleam in his eyes. “Oh, come on now. I actually wanted to help you, but your temper is just too stubborn. Keep in touch, alright?” Tyler walked out of the CEO’s office, a victorious smirk plastered across his face. He strolled over to me, looking down at me as I packed. “If you had just paid up last night, none of this would have happened. Now look at you. Lost your job, ruined your reputation, and you still have to pay up! If you don’t, I’m going to make a scene at your front door every single day!” He leaned in close and whispered, “Let me tell you something. My cousin runs with a rough crowd. If you don’t cough up the cash, I’ll have him pay your family a visit.” 6. My hands stopped. I looked up at him. “Are you threatening my family?” “So what if I am?” Tyler sneered. “Scared now? If you’re scared, hurry up and pay! And I don’t just want what I asked for in there. I’ve changed my mind. I want $25,000! Not a penny less!” I looked at his face, twisted with greed. Excellent. Originally, I was going to leave him a way out. Now, it seems there’s no need. “Tyler, remember what you just said.” I picked up my box and strode toward the elevator. Behind me, Tyler laughed mockingly. “Stop acting so tough! You’re a stray dog!” The elevator doors closed. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Attorney Brooks? I have a few cases I want to retain you for. Yes, involving extortion, corporate embezzlement, and defamation. Evidence? I have plenty of evidence.” After hanging up, I opened another group chat. It was my college alumni group, filled with friends working in media and PR. I sent a message: “Ladies, I’ve got some massive tea. Exclusive scoop, complete with audio and video. Unlimited material. Someone wants to take down toxic corporate culture, and I want to give him a hand.” When I got home, I didn’t stay idle. I organized the recordings from last night, the audio I secretly recorded in the conference room, and screenshots of Tyler cursing me in the group chat. Especially his final threat regarding my family. Even though I didn’t have audio for that specific moment, there was a security camera right outside the conference room. From that angle, it would easily capture his mouth movements. That alone would be enough of a headache for him in court. 3:00 PM. Tyler made his move, exactly as expected. He posted a video on TikTok. In the video, he cried pitifully, alleging workplace bullying and sexual harassment. The title was clickbait gold: [Gen Z Intern Tries to Fix Toxic Workplace, Gets Set Up by Creepy Female Boss With $15k Dinner Bill!] The video was masterfully edited. It only showed the massive receipt and the two messages I sent in the group chat. Layered over it was his sobbing voiceover: “I’m just a recent grad, I only make three thousand a month… Manager Clara kept dropping hints, and when I rejected her, she purposefully bailed on our team dinner, forcing us into debt…” “She even threatened me, saying if I didn’t listen to her, she’d make sure I could never work in this industry again…” The video blew up fast. In less than two hours, it had over 100,000 likes. The comment section was a bloodbath directed at me. “Why doesn’t this psycho old hag just go die?” “Doxx her! Expose her info!” “Feeling so bad for this guy, it’s too hard for Gen Z to fix corporate culture.” “This is the reality of the workplace, funny how the feminists are quiet now.” My phone was blown up by unknown numbers. A barrage of abusive texts flooded in. Some people even found my private social media accounts and spammed the comments. Mr. Henderson sent me a message: “Clara, look at what you’ve done! The company phones are ringing off the hook! You need to issue a public apology immediately! Take full responsibility! Otherwise, the legal department will sue you for damaging the company’s reputation!” I didn’t reply. I was waiting. Waiting for the heat to rise a bit more. Waiting for Tyler to feel like he had completely won, lowering his guard entirely. 8:00 PM. Tyler went live on TikTok. I checked in; there were over 100,000 people watching. He was playing the victim, thanking the internet for their support, and conveniently pinned his Venmo handle, claiming he needed to crowdfund to pay off the dinner tab. “Thank you guys, I really have no other choice. I had to borrow from all my friends just to cover that $15,000, and now I have to pay off my credit cards…” “That Clara woman has already been fired, but she still hasn’t paid us back, and she even threatened me…” “If you guys send enough gifts, I’ll leak her home address!”

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The day I died, the only sound in the hospital room was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Stage four stomach cancer. I was down to 74 pounds. The nurse checked my emergency contacts three times. One number. Ethan. Relationship: Brother. The call went through. It rang eight times. “Sis, I’m in a meeting. Make it quick.” I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was clogged with rust. “Ethan, sis… I don’t think I’m going to make it.” There was a two-second silence on the other end. “Which hospital? I’ll have my assistant check on it.” I’ll have my assistant check on it. I raised him for 18 years. From the time I was 16 until I was 34. Paid for his college, paid for his grad school, paid for his tailored suits, his nice car, his wedding to his boss’s daughter. He’ll have his assistant check on it. The sound of the monitor grew fainter. The last thought in my head before I closed my eyes was— If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t give him a single cent. 01 The beeping of the heart monitor turned into the chirping of cicadas. Piercing, dense chirping. My eyes snapped open. The ceiling was pasted with yellowing newspaper. There was a long crack in the corner of the wall. Outside the window, the July sun was so bright it hurt my eyes. I recognized this ceiling. This was the Hayes family’s old house. Southcreek County, Riverside Town. The dirt-brick house I lived in for 16 years. I looked down at my hands. Slender, pale, knuckles distinct. Not the rough, cracked, deformed hands of a 34-year-old. On the nightstand sat a flip phone with a pink case, rhinestones glued around the edge, several of them already missing. I bought this when I was 16 with two months’ worth of saved allowance. The screen lit up with a text message: [Chloe, your dad had an accident at the construction site. Get to the county hospital right now.] Sent: July 14, 2006, 10:07 AM. I stared at the date for a solid three minutes. 2006. I was back. In my past life, after receiving this text, I jumped out of bed, ran two miles to the main road in my flip-flops, and hitched a ride on a tractor to the county town. By the time I got to the hospital, my dad was already gone. A crane cable snapped at the site, and a steel pipe fell. He died instantly. I remember clearly what happened next. On the third day after the funeral, my mom called me into the living room. She said, “Chloe, Ethan is only 8. With your dad gone, we have to rely on you.” She said, “You’re the older sister.” She said, “It’s useless for a girl to get so much education. It’s better to start making money early.” That year, I ranked 11th in the whole county for the high school entrance exams. County High had sent me an acceptance letter. I folded the letter into quarters and shoved it under my pillow. I never took it out again. This life. I looked at the text message and took a deep breath. I stood up, changed my clothes, and headed out. I still had to go to the hospital. Some things couldn’t be changed. But some things could. When I arrived at the hospital, there was a crowd of people kneeling in the hallway. My mom, Mary Hayes, was leaning against the wall. Her eyes were swollen red, her lips pale. Next to her stood my Aunt Brenda and my Uncle Frank. As soon as Aunt Brenda saw me, she grabbed my arm. “Chloe, your dad is gone. You have to be strong.” I didn’t cry. It wasn’t that I wasn’t sad. It’s just that I had already lived through this funeral once. The tears I was meant to cry had all dried up in my past life. The funeral took three days. On the morning of the fourth day, my mom told me to sit on the long bench in the living room. Aunt Brenda was there, Uncle Frank was there, and Aunt Susan from next door was there too. My brother, Ethan, was sitting on the doorstep eating a popsicle. Eight years old, a chubby little guy, not really understanding what had happened. My mom started to speak. The exact same script as my past life. “Chloe, your dad is gone. It’s just the three of us now.” “You know my health. My back is bad; I can’t do heavy labor.” “Ethan is only in second grade. He still has middle school, high school, and college ahead of him.” “You’re the older sister.” She looked at me, waiting for my response. In my past life, I said, “Mom, I understand.” In this life, I said, “And then what?” My mom was stunned for a moment. Aunt Brenda took over. “What your mom means is, you should forget about that County High. Go work at your cousin’s factory first. You’ll make over a thousand a month.” “Ethan’s tuition, the household expenses, we’re all counting on you.” Aunt Susan chimed in from the side. “That’s right. A girl gets all that education, but she’s just going to marry someone else anyway.” I looked at them one by one. “I’m not dropping out.” Four words. The living room went quiet. My mom’s face slowly darkened. Aunt Brenda frowned. “Chloe, what kind of attitude is that? Your mom just lost her husband—” “Aunt Brenda,” I cut her off. “Who paid for my dad’s funeral?” Aunt Brenda opened her mouth. “The construction site paid compensation, right?” I looked at my mom. “How much did they pay?” In my past life, I never asked this question. My mom kept the compensation money a tight secret. I thought the family truly didn’t have a single penny, so I willingly dropped out of school. It wasn’t until I was 32 and got stomach problems and checked the bank statements that I discovered the truth. This life, I wasn’t going to wait 16 years. My mom’s eyes shifted for a second. Very fast, just a fleeting moment. But I saw it. “They paid a little,” she said. “Not even enough to cover the funeral.” I didn’t say anything, just stood up and went back to my room. The moment the door closed, I heard Aunt Brenda outside saying: “This girl is getting too big for her britches.” 