I was born with a unique gift: a slander-rebound system. Any lie told about me boomerangs back onto the liar. In high school, a classmate spread a rumor that I was a slut who’d slept with a bunch of old men. That same day, he was picked up by a dozen older gentlemen and was soon hustling for them. In college, my boyfriend’s childhood friend claimed I was the star of a viral porn clip. That night, the face in every porn clip across the internet was replaced with hers. After that, no one dared to breathe a word against me. Until I was brought back to the Ashworths, the wealthy family I was born into. Cecilia, the girl who had taken my place, wrapped her arm around mine with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Anna, darling, I heard a rumor that you… well, that you had a baby out of wedlock. With a murderer, of all people.” “Now that you’re home, why didn’t you bring the child with you? We’re all family here. We won’t look down on you!” … The moment she finished, my father’s face turned to stone. “You have a bastard?” “Anna Ashworth! How old are you? How could you bring such shame upon yourself!” Seeing my father’s rage, a smirk flickered across Cecilia’s lips before she quickly covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my goodness… Anna, you didn’t tell Father?” “I’m so sorry, Anna, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have said anything.” She turned to my father, her voice pleading. “Father, please don’t blame her. She’s been all alone out there for so many years… she must have had her reasons.” “Don’t you worry,” she said, turning back to me, her eyes filled with false sincerity. “From now on, I’ll help you keep this a secret. I won’t let anyone gossip!” Just then, an elegantly dressed woman burst out of the mansion and threw her arms around me. “Anna! My daughter… I finally found you!” She sobbed into my shoulder, only realizing after a long moment that the air around us was thick with a strange silence. “What is it? Why are you all staring at Anna like that? What were you talking about?” “It’s nothing, Mother. Anna must be tired from the long trip. Let’s go inside,” Cecilia chirped, shooting a meaningful glance at our father, playing the part of my protector perfectly. I spoke, my voice calm. “She said I was an unwed mother who had a baby with a murderer.” My mother’s face went white. “What! Anna, you—” “I didn’t. She’s lying.” “Anna!” Cecilia’s voice shot up, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “I was only trying to help! How can you say I’m lying?” She took a choked step back. “Do you really want me to expose all your dirty secrets in front of everyone?” She bit her lip, glancing at our parents as if she couldn’t bear to say more. “What else is there?!” Father’s veins bulged on his forehead. “Cecilia, speak! I want the whole truth, now!” Cecilia looked as if she’d made a difficult decision, bowing deeply to me. “I’m sorry, Anna… I know you wanted to hide it, but our parents have a right to know the truth.” She took a deep, theatrical breath. “When I heard you were coming home, I tried to find out about your interests… but instead, I accidentally discovered…” She paused, as if the words were too foul to speak. “Anna… since high school, she’s been… selling her body…” A collective gasp went through the onlookers. Father trembled with rage. “You wretched creature! How could the Ashworth family produce something so vile!” Mother stumbled back, her eyes wide with disbelief. But I just looked at Cecilia with a faint, knowing smile. “Are you sure about that? Lying has consequences, you know.” “Of course it’s true! You—” “Retch—!” Before she could finish, a violent wave of nausea hit her. She clutched her stomach, which seemed to bulge slightly. I blinked, a slow smile spreading across my face. See? I told you there would be consequences. “Cecilia! What’s wrong? Why are you being sick?” My parents rushed to her side, their voices frantic with worry. I stood my ground, tilting my head. “Oh, Cecilia. The way you’re retching… it’s almost like you have morning sickness.” The air froze for a few seconds. “What are you talking about!” Cecilia shrieked, as if mortally wounded. “I don’t even have a boyfriend! How could I be pregnant?” “You can’t just accuse me of your own… your own filthy behavior…” Seeing her tear-streaked face, my parents’ hearts melted. My father glared at me. “Anna Ashworth, how dare you spread such disgusting rumors about your sister! You have no class!” My mother’s face was a mask of disappointment. “Anna, that was cruel! Cecilia has never been with a man. It’s impossible for her to be pregnant.” I blinked, my expression all innocence. “It was just a thought.” “But since she’s so sick… maybe she should see a doctor!” “No!” Cecilia blurted out, then quickly covered her mouth with a cough, her eyes darting around nervously. “I just ate something bad. I’ll be fine after a little rest.” She feigned weakness, collapsing against our mother. My parents immediately helped her into the mansion. I watched them go, a thoughtful glint in my eye. Cecilia’s reaction was… off. It was almost as if she already knew she was pregnant. My gossip-loving soul ignited. I followed them into the mansion and joined the vigil by her bed. “Cecilia, I’m just so worried about you. I took the liberty of calling a doctor. He’ll be here any minute.” “If something really is wrong, it’s best to find out early. For Mom and Dad’s peace of mind, you know?” Hearing my considerate words, my parents beamed with approval. But the color drained from Cecilia’s face. She burrowed into our mother’s arms, whining, “Mother… I don’t want to see a doctor…” Mother patted her back, about to speak— “That won’t be necessary.” A low voice came from the doorway. My brother, Simon, strode in. He gave me a head-to-toe scan, his disgust unconcealed. “You’re Anna?” “Let me make one thing clear. You may be my blood, but Cecilia is my only sister.” “You have no right to interfere in her affairs.” He walked straight to Cecilia’s bed and gently wiped her tears. “If you don’t want to see a doctor, you don’t have to. Big brother is here for you.” At that, Cecilia threw herself into Simon’s arms, sobbing. “I knew you were the best to me, Simon!” I watched them, a spark of inspiration hitting me. “You two are so close!” I said with childlike innocence. “Even though you aren’t related by blood, you’re so intimate!” The mood in the room shifted instantly. Simon dropped his arms as if he’d been burned, his ears turning red. His eyes blazed with fury. “What the hell are you talking about!” Cecilia started crying again, looking at me with wounded eyes. “Anna, how could you say that about me and Simon?” “Are you just trying to change the subject? To stop Mom and Dad from asking about your illegitimate child, you decided to spread rumors about me?” She bit her lip, looking crushed. “You know… I found out you had been taken advantage of, and I was going to ask our parents to stand up for you… I can’t believe you’d treat me like this…” Mother immediately grew tense. “Taken advantage of? Anna, who hurt you?” I sat down, amused. “I have no idea. Cecilia, who hurt me?” “Anna, don’t be afraid. It wasn’t your fault…” Tears of sympathy welled in her eyes. “I found out that… a few months ago, you were… dragged into an alley by seven or eight thugs…” “They… they did things to you…” She sighed, reaching for my hand. “That first time… it wasn’t your fault. But Anna, how could you be so foolish? Why did you keep seeing them?” “The neighbors in the alley all said… every few days… they saw those men leaving your apartment half-naked…” She trailed off, lowering her head as if she couldn’t bear to continue. “You shameless hussy!” Father roared, his face a mask of rage. Mother clutched her chest, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Anna… tell me it’s not true…” “Anna Ashworth, you are a disgrace!” Simon yelled. “The Ashworth family has no room for someone like you. Get out of this house, now!” I looked at their twisted faces and felt a surge of absurdity. Forget that none of this ever happened. Even if it had, shouldn’t their first reaction as my family be concern that I had been hurt? “Anna, even though… even though you’ve been sleeping around, I believe you can change,” Cecilia pleaded. “If you just admit you were wrong and cut ties with those men… Mom and Dad will forgive you.” I let out a soft laugh, my gaze calm. “I don’t know any thugs. Why would I admit to something I didn’t do?” “Besides… Cecilia, didn’t I just tell you? Lying has consequences.” “Anna, why do you keep saying that?” Cecilia squeezed out a few more tears and pulled out her phone, holding the screen up for everyone to see. “If I’m a liar, then how do you explain… these?” On the screen was a photo of me, dressed provocatively, lounging between several men. As if that wasn’t enough, she swiped to a picture of me holding a baby. My parents’ faces were thunderous. “Those photos are fake,” I said, looking Cecilia in the eye. “And I’ll say it again: lying has consequences.” “I’m not lying! I—” “Fine,” I cut her off calmly. “Just don’t regret it.” With my rebound system, I never lose. She had spoken the words; now she could suffer the consequences. My nonchalance only fueled their rage. “It’s good that you admit it, Anna,” Cecilia said, a triumphant smirk on her face as she pretended to comfort everyone. “Father, Mother, don’t be angry… Anna was just confused for a moment…” Mother hugged her gratefully. “Cecilia, you’re always so understanding.” “You’re not feeling well, so we’ll let you get some rest. If you’re still sick tomorrow, I’ll take you to the doctor.” They left, shooting me looks of pure disgust. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. The next morning, I woke up to a piercing scream. “Cecilia! You… what happened to you?!” “Who did this?! Who the hell did this!!” Cecilia’s sobs echoed through the mansion. I stretched and wandered over to enjoy the show. In Cecilia’s room, seven or eight half-naked men were being held down by security guards. She was huddled in the corner of the bed, her eyes swollen, her body covered in red marks, trembling uncontrollably. “You animals! Who gave you the nerve to touch my daughter!” Father kicked the nearest man, his eyes blazing. “Touch her? She was begging for it!” the man shot back with a sleazy grin. “Hey, little vixen, why don’t you explain it to your parents?” “You’re the one who invited us over last night. We’re old friends. Why are you playing innocent now?” He pulled out his phone and shoved the chat history in everyone’s face. “Hey boys, come keep me company tonight.” “I miss you. I’m waiting at home. It’ll be more exciting.” My parents stumbled back as if struck by lightning. Simon stared at the screen, his face a picture of disbelief. “It’s fake! That’s fake!” Cecilia wailed. “I don’t know them! I didn’t send that!” “Why are you lying about me? I don’t even know you…” “Lying? We’re not the ones lying! The chat history is right here!” the man retorted. Cecilia’s face was chalk white. Her lips parted, but no words came out. I leaned against the doorframe, a cold smile on my face. Now she knows what it feels like to be slandered. “It was you!” Cecilia’s head snapped up, her eyes locking on me. “Anna Ashworth! You hired these thugs to ruin me!” I sighed dramatically. “Me again?” “Yes! You!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Anna, what did I ever do to you? Why would you hire these men to hurt me?” “These men… they were your clients!” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “So you’re saying I have an improper relationship with these men?” “Fine, Cecilia. Show me the proof. I’d love to see it.” “I will!” She shot me a venomous look, as if she’d been waiting for this. “You asked for it, Anna!”