02 I didn’t press her about the compensation money right away. Living 34 years in my past life taught me one crucial lesson— Don’t rush; let the bullets fly for a bit. Early the next morning, while my mom was out in the vegetable garden, I went through her room. The metal lockbox under the bed. The combination was still Ethan’s birthday: 0215. Inside were the family registry, her marriage certificate, the land deed, and a bank book. From the rural credit union. Balance: 0. But the last transaction in the withdrawal history— July 16, 2006. Withdrawal: $60,000. My dad passed away on July 14th. Two days later, someone withdrew sixty thousand. Where did that money go? I put the bank book back and locked the box. Three days later, my mom talked to me for the second time. This time, she didn’t call Aunt Brenda and Uncle Frank. It was just the two of us, and Ethan. She had Ethan sit across from me. “Ethan, tell your sister, do you want to go to school?” Ethan had a piece of candy in his mouth. He mumbled, “Yes.” My mom looked at me. “You heard him.” “Mom,” I said, “I want to go to school too.” “If you go to school, what about Ethan?” “Ethan is eight. He goes to the village elementary school. Tuition is 120 bucks a semester. Why wouldn’t he be able to go?” “What about later? Middle school? High school? College? Your dad’s not here. Who’s going to pay?” “We’ll worry about later when later comes. I’m 16 right now. The acceptance letter from County High is already here. School starts September 1st. I’m going.” The corners of my mom’s mouth turned down. I knew that expression. It was the expression she made right before she was about to cry. “Your dad has only been gone seven days, and you’re already disobeying me.” The tears started falling. Ethan was startled and burst into tears. “Sister is mean! Sister made Mommy cry!” In my past life, this trick worked every time. My mom cried, Ethan threw a tantrum, and my heart softened. This life, I sat on the stool and didn’t move an inch. I waited for them to finish crying. Five minutes. When Ethan’s wailing turned into sniffles, and my mom’s tears slowed down, I finally spoke. “Mom, crying doesn’t solve problems.” “I’m going to County High. Tuition is 950 a semester. I’ll work in town during the summer to earn some of it, and I’ll apply for financial aid for the rest.” “For you and Ethan’s living expenses, Dad’s compensation money is enough.” I said the last sentence very softly. But it hit like a bomb. My mom’s tears stopped instantly. “What compensation money?” “From the construction site.” “The site didn’t pay a damn thing!” She suddenly raised her voice. “Your dad was a temp. He didn’t sign a contract. The boss ran away. We didn’t get a single cent!” She said it with absolute certainty. I looked into her eyes. In my past life, I believed her. In this life, I knew there was a $60,000 withdrawal record in that bank book. I didn’t expose her on the spot. It wasn’t enough. Sixty thousand was just the tip of the iceberg. The number I found out when I was 32 in my past life was 480,000. “Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll figure it out myself.” I stood up. As I walked to the door, I looked back at Ethan. He was shrinking into my mom’s arms, tears still hanging on his cheeks. Eight years old. In my past life, I gave up everything for that face. In this life, I will treat him well. But I won’t trade my life for his future. 03 There were forty days left of summer vacation. I went to the only small diner in town and told the owner I could wait tables, wash dishes, chop vegetables—do anything. The owner looked me up and down. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.” “Twenty bucks a day, lunch included. You in?” “I’m in.” Up at 5:30 AM, bike 40 minutes to town, work until 3:00 PM, head home. When I got home, I still had to cook, do laundry, and feed the chickens. My mom’s “bad back” deteriorated rapidly after I started working. It turned into her lying in bed all day, not even cooking. Ethan’s three meals a day also fell on my shoulders. I didn’t complain. I did these chores for 18 years in my past life. I knew them like the back of my hand. But one thing was different. In my past life, I gave every cent I earned to my mom, keeping nothing for myself. In this life, I opened an account at the town credit union. Out of the 20 bucks a day, I deposited 15 and kept 5 for bus fare and groceries. In twenty-eight days, I saved 420 dollars. One night in mid-August, my mom suddenly appeared at my bedroom door. “Chloe, how much money did you make working?” “Not much.” “How much?” “About four hundred.” “Give it here. Ethan’s backpack is broken; he needs a new one. Plus, there are school fees, notebooks, and pens for the new semester.” “Aren’t Ethan’s school fees only 120?” “With the backpack, school supplies, and uniform, it’s close to five hundred.” I checked my ledger. “Ethan’s uniform was bought last year. He hasn’t even worn it a full year; it still fits. He has a ton of school supplies left over from last semester; I checked. The backpack can be stitched up and reused. All in all, 130 is enough.” My mom was stunned. She probably didn’t expect me to actually do the math. The me from my past life wouldn’t have. The me from my past life would just say, “Okay, Mom. Here.” “130.” I counted it out from my tin box and placed it on the desk. “I’m keeping the rest for my tuition.” My mom stared at the 130 bucks. Her expression was complicated. She didn’t take it. She just turned and left. The next day, Ethan came home with a new backpack. Blue, with Spider-Man on it. It didn’t look cheap. “Who bought it?” I asked. “Aunt Brenda!” Ethan held it up to show me. “Aunt Brenda said I was a good boy, so she rewarded me.” Aunt Brenda. My dad’s older sister. She married a guy in the county town who worked at the tobacco company. They had a pretty good life. In my past life, Aunt Brenda was always incredibly good to Ethan. Red envelopes for every holiday and festival. For me, not a single cent, ever. I thought it was because Ethan was cute and lovable. Later, I realized Aunt Brenda had her own calculations— Ethan was the only male heir of the Hayes family. If she raised him right, he would be the one to take care of her in her old age. As a daughter who would eventually marry out, I was a losing investment in her eyes. “It looks nice.” I patted Ethan’s backpack. “Study hard.” Ethan nodded and ran out to play. That night, I went through my mom’s metal lockbox again. The bank book was still there. The balance was still 0. But I noticed a detail I hadn’t paid attention to before. The account holder’s name— It wasn’t my dad, Richard Hayes. It was my mom, Mary Hayes. That sixty thousand wasn’t withdrawn from my dad’s account. It was my mom’s own account. When did my mom, a rural stay-at-home housewife, ever have sixty thousand dollars in savings? Unless that money was transferred from somewhere else to begin with. I put the bank book back. The puzzle was still missing a few pieces. No rush. 04 On September 1st, I stepped through the gates of County High. In my past life, I had only walked through these gates in my dreams. County High was on the east side of the county town, over 20 miles from home. I had to board. Boarding was 200 a semester. Tuition was 950. Estimating food at the bare minimum of 150 a month, half a year was 900. Total: 2050. I saved 420 from working, and I worked a few extra days at the diner at the end of summer, bringing it to 500. I was still short 1550. I found Director Vance at the administration office. “Financial hardship?” Director Vance flipped through my file. “Father passed away from a work accident, mother is a farmer, and you have an eight-year-old brother?” “Yes.” “Ranked 11th in the county for the entrance exams?” “Yes.” He looked up at me. “Do you have a proof of poverty certificate?” “Yes.” I handed over the certificate stamped by the village committee. Director Vance signed it. “Tuition fully waived. Boarding fee halved. Talk to your homeroom teacher about a stipend; you can get 750 a semester.” 750. Plus the 500 I had. 1250. It was enough. I stood outside the administration office and took a deep breath. The sunlight was bright, reflecting off the brand-new school building. In my past life, I stood on a factory assembly line for 18 years. I never saw sunlight like this for a single day. During the first week of school, my mom called three times. The first: “Ethan says he misses you. When are you coming back?” The second: “We’re almost out of rice. Send some money back.” The third: “Your Aunt Brenda says it costs too much for you to board in town. It’s better if you come back and find a job in the village.” Three calls, three different tactics. The family card, the financial card, the authority card. In my past life, any one of them would have been enough to make me give up. In this life, I replied with five words. “I am in class.” And hung up. My homeroom teacher, Ms. Miller, was a woman in her early thirties, very efficient. During the second week, she called me in for a chat. “Chloe, I understand your situation. The school offers work-study positions. Organizing books in the library, 80 bucks a month, two hours each on Saturday and Sunday. Would you like to do it?” “Yes, please.” “Also, helping out in the cafeteria. 5:30 AM to 6:30 AM. They provide breakfast and an extra 30 bucks.” “I’d like to do that too.” Ms. Miller looked at me. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she ended up just saying one sentence: “Study hard.” I nodded. My days started running like clockwork. 5:30 AM: Cafeteria helper. 6:30 AM: Eat breakfast, go to class. Classes during the day, study hall until 10 PM. Weekends: Organizing shelves in the library. When I was done, I’d sit down and read. In my past life, my education stopped at middle school. But 18 years of real-world experience gave me one thing— I knew what was truly important. It wasn’t what Aunt Brenda called “a girl’s duty.” It wasn’t what my mom called “you’re the older sister.” It was myself. Mid-October. The first midterms. Out of 48 students in the class, I ranked 3rd. Out of 820 students in the grade, I ranked 17th. Ms. Miller circled my rank in red on the report card. I looked at that ranking, not feeling anything special. The Chloe Hayes of my past life ranked 11th in the county. She was never lacking in brains. What she lacked was opportunity. The weekend the midterm results came out, my mom came to the school. She stood at the school gate, wearing a faded floral shirt, holding a plastic bag containing a few boiled eggs and a bag of peanuts. “Chloe, Mom brought you some food.” I took the bag. She sat next to me on the steps by the school gate, silent for a while. “Fixing the roof at home is going to cost two thousand.” Here it comes. “It leaks when it rains. Ethan’s room got all wet. The whole wall is covered in mold.” She didn’t ask for money directly; she brought up Ethan. It was always Ethan. “Mom, I make 110 bucks a month working. I barely have enough for food. I don’t have two thousand.” “Can you borrow some from your classmates?” “No.” My mom’s expression changed. “You’re out here getting too big for your britches, you don’t even care about the family anymore, do you?” “I care. But I can’t give you money I don’t have. If the roof leaks, apply for a dilapidated housing subsidy from the village committee. I’ll help you fill out the form.” She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. Finally, she left carrying that empty plastic bag. After she left, I sat on the steps for a long time. The October wind blew past. It was a little chilly. I didn’t feel sorry for her. I felt sorry for 18 years in my past life, until I felt so sorry for myself that I died from it. That was enough.