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My dad scheduled my physical for high school enrollment. During the blood draw, I overheard the nurse confirm, “Is this the blood sample for the bone marrow typing?” I froze. There was nothing about that on my medical form. And typing? Who needed a match? The lab request slip fluttered from her hand. As she bent to pick it up, a few lines of text burned into my vision: Patient: Faye. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian’s Signature: Richard Walker. I snatched the paper and checked again. It was unmistakably the handwriting of my father, Richard Walker. Who was Faye? And why was my dad her legal guardian? I immediately dialed his number. “Dad, why does a physical require a bone marrow test?” There was a pause on the line, a flicker of panic in his voice. “The hospital must have made a mistake. But hey, an extra test or two can’t hurt, right?” I forced a laugh and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the hospital room listed on the form. 01 Walking into the room, I saw the girl lying in the bed. Her face was ashen, her body frail. Her features, especially around her eyes and brow, were a near-perfect mirror of my dad’s. A cold weight settled in my stomach. My fists clenched as I approached her. “Are you Faye?” She blinked, looking up at me, but before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind. I turned. It was her mother. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, still young, dressed simply. She had the air of a gentle, domestic woman. But now, she looked frantic. Her face was pale, her hands trembling slightly. “You must be one of Faye’s classmates?” she asked, her voice urgent and shaky as she rushed forward to grab my arm. “She needs to rest. Could you come outside for a moment? I need to talk to you.” I didn’t resist, letting her lead me out of the room. In the hallway, she let out a visible sigh of relief, then hesitated before speaking. “You are…” I held up the lab form, cutting straight to the point. “Why is my father’s name signed as your daughter’s guardian?” I demanded. “Ma’am, what, exactly, is your relationship with my dad?” The hospital corridor was busy with people coming and going, some of whom seemed to know her. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so direct. Her panic intensified, though she forced a smile for an acquaintance passing by. Then she turned back to me, her own smile strained. “Oh, that signature… my daughter is sick, and a charity foundation is helping with the costs. The person in charge was there when we were handling the payment, so he just signed it for us.” “My daughter’s last name is also Walker, it’s just a coincidence. Please don’t overthink it.” Her words were placating, meant to deflect. But as her eyes fell on me, I saw a flicker of something else, something malicious and possessive. I met her gaze and held it. She looked away, unnerved, and unconsciously ran a hand through her hair. That’s when I saw it. The diamond ring on her finger. It was familiar. A designer piece. From my mother’s favorite designer. He had been out of the industry for years but recently released a new collection that everyone was talking about. It just so happened to launch around my parents’ wedding anniversary. I’d secretly reminded my dad about it, suggesting he could get that specific ring as a gift for Mom. He promised he would, telling me to keep it a secret, that he wanted to surprise her. But on their anniversary, what he presented was a common, off-the-shelf piece from a department store. It wasn’t even real diamonds, just zirconia. He claimed that a time zone difference during an international conference call had made him miss the limited-edition drop. He said he’d have someone contact the designer for a custom piece later to make up for it. So, he hadn’t missed it. He’d bought it. He’d just given it to another woman. And fobbed my mother off with a cheap imitation. I bit down hard, suppressing the rage that was boiling up inside me. Staring at the woman’s awkward expression, I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “That’s a beautiful ring, ma’am. It’s the limited-edition piece, isn’t it?” “My mother waited forever for it, but she couldn’t get one.” She must not have expected a kid to recognize it. She froze, her face twisting into an ugly grimace. She quickly tried to hide the ring with her hair, stammering out a defense. “What designer? I… I wouldn’t know about things like that. My daughter just picked it up for me, it’s nothing expensive.” “I have to get back to my daughter now,” she said abruptly. “Oh, and please don’t mention any of this to anyone. We wouldn’t want your family to get the wrong idea.” With that, she turned and fled back into the hospital room. Watching her scramble away, I let out a cold, humorless laugh. Pathetic. What a coward. Without a second glance, I turned and left the hospital. The moment I was in the car, I contacted my grandfather’s assistant. “Mr. Finch, I need you to look into my father’s recent activities, especially his travel records and financial transactions. Be quick, but don’t let him know.” “And whatever you find, secure the evidence immediately.” 02 When I got home, my mom was in the kitchen, simmering a soup. When my dad was younger and building his business, his irregular meals had led to severe stomach problems. He’d even had surgery twice. Mom felt for him. A woman who’d never had to lift a finger learned to cook just for him. Soups, congee, medicinal broths… She single-handedly nursed his stomach back to health. She’d been doing it for as long as I could remember, almost a decade now. In two days, it would be my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary. And I had just discovered that my father was cheating on her. Watching her bustling around the kitchen, my simmering fury gave way to a wave of sorrow, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. She was in her forties, but her figure was trim and her skin firm. She looked like she was barely thirty. Only her hands told a different story. Her knuckles were slightly enlarged, her palms calloused, and the backs of her hands were traced with the faint white lines of old scars. She used to love getting her nails done. But she gave it up, saying it was inconvenient for cooking. I walked into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She jumped, then laughed, teasing me. “You’re back? You’re about to be a high schooler, and you’re still clinging to me like a little kid?” “Go on, get out of here. It’s smoky, and I’m busy.” When I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. She turned around, and her smile vanished the moment she saw my tear-streaked face. Her expression immediately tightened with concern. “Audrey, honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Wasn’t Dad with you at your physical? Let me just call him…” She started to reach for her phone. I grabbed her wrist, shaking my head violently. “Don’t call him!” My mom froze, looking at me with growing unease, waiting for me to explain. I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tight. “Dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Serena. She used to be his secretary.” My movements were stiff, my fingers trembling as I pulled my tablet from my bag. The screen lit up, displaying the files Mr. Finch had already sent me. The tablet’s glow illuminated my mother’s blanching face. I swiped through the pages, showing her one damning piece of evidence after another. “They got together not long after she started working for him. Back then… you had just found out you were pregnant with me.” “She quit less than six months later because she was pregnant too. Dad bought her a sprawling condo in The Azure Heights, not far from our house. The deed is in her name.” “When you were in your last trimester, swollen and unable to sleep, he was over there, making her prenatal nutritional meals. When you were in the hospital, fighting for your life during a difficult labor, he was with her, giving her massages and taking her on walks to ease her pain.” “While you were recovering from a C-section, he was at her prenatal check-ups, telling her to walk more so she could avoid having a C-section herself.” “Mom, that girl… his other daughter… is only six months younger than me. He cheated on you while you were pregnant.” The words tumbled out between sobs, my tears splashing onto the screen, blurring the text. My mom’s gaze was fixed, her eyes staring at the words and pictures as they slowly filled with tears, her own eyes turning red. “How could he…” she whispered. “Dating, marriage… twenty years. How could he…” I hugged her tighter, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mom, do you remember the fire we had at the house when I was little?” She nodded, her voice growing hoarse. “Of course, I do. I was on a business trip. Your dad was juggling work and looking after you, and for a second he turned his back, you’d set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to pull you out. He was so terrified afterward, he never left your side at the hospital. He said if he lost you, he wouldn’t want to live.” “After you got out of the ICU, he was a nervous wreck. He followed you everywhere, woke up in the middle of the night just to check on you. He kept telling me it was all his fault… I thought then that he truly loved you, that he cared about this family.” As she spoke, a bitter, icy sarcasm crept into her voice. I swiped again on the tablet, my finger stopping on a section of the investigation report. “What if I told you that fire was no accident?” “He thought I was asleep. He was in a hurry to go see them, so he tossed a lit cigarette into the trash can.” “The window was open. The wind blew the curtains into the can, and they caught fire. He had locked me in the room… I had no way of getting out by myself.” “And he wasn’t the one who saved me. A neighbor saw the smoke and called 911. The firefighters broke down the door and carried me out. He… he only rushed to the hospital much later.” “I was only a little girl, and I was in and out of consciousness. I never remembered the details clearly.” “You thought he was sticking so close to me because he loved me? No. He was afraid. He was terrified that one day I’d remember what really happened and tell you the truth… He was scared you’d get angry, and he’d lose the resources and connections from your family.” My eyes burned, whether from grief or fury, I couldn’t tell. All the happiness I thought I had was just an elaborate lie. The sorrow peaked and curdled into rage. I hated him. I hated him for deceiving my mother, and I hated him for doling out this fake, pathetic version of love to me for all these years. What were we to him? Stepping stones? But one look at my mother, and all I felt was a deep, aching pain for her. She was the one who was truly broken by this. I was about to say more when my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this Audrey Walker? We need to review some of the metrics from your physical. Please have a parent bring you back to the hospital for a more detailed examination as soon as possible.” I paused, forcing my voice to sound calm. “Okay, I understand.” Just as I hung up, both my phone and my mother’s buzzed at the same time. The text to me read: [Audrey, the hospital called about a follow-up test. Dad will take you the day after tomorrow.] The text to my mother read: [Honey, you know that French designer you love? A friend gave me two VIP tickets to his private collection exhibit. It’s the day after tomorrow in the afternoon. You should go, clear your head.] The day after tomorrow. The same day as my hospital appointment. He was deliberately sending Mom away so he could take me alone… My mother and I looked at each other. Not a word was needed. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when his whole scheme came crashing down. 03 Two days later, my father and I drove to the hospital. While waiting at a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, are you at the gallery yet? Was parking okay?” He was testing her. A moment later, Mom replied. “I’m here, just waiting in line to get in. Had to park a bit far, it was a bit of a walk.” She attached a photo of herself and a friend, smiling, in front of the gallery. My dad zoomed in on the picture, then texted again. “I heard they have Morning Fog on display. Did you see it? I remember you love that artist.” A few minutes later, another photo came through, this one from inside the exhibit hall. “Saw it. It’s even more stunning in person than in the books. A little crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. He turned to me, flashing a flawless smile. “It’s good your mom can finally relax a little.” Hypocrite. I pulled my lips into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. At the hospital, he played the part of the perfect father. Consultations, check-ups, questions for the doctors… He even gently covered my eyes when they drew my blood. If I hadn’t found out about his affair, about his other daughter… I probably would have melted into that warmth, nestled against him and acted like a spoiled child, just like I used to. The process was quick. After we got the receipt for the bloodwork, he glanced at his watch and spoke in a casual tone. “Audrey, you wait right here, okay? Don’t wander off. Dad’s just going to the restroom, I’ll be right back.” “Okay,” I murmured, looking down. The direction he headed was toward the hematology ward. After a moment, I got up and quietly followed him. The door to the hospital room was slightly ajar. I stood outside, peering through the crack. My dad was sitting by the bed, feeding medicine to Faye. The girl leaned against him, completely dependent, her voice thick with tears. “Daddy, I’m scared…” “Am I going to die? I don’t want to leave you and Mommy…” My dad gently wiped her tears away, his voice incredibly soft. “Silly girl, don’t say things like that.” “Daddy found the best doctors in the country for you, the best medicine. See? Daddy’s right here with you, isn’t he? My Faye is the bravest girl I know. You’re going to get through this.” Serena leaned in too, stroking her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy are here. For you, your dad has pushed aside all his work, running to the hospital every day, contacting specialists and professors… Remember that time you spiked a fever in the middle of the night? Your dad was in a meeting overseas, but he got on the red-eye flight the second he got the call. He stayed by your side for two days and two nights without sleeping. With Daddy here, you have nothing to fear.” A perfect little family, happy and whole. And I was the clown standing on the outside. I remembered when I was eight, I had acute pneumonia. My fever was soaring over 103, and I was coughing so hard I could barely breathe. My mom rushed me to the hospital, her hands shaking with fear. She called him, over and over, but all she got was a single text message back: “With an important client. Can’t get away. You’ll have to handle it.” That entire night, it was just my mother, holding me in the emergency room as I shivered through my IV drip until dawn. I found out later that on that very night, Faye had been throwing a tantrum, refusing to let him leave. His “important client” was them. My fingernails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t feel the pain. Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder. It was my mother. She gave me a look that said, It’s okay. Just then, the attending physician spoke with a smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Walker, please don’t worry. Little Faye’s numbers have been a bit unstable lately, but overall, her condition is manageable. With such dedicated parents supporting her, the child’s positive mindset is crucial for her treatment. Our team of experts has thoroughly reviewed the bone marrow transplant plan. We’re just waiting for the donor to be ready, and then we can proceed with the surgery.” “I’d do anything to save Faye,” my dad said, his eyes fixed on the girl, his voice firm and resolute. Anything to save Faye. Then what about me? The one being used as a “donor.” Were my wishes, my health, even worth considering? A dull, numb ache spread through my chest. My dad turned to the doctor, his tone confident. “I’ve already worked things out with the donor. We should be able to finalize the procedures today.” “As for the surgery, I’ll leave it in your capable hands. Please schedule it as soon as possible.” An older specialist standing nearby nodded in agreement. “Mr. Walker, you are truly a man of action, especially when it comes to your child.” “Rest assured, the operating room is ready. As soon as the donor completes the final pre-op examinations and preparations, we can begin. A child with such a resourceful and hands-on father is truly blessed.” The head nurse chimed in with a sigh. “It’s true. Mr. Walker is here almost every day, we’ve all seen it. It’s so rare to see a man who is both successful and so devoted to his family these days.” Another doctor added, “I heard that not only is Mr. Walker tirelessly working to save his daughter, but he has also personally established a special assistance fund to help other families in similar situations. That kind of compassion is truly admirable.” The room was filled with praise and compliments. They painted him as the perfect father, a paragon of virtue. A round of applause broke out. The atmosphere was glowing. My mother, holding my hand, pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her voice was cold as steel. “Richard, is this what you meant by a follow-up? Lying to me so you could use our daughter as a donor for your illegitimate child?”