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I stared at the line of text for a long time. It was printed in crisp, clear Arial font on the official lab letterhead. “Testing indicates No Paternity relationship exists between the alleged father (Robert ‘Bob’ Miller) and the tested child.” Not him. I had mentally rehearsed a hundred ways to handle the worst-case scenario. Screaming, throwing dishes, packing his bags, slapping the document across his lying face. But the results said it wasn’t him. Then whose child is Leo? The technician at the lab mentioned that while my husband wasn’t the match, the sample’s Y-chromosome markers showed a very strong familial link to the Miller line. The Miller family line. Not Bob. But a Miller. I closed my eyes. And the cheerful, wrinkly face of my father-in-law, ‘Pop’ George Miller, floated up from the darkness. 1. Three months ago, Sarah came over for dinner. She brought Leo. He’s three, a chubby, red-haired little guy who’s impossible not to love. I remarked offhandedly, “Sarah, Leo just gets cuter every day. He’s starting to look just like his dad.” Sarah offered a tight, forced smile and kept her head down, busy cutting up Leo’s chicken nuggets. “Let’s not talk about him.” Sarah’s story was always that Leo’s father was a guy she dated briefly in college. She only found out she was pregnant after they’d gone their separate ways. She decided to have the baby and raise him solo. My heart always went out to her. Sarah had been my best friend since Freshman orientation. We’d known each other for twelve years. I helped her land her first job, I walked her through signing her first lease, and I was the one sitting outside the delivery room waiting when Leo was born. Bob used to tease me about it. “You’re better to Sarah than you are to your own sister.” “She’s doing this on her own, Bob,” I’d say. “It’s not easy.” After dinner that night, my mother-in-law, Martha, stopped by. The moment she saw Leo, her face lit up. “Oh my goodness, look who’s here!” She knelt down, ignoring her bad knees, and pulled a brand-new, boxed Transformer out of her large tote bag. I froze. I’d seen that exact toy in the mall last week. The price tag was seventy-five dollars. Our son, Sam, had begged for one just like it. I’d told him it was too expensive, that we’d have to wait for a sale or maybe Christmas. Martha pressed the toy into Leo’s hands, smiling so wide her eyes crinkled shut. Leo took it, offering a chubby grin, and chirped, “Thanks, Grandma!” I glanced at Sam. He was standing off to the side, staring at the toy Leo was holding. He didn’t say anything. And I didn’t say anything either. Martha never even glanced his way. That night, lying in bed, a small detail clicked into place. Leo called my mother-in-law “Grandma.” When did Sarah teach him to do that? I rolled over, trying to push the thought away. It didn’t mean anything. Toddlers are sweet; they call any nice older woman “Grandma.” But the next afternoon, as I was packing Sam’s water bottle into his backpack, I saw a drawing he’d started in his notebook. He’d drawn a rough, blocky square with pencil. Next to it, he’d printed one word in wobbly, childish letters. “TRANSFORMER.” I stared at that word for five full seconds. Then I shoved the water bottle in and zipped the backpack shut. Sarah texted me later that afternoon: “Hey Chloe, Leo’s preschool needs some paperwork. Something about certifying paternity for legal stuff. Do you know where I can get one of those DNA tests done quickly?” I texted back: “Any Quest Diagnostics or LabCorp can do them. It’s just a couple hundred bucks.” Hours passed before she replied: “Never mind. I’ll figure something else out.” I pushed a bit. “They’re really fast, Sarah. It’s just a cheek swab.” She didn’t reply. I asked her again about it that evening. She finally said: “I don’t want to do it. It’s too much hassle.” What hassle is there in a paternity test? You swab, you wait three days, you get the report. It was the first time I felt Sarah was dodging something. But at the time, I assumed she was dodging the ghost of that college ex. Maybe he had a family now. Maybe she didn’t want him listed on any official documents. I didn’t think much of it. But with those two incidents stacked together, I couldn’t sleep soundly anymore. Martha’s attitude toward Leo. Sarah’s refusal to do a certified test. Was there a connection between those two things? I told myself I was being ridiculous. But that night, I dreamed Leo was sitting in our living room, looking up at Bob and calling him “Daddy.” I snapped awake. Soaked in sweat. 2. I started noticing things I’d never paid attention to before. Like how often Martha came over. It used to be once a month, maybe twice if there was a family birthday. After Leo was born, she started coming over two or three times a week. And every single time, she brought something. Always for Leo. Designer clothes, expensive shoes, organic snacks, top-tier toys. The good stuff. For Sam—nothing. Once I couldn’t help but mention it. “Martha, you know Sam’s birthday is coming up soon, too.” Martha didn’t even look up from the floor where she was building blocks with Leo. “Sam has everything he needs.” “Leo has everything he needs, too.” Martha shot me a look. I’ll never forget that look. It wasn’t anger. It was defensiveness. Like I’d crossed a line I didn’t know existed. She put down the block she was holding and said slowly, “Sarah is raising that boy all on her own. It isn’t easy, Chloe. You’re her best friend; don’t you have any sympathy for her?” I didn’t say anything. She added, “You shouldn’t be so keeping score all the time.” Keeping score. I’ve cooked her son’s dinner for eight years, washed his clothes for eight years, gave birth to and raised her actual grandson. She comes over three times a week, bringing luxury items to someone else’s kid, and I’m the one keeping score for asking a simple question. I put my head down and continued peeling the shrimp for dinner. Bob was off to the side, looking at his phone. He never said a single word. That night, Sam was in his room doing homework, and I was in the kitchen washing dishes. In the living room, Martha was on the sofa, holding Leo and reading him a story. Leo was giggling. I looked out through the glass door of the kitchen. Martha leaned down and kissed Leo’s forehead. She had never kissed Sam. Not once. I turned back around. And kept scrubbing the dishes. I turned the faucet on full blast. I couldn’t hear the laughter from the living room anymore. Sarah came to pick Leo up the next day. As I was helping Leo put his shoes on, I felt his socks. They were incredibly soft, high-end cotton. I checked the ankle cuff. The brand label was still there. I flipped it over. A fourteen-dollar pair of socks. The socks I bought for Sam were ten dollars for a six-pack at Target. I didn’t say anything. I finished putting his shoes on, picked Leo up, and handed him to Sarah. Sarah said, “Thanks so much, Chloe. Sorry to keep imposing on you.” I told her it was fine. After she left, I stood in the doorway, watching her get into a taxi. A taxi. Sarah worked an administrative desk job at a small local company. She made less than forty thousand a year. Single mom, forty thousand a year, fourteen-dollar socks, and taxis. Where was the money coming from? I’d never questioned it before. Because I assumed she was struggling. Raising a kid solo, paying rent, no help. I’d been transferring her $150 every month, telling her it was to “help with groceries.” She always said, “Oh, you don’t have to,” but she always accepted it. But… Someone who can afford fourteen-dollar socks for a toddler doesn’t need $150 a month from me. I stood in the doorway, watching the taxi turn the corner and disappear. The wind picked up. It felt incredibly cold. 3. I started doing a deep dive into Sarah’s Instagram. Her feed was pristine. Occasionally photos of Leo, occasionally reposting parenting articles. But I remembered a post she’d put up a while ago, then deleted. I remembered what was in the photo. Leo was sitting on a high-end leather sofa, with a massive floor-to-ceiling window behind him. Neither the sofa nor the window looked anything like the cramped, one-bedroom apartment she was renting. I’d even commented on it at the time: “Where’s this place? It’s gorgeous.” She’d replied: “A friend’s place.” And the next day, that post was gone. I opened up the Amazon app and searched for the brands Leo was wearing. An eighty-dollar puffy coat. Fifty-dollar sneakers. I scrolled through. Not a single item Leo wore cost less than twenty dollars. A single mom on forty thousand a year. I shut off my phone. The following Saturday was my birthday. I’d mentioned it to Bob the day before: “Hey, my birthday’s tomorrow. Let’s just stay in, I’ll cook us something nice.” He said, “Sure, sounds good.” I also called Martha: “Martha, it’s my birthday tomorrow, come over for dinner.” Martha said, “Okay, noted.” I went grocery shopping early that morning. I came back and made a four-course meal. Braised short ribs, garlic butter shrimp, roasted Brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, and a scratch-made mushroom soup. Sam helped me set the table. “Mommy, when is Grandma coming?” “Soon, sweetie.” I waited until 5:30. I called Martha. No answer. I called Bob. “Where are you?” “My mom said she took Leo to the petting zoo and needed me to come pick them up. I’m on my way there now.” “Leo?” “Sarah had something come up, so she dropped Leo off at my mom’s.” “It’s my birthday today, Bob.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I know. We’ll all eat when I get back.” He hung up. I sat at the dining table. A four-course meal. The fat on the short ribs was already congealing. Everything was cold. Sam sat across from me, poking at a shrimp with his fork. “Mommy, can we just eat?” “Let’s eat.” I scooped some short ribs onto his plate. I didn’t eat. They all got back later that evening. Martha walked in saying, “God, the petting zoo was packed today.” Nobody mentioned my birthday. Bob hung his coat up, put on his slippers, and walked straight into his home office. I went into the kitchen and scraped the mushroom soup down the disposal. I have never cried in that house. I didn’t cry that day, either. I washed the dishes, wiped down the stove, and mopped the floor. Then I went to the bedroom and turned off the lights. Lying in the dark with my eyes open. Thinking about one thing. Where is Sarah’s money coming from? The next day, I made a decision. I waited for the perfect moment when Sarah brought Leo over to play. Leo was on the sofa watching cartoons. I walked over, knelt down, and stroked his hair. “Leo, buddy, let Aunt Chloe get this little white thread off your shirt.” A thread from his shirt. A hair from his head. He didn’t know the difference. I pulled three hairs, making sure to get the root, and slipped them into a small Ziploc bag I’d hidden in my pocket. Sarah was in the kitchen helping me wash fruit. She didn’t know a thing. I clenched my hand around the Ziploc bag. My palm was covered in sweat. 