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Holden made it clear he would never touch me. He also said that if I agreed to be his wife for three years, he would give me a nine-figure sum as compensation. I agreed. But after we were married, a drunk Holden crawled into my bed. His eyes were red, his voice trembling. “Delaney, I regret this. I like you. Just… kiss me, please?” 1. For two years, Holden and I had slept in separate rooms. Until last night. He got drunk at the company’s annual party and stumbled into my bedroom by mistake. He was a full head taller than me, his body a solid, heavy weight. I couldn’t move him. Left with no choice, I spent the night sharing a bed with him. When I woke up the next morning, Holden was back to his usual cool, composed self. He straightened his clothes, fastening every last button with meticulous care. Then, he turned to me and said, with the utmost seriousness, “Thank you. I apologize for intruding last night.” His tone was so polite he could have been a stranger. Not long after, an expensive pink sapphire necklace arrived—a gift, he said, to make amends. We were husband and wife, but he always treated me with this detached courtesy. Before our wedding, he’d been explicit: he wasn’t interested in women, nor did he have any inclination toward men. Our marriage was simply a shield, a way to appease his family’s demands for him to settle down and to fend off the endless stream of women who threw themselves at him. Our relationship had always been one of mutual, respectful distance. I just never expected that tonight, Holden would be in my bed again. I sighed. He was, after all, the man who paid my bills. I had to take care of him. I carefully slipped off his suit jacket. Underneath, he wore a high-quality gray shirt, the collar slightly open, revealing a stark white stretch of collarbone that contrasted sharply with the cool, handsome lines of his face. The whole look was pure, uncut temptation. I almost lost control, overcome by the urge to lean down and kiss him. But I couldn’t. Falling for your benefactor was the ultimate taboo. What a waste. A face like that, made for admiring, not for touching. Just then, Holden’s long eyelashes fluttered. My heart skipped a beat. I thought he was waking up and scrambled to pull away, but he only shifted in his sleep, turning onto his side. The movement caused the hem of his shirt to ride up, exposing the lean, powerful muscles of his back and the taut line of his waist. Almost unconsciously, my fingertips ghosted over his belt. I gave myself the perfect excuse: He can’t possibly sleep well with something so rigid digging into him, can he? My eyes fixed on the buckle. Then, my gaze drifted slowly downward. Even through the fabric of his trousers, I could still make out the shape of him. And… wow. He was impressive. I wondered what it would be like… My face flushed crimson. To stop the wicked thought from taking root, I tried to wake him. “Holden, wake up.” He didn’t stir. I leaned closer to his ear. “Holden?” I whispered. Still nothing. I took a deep breath. Well, if that’s how it was going to be… I was just going to have to take his pants off for him. The moment I slid them down, the sheer, obvious size of him left me breathless and a little weak in the knees. 2. My hands fumbled as I grabbed the duvet and threw it over him. Then I bolted into the bathroom, gasping for air. I was, after all, an adult woman with perfectly normal needs. But Holden didn’t love me. Making a move on him would only make him despise me. I remember, early in our marriage, I was full of a naive hope. I woke up early one day and made him a lavish breakfast. Holden sat at the table and told me, with polite earnestness, “Delaney, please remember that we are strangers bound by a marriage contract. Nothing more.” Then he peeled an egg and added, just as politely, “The breakfast is delicious. Thank you.” From that day on, I took the love I felt for him and shattered it, piece by piece, locking it away in the coldest, deepest part of my heart. … Suddenly, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Before I could even react, the door swung open. Holden pushed it in from the outside. I nearly jumped out of my skin, my phone almost clattering into the tub. I frantically tried to cover myself, letting out a sharp scream. “Ah! You—” Holden’s gaze froze on my naked body for a fraction of a second before he recoiled as if he’d been burned, stumbling back out of the room. “I’m sorry.” The door clicked shut. I scrambled to dry myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. Was Holden drunk or not? If he was drunk, it made sense that he’d assume this was his master bedroom and just walk in. But if he was sober… why would he knock, and then open the door without waiting? I couldn’t make sense of it. After getting dressed, I stepped out. Holden was standing right outside the door, his cool, composed face etched with apology. “I am truly sorry about that.” I looked down. “It’s fine.” I waited for him to leave. He didn’t. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice was a little rough when he spoke. “The lock on my bedroom door is broken. Could I… sleep in here tonight?” I nodded. The tension in Holden’s shoulders seemed to ease slightly. “Thank you,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity. … In bed, Holden lay flat on his back, perfectly still, his breathing even. He was asleep. I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the wind sighing outside, a bitter taste rising in my throat. One more year, and we would be divorced. … The night deepened. Drowsiness began to pull at me, and I was just about to drift off. Suddenly. A pair of scorching hot hands wrapped around my waist from behind. My eyes flew open. I went rigid, not daring to move a muscle. Holden had rolled over, his searing chest pressed against my back. His breathing was heavy and hot against my neck. Then, his hands began to move, sliding slowly upward, slipping with excruciating slowness beneath the hem of my nightgown… “Mm…” The touch sent an involuntary shiver through me, and a soft moan escaped my lips. Holden’s fingers flinched away as if they’d touched fire. He quickly retreated, putting a sharp distance between us. I stared at the white curtains in front of me and whispered, “Holden, are you awake?” His breathing was ragged. It took him a moment to get it under control before he answered, his voice stiff with politeness. “Apologies. I… I touched you by accident just now. I will compensate you.” Then, he got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. 3. From the bathroom, the sound of the shower running couldn’t quite cover the choked, muffled groans. Holden was in there for a long time. So long that I was in my own kind of agony, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. I was his legal wife, yet he would rather take care of himself than come to me. Several times, I was overcome with the impulse to go knock on the door, to ask him why. But the words always died in my throat. He had told me, more than once, that we were just contract partners. He didn’t love me and would never… touch me. I refused to humiliate myself. … As the sky began to pale, I finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a heavy sleep. I dreamed. I was in a field of blooming spring flowers. Holden was no longer the aloof, untouchable man I knew. He swept my nightgown aside without a word, his warm lips trailing a path of fire down my body… The sensation was so real it made me tremble. I arched my back, cupping his face in my hands, pulling him into a searing embrace as we kissed deeply. … When I next opened my eyes, it was well past noon. The sunlight was blinding. I threw back the covers and was met with a sticky, unpleasant feeling all over my body. Blushing, I hurried to the closet, grabbed a lounge set, and went into the bathroom. As the warm water rained down, I closed my eyes, a wave of regret washing over me. Holden’s prenuptial agreement was clear: I was not allowed to fall in love with him. If I did, I would walk away with nothing. At the time, I thought I was a pragmatist, a woman who cared only for money. I thought it would be impossible to love him. But I was wrong. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized my mistake. Holden was from a distinguished family, devastatingly handsome, and treated me with the utmost respect. How could I not fall for a man like that? But falling for him was the one thing I couldn’t do. I sighed, a decision solidifying in my mind. It was better to rip the bandage off quickly. Tonight, I would ask Holden for a divorce. … My gaze drifted to the laundry basket in the corner. The hem of the nightgown inside was crumpled and… stained with something unspeakable. My eyes widened. Holden had been in the bathroom for so long last night… Could he have been using my nightgown to…? The image of his prim, proper, ascetic face flashed through my mind, contrasted with the thought of him, in secret, taking one of my personal items and doing… that. My cheeks burned, the heat spreading to the tips of my ears. A wave of shame washed over me, quickly followed by a deeper, more profound sadness. Holden was a normal man with normal needs. Yet, he was so faithful to our agreement that he refused to touch me. As I was lost in thought, my phone on the counter buzzed. It was a message from Holden. Delaney, I’ve left a gift on the living room table as an apology for my behavior last night. I hope you like it. He was always like this. Polite, courteous, distant. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I replied without even looking at the gift. Thank you, I love it. After my shower, I went out to the living room. As promised, a beautifully wrapped velvet box sat on the coffee table. Next to it was a black phone. I recognized it as Holden’s personal burner. He had two phones; his work phone never left his side, but he sometimes forgot this one. I walked over, intending to put it away for him. But as my finger brushed against the screen, it lit up, displaying the notes app. I had no intention of prying. But the words on the screen were a single, repeated line: I want to do it with her, I want to do it with her, I want to do it with her, I want to do it with her, I want to do it with her…

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The mistress sent me a naked photo of her and my husband. The caption was the grenade. “Your husband says you’re a corpse in the sack.” I didn’t reply. I went straight to the printing house, fast-tracked an order for fifteen hundred copies, and plastered them all over her apartment complex. The next day, she called me, sobbing, begging me to forgive her. I chuckled. “Don’t rush it. That was just the appetizer. The next grand gift is for both of you.” 01 My phone screen flickered to life, the time reading 2:00 a.m. I had just finalized the ultimate proposal for next quarter’s exhibition and was about to close my laptop. A crisp notification sound sliced through the silence of the study. It was a photograph. Grant Kingsley, my husband of five years, tangled up naked with a young woman. The backdrop was our master bedroom—the Italian-imported gray sheets I’d personally selected were now crumpled into a mess. The girl’s face was turned toward the camera, a smirk of pure provocation on her lips as she took the selfie. Grant’s face was buried in the curve of her neck, obscured, but the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, the one I’d given him for his birthday last year, was unmistakable. Beneath the image, a single line of text followed. “Your husband says you’re a corpse in the sack.” I stared at the words, specifically at “corpse in the sack,” for a long time. A chilling sensation crept from my fingertips, up my arm, and settled firmly in my heart. But the searing pain I should have felt, the gut-wrenching collapse—it never arrived. Instead, there was an alien, almost peaceful stillness, like a boot that had been suspended over my head for years had finally dropped with a dull, heavy thud. So, this is how it ends. My fingers moved with the detached precision of someone finalizing a work document. I screenshotted the photo and the accompanying text. The image was saved into an encrypted folder I’d created weeks ago. The folder’s name: The Final Chapter. I opened my laptop, pulled up another document I’d prepared long ago, and felt no hesitation. The file title was: Sage Tanner. It