4. I needed a comparison sample. I thought about it for two days. The websites said paternity testing requires samples from both the child and the alleged father. At first, I only wanted to test Sarah’s “college ex”—but I didn’t have his sample. All I had were samples from the Miller line. Bob. If my suspicion was right—if Leo was Bob’s son—then comparing his sample would work. I snagged a few hairs from Bob’s hairbrush. The kind with the root follicle still attached. I mailed them off to the lab. Then came the wait. Those seven days felt like I was walking on cotton. Every day I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, picked Sam up from school, helped him with homework. Everything was normal. But every night, I stared at the ceiling until 2 or 3 in the morning. Beside me, Bob slept soundly. Snoring. On the seventh day, the call from the testing center came. “Your results are ready. You can log in to view the report.” I took a half-day off work. I took the bus home. My hands were cold the whole ride. When I opened the PDF of the report, I sat on a bench in a nearby park for a long time. “Alleged Father 1 (Adult Male hair) vs Child (Toddler hair)—No Paternity relationship exists.” Not Bob. I stared at that line, my mind a complete blank. It wasn’t him. Then whose is it? I thought the worst-case scenario was—my husband and my best friend. I was prepared to be furious, prepared to pack a bag, prepared to leave him with nothing. But now they were telling me it wasn’t him. Whose child is this? I picked up my bag and walked out of the park. Standing in the sunlight. One sentence kept replaying in my head— “A very strong familial link to the Miller line.” The lab tech’s words. “While No Paternity relationship exists with this specific male, the Y-chromosome markers are a near-perfect match, meaning the child’s biological father and your submitted sample share the same paternal lineage.” The same paternal lineage. Not Bob. But a Miller. How many Miller men are there? Bob. Bob’s younger brother, David, who lives in California and comes back once a year for Thanksgiving. Bob’s father. George. No. Impossible. I stood on the street corner for a long time. Then I bought a bus ticket back to my neighborhood. The whole way, I kept thinking: Impossible. George is fifty-eight. He’s the quintessential suburban American grandpa. Retired, loves his backyard grill, watches the game on Sundays. Every time he comes over for dinner, he wears a collared shirt, talks loudly to Bob about politics, and always lectures about “living with integrity.” Martha always says, “The best thing about your father is how grounded he is.” Grounded. Suddenly, I remembered something. About a year after Leo was born, I stopped by Sarah’s apartment to drop off some chicken soup. The door wasn’t quite shut. I pushed it open and saw George sitting on her sofa. He was holding a bag of groceries. He saw me, stood up, and offered a calm smile. “Bob asked me to drop some things off for Sarah. Said she’s got a lot on her plate.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. A father-in-law dropping groceries off for his daughter-in-law’s best friend. What was weird about that? But now replaying it— Bob asked him to? I got home and called Bob. “Hey, you remember when your dad used to drop groceries off at Sarah’s? Did you ask him to do that?” There was a pause on the other end. “What? No, I never asked him that. He went on his own? I didn’t know that.” He went on his own. He didn’t know. I hung up the phone. It almost slipped from my sweaty palm.

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My sister was dating a young heir from a wealthy family, but they were cruelly broken up by his older brother. His snobbish older brother looked down on people, calling my sister a gold-digging green tea bitch. I was so furious I created a burner account, intending to let him taste what it’s like to love someone he can’t have. We dated online for half a year. The old-fashioned prude, calling me “baby” left and right, proposed we meet in person. I gave a cold laugh, blocked him, and ran. I thought our paths would never cross again in this lifetime. But after all the twists and turns, my sister and the young heir actually got married. At the wedding banquet, upon hearing a familiar voice, I didn’t even dare to raise my head. Yet I saw my sister and brother-in-law go over and call that man “Uncle.” Uncle? I was so shocked I dropped my chopsticks. 1 As I bent down to pick up my chopsticks, the tablecloth hid my shocked expression. How could it be the uncle? This voice clearly belonged to Arthur Sterling, the older brother of my brother-in-law, Liam Sterling—the one I had been online dating for half a year. Half a year ago, my sister and Liam were dating and went to meet the parents, only to be cruelly broken up by Arthur. This obsessive older brother insisted my sister wasn’t good enough for Liam. He even called her a gold-digging green tea bitch, saying she was only with Liam for his money. My sister came back crying her eyes out and broke up with Liam. When I found out, I was furious. I felt this couldn’t just slide. Arthur Sterling, right? You obsessive bro-con, how dare you insult my sister and make her cry? Just watch how I deal with you. I registered a burner account pretending to sell tea, added Arthur’s contact info, and checked in on him warmly every day, stringing him along until he was totally hooked. Arthur seemed like a pure, old-fashioned prude. He was extremely hard to flirt with at first, but eventually, he fell for me, calling me “baby” with every other breath. Until recently, when he proposed we meet up. Acting very insecure, I said my circumstances were poor and I wasn’t good enough for him. Arthur said he didn’t care about any of that; he just liked me for me. Wow, typical Arthur Sterling. When it comes to himself, “just liking her” is enough, but when it came to Liam, he insisted my sister had to be a perfect social match. If this isn’t a double standard, what is? He was clearly targeting my sister. I was so angry I humiliated him thoroughly, blocked him, and disappeared. I thought that after toying with Arthur and making him suffer, the matter would be settled. Who knew that after all the twists and turns, Liam and my sister would still get married. I came to attend the wedding banquet, sitting at the main table for the bride’s family. Right next to us was the Sterling family’s table. From the moment I sat down, I didn’t dare raise my head or even sneak a glance. I also used a sore throat from a cold as an excuse to play mute the whole time. I had sent Arthur photos, but they were heavily Photoshopped—smaller face, bigger eyes, higher nose bridge. As long as I didn’t speak, comparing me to that heavily edited photo that even my sister wouldn’t recognize, he absolutely wouldn’t be able to tell it was me. Trembling with fear, the wedding proceeded to the second half, and the newlyweds came to toast each table. “Wishing you a hundred years of happiness.” Hearing that familiar voice, I practically buried my head in my bowl. But my sister and Liam both called him Uncle! No, no, something must be wrong. Maybe I misheard? After sitting back down, I sneaked a glance next to me, only seeing the man’s back. He was in a suit, his attire exceptionally luxurious, his back broad and straight. It was just that a dense aura of low pressure surrounded him. After the newlyweds toasted and left, an elder at the table teased him. “Your little nephew is married. When do you, as an uncle, plan to get married?” “Don’t mention it, Second Brother.” A young man next to him, who seemed to be his friend, said sympathetically: “Old White was finally blooming, but it turned out the other party was a female scammer selling tea. She blocked him and ran. He’s still fuming about it even now…” “Harrison.” The owner of the voice was somewhat displeased, seemingly reminding him to stop. What White? I quickly turned my head, breaking into a cold sweat. This person… really doesn’t seem to be Arthur. In the evening was the family dinner with the Sterling family. My sister introduced the Sterling family members to me beforehand using photos. My inner despair finally reached its peak. I’m doomed. I really flirted with the wrong guy! 2 During our half year of online dating, “Arthur” sent me countless spicy photos and left countless voice messages with me. In the later stages, he became super clingy, wanting to be on a voice call even while sleeping. I would recognize that voice even if I were a ghost. Seeing the time was ripe, I told him I had a change of heart and had a new boyfriend who was much better than him. I called him old, saying he probably smelled like an old man. I called him ugly, which is why he didn’t show his full face. I also said his body looked like it was pumped full of protein powder. And! I even said he was small… Only after a refreshing round of insults did I block him and run. The more I thought about it, the paler my face became. I am completely doomed. Not only did I fail to get revenge, but I also brought massive trouble upon myself and my sister. My sister had said the Sterling family is a powerful dynasty. The old patriarch has three children, and the most favored one is undoubtedly his youngest son, Julian Sterling. He is the current CEO of the Sterling family enterprise, Sterling Corp, and holds a pivotal position in the entire Sterling family. If he found out I toyed with him like this, my sister’s life in the Sterling family would definitely become difficult! I paced around anxiously but couldn’t tell my sister. I had done this behind her back. Besides, it wouldn’t help even if she knew; she might even give the game away. After our parents died, my sister and I relied on each other in the orphanage. It wasn’t that there weren’t families wanting to adopt us separately, but my sister and I refused to be parted, so we both stayed behind. My sister had always been very good to me. Now that she had become a university lecturer and married into such a good family, there absolutely couldn’t be any problems because of me. Julian Sterling absolutely must not discover that I am that person. At the family dinner, I finally saw Julian’s full appearance. One