contained every piece of information about her, more detailed than any internal HR file. Her exact home address down to the unit number, her parents’ contact information and workplace, her alma mater, even the boutique coffee shop she habitually visited every morning. I had collected all this a month prior. The moment Grant started working late with suspicious frequency and the faint, unfamiliar scent of a woman’s perfume began to linger in his car, I knew this day was inevitable. I hadn’t succumbed to useless emotional turmoil—no interrogation, no screaming matches. That would have been a waste of my energy. I simply, and quietly, prepared all the necessary ammunition for the war I knew was coming. I picked up my phone and dialed the number of Mike, the owner of the printing house I’d worked with for years. Mike’s voice was thick with sleep. “Rory? It’s late…” “Mike, I need a rush job,” my voice was unnervingly calm. “Fifteen hundred A4 glossy, full-color prints. I need them in three hours. I’ll triple the price.” “What’s the content, to be so urgent?” “A photo. And a single line of text.” I sent him the screenshot via email. There was a few seconds of silence on the line, followed by a low sigh. “Rory, you…” “Mike. Domestic dispute,” I cut him off, my tone devoid of emotion. “…Got it. I’m firing up the machines now.” I didn’t sleep. I changed clothes and drove to the printing house. The machines roared, and the acrid smell of fresh ink permeated the air. I watched, expressionless, as the obscene images were spit out of the cold machinery, one after another. Grant, the sheets I picked out, the expensive watch I bought—all turned into the stage for his betrayal. Mike offered me a cigarette; I politely declined. He simply patted my shoulder, saying nothing. At 4:00 a.m., I drove away, my trunk heavy with three cumbersome cardboard boxes. I had pre-hired three temps via a local gig app and met them outside Sage Tanner’s apartment complex. “I want these plastered on every single surface in this complex,” I handed them a thick wad of cash and a box of photos. “The bulletin board, the elevator lobby, the gym equipment, and taped to the door of every single unit.” “Uh, ma’am, what is this?” A young man hesitated, looking at the photo. I pulled another stack of bills from my wallet and added it to the pile. “Make sure you’re thorough.” No more questions were asked under the weight of the triple cash incentive. I didn’t leave. I parked my car in the shadows across the street and silently watched them, like ghosts in the dark, distributing my “masterpiece” into every corner. The faint light of dawn broke the darkness. Movement started in the complex. Early-morning walkers and joggers were the first to find the jarring, full-color sheets. They gathered at the bulletin boards, pointing and whispering. Next, uniformed security guards started running around, tearing them down, but for every sheet they removed, another was quickly discovered. Fifteen hundred copies. Enough to ensure the scandal would fully ferment by sunrise. I watched the lights flicker on behind the windows, and the hesitant, peering silhouettes, and a cold smirk touched my lips. My phone finally rang. It was Sage Tanner. The moment I answered, her piercing sobs erupted, the background a cacophony of neighborly shouts and angry discussion. “Ms. Leighton! I’m so sorry! I really am! Please, please, just let this go!” Her voice was shaking uncontrollably. “My parents will kill me if they find out! I’ll lose my job! Please!” I let out a soft, gentle laugh, rolling down the window to let the cool morning air brush against my face. My tone was falsely kind, like I was consoling a frightened child, but the words were pure venom. “Don’t rush it.” “That was just the appetizer.” “The next grand gift is for you, and your darling Grant.” 02 When Grant kicked the front door open, I was slowly and methodically dusting a Song Dynasty porcelain vase on the bookshelf. I’d bought it at an auction two years ago; he’d mocked me then, calling it “a broken jar” not worth the six figures I paid. He never understood art; he only understood the shallow vanity built on money and profit. “Rory! What the hell is wrong with you?!” He stormed toward me, his face a mask of scarlet rage, his eyes bloodshot. He slammed his phone down hard on the mahogany coffee table in front of me. The screen showed the apartment complex’s community chat log: The obscene photo and a flood of vicious commentary had completely taken over the thread. “Do you have any idea how badly this affects my reputation?!” he roared, spittle flying toward my face. I could smell the stale mix of smoke, whiskey, and the other woman’s perfume on him. See? He didn’t mention his betrayal once. Only his reputation. I set down the soft cloth, picked up the vase—now polished to a perfect, soft luster—and held it up to the light for inspection. “Your reputation?” I said, my gaze still on the porcelain, my voice as flat as if I were discussing the weather. “It’s the one you rolled around in bed and earned with her. It has nothing to do with me.” “You!” His chest heaved with fury. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong I thought he might shatter the bones. “You fix this now! You will go and tell them it was a mistake! You will apologize to Sage!” He was still commanding me. Five years of marriage had conditioned him to this high-and-mighty posture, to my expected subservience and forbearance. I finally lifted my eyes to meet his. My gaze held none of the past warmth, the adoration, or even the expected anger or resentment. All that remained was a cold, alien assessment that clearly unnerved him. “Grant Kingsley, what gives you the right to order me?” He froze. In five years, this was the first time I had used that tone, that look, with him. The raw fury in his eyes stalled, replaced by bewilderment and disbelief. “You ruined Sage! She’s just a girl fresh out of college! She didn’t know any better!” He was still defending his mistress, still shifting all the blame onto me. He was always like this—selfish to his core. I smiled, a small, quiet sound that nonetheless prompted him to instinctively loosen his grip on my wrist. “Ruined her? No.” I gently rubbed the red marks forming on my wrist. “I’m making her famous. Look. Now her entire complex—no, soon her entire firm—will know she is Grant Kingsley’s one true love. She should be thanking me.” My words were a pointed dagger, precisely hitting his most vulnerable spot. His self-control snapped. He raised his hand, ready to deliver a vicious slap across my face. I didn’t flinch. But as I took one step back, my other hand shot up, the phone’s camera already facing him. The screen displayed his contorted, snarling face and his raised arm in an ugly close-up. “Do it.” I looked at him calmly, my voice low but every syllable crystal clear. “Hit me.” “I promise you, the cover of the next ‘grand gift’ will be a special feature on you, Grant Kingsley, the wife-beater.” His hand froze mid-air. It was only inches from my cheek; I could feel the faint current of air from his palm. The raging inferno in his eyes was instantly extinguished, replaced by profound shock and undisguised fear at the sight of the camera lens. He stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. And he was. He had never truly seen me. In his mind, I was just a mild, uninteresting accessory, a “trophy wife” to sit safely at home, decorate his public image, and manage his domestic life. He never once considered that the “corpse in the sack” might still have teeth. Slowly, inch by painful inch, he lowered the hand suspended in the air. I watched the fear and confusion swim in his eyes, and I knew: from this exact moment, this game had slipped entirely out of his control. I was the chess master, and he, along with his ambitious young mistress, were merely the pawns I had unleashed. 03 Sage Tanner was “counseled out” of her firm, citing “a severe impact on the company’s image.” Fired, to be precise, but phrased politely. In the span of a single morning, she went from a promising intern at a prestigious investment bank to the toxic joke everyone in the financial circle scrambled to avoid. Grant was in total crisis mode. He had to placate the perpetually sobbing Sage while dealing with the internal gossip and reprimands from his own superiors. He probably assumed my revenge had reached its peak, and if he could just weather this storm, everything would settle back into place. He was far too naive. I waited one week. I waited until he’d just started to catch his breath, waited until he thought the storm was finally passing. That’s when I delivered the second “grand gift.” It was a beautifully designed electronic invitation, sent to his private email address. The subject line: Boundary Lines — Aurora Leighton Solo Curatorial Exhibition. In the body of the email, I wrote only one line. “My new exhibition is opening soon. I insist you attend. I’ve also specifically invited Mr. Preston from Venture Peak Capital.” Mr. Preston was the key decision-maker for a multi-billion-dollar project Grant was desperately trying to secure. Landing this project would make him untouchable at the firm. He had to come. He called me, his voice riddled with caution and suspicion. “Rory, what game are you playing now?” “What game could I possibly be playing?” My voice sounded light and utterly innocent. “I’m merely a curator hosting my own exhibition. Shouldn’t my husband be there to witness my small achievement? Besides, Mr. Preston is deeply interested in contemporary art. I’m just giving him what he wants.” He fell silent. The lure of the multi-billion-dollar deal ultimately overpowered his unease. He needed the project, and he needed Mr. Preston’s support, to wash away the taint of his recent scandal. He agreed. Grant arrived on the opening night of the exhibition. He wore a razor-sharp Armani suit and a perfect, impregnable elite smile. He even brought Sage. The girl wore a delicate white dress and light, subtle makeup, timidly clinging to his side. She was desperately trying to play the role of the innocent, wronged-but-still-good girl, attempting to repair her shattered image in front of Grant’s friends and clients. Pathetic. The exhibition venue was elegant, the lighting soft, the music soothing, and the guests numerous. The room was filled with well-known figures from the art, fashion, and finance worlds. Everything appeared completely normal—so normal that Grant’s defenses finally dropped. He held a flute of champagne and expertly navigated to Mr. Preston, and the two began talking and laughing easily. I watched the confident, calculating smile return to his face. He clearly believed that I was, after all, still the sensible Aurora, who would never dare embarrass him in such a public, high-stakes setting. At 8:00 p.m., the exhibition officially began. As the curator, I walked onto the temporary stage. The spotlight hit me. I wore a simple black column dress, and I calmly surveyed the room, my gaze sweeping over Grant and Sage. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for attending my first solo-curated exhibition—Boundary Lines.” “Every one of us, in life, in our careers, and in our relationships, has boundaries. Some are clear, others are frustratingly blurred. Tonight, we use art to explore that fragile boundary between humanity and commerce, and between loyalty and betrayal.” My voice, carried by the microphone, was clear and resonant. The smile on Grant’s face tightened. Mr. Preston watched me with genuine curiosity. “Now, I will unveil the core piece of this exhibition. Its name is—Betrayal.” I turned and walked toward the center of the hall, where a massive piece was concealed beneath a drape of rich red velvet. All the lights in the room focused there. Under the gaze of every single person present, I reached out and slowly pulled back the curtain. The instant the fabric slipped away, the room fell into a dead, absolute silence. Then, the collective, suppressed gasp. It was an installation piece. A man’s life-sized sculpture, constructed entirely from discarded, shattered cellphone screens, giving it a cold, fractured texture. In his arms, he clutched a woman’s sculpture, crudely pieced together from cheap, colored crystals and clear plastic, which reflected a tacky, greedy light under the spotlights. But that wasn’t the fatal blow. The most damning detail was that the “heart” of the male sculpture had been hollowed out.