word: handsome. Two words: incredibly handsome. I actually played with such a handsome man and even turned us into enemies. I just hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. I played the role of a good, quiet, mute girl. Julian’s cold gaze swept over me for a second and then withdrew. He didn’t recognize me. I breathed a sigh of relief, sat down safely, and didn’t dare look up again. Because I was the only relative from the bride’s side, Liam’s family was quite attentive to me. Learning I was still a senior in college, Liam’s mother asked: “Have you found an internship company yet? How about coming to our Sterling Corp?” Sterling Corp? Isn’t that the company where Julian is the CEO? No, no! But Liam’s mother was looking at me with such burning intensity, it was hard to signal my sister with my eyes. I opened my mouth, almost forgetting my “lost voice” persona. “That sounds great.” My sister agreed readily, smiling brightly: “Thank you, Mom.” NO! How is this any different from delivering myself right to his doorstep! At the table, Sterling Corp CEO Julian just watched and tacitly agreed. As the family dinner dispersed, I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, resolving to visit the Sterling family as little as possible, whether I had a reason to or not. Before leaving, my sister pulled me aside seriously. “You’ve been acting weird today. What exactly is going on?” I continued playing mute, waving my hands and typing that I was just sick and feeling unwell. My sister sighed in relief and told me to hurry back and rest. I finally managed to bluff my way through and return to my dorm. But the tricky part was that my sister had actually gotten me an internship spot at Sterling Corp. Sterling Corp is an industry leader; having an internship there would undoubtedly add a brilliant stroke to my resume. If it weren’t for the Julian situation, I would have definitely gone without hesitation. But what if Julian recognized me… I agonized for several days before making up my mind. It’s just a three-month internship. Sterling Corp is so huge. How could a lowly intern possibly run into the CEO? I just need to survive for three months and then quietly slip away. 3 Having connections in high places makes things easy; I quickly blended in. At first, I was on edge for a few days. But later, exactly as I had thought, a lowly intern only had to complete the tasks assigned by their mentor. The highest-ranking superior I usually saw was just a department manager. Let alone the CEO, I couldn’t even see the General Manager. I felt relieved. However, surviving in an industry-leading company wasn’t that easy. Within a few days of joining, the workload was outrageously heavy. Proposals submitted were constantly sent back, the department head got scolded, and consequently, the working atmosphere was extremely tense. While eating in the cafeteria, my lunch buddy gossiped with me in a low voice. “Do you know why things have been so tough these past few days?” He was an intern from the same batch as me. “Why?” I was very curious. “Because…” My lunch buddy glanced around and lowered his voice to the absolute minimum. “The CEO went through a breakup.” My spoon dropped onto my plate. I gave an awkward chuckle: “Really?” “I heard it was an online romance too, and he ran into a scammer.” I lowered my head to sip my soup, hiding my expression. “Where did you hear that from?” “The CEO asked his special assistant to investigate an account. Word spreads fast, from one to ten, ten to a hundred. Everyone knows now.” My lunch buddy was thoroughly puzzled: “With his net worth, what kind of woman couldn’t he get? To think he’d actually date online. Online dating is one thing, but getting scammed… If the other party knew who he was, they’d probably regret it until their intestines turned green.” They’d definitely regret it until their intestines turned green! It’s all because I wasn’t careful when asking for contact info. Instead of finding Arthur, I actually hooked such a big fish. I asked carefully: “Did the special assistant say what the CEO plans to do if he finds the person?” “Call the police, for sure! That tea-selling woman must have fleeced a lot of money from the CEO. Add up the total amount, and it’s probably enough for a severe sentence.” Total nonsense! When I initially approached Julian, my motives were indeed impure. I put on the guise of selling tea, harassing him every day asking if he wanted to buy some. It just so happened a friend’s family sold tea. Who knew he would actually buy it, and at ten times the price, insisting I accept the money. Other than that, any other money he gave me, I returned when we broke up. I told him I found a new boyfriend who was super possessive and wouldn’t let me spend other men’s money. Even though the Sterling family is rich, I was really afraid Arthur might get cheap and sue me to return the money, causing unnecessary trouble. Anyway, as long as the goal of breaking his heart was achieved, that was enough. Thankfully, that account is deleted now. Julian shouldn’t be able to trace it. As long as I survive these three months… “Chloe, go deliver this document to the CEO’s office.” I took the document from the senior colleague in my department, wanting to cry but having no tears. Why is there another hurdle! Riding the elevator up to the top floor, I secretly hyped myself up. It’s just delivering a document, how hard can it be? I’ll just keep playing mute. I fearfully went up to the top floor, only to find the office empty. Julian wasn’t there. A secretary from the CEO’s office asked me which department I was from. Since he wasn’t there, there was no need for me to play mute. I answered obediently, the other party noted it down, and it was fine. After a few times like this, I relaxed. Once again taking a document up to the top floor, I had just greeted the people in the secretary’s office when a familiar voice came from the inner office. “Let her come in.” Me: “…” My heart leaped to my throat again. Looking death in the eye, I walked into the office and handed the document onto the desk. Julian reached out a hand with prominent knuckles to take it, then lowered his eyes and began to flip through it, saying nothing for a long while. As time ticked by, I calmed down a bit and boldy looked up, only to meet Julian’s raised, phoenix-like eyes. I quickly lowered my head again. After a suffocating silence, Julian spoke, asking me: “How have you been doing in the company lately?” I had just spoken to the people in the secretary’s office outside, so I couldn’t play mute anymore! Squeezing my voice, I replied softly: “Pretty good.” I glanced up at him and added a title: “Mr. Sterling.” “Good?” Julian seemed not to hear anything unusual and gave a cold laugh: “They send you to deliver documents, clearly knowing the relationship between you and me, and you call this good?” What relationship? Don’t spout nonsense! I was so anxious I even forgot to squeeze my voice: “What relationship do we have…” Before I finished, looking at his inexplicable expression, I realized he was talking about his relationship with my sister. “Hehe.” I caught on, “I didn’t tell them anything…” It’s rare for me to be someone with “connections,” yet I feel so guilty about it. I wish no one knew. But it turns out they had me deliver documents because they knew I had connections and was here to act as a shield against getting scolded. Julian frowned slightly, sizing me up for a long while, and said: “Call your manager up.” I felt like I had received a royal pardon and fled at top speed. I don’t know what Julian said to the manager, but no one ever asked me to go up and deliver documents again. Another hurdle passed! 4 On my last shift before the holiday, I was mentally planning what to eat for dinner as I pressed the elevator button. With a ding, the elevator arrived. I looked up and ran straight into Julian, dressed in a suit. Wait, what?? Why isn’t he taking the executive elevator? What is he doing taking the employee elevator? Julian, inside the elevator, stared at me intently and asked, “Are you coming in?” I braced myself and stepped inside. The elevator doors slowly closed and continued downwards. The person beside me was tall, making the already cramped space feel even smaller. A pleasant, fresh scent filled my nose; it seemed to be his natural scent. Those scandalous photos he had sent me in the past were awakened from the depths of my memory. At first, it was just hands and arms. Later, it was pecs and abs draped with various accessories. And then later… Recalling the scenery I saw then, and his words: “Satisfied with what you see?” My face grew redder the more I thought about it, and I felt like there wouldn’t be enough oxygen in this narrow space. Why is this elevator so slow? I looked up at the flashing red numbers. “Chloe.” “Hmm?” I instinctively responded, turning my head to meet Julian’s inquiring gaze. He half-narrowed his eyes. “You seem… very afraid of me?” 5 “I…” I tried hard to stay calm: “You are the boss, and an elder. I… respect you.” Beside me, Julian said flatly: “Then don’t look like you’ve done something to feel guilty about.” “We haven’t met before this, right?” Hearing these words, my back heated up, and I felt like my hairs were standing on end. “No, no we haven’t.” “Oh.” Julian responded casually, his expression normal, as if it were just an offhand question. With a ding, the elevator stopped at a certain floor, and a huge crowd of people flooded in. Good news: I finally didn’t have to face Julian alone. Bad news: I was squeezed into the furthest corner, forced to stand right against Julian. Heavens above, why must you torture me like this? Once again, I cursed the person who gave me the wrong contact information countless times. After a long torment, the elevator finally reached the first floor. “Goodbye, Mr. Sterling.” The people in front cleared out, and I was preparing to slip away. I had only taken two steps when a stinging pain in my scalp pulled me back. I came back to my senses and realized my hair had actually gotten tangled in Julian’s suit button! Just destroy me! My face was stiff. I felt like nothing could possibly hit me harder now. Outwardly calm, I stepped forward to rescue my hair from his button. Fortunately, it was just an accidental snag, not severely tangled. A gaze that couldn’t be ignored swept over me. Feeling it, I looked up. Julian’s eyes were slightly lowered, his cold gaze resting quietly on my collarbone. During my movements just now, my collar had become slightly disheveled, revealing a bit of my collarbone. There, rested a tiny red mole. The one from the photos I had sent him.