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Seven years after my parents’ divorce, I made it into Harvard University. At the freshman convocation, I saw her. Eleanor Croft, there as a primary benefactor for the school. My mother. Her eyes met mine and she froze for a heartbeat. “Noah,” she started, her voice hesitant. “How… how is your father?” A bitter taste filled my throat. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “Tell your father I’ll call. We should all have dinner together.” My eyes instantly burned with tears. I tore my arm from her grasp. It was laughable. How do you have dinner with a dead man? 01 After the ceremony, my friend sidled up to me, speaking in a low, careful voice. “Noah, was that… was Eleanor Croft your mom?” I stared at the ground, saying nothing. Seeing my silence, he tried to comfort me. “You okay? I can’t believe she’s one of the school’s big donors.” He hesitated. “There’s that welcome dance this afternoon… you might run into her again.” I forced a smile, cutting him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got something this afternoon anyway, already got permission to skip.” He let out a small sigh of relief, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Don’t do that, man. That fake smile thing. It freaks me out when you do that.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Gotta go.” I hadn’t made it far from the auditorium when a professor jogged over and called my name, asking me to stop by the Dean’s office. “It’s about Eleanor Croft, isn’t it?” I said it as a statement, not a question. Before he could answer, I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Please tell her for me that we have nothing to talk about.” I started to walk away again. “I have to go.” The professor looked stunned for a second, a flicker of understanding in his eyes suggesting he knew some of the story. He quickly stepped in front of me, his tone complex. “Noah, I know it’s not my place to comment on your family matters. But Ms. Croft is your mother, after all. Whatever happened, surely it can’t be so bad. She just wants to see you…” So bad? Mother? A real mother doesn’t get her child’s father killed. She had made me an orphan twice over, taking both my parents from me in one fell swoop. This was the first time I’d seen her in seven years. I didn’t look as heartbroken as I felt, nor did I fly into the rage I once would have. I was calm, as if looking at a stranger. But I hadn’t let it go. I couldn’t. Not for my dad. Eleanor’s betrayal was a debt that could never be repaid. I left campus and went straight to the cemetery. I laid out the irises Dad had always loved, arranging them carefully before the headstone. The man in the photograph was vibrant, full of life and confidence. It was taken back when he and Eleanor were dating. Back then, they were the campus golden couple, a story everyone admired. Winning academic competitions together, spending endless hours in the library, representing the university and bringing home championships… From college sweethearts to husband and wife, from the research lab to the boardroom, they lived a life straight out of a movie. I even wrote a story based on them once. My friends all said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever read. But reality isn’t a story. And the ending was anything but beautiful. I wiped dust from the framed photo, a smile playing on my lips. “Dad, I’m in college now.” “I told you I’d make it. See? I didn’t lie.” “Remember you promised me? That when I got into college, we’d go to a concert together.” “I went by myself. The Eagles. Your favorite.” My voice cracked on the last words. “Dad… I saw her today.” “…I still hate her. And I hate myself even more.” 02 I left the cemetery and just wandered, aimless. It wasn’t until a passerby pointed it out that I realized my phone was ringing. A number I didn’t recognize. Eleanor must have gotten my contact information from the university. “Noah, I just want to see you and your father…” I hung up and blocked the number. I didn’t have a mother. I was better off without her. But she clearly wasn’t going to give up. A text from another number came through moments later. [Noah, it’s your mother. You wouldn’t want me to bother your grandfather, would you?] I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fist. Seven years, and her shamelessness had reached a new level. I took a cab to the address she’d sent. She wore a couture suit, her posture regal, her grace effortless. She looked almost exactly as I remembered. But my father was gone forever. She saw me enter, put down the file in her hands, and stood up eagerly. “Noah, you’re here. Please, sit.” I didn’t move. She wasn’t angry, just kept a polite smile on her face. “I saw your academic record at the university. Very impressive. You’re my son, after all.” The praise was like acid in my ears. My achievements had nothing to do with her. In fact, it was because of her neglect and her attempts to hold me back that I had to fight so hard, to claw my way forward. Every sleepless night, every ounce of pain I swallowed, it was all thanks to her. I wanted to be a normal kid, sheltered under the wings of loving parents. What she called impressive was just what I had to do to survive. Just as I was about to speak, someone approached our table. “Eleanor, what a coincidence! And this is?” She smiled, a hint of pride in her voice. “This is my son, Noah.” While they exchanged pleasantries, I slipped away to the restroom. On my way back, I overheard the women talking in low voices. “Eleanor has a son that old?” “That’s her child with Samuel Croft.” “Ah, those two. They were the power couple of their day, built everything from the ground up together.” “Didn’t it end in a nasty cheating scandal?” “Goes to show you, people change. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Samuel around in ages…” I walked past them and returned to the table. Eleanor glanced at me. “What took you so long? There are adults here, you know. You should have said hello.” I let out a short, harsh laugh. “So, Ms. Croft, what is it you wanted?” Her brow furrowed, her voice hardening. “Noah, what is that tone?” “None of your business!” I shot back. “And another thing, I don’t have a mother. So stop trying to act like one.” She slammed her hand on the table. “I see your father really did a number on you. Is this how you speak to your elders? Get him on the phone. This is between him and me, you have no right to interfere. Call him. Now.” My eyes blazed. “You want to see him?” I spat the words out. “Eleanor Croft, do you even deserve to?” SMACK. The force of the slap snapped my head to the side, my ear ringing. “I am your mother!” I started to laugh. There she was. The real her. A cold, ruthlessly selfish businesswoman. Her nature had never changed. Once she decided on something, she didn’t care who she hurt to get it. I had to admit, that same cold calculation was what got her to where she was today. When my father met her, she had nothing. It was my grandfather, a professor who saw her potential, who sponsored her education. From the university to the corporate world, she revealed a staggering talent for business in just a few short years. She was ambitious, strategic, and driven, completely shedding her Cinderella past. And my father… he was her most trusted partner. They chased clients together, my dad handling the difficult meetings and navigating the social minefield for her. They pulled all-nighters on proposals together, my dad right by her side. He was the one who helped her build the company’s foundation, landing the first crucial clients piece by painful piece. She absorbed all his effort, all his sacrifice, and turned it into fuel for her own ascent. Her career soared, and their love story was perfect. At their wedding, she made a promise to my grandfather. “Professor, I will love and cherish Samuel for the rest of my life.” Too bad promises are the cheapest currency in the world. Those beautiful words probably never breached the walls of her calculating heart. And my father’s “rest of his life”… Because of her, it ended at thirty-three. I stared straight into her eyes, my voice eerily calm. “When you were sleeping with my classmate’s father, did you remember you were my mother then?” [ To discover the full story, unlock the next chapter. ] 03 I was the one who introduced her to the other man. It was raining hard one day, and my mom came to pick me up from school. I saw my classmate and his dad standing by the road, soaked to the bone. On a whim of pity, I asked my mom if we could give them a ride. After that, the father, Mr. Lynn, came by our house to thank us. One thing led to another, and he became a family friend. It wasn’t until I saw him at my mother’s company one day that a knot of unease began to form in my stomach. Eleanor explained it away smoothly. “Mr. Lynn is a single dad, Noah, it’s not easy. The company had an opening that was perfect for him. I talked it over with your father, and he agreed it was a good idea.” I frowned, about to protest. She just smiled and tweaked my nose. “What are you thinking? Isn’t it a good thing to help your classmate’s dad? That drive he has… it reminds me of your father and me, back when we were starting out.” Her words reminded me of the story I was writing about them, so I let it go. The next time I saw Frederick Lynn, he had been transferred from the logistics department to the executive office. He was now Eleanor’s personal assistant. The promotion was too fast, too sudden. It made me sick with anxiety. The office gossip didn’t help. “Only Fred seems to be able to handle the boss’s temper.” “If she wasn’t married, you’d think he was her boyfriend.” “They just work so well together. It’s like they can read each other’s minds.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed into her office and told her what people were saying. She just laughed. “You know how much I love your father. And Fred is your classmate’s dad. What could possibly happen? People will always talk, I can’t shut everyone up.” She stroked my hair. “Noah, don’t mention this to your father. His health isn’t good, it would only upset him.” Then she made a promise. “I’ll transfer him out of my office. After a while, the rumors will die down. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Fred was transferred, but she also told me to stop coming by the office. She said I needed to focus on my studies and stay out of adult business. I thought my father was clueless, that he was being protected from it all. Until I skipped school one day and came home to find them shouting at each other. It felt like the world had dropped out from under me. I could barely breathe. Eleanor was cheating. With Frederick Lynn. My father had caught them. In her office. Together. Her so-called discretion was just a lie to keep me quiet. Banning me from the office wasn’t to protect me, it was to stop me from discovering more. I wanted to hear more, but then Fred rushed into the room. He stood in front of Eleanor, tears streaming down his face. “Sam, it’s all my fault, blame me…” Seeing his pathetic act, I snapped. I lunged forward and slapped him across the face. Eleanor reacted instinctively, shoving me back. My dad moved to shield me, and they both tumbled to the ground. She shot us a look of pure ice. “You need to calm down. We’ll talk later.” Then she turned and walked out, taking Fred with her, without a single glance back. 04 After that fight, my dad’s health took a turn for the worse. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was to appease my grandfather, but Eleanor pulled some strings. She brought in Professor Albright, the top cardiologist in the field. They consulted for days, creating a detailed surgical plan for my dad, carefully adjusting his medication and recovery regimen. For a while, his condition stabilized. I would race to the hospital every day after school. Seeing the color return to his cheeks, I let myself believe that everything would be okay. Until the day I saw Frederick Lynn’s car parked outside the hospital. My heart plummeted. I sprinted upstairs. In the hospital room, Fred was putting on a show of fake concern. “Sam, Eleanor sent me to check on you. She was worried you’d be lonely.” He leaned in closer. “There are some things she can’t bring herself to say. But since it’s come to this, why not just get divorced? A loveless marriage is torture for everyone involved.” His words were daggers. I was shaking with rage. How dare he say those things to my father, in his hospital bed? I grabbed the glass vase from a nearby stand and threw it at him. He yelped in surprise, clearly not expecting me, and staggered back. I was about to go for him again when a hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with brutal force. Eleanor was gripping my arm, her face a mask of fury. “Noah, have you lost your mind? Where are your manners?” We had a terrible fight. “That’s my father!” I screamed, tears blinding me. “He can’t handle this stress! Fred is doing this on purpose! If anything happens to my dad…” SMACK. A sharp slap cut me off. Eleanor’s eyes were cold as stone. “Can’t you just be reasonable for once? If you keep acting like this, you can forget about me paying for your father’s surgery!” She turned to my dad. “Control your son,” she warned. “You behave, and I’ll take care of you.” After that, she dropped the pretense. She barely showed up at the hospital anymore. But Fred’s provocations didn’t stop. He would “casually” let slip details about his life with Eleanor. A new designer watch she’d bought him. A supplementary credit card she’d given him. He even left a prenatal appointment card for Eleanor on my dad’s bedside table. I found it, of course. I hugged my dad, my voice choked with sobs. “Dad, as soon as the surgery is over, we’ll leave. We’ll go far away from them. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.” He forced a smile and patted my head. “My Noah’s all grown up. You can protect your dad now.” He pointed to a document on the table. “Don’t worry. I’ve already signed them. As soon as the surgery is done, I’ll give them to her.” He meant the divorce papers that had been sitting there for weeks. All I could think was, after the surgery. After he’s better, we can finally be free of her. But that thought never became a reality. My father’s condition suddenly took a critical downturn. The monitors shrieked, and the doctors said he needed emergency surgery. But we couldn’t reach Professor Albright. I couldn’t reach him, the hospital couldn’t reach him. I started frantically dialing Eleanor’s number. After countless calls that went straight to voicemail, she finally picked up. “Dad’s in critical condition, he needs surgery now! Why can’t anyone get ahold of Professor Albright?” Eleanor’s voice was laced with irritation. “Noah, stop making a scene. I know your father’s condition, it’s not time for the surgery yet. Fred’s mother has a heart issue, and she needs Professor Albright to operate. I’ve already arranged for other specialists to take over your father’s case.” “You just stay with him and stop being so dramatic. I’m very busy. If you need anything, call my assistant.” Right before she hung up, I heard Fred’s voice in the background. “Didn’t Sam walk in on us that day and he was fine? Noah’s probably just exaggerating.” A roar filled my ears, and the world went white. Everything after that is a blur. All I remember is the light above the operating room door going out. A doctor emerged, looked at me, and slowly shook his head. … I snapped back to the present, about to say something to Eleanor, when a familiar voice cut through the air. “Noah? I thought you were visiting your dad’s grave today. What are you doing here?” The woman beside me froze, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

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We were out for a team-building dinner. My eyes fell on a young couple by the window. The girl was carefully peeling a shrimp for the boy. My colleague sighed with envy. “See? This is why it’s better to just watch other people be in love.” “Hey, Nathan,” she said, pointing at the couple. “Does Isla ever peel shrimp for you like that?” I was about to say that Isla was allergic to shrimp. In the five years we’d been together, shrimp had never once appeared on our dinner table. But then the girl turned her head, smiling, and my world froze. My expression hardened, the blood turning to ice in my veins. And then, I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. There she was. Isla, who was supposedly deathly allergic to shrimp, beaming as she took a half-eaten piece right from the boy’s mouth. … The boy flinched, pushing her away gently. “Hey, people are watching! Have some decency!” Isla’s eyes crinkled, her tone dripping with affection. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m kissing my own boyfriend.” Her voice, usually a comfort, now sent a shard of pain through my chest. I watched her take the boy’s hand, her face a mask of tenderness. “Why are you so shy?” she murmured. “Completely different from how you are in bed.” My colleague started gossiping beside me. “Wow, kids these days. No shame at all. Talking about bed in public.” My feet felt like they were encased in lead. My chest heaved, the shock of betrayal a physical blow threatening to burst from my ribs. My eyes were locked on them, on Isla and this boy, flirting and laughing. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo, and then opened my chat with her. A message from thirty minutes ago stared back at me. [Honey, I have to work late tonight.] [Don’t wait up for me for dinner.] [Love you.] But as I finally reached the restaurant entrance, I heard the boy’s voice, laced with complaint. “How much longer do we have to be a secret?” he asked. “My grandpa’s birthday is next month, and my mom keeps asking me to bring you home to meet everyone.” “I can’t exactly,” and each word was a hammer blow to my heart, “tell them I’m the dirty little secret you keep on the side. Make my whole family a laughingstock.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I had assumed the boy was just some innocent kid, an unwitting pawn in all this. I thought that if it came to a confrontation, I would deal with Isla, and then quietly let him know he’d been lied to. No need to drag an innocent person into our mess. Ah. So that’s how it was. That made things much easier. A smirk touched my lips as I heard Isla’s soothing reply. “Don’t worry. What I owe you… I’ll make it all up to you. I promise.” I took a deep breath and gently removed my colleague’s hand from my arm. “Wait here for a second,” I told her. “There’s something I need to take care of.” Before she could react, I was at their table. I grabbed the glass of orange juice and threw it in Isla’s face. She stared at me, utterly stunned, as I smiled. “Well, what a coincidence, Isla.” “Cheating on me at the same restaurant as my company dinner. Should I praise you for your choice of venue, or—” my gaze drifted to the pile of empty shrimp shells, the irony thick enough to choke on, “—for suddenly getting over your deathly shrimp allergy?” “Isla!” I reached for the other glass of juice, but her hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. “Nathan! Let me explain!” [ To see how Nathan gets his revenge, unlock the next chapter. ] I looked down at the hand gripping my arm. The wedding band on her ring finger—a matching set to my own—gleamed under the restaurant lights. A flicker of panic crossed her face, and the rage I’d been suppressing surged anew. Before she could utter another word of explanation, I tore my arm from her grasp and slapped her hard across the face. “How dare you hit her!” The boy scrambled from his seat, shoved me hard, and stood protectively in front of Isla, shouting at me. “Who the hell do you think you are? You have no right to touch my girlfriend!” I just looked at him, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. My eyes met Isla’s complex gaze. I calmly took a napkin from the table, wiped my wrist where she had touched me, and smiled at her. “Why don’t you tell him?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Tell him exactly who I am. And whether or not I have the right to hit you.” Isla’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and now, seeing my aggression and the boy’s defiant stance, she made her choice. She shielded him, stepping between us. “Nathan, it takes two to tango.” She pulled the boy behind her. My colleague had rushed to my side. “Nathan, you need help?” I just shook my head, my attention fixed on Isla. “We’ve been together for five years, married for two,” she said, her voice suddenly steady. “Have you ever once considered your own faults in this relationship?” She met my eyes without flinching. “I admit, I relied on you to get a foothold in this city. My success is because of you. But that doesn’t give you and your entire family the right to look down on me forever.” She stepped closer. “I can apologize. I can even go home with you right now.” Her face was a canvas of conflict. “But you will not lay a hand on Dylan. He’s innocent.” Even now, she was defending him. “He’s young, he can’t have his name dragged through the mud. And his grandfather’s health is poor, he can’t handle the stress. Whatever is between us—” her eyes darted from me to my colleague, who was glaring at her, “—we can discuss it at home.” Listening to her well-reasoned speech, every word a shield for the boy she called Dylan, was laughable. Five years together, married for three. When she started her business, I was the one begging for favors, calling in every connection I had. My parents leveraged their own relationships for her. Her entire startup capital came from a loan my parents took out against their own assets. Back then, whenever she talked about it, her eyes would well up with tears as she swore to me. “Nathan, I owe you everything. For the rest of my life, I’ll be good to you, and to your family.” Now, that same history had been twisted into this: “Yes, I relied on you. But that doesn’t mean you can let your family disrespect me.” I stared at the woman I had loved for five years. I thought I could handle this calmly, but her words were a vice around my heart, squeezing until I could barely breathe, barely stand. Then, I heard my colleague’s voice, thick with righteous anger. “Are you f*cking kidding me? So you use my boss to get on your feet, and now that you’ve made it, you’re tired of him and want to trade up for a younger model? And you’re trying to pin this on him?” She scoffed. “Who the hell do you think you are?” My colleague stormed past me and got right in the boy’s face. “And you! You’re a homewrecker, and you’re proud of it?” She pointed at the designer necklace around his neck. “Let me guess, my boss’s money paid for that piece of trash too, right?” She was furious. “Take it off! Give it back to him!” She lunged for the necklace. The boy shrieked in terror. Isla grabbed my colleague’s wrist and threw her aside. The table crashed over, dishes shattering on the floor. “Nathan!” Isla screamed. “Is this how you were raised?” The boy, now nestled in Isla’s arms, sobbed. “Isla and I are in love! She doesn’t love you anymore, Nathan! She doesn’t love you!” I watched my colleague hit the floor, still cursing. “I’ll kill you, you shameless cheater and your little homewrecker!” She scrambled up, ready to fight again, but I suddenly felt tired. It was all so pathetic. I stepped in front of her, shielding her from them. I looked at Isla’s wary face and said one thing. “Apologize to my friend.” She looked at me in disbelief. “Isla,” I thought my heart would break, but seeing someone else’s fury on my behalf had given me a strange clarity. “Apologize. To my friend.” “You’re insane!” she yelled. The moment the words left her mouth, I swung my briefcase, slamming it into her head. I grabbed the boy by his hair and smashed his face into the corner of a nearby table. “Isla,” I snarled. “I’m not letting you get away with this.” Then I turned, took my colleague’s arm, and walked out of the restaurant.

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

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1 Seven years long-distance. I quit my job, hid it from my boyfriend, and traveled far to Seaview City—for a surprise proposal and wedding. At the desk, a sharp-eyed receptionist eyed me oddly when I asked for Eric. “He’s in a meeting. Wait.” I frowned—Eric hadn’t mentioned a promotion. Last week he’d moaned about work stress, saying promotion was distant. Turning, I overheard: “Is that his side piece?” “Brave, showing up here.” “Mrs. Hillman will go mad if she finds out.” I moved to explain—Eric wasn’t married; I was his real girlfriend. But the door opened, revealing a woman in Chanel. Receptionists fell silent, greeting, “Madam.” She was on the phone, sweet: “Darling, I’m downstairs. Come get me—prenatal appointment!” A deep, familiar voice replied, adoring: “Alright, my queen. Meeting’s almost over. Wait in the lounge.” That voice—Eric’s. For seven years. Like my heartbeat. … Thud. My handbag slipped from my grasp, hitting the polished marble floor. As I bent to retrieve it, a crumpled prenatal report fluttered from my bag to my feet. Twelve weeks pregnant. The father’s name, printed starkly on the form, was Eric Hillman. Around that time, Eric had always claimed to be swamped, only picking up my calls once a week. Once, when he finally agreed to a video call, I’d spotted a hickey on his neck. “Mosquito bite,” he’d explained quickly. “Elara, all these years apart, have you ever seen me with anyone else?” I’d believed him, even apologized, blaming my own overthinking. Now, he was someone else’s husband. And soon, a father. The woman, noticing the report, picked it up and handed it to me with a polite smile. Seeing me frozen, she asked, “Are you here to see Eric too?” I nodded. “Then let’s go up together. My husband’s meetings always run long.” That word. Husband. It pierced my heart without warning, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. In the guest lounge, she introduced herself as Clara Vance, the treasured daughter of the Vance family of Seaview City. “My husband’s just stubborn, always saying he’s too busy, but he comes to every prenatal check-up.” She stroked her belly, her tone complaining but her eyes sparkling with affection. “He’s been working late a lot lately, says he needs to earn enough for the baby’s formula. As if the whole company isn’t his anyway, making up excuses to humor me.” My knuckles whitened as I clutched my bag, fighting to rein in the burning rage inside. Eric had told me he was just an ordinary employee, sidelined and struggling for promotion. Seven years of long distance, and he’d used the distance as an excuse, constantly postponing our marriage. So, after finishing my last project at work, I’d immediately quit, rushing to Seaview City to marry him. Footsteps approached from the corridor. Several men in crisp suits passed the guest lounge, nodding respectfully to Clara. “Mrs. Hillman, waiting for Mr. Hillman again?” When Eric walked into the lounge, his colleagues immediately started teasing him. “Mr. Hillman, your wife’s here to check up on you!” Clara flung herself into his arms. “Darling, I’ve been waiting so long my back hurts.” Eric naturally put his arm around her waist. Then he looked up, saw me, and his smile faltered, freezing on his face. It was only a second before he regained his composure, his voice chillingly distant. “What are you doing here?” Clara turned to me, a curious tilt to her head. “Darling, who is this?” His colleagues exchanged glances, quickly jumping in to explain for Eric, their voices full of knowing smiles. “What else could she be? Just a friend of Mr. Hillman’s, of course.” “Don’t worry, Mrs. Hillman, everyone knows how devoted Mr. Hillman is to you.” Eric took a step forward, subtly positioning himself between Clara and me. His explanation was polite, yet utterly detached. “She’s a… university acquaintance.” He then turned to his assistant. “Please escort this young lady out. We wouldn’t want to disrupt anyone’s work.” I stared at him, incredulous. His gaze, however, was entirely fixed on Clara. As the assistant approached to usher me away, Eric was already taking Clara’s hand, playfully flicking her nose. “Come on, my little queen, let’s get you to your appointment.” Clara stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her voice a purr. “You’re the best, darling.” As they passed me, Clara glanced back. “Darling, isn’t it a bit rude to leave your acquaintance standing there?” Eric didn’t even turn around. “Just a casual acquaintance, hardly important. You are.” Tears welled, then spilled down my cheeks, uncontrollably. Passing employees watched my humiliation with mocking fascination. Ten years of shared life, seven years of long distance, traveling over a thousand miles… all for a dismissive “casual acquaintance.” On my phone, a message from Eric, sent just three days ago, still lay unread: Elara, just a little more time. Once my job is stable, I’ll marry you. For those words, I’d quit my job, traveled across the country. I never imagined it was all a lie. 2 My phone vibrated, a new message from Eric flashing on the screen. Go back with the assistant. I’ll explain later. I stared at the terse message, my heart twisting. Finally, I couldn’t hold back, typing: Why did you lie to me? Eric’s reply was cold: Just go back. Behave. Don’t make a scene at the office entrance. It hit me then. Every time I’d suggested visiting Seaview City, he’d found an excuse to put me off. He was afraid of me showing up, afraid of being exposed, afraid of his embarrassment. I looked up to see a huddle of employees, their phones out, filming me. “The mistress dares to show up? How shameless!” “So young, so many other things to do, but she chose to be a home-wrecker.” I quickly raised my hand to cover my face, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m not a mistress! Eric lied to me…” All I got in return was a chorus of laughter. The assistant grabbed my suitcase and almost shoved me into a waiting car. Thirty minutes later, it pulled up to a sprawling villa. Eric, who’d told me he was cramped in a tiny rented apartment, lived here. I’d even worried he wasn’t doing well in Seaview City, sending him half my salary every month. The assistant pushed me inside, and I heard the click of the lock as the door shut behind me. “You can wait for Mr. Hillman here.” A faint scent of perfume hung in the air. I’d smelled it on Eric a few months ago, when he’d visited Fairview. I turned, and my blood ran cold. On the living room wall hung a colossal wedding photo. Eric, in a black suit, embraced Clara, who was radiant in a white gown. The date in the bottom right corner screamed at me. The day they took their wedding photos was also my birthday. The first birthday Eric hadn’t spent with me. He’d said work was too demanding, he couldn’t get away. Frantically, I rushed into the bedroom. The walls were covered with photos of Eric and Clara. In the closet, a slinky lace nightgown hung next to Eric’s shirts. The dresser overflowed with luxury brand cosmetics. The last sliver of hope shattered completely when I saw the almost-empty box of condoms on the nightstand. So, Eric’s “busy” meant building a family with another woman. I sank to the cold floor, burying my face in my hands, crying uncontrollably. I hadn’t come from much. My parents were farmers, and I’d fought tooth and nail to get into a big city university. Any moment I wasn’t in class, I was working part-time off-campus, which was how I met Eric. I was a scholarship student from the countryside, he was a rebellious heir who’d fled his family’s expectations. We had no family support, only ourselves. Months later, we were a couple, and our classmates had jokingly called us the “struggling sweethearts.” We truly were broke back then. But for every birthday, Eric would somehow scrape enough money together to buy me a gift I loved. He’d eat only two meals a day just to save up for a branded lipstick. He always said, “Other girls have these things, and you shouldn’t go without.” No matter how tough things got, he always made sure I was cared for. After graduation, I stayed in Fairview, while Eric moved to Seaview City. I rented a discounted apartment in Fairview, just eight hundred a month. Eric came back every weekend. We’d lose ourselves in each other in the darkness, the old bed creaking under our weight. He’d kissed away the tears from my eyes, his voice hoarse, promising, “Elara, once my job is stable, I’ll marry you.” To save enough for our wedding, I worked relentlessly, often staying late until two in the morning. Eventually, my body gave out, and I collapsed at work. When Eric found out I was sick, he immediately took time off and rushed to the Fairview hospital. He’d cursed me for being foolish, then gripped my hand, his eyes red-rimmed. Eric had tried to take more leave to stay and care for me, only to be torn apart by his superiors. It was the first time I’d seen him so humbled, a bitter smile on his face. I’d begged him to go back to work, not to worry about me. But he’d looked at me, utterly serious. “Elara Ewing, nothing is more important to me than you.” In that moment, I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Eric loved me. And it was that unwavering belief in his love that carried me through seven long years. 3 When Eric returned home, he found me with swollen, tear-stained eyes. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his gaze filled with sorrow. “Elara, I’m so sorry.” “My father passed away unexpectedly, and I had no choice but to return to Seaview City to inherit the family business. Your background… it’s too humble. My family elders would never allow me to marry you.” I couldn’t bear to hear another word. I sobbed, pushing him away. “So you married someone else? Eric, what was seven years of long-distance for?” Eric stood above me, his eyes regaining their cold composure. “Elara Ewing, I’m the head of the Hillman family. I have responsibilities. Clara and I are from similar backgrounds; our marriage is a beneficial alliance for both families.” “Clara said, as long as you’re discreet, she’s willing to look the other way, to let you stay with me.” I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. Eric leaned down, gently wiping away the tears. “Elara, you’ve been with me all these years. I won’t mistreat you. If you want to stay in Seaview City, I’ll arrange for you to work at the company as my assistant.” But instead, I slapped him. His eyes widened in shock as I grabbed my suitcase and rushed out the villa door. As I sped away in a taxi, Eric sent a voice message. “Elara Ewing, don’t be foolish. Hillman Corp isn’t a place just anyone can walk into. I’m giving you three days to think this over.” Then, he transferred ten thousand dollars to my account. Before, to maintain his carefully constructed image, he’d never sent more than a hundred. Now, ten thousand. I didn’t reply, sending the money back. After finding a temporary place and settling in, I reopened my phone. The internet was on fire. Someone had posted a video of me at the company entrance. My frantic, cornered expression in the video was brutally humiliating. The trending topic declared Eric was cheating, and his mistress had brazenly shown up. I, his legitimate girlfriend, was now being reviled as a homewrecker. In a fit of desperate defiance, I uploaded our entire relationship history, including screenshots of our messages. The timeline clearly showed that Eric and I had been together long before his marriage to Clara. The tide of public opinion immediately turned, and the entire internet condemned him as a scumbag. Eric called several times, but I ignored them all. A few minutes later, Clara posted a photo of her marriage certificate on social media, claiming her and Eric’s marriage was harmonious, and accusing me of faking everything for clout. Hillman Corp’s PR team swiftly intervened, declaring my chat logs were “fabricated” and threatening me with a defamation lawsuit. Influencers and gossip sites went wild, spreading rumors, branding me as a mistress who’d provoked the wife. The comments section of my post was completely overwhelmed. “Mistress’s attack failed, even got a legal warning, hilarious!” “The real wife wins, of course. A few words and this arrogant mistress is crushed!” “Being a mistress, destroying someone else’s family, and trying to get clout? Disgusting!” My DMs were flooded with insults, some even wishing me dead. Half an hour later, my posts vanished, and my account was banned. It was then I understood for the first time how utterly powerless I was in the face of absolute wealth and influence. My phone rang again and again. I wouldn’t answer, but they wouldn’t stop calling. Finally, reluctantly, I picked up. It wasn’t Eric. It was Clara. “Miss Ewing.” Her laugh was laced with disdain. “Let’s talk.”