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I helped my husband pay his credit card bill. When I logged into his banking app, I discovered that his salary account balance was over four million dollars. I looked at it three times. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. We’ve been married for three years, and he told me his monthly salary was five thousand. We split every meal 50/50, every bill calculated down to the cent. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a $399 coat. I stared at that string of numbers, my fingers turning ice-cold. Arthur, who exactly are you? 1. It was a Wednesday. Arthur was going on a business trip, and before he left, he asked me to help him pay his credit card. “You know the password. Send me a screenshot when you’re done.” He sent a message on WhatsApp, complete with a kissing emoji. I said okay. We’ve been married for three years, and we’ve always split everything 50/50. He said his monthly salary was five thousand; mine was eight thousand. Rent was four thousand: he paid two thousand, and I paid two thousand. Utilities and HOA fees, split down the middle. Meals, split down the middle. He said, “It’s not easy for either of us; splitting it 50/50 is the fairest.” I thought that made sense. Even though my salary was higher than his, splitting it was indeed fair. So, for three years, I lived very frugally. I ate at the school cafeteria for lunch, twelve bucks a meal. I bought all my clothes online. If it was over two hundred dollars, I had to think about it for three days. Last month, I had my eye on a coat, $399. I tried it on three times but didn’t buy it. I told myself to wait, wait for the Black Friday sales to buy it. Arthur found out and said, “If you like it, just buy it.” I said, “Forget it, it’s not a necessity.” He smiled. “You really know how to manage a household.” At the time, I felt that although money was tight, it was nice for two people to strive together. Until that day, when I opened his banking app. He had given me his password. A long time ago, he asked me to pay his phone bill once. Back then, I just paid the bill and logged out. This time, after helping him pay his credit card, I was getting ready to take a screenshot. While taking the screenshot, my finger slipped. It swiped to the “My Account” page. A number popped up on the screen. $4,171,283.67. I thought I had read it wrong. I closed it and opened it again. $4,171,283.67. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. I held my phone, sitting on the sofa, motionless. Someone was honking their horn outside the window. A kid was crying downstairs. I couldn’t hear a thing. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. He said his monthly salary was five thousand. We had split everything 50/50 for three years. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a coat. 2. Before we got married, Arthur told me he worked in sales at a small company. “Base salary is three thousand, plus commissions, it’s about five thousand.” He dressed very ordinarily, H&M, Zara. He drove a used Toyota with scratched paint. I never suspected a thing. I’m an elementary school teacher, making eight thousand a month. In this city, thirteen thousand between the two of us isn’t a lot, but we could get by. When he suggested splitting things 50/50, I thought it was reasonable. “I earn less, but I don’t want you to support me. Splitting it 50/50 is about respect.” Those words warmed my heart. My mom said, “Although this young man doesn’t earn much, he has good character and knows how to respect you.” So, I married him. Life after marriage could be summed up in one word: frugal. We never ate out at restaurants. I cooked, and we split the grocery bill. I used an expense-tracking app, recording every single transaction clearly. “Today’s groceries were 23.50. You pay 11.75, and I pay 11.75.” He’d say, “I’ll round it up and give you 12.” I’d laugh, “Okay, Mr. Generous.” Back then, I felt this kind of penny-pinching was actually quite sweet. For my birthday, he sent me a $520 red envelope on WeChat. “It’s the thought that counts.” I accepted it, thinking it was nice. For his birthday, I bought him an $899 pair of headphones. He said, “Why did you buy something so expensive?” But his eyes were smiling as he said it. I didn’t think anything was wrong. Until last winter. My cold turned into pneumonia, and I was hospitalized for a week. The medical bills were over six thousand dollars. I asked him if he could cover it for me first, as I hadn’t been paid yet. He thought for a moment. “How much will insurance cover?” “Probably about half.” “Then you use your insurance first, and we’ll figure out the rest later.” I said okay. The day I was discharged, he did the math for me. “Insurance covered 3200, leaving 3400. You pay 1700, and I pay 1700. Fair, right?” I said it was fair. I was still coughing that day. He took me home and bought a box of pears. “Drink plenty of water, get well soon.” I felt he treated me well. Really. He was just poor. Poor people budgeting carefully, there’s no shame in that. That was my thought back then. Laughable? Laughable. My mom was diagnosed with diabetes last year. She needs long-term medication, which costs about eight hundred a month. I told Arthur about this. “I want to send my mom a thousand dollars every month.” He fell silent for a while. “You can, but this is your family’s business. It comes out of your portion.” I said okay. From then on, my monthly disposable income was even less. I switched from eating lunch at the cafeteria to bringing my own meals. I’d cook a little extra the night before and take it to school the next day. Colleagues asked me, “Why are you always bringing your lunch?” I smiled, “It’s healthy.” After Arthur found out about me sending money to my mom, he said something. “Don’t give too much either. Your mom still has your dad.” I said, “My dad’s pension is only two thousand.” He said, “Then do what you can afford.” Do what you can afford. Those five words, I thought they were well-intentioned at the time. Thinking back now, it’s a joke. A man making fifty thousand a month telling his wife, who makes eight thousand, to “do what she can afford.” But that night, I didn’t fly into a rage. I was very calm. Terrifyingly calm. I took a screenshot of that balance. Then I exited the app. Then I sent Arthur the screenshot of the credit card payment. “Done.” He replied, “Thanks, honey.” With a heart emoji. I looked at that heart. I put down my phone. I went to the kitchen and washed the dishes. Then I sat in the living room and started thinking. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary was five thousand, his savings over three years would be eighteen thousand at most. Even living as frugally as possible, twenty thousand tops. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. This wasn’t saved up. This was another level of income altogether. I needed to know more. But I couldn’t let him find out. I couldn’t. 3. The next day, I took half a day off. Not to go to school. To see Chloe. Chloe was my college roommate, now a lawyer. Specializing in family law. We met at the coffee shop downstairs from her law firm. I showed her the screenshot. She took one look. “Over four million?” “Yes.” “And he said his monthly salary was five thousand?” “Yes.” Chloe put down her coffee cup. “What do you suspect?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I just feel something isn’t right.” “Do you know where he works?” “Yes. A company called ‘Apex.’ He said he does building materials sales.” Chloe took out her phone and did a search. “Apex Industries?” “Probably.” She scrolled through a few pages. “This company had a revenue of 1.2 billion last year and is preparing to go public.” I was stunned. “1.2 billion?” “What does your husband do at this company?” “He said… sales.” Chloe looked at me. “A sales guy making five thousand a month at a company with 1.2 billion in revenue?” She didn’t finish her sentence. I understood. Chloe helped me organize my thoughts. “Don’t alert him just yet. You need to do three things now.” “First, confirm his real income. Check his bank statements. You have his password?” “Yes.” “Second, confirm where this money is going. Four million is the balance. How much comes in, how much goes out, and where is it all going.” “Third, confirm if he’s having an affair.” I looked at her. “You think he is?” Chloe didn’t answer directly. “A balance of four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary is fifty thousand, that’s eighteen million over three years. Minus the four million, where did the other fourteen million go?” Fourteen million. That number hit me like a ton of bricks. “It could be investments, it could be real estate, it could be something else,” Chloe said. “But keeping it a secret from you is not a good sign.” I nodded. “Find out the truth,” she said. “Find out the truth before you decide what to do.” She looked at me. “Don’t cry, don’t make a scene.” “Find out the truth, and then deal with it as you must.” I said okay. That night, Arthur still hadn’t returned from his business trip. I sat alone in the living room and opened his banking app. This time, I didn’t rush. I looked at every single transaction. Salary account, monthly deposits. Not five thousand. It was four hundred and eighty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-one dollars. Every single month. A fixed date, the 15th. Source: Apex Industries LLC. I scrolled down. Expenses. Transaction by transaction. There was one transfer, a fixed monthly amount. $15,000. Memo: Mortgage. Mortgage. We rent our apartment. What mortgage? I took a screenshot. I kept scrolling. Another transfer, varying amounts. Three thousand, five thousand, eight thousand, twenty thousand. Same payee. Different memos. “Buy whatever my baby wants.” “Bought this for you, don’t be frugal.” “Happy Black Friday.” I stared at the word “baby.” My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t break. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. Freezing me to the bone. So cold it actually stopped hurting. I kept scrolling. I found a massive transfer. Three million, two hundred thousand. Exactly three million, two hundred thousand. It happened a year and a half ago. The memo had only two words: “Down payment.” A 3.2 million down payment. While I was gnawing on discounted bread in our rental. He was buying a house for someone else. I finished looking through all the statements. Closed the app. Stood up and went to the bathroom. Splashed water on my face. The person in the mirror had red eyes, but no tears had fallen. I looked at myself in the mirror. “Arthur,” I said softly. “You’re finished.” 4. For the next two weeks, I didn’t show a single sign. I cooked when I was supposed to cook, split bills when I was supposed to split bills. When Arthur came back from his business trip, I poured him water as usual. “Rough trip?” “It was alright.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Miss me?” “I missed you.” I said, smiling. Smiling very naturally. He didn’t notice anything unusual. But during those two weeks, I did a lot of things. First thing: Confirm who the payee was. Chloe helped me look into it. The payee’s name was Mia Miller. Female, 28 years old. When I saw that name, my hands stopped. Mia Miller. I knew her. Arthur’s “cousin.” She had been to our house. Eaten the food I cooked. Called me “sister-in-law.” Last Thanksgiving, she came to our house for dinner. I made a big feast. Arthur said she was his aunt’s daughter, fresh to the city and didn’t know anyone. “Take good care of her,” he said. I said okay. That day, Mia wore a white dress. She looked very pretty. I even complimented her. “Mia, you look so pretty.” She smiled and said, “Sister-in-law, your cooking is amazing.” When she left, she gave me a hug. “Sister-in-law, thank you.” I patted her back. “We’re all family.” We’re all family. I checked Arthur’s contacts. There was no “Mia Miller.” But there was a contact named “Baby.” I checked his iMessage chat history. His phone was passcode-protected, but I knew it. Our wedding anniversary. Ironic, isn’t it? I opened “Baby’s” chat. I saw photos. Photos of that house. Fully furnished. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight pouring in, a massive living room. Mia stood in the middle of the living room, throwing a peace sign. Arthur sent a message: “Do you like it?” Mia replied: “I love it! Hubby is the best!” Hubby. She called him hubby too. I scrolled down. Arthur: “The deed is here, it has your name on it.” Mia sent a string of kissing emojis. “Hubby, I want to have a baby with you.” Arthur: “Okay.” I took screenshots of the chat history. Page by page, I captured it all. Then I exited. Cleared the login traces. Put the phone back exactly where it was. Arthur was sleeping soundly in the bedroom. I walked out to the balcony. The night wind was biting cold. I stood there for a long time. Then I went back to the bedroom and lay down beside him. Closed my eyes. And didn’t sleep a wink all night. 5. After Chloe finished looking at the screenshots I sent her, she was silent for a long time. “Are you okay?” “Just tell me what to do.” She nodded. “First, the house was purchased after you were married, and the down payment came from his salary. His salary is considered joint marital property.” “So that house—” “Even though it’s under Mia’s name, the down payment originated from joint marital property. You can claim this is a transfer of marital assets.” “Can we get it back?” “Yes. And the courts penalize this kind of behavior heavily. When dividing the assets, the party at fault gets less or nothing.” I listened. “Also,” Chloe said, “you said his company is preparing to go public?” “Yes.” “During the IPO process, if an executive has a major undisclosed personal dispute, it could constitute a disclosure violation.” “What does that mean?” “It means—if he is an executive at the company, his divorce litigation and asset dispute could impact the company’s IPO process.” Chloe looked at me. “This is your leverage.” “He won’t want the company to know about this.” I thought for a moment. “Can you help me find out his position at the company?” Chloe gave me the answer the next day. Arthur Vance. Vice President of Apex Industries. In charge of Marketing. Not sales. Vice President. That Friday, Arthur came home very late. I didn’t ask him where he had been. I had cooked dinner, and his portion was keeping warm in the oven. He came back, ate, and said, “We had a company meeting today, I’m exhausted.” “You’ve been working hard.” “Oh, by the way,” he suddenly said, “my mom wants to take us out for dinner next Saturday. A family gathering.” “Okay.” He looked at me and smiled. “Your cooking is better than my mom’s.” I smiled too. “Then I’ll go help out when the time comes.” “No, no, you’re a guest when you go.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You’re the best, honey.” I didn’t pull away. I even returned the smile. Because I had already made up my mind. Next Saturday, that family gathering. That would be the day I cast the net. Over the weekend, I went to see Chloe. This time it was official. “Help me prepare three things.” “First, an application for asset preservation.” Chloe nodded. “Second, a divorce petition.” “Okay.” “Third—” I looked at her. “Help me run a background check on Mia Miller.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to know?” “Everything. Her job, her background, and… exactly when she and Arthur started seeing each other.” Three days later, Chloe placed a file in front of me. “You might need to mentally prepare yourself.” I opened it. Mia Miller is not Arthur’s cousin. No familial relation was found. Her registered address isn’t even in the same state as Arthur’s hometown. “Cousin.” It was a lie from beginning to end. I kept reading. The first transfer record between Mia and Arthur—wasn’t two years ago. It was four years ago. The year before we got married. In other words, he knew her before he knew me. While he was dating me, marrying me, splitting bills 50/50 with me—she was there the entire time. I wasn’t a betrayed wife. I was a pre-arranged transitional placeholder. The last page of the file. Mia Miller opened a prenatal care file at the city maternity hospital three months ago. Pregnant. Due date: six months from now. I closed the file. “There’s one more thing you need to see.” Chloe handed me her phone. It was a chat screenshot. A message Arthur sent to a friend. “Once Mia’s baby is born, I’ll bring up divorce with Elena. I’ll give her what’s due, but the house and main assets have been dealt with in advance, so she won’t get much.” The friend replied: “Then why didn’t you divorce her earlier?” Arthur sent a voice memo. Chloe hit play. Arthur’s voice, very relaxed. “It’s not worth divorcing now. The company is pushing for an IPO at the end of the year; an executive getting divorced looks bad. We’ll wait until the IPO is done and the equity is in hand, then divorce. The timing is perfect.” “What about your wife?” “Her?” Arthur laughed. “Give her a few hundred thousand to get rid of her. She’s an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen? Give her two or three hundred thousand and she’ll be thanking her lucky stars.” The voice memo ended there. It stopped. Chloe looked at me. I was expressionless. For a long time. “Give her a few hundred thousand to get rid of her.” I repeated. “She’s an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen.” I laughed. “Chloe.” “Yeah.” “When can we file the asset preservation?” “Anytime.” “Then do it now.” 6. For the next few days, I acted as if nothing had happened. Cooked. Went to work. Split bills 50/50. Every day Arthur came home, I’d bring him water or tea. When he went on business trips, I packed his bags. “Honey, you’ve been in a pretty good mood lately?” “Am I?” “Yeah, feels like you’re smiling more than before.” I looked at him. “Maybe it’s because the weather is nice.” He didn’t think much of it. He wouldn’t think much of it. Because in his eyes, I was that woman who “is an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen.” Easy to bully. Easy to fool. Easy to get rid of. What he didn’t know was— The asset preservation application had already been submitted to the court. The real estate under his name, the property he transferred to Mia’s name, were all under the court’s purview. What he didn’t know was— I had already obtained three years of his complete bank statements. Every single dollar transferred to Mia, every single thing bought for her, was all printed out. A thick stack. What he didn’t know was— The lawyer’s letter had been written. The divorce petition had been written. Everything was ready. Just waiting for that family gathering. Before Saturday, I did one last thing. I called my mom. “Mom, Arthur’s family is having a gathering this Saturday. You and Dad come too.” “Huh? Go to his house? What’s going on?” “Nothing major, just a get-together. You come, I have something to say.” My mom probably caught something off in my tone. “Elena, are you okay?” “I’m fine. You’ll know when you get here.” “Did you and Arthur have a fight?” “No.” I paused. “Mom, bring your IDs when you come.” “Why bring our IDs?” “You’ll know when you get here.” I hung up the phone. I sat in the living room of our rented apartment. That $399 coat, I finally ordered it. I’m going to wear it next Saturday.

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With only three days left before the tumor completely compressed my cranial nerves, my own brother gave the only miracle drug that could save my life to someone else. In front of the interview cameras, my brother spoke eloquently, tears of excitement welling in his eyes. “As a doctor, it is my honor to be able to help her.” “Especially since my patient is a twenty-year-old supermarket cashier. It truly breaks my heart.” The reporter couldn’t help but ask, “But it’s said that according to the waitlist, this miracle drug was originally supposed to be for your sister…” My brother cut her off sharply. “What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? Chloe has lived a life of privilege since childhood; she’s never experienced the hardship of working as a supermarket cashier. What’s wrong with making her wait a little?” “Furthermore, as the family member of a medical professional, she has understood since she was young the principle of sacrificing for the greater good.” In the intensive care unit, I stared expressionlessly at my brother’s exclusive interview on the TV. I watched that cashier crying and thanking my brother, watched my brother acknowledge her as his god-sister, watched their deep bond… Suddenly, I felt that dying wouldn’t be so bad. The doctor pushed the door open to remind me that before transferring to hospice care, I could make one last phone call to my family. After hesitating for a long time, I still dialed my brother’s number. But before I could even speak, his impatient voice came through. “Chloe, I’m very busy. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.” “As the family of a doctor, can’t you be a little more understanding?” … The call was ruthlessly disconnected. My attending physician stood next to me, unable to hide the pity in his eyes. I forced a bitter smile and took the paperwork from his hands. “Never mind. I’ll handle the paperwork for the hospice transfer myself.” The nurse’s aide standing nearby couldn’t help but turn her head away, her eyes red, muttering softly, “I’ve been taking care of patients for so many years, but this is the first time I’ve seen a family member actively hang up on someone about to enter hospice.” I didn’t say anything, just felt that letting me pass away quietly and alone would be fine. But this quiet didn’t last long before it was shattered by a commotion in the hallway. Several production crew members carrying cameras, along with a group of reporters, unexpectedly barged into my hospital room. The harsh glare of the camera lights forced me to squeeze my eyes shut. “Ms. Davis, what are your thoughts on your brother giving the miracle drug to the cashier?” “Do you feel your brother is playing favorites and ignoring whether you live or die?” “There are rumors that you aren’t actually that sick, and that you’re intentionally putting on a sob story to compete for your brother’s attention. Is this true?” A barrage of sharp questions hit me like a dense swarm of needles piercing my chest. Before I could speak, my doctor lost his temper and loudly questioned the reporters in front of him. “Not that sick? Open your eyes and take a good look at the tubes sticking out of her! Her brain tumor has almost completely compressed her cranial nerves. She currently relies on life support just to breathe and can’t even turn over on her own. You call this ‘not that sick’?” “Competing for attention? Competing for attention to the point of planning her own funeral?” The nurse’s aide couldn’t stand it either. She reached out to shield me from the intrusive lenses, cursing under her breath. I struggled to lift my head, shooting them a grateful look. A wave of sourness surged in my heart. These strangers, whom I’ve only known for two months, could empathize with my current situation, while my own brother blindly believed I was just being unreasonable. Brother, I didn’t lie to you. I’m really going to die. To end this farce as quickly as possible, I leaned against the headboard and spoke calmly. “According to hospital policy, I was next in line for the miracle drug. If you don’t believe me, go check it yourselves. I have nothing more to say.” As my voice fell, a flurry of camera shutters clicked before me, the flashes blinding me. Under the high-definition lenses, the reporters scrutinized every micro-expression, trying to find even a hint of anger on my face. But I was incredibly calm; my expression didn’t ripple in the slightest. Some reporters were getting impatient and were about to speak again when my brother’s voice came from outside the room. “Chloe, what nonsense are you spouting to the media again? Why are you so unreasonable?” Before I could understand what was going on, my brother shoved his phone directly in my face. The internet was tearing him apart. [Leaving his own sister to die to save a cashier? Is her brother trying to be some kind of saint?!] [Look, even the attending physician and the nurse’s aide couldn’t stand it! Her own brother is worse than strangers!] It turned out that the doctor and the nurse’s aide’s defense of me had been broadcasted live, sparking a public outcry online. That cashier, Mia Smith, even fell to her knees before me, crying and slapping herself. “Ms. Davis, please don’t slander your brother online. It’s all my fault! I don’t have money; I shouldn’t have used this drug. I deserve to die! Hit me, curse at me…” Facing the cameras, Mia cried her eyes out. In just a few words, she twisted a medical incident that disregarded a patient’s life into a class-warfare drama of the rich bullying the poor. The irony was, from beginning to end, I hadn’t said a single word against her. My brother finally lost his patience. He pulled Mia up, shielded her behind him, and yelled at me self-righteously. “Chloe, you truly disappoint me. The next batch of the miracle drug arrives in thirty days. You can use it then. Is that acceptable to you?” Thirty days? But I wouldn’t live to see thirty days. I looked up at him, suddenly feeling exhausted by talking to him. I didn’t want to explain anymore, didn’t want to argue, and didn’t even want to care who was right or wrong. I let out a breath: “Forget it. There’s no need.” “Suit yourself! Who do you think you’re showing that sour face to all day!” Throwing down those words, my brother didn’t spare me another glance. Even as a doctor himself, he didn’t take the initiative to ask about my condition. He just grabbed Mia and stormed off. “Mia just finished taking the miracle drug and still needs a series of rehabilitation treatments. I’m going to accompany her first.” “You’re the older sister; you need to be more understanding and yield to your younger sister. I’ll come see you in a few days.” The moment the hospital room door closed, my attending physician sighed heavily. “Ms. Davis, your brother is really too…” He didn’t finish, but I knew he was feeling indignant on my behalf. After those reporters left, the nurses passing by with medication trays couldn’t help but complain. “You haven’t bothered anyone since you were admitted. Isn’t that understanding enough? Why does he only have eyes for that god-sister…” The nurse’s aide took the tray from the nurse, her words full of sympathy for me. “A colleague at the billing department just told me that Dr. Davis booked the best rehabilitation package for that cashier sister of his. The money spent on her rehab alone is countless times higher than the cost of his own sister’s intensive care unit. He must have been kicked in the head by a donkey.” “Sigh, our poor Chloe, to encounter something like this at the very end…” My eyelashes fluttered, and an indescribable sense of being moved welled up inside me. These strangers, who had only interacted with me for two months, could empathize with my suffering, while my own brother had shown nothing but coldness from the start. I sighed. Forget it. In the final days of my life, I lacked the energy to care anymore. That afternoon, after finishing the paperwork to transfer to the hospice ward, I forced my weak body, supported by the nurse’s aide, to go to the hospital’s billing window to pay. But when I swiped my card, the screen suddenly popped up a “Transaction Restricted” prompt. The next second, my brother called. “Chloe, are you wasting money again?” He roared, his voice carrying undisguised moral condemnation. “Do you know how many patients this money could help? Do you know how many delivery orders Mia has to run to earn what you spend in a day?” “To prevent you from wasting money, I’ve canceled your card! Chloe, you disappoint me too much!” When he finished venting, I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “Arthur, I really need to change rooms. I’m about to…” “Enough. There are so many patients in the hospital, why do you have to be special?” “I don’t care what your situation is. In short, as long as I’m here, I will not allow you to waste money!” After my brother hung up, I dialed back a few times, but it only rang busy. The nurse’s aide heard everything clearly and was trembling with anger. “This is too much! This is really too much bullying!! You wait here; I’m going straight to Dr. Davis’s office to confront him face-to-face!” “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I didn’t need to change rooms anymore, and I didn’t want this brother anymore either. My condition had deteriorated to the point where the general ward couldn’t take me, but I couldn’t check into the hospice ward either. As night slowly fell, I could only find a secluded corner in the hospital corridor and slowly lay out my bedding. Leaning against the cold wall, I instinctively curled my body up. I only had one day left until my death. On the last morning of my life, I was awakened by the freezing cold. Shivering, I had just struggled to stand up using the wall when a familiar voice echoed down the corridor. “Chloe!” It was my brother’s voice. I looked up blankly, only to see his eyes were bloodshot. His face carried obvious exhaustion, a stark contrast to his previous cold demeanor. He walked quickly to me, reaching out to touch my arm, but I instinctively dodged him. My brother’s hand froze in mid-air, the apology in his eyes deepening. “Chloe, I’m sorry. It was Arthur’s fault.” “I mobilized all my resources, contacted an overseas lab overnight, and expedited a dose of the miracle drug for you.” “Chloe, come back with me for treatment, okay?” Actually, I hadn’t failed to notice the reporters with cameras following behind him. I also hadn’t failed to suspect that my brother was intentionally helping the production crew generate buzz. But when he said the words “miracle drug,” I still noticeably hesitated. My brother grabbed my wrist, his eyes pleading. “This drug can really cure your brain tumor, Chloe.” “I can’t fail you. Trust me one more time, okay?” I quietly looked at his bloodshot eyes and, as if possessed, nodded. Who would eagerly seek death when there is a chance to live? In the end, I chose to trust him one more time. “That’s great!” My brother clearly sighed in relief, pulling me towards the operating room. “The doctors are all ready. We’ll go in right now.” The cameras followed us, and the live stream comments were flying. [Dr. Davis finally found his conscience!] [As long as the siblings have reconciled. Hope Ms. Davis recovers soon!] Pulled by my brother, I stumbled toward the operating room. But when we reached the doors, I didn’t see the medical team prepared to receive me. There were only a few medical staff gathered around discussing, looking anxious. “How’s the situation? Mia’s side effects are getting worse; we must administer the drug immediately!” “But that new drug hasn’t undergone clinical trials yet; the risk is too high…” “Dr. Davis said to have someone stand in first. When his sister Chloe arrives, have her test the drug!” Mia? Test the drug? The blood in my entire body instantly froze. I violently shook off my brother’s hand, looking at him in disbelief. “You lied to me?” My brother’s expression changed slightly, but he quickly recovered his calm. He deliberately avoided the cameras, his tone carrying a hint of taking it for granted. “Chloe, Mia experienced side effects after taking the drug and urgently needs this new medication. Just consider it doing me a favor; endure it and it will pass.” I was trembling with anger, my voice shaking. “Doing you a favor means using me as a guinea pig?” My brother frowned. “What guinea pig? Don’t make it sound so awful.” “Can’t you have a little compassion and empathy? Mia is still so young; nothing can happen to her. You are my biological sister; you need to look at the bigger picture.” Looking at his cold eyes and listening to his high-sounding words, I only felt it was ridiculous and pathetic. “And what if something happens to me?” My brother smiled instead, reaching out to pat my shoulder, smiling nonchalantly. “Don’t worry. I’m a doctor; how could I watch you die?” As soon as he finished speaking, two medical staff stepped forward and grabbed my arms. “Let go of me!” “You can’t do this! This is murder!” I struggled desperately, but the weakness of my body made my resistance seem exceptionally feeble. Under my brother’s instruction, I was forcibly pushed into the operating room. The heavy doors closed, shutting out the light from outside, and shutting out the truth. Outside the door, the reporters’ discussions could be clearly heard. “Isn’t Chloe being too unreasonable? Her brother found the miracle drug for her, and she’s throwing a tantrum?” “Exactly. If it were me, I’d be eternally grateful. She actually struggled and resisted. She’s too ungrateful.” “Dr. Davis has done everything humanly possible. Having a sister like this is a real headache.” They knew nothing, yet based solely on my brother’s one-sided story, they casually judged my right and wrong. I leaned against the cold operating table, gasping for breath, my heart already completely cold. Just then, the operating room door was pushed open a crack, and Mia stood trembling at the doorway. She was pale, and tears fell as soon as she saw me. “Sister, please, help me.” She knelt down towards me, her voice choking with sobs. “I know this isn’t fair to you, but I really don’t want to die. Your brother is a good person; be a good person just this once and save me, okay?” Separated by the thick glass doors, the reporters couldn’t hear Mia’s words, but they focused their lenses on her frail figure. She cried so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. This posture of a weak victim blurred the truth and directly locked the shackles of morality firmly onto me. The live stream comments had been completely led astray. [Is Chloe refusing treatment? This is so unreasonable!] [Mia is so pitiful. It’s already hard enough for her, and now she has to accommodate the emotions of this spoiled princess.] [The contrast between the two sisters is too obvious. One is kind and fragile, the other is selfish and cold!] Looking at this absurd scene before me, I suddenly laughed, laughing so hard tears almost fell. My brother walked in wearing his white coat, completely ignoring my resistance. He took the syringe filled with the new drug from the nurse and walked towards me step by step. “Get away!” I desperately twisted my body, but the medical staff pinned me down, making it impossible to move. He didn’t hesitate at all, personally inserting the needle into my vein and slowly pushing the plunger. Only when he saw me gradually quiet down did my brother let out a long sigh of relief. But he didn’t stay in the operating room. Instead, he turned and walked out the door, speaking eloquently to the cameras. “As a medical professional, healing the wounded and rescuing the dying is my bounden duty. Whether it’s my sister or Mia, I will do everything in my power to help them.” His words were deeply moving, winning a chorus of praise. In the operating room, my body gradually became cold. Half an hour later, my brother was still talking animatedly to the cameras. Suddenly, his assistant ran out of the operating room in a panic, his face ghastly pale. “Dr. Davis… bad news! The patient died; there’s no heart rate!”

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