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The plane was going down. My fiancé, the pilot, gave the only life vest to the woman he called his “first love.” I didn’t argue. Didn’t even make a scene. I readily agreed. Because in my past life, when faced with the same choice, my fiancé – the pilot – had given the life vest to me, his pregnant fiancée. The plane had spiraled rapidly, and his first love, without a life vest, was horrifically killed by the impact upon landing. Later, pregnant, I naturally married my fiancé. But on our wedding night, he imprisoned me in the basement, beating me with a baseball bat until I miscarried. “If you hadn’t used your pregnancy to blackmail me into giving you the life vest, Penelope wouldn’t have died so horribly.” He forced my head to pound against Penelope’s gravestone, nine hundred and ninety-nine times. He made me endure repeated pregnancies and miscarriages, a grotesque repayment for my supposed sin. I was tormented until I broke, taking my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I awakened with all the memories of my past life. This time, I would grant his wish… … The entire cabin plunged into chaos, rocking violently. Less than ten minutes until impact. I shielded my swollen belly, pressing myself against the seatback, my face ghostly pale. Just as pale as mine was the co-pilot, who was distributing the emergency equipment. There was only one life vest left. But in the last row, both Penelope Dillon and I still needed one. And Penelope, of course, was my fiancé Ethan Dillon’s first love. The cockpit door burst open, and Ethan strode out. The moment she saw him, Penelope’s eyes welled up. “Ethan, I’m so scared…” Penelope was beautiful, with soft, almond-shaped eyes now brimming with tears. Ethan didn’t spare me a glance. He swept Penelope into his arms, comforting her. “Hush, don’t be scared, I’ll protect you.” He cooed softly to the woman cherished in his heart, completely forgetting that barely a step away sat his seven-month pregnant fiancée. Only when the co-pilot prompted him did Ethan remember me. His eyes met mine, and his brows furrowed, his voice sharp with annoyance. “I told you pregnant women on planes are bad luck. But no, you had to get jealous and follow me. Now you’ve endangered everyone on this plane, are you satisfied?!” He was a renowned handsome pilot on the entire airline, and most passengers in the cabin trusted him implicitly. Hearing his words, the already terrified passengers went ballistic, hurling curses and vile accusations at me and my unborn child. A five-year-old even threw a metal airplane model at me, its sharp wing slicing my forehead. Blood instantly gushed out. As everyone on the plane directed their fury at me, a flicker of triumph and provocation danced in Penelope’s eyes. She choked out, addressing Ethan, “But Ethan, there’s only one life vest left. What do we do?” Tears streamed down her face as she spoke. “Maybe… maybe you should give the vest to Anya, Ethan. She’s carrying your child… As for me, if I can just be with you in my last moments, I’ll have no regrets…” Ethan’s eyes instantly turned red. He hugged Penelope tightly, kissing her hair repeatedly, his voice deep with reassurance. “Never, Penelope. Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” With that, he reached out, snatched the only life vest from the co-pilot’s hand, and swiftly secured it onto Penelope. Once she was wearing it, a smattering of applause broke out among the passengers. Everyone seemed touched by their profound love. Only the co-pilot spoke up for me. “Captain, what about your fiancée?! There are less than two minutes until impact, and she’s pregnant, she won’t make it!” Ethan, however, stared at me coldly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Using my child to blackmail me into giving you the only life vest, just to kill Penelope! Do you know she’s the most talented dancer in the world, with boundless potential?!” “You can’t ruin her because you couldn’t achieve your own dancing dreams! You manipulative wretch, I won’t let you succeed!” His hysterical shout was piercing, even above the plane’s increasingly loud, sharp descent. But I remained perfectly calm, not raising my voice or making a scene. After the agonizing experiences of my past life, I had long seen the true face of the man I had loved for over a decade. He had never loved me. If that was the case, I would no longer hold any expectations for him. This time, I would grant his wish. I would leave his life forever. In the final, desperate moments, the co-pilot tried to remove his own life vest for me, but I stopped him. I looked up, my gaze steady, at the stunned Ethan. In the final second before the plane exploded, I mouthed to him: “I don’t want you, and I don’t want your child.” I deliberately released my hands from my guarded belly. In the instant of freefall, I lost consciousness. Until my body plunged into the icy cold ocean. My bones were fractured by the final blast of the plane’s explosion. My once swollen abdomen was unnaturally concave, and my ears were deafened. The world became silent. Warm blood gushed from my head, stinging my rapidly cooling face. The deep blue sea was already stained red with blood. I floated semi-conscious, alone in the water, a vast halo of light shimmering before my eyes. Within that halo, vast debris of the plane floated, and above them, rescue helicopters descended. A rope ladder unfurled from a helicopter. Ethan, his face anxious, was climbing the ladder, cradling an unharmed Penelope, but he was angrily intercepted by the co-pilot, whose forehead was bleeding. I squinted, trying to read their lips. The co-pilot mouthed: “You animal! Your wife and child are still in the ocean, and you only care about saving your old flame?!” He was truly incensed on my behalf, even though our acquaintance wasn’t particularly deep. Fortunately, he had survived this time. Not far away, Ethan appeared even more enraged than the co-pilot. “Penelope twisted her ankle! Do you know how devastating that is for a genius dancer like her?! As for why I’m not saving my wife and child, that’s my business, what does it have to do with you?” He then swept a contemptuous glance at the co-pilot, his tone sneering. “Or are you my wife’s lover? Why else would you care so much about her?!” Even though I had already witnessed Ethan’s coldness, his callous words still cut me deeply. The co-pilot’s face turned white with fury. But he still insisted on sending me for treatment first, only to be warned by Ethan: “Sam Brooks, you’re just an intern co-pilot. As one of your chief examiners, I have the right to grade your future career. If you keep meddling, I think you might need to find another job.” Seeing that Sam was unmoved, Ethan said in a deep voice, “You might not care, but what about your girlfriend in the control tower?” Sam’s face instantly went pale; he hesitated. Ethan watched his subordinate, now visibly intimidated, with satisfaction. Almost out of a twisted sense of mercy, he looked at Sam with disdain, then glanced at me with a cold sneer on his lips. “Don’t be fooled by her act. She’s best at twisting facts, playing the victim, and lying. She lied about Penelope having thugs harass her, which made me miss Penelope’s most important competition trying to ‘save’ her.” “Afterward, I found out it was all her own scheme, just to make Penelope miss the competition and fail to get into college. She’s a wicked woman! I was tricked into getting her pregnant, then she used the child to force me into an engagement. Now she’s trying the same trick again to kill Penelope?!” “I’ve long seen through her manipulative ways. If she wants to play the victim and freeze in the ocean, then let her freeze!” With that, he turned his back, cradling a faint but blushing Penelope in his arms, and ascended into the helicopter. The helicopter’s propellers churned the sea into giant waves. My strength gave out; I could no longer hold on. As the final wave crashed over me, my consciousness was completely swallowed by darkness. My relationship with Ethan hadn’t always been this hostile. Before senior year of high school, I was his most cherished treasure. His phone and computer lock screens were set to my birthday. Our relationship soured when Beth Vance, the daughter of my family’s housekeeper, transferred to our class. Half a month after she arrived, I fell down the stairs one morning and broke my shin. At the time, I was preparing for a very important dance competition. Beth took my spot. That’s when I learned she also studied ballet, and she was exceptionally good. Ethan thought so too, just like I did. During the two weeks I was recovering at home, Beth became Ethan’s deskmate. Ethan made the first move. Beth had been cornered and “bullied” in the restroom by my best friends, and Ethan, passing by, rescued her. From that day on, Ethan became Beth’s knight. And I became the most irrelevant, most disgusting, villainous side character in their ambiguous romance. But in my past life, I was unwilling to let Ethan be stolen away, and I engaged in many childish acts of jealousy. When Beth set me up, I didn’t find evidence immediately, which made Ethan dislike me even more. Eventually, he even blocked me for Beth’s sake, and told both our parents he would never marry me. His only true love was Beth. Heartbroken, I fell into severe depression and went abroad for four years of university, staying away from him. But to my surprise, when I returned home, I found Beth had also gone abroad. Ethan, too, was heartbroken and despondent. I returned to his side, encouraging him to pursue his dreams. He chose to become a pilot, because Beth loved dancing, and this way, he could personally fly Beth to her competitions. I had originally planned to give up on him. But on the night Beth and Ethan argued and broke up, Ethan got drunk and forced himself on me. Afterward, he produced a drug test report from the liquor bottle, accusing me of being a shameless, conniving woman. In truth, I didn’t know who had drugged him. Helplessly, after that night, I became pregnant. Ethan was then pressured by his parents into getting engaged to me. During this time, Beth returned home. Ethan started not coming home, spending entire nights at her place. His behavior drove my past self to mad jealousy. To catch him cheating, I even booked a flight on the same plane as Beth. Then, at the critical moment, I pulled out the agreement his father and I had signed, stating that if I died, he wouldn’t inherit a penny of his fortune. Only then did Ethan agree to give me the life vest. I just never imagined that Ethan had never loved me or the child in my womb. Fortunately, I had a second chance. It was time to cut my losses. When I reopened my eyes, I saw a stark white ceiling. I was in the intensive care unit, hooked up to a ventilator, my breathing shallow. Seeing me awake, the nurse was overjoyed. “Ten ribs fractured, severe damage to both eardrums, skull fracture, punctured lung… You’re incredibly lucky to be alive!” She spoke quickly, my consciousness just pulling away from the memories of my past life. Even my soul ached. Half a month later, when I was discharged, Ethan still hadn’t shown up once. Uncle Dillon called him countless times during that period, but Ethan dismissed them all as lies concocted by me to deceive his parents. “Anya, you’re full of schemes and always trying to manipulate me, but now you’re dragging my parents into this act too? I’m truly ashamed of you!” He claimed he had more important things to do, which was to accompany his first love, as the heir of Dillon Enterprises, to various business events, building momentum for Beth’s upcoming debut.

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My best friend and James Sterling had been sworn enemies for twenty years, constantly bickering whenever they met. He was a special forces captain; she was the accompanying medic. The only thing they agreed on was to obey my every word. Everyone would laugh, calling them my ‘left and right-hand protectors.’ Until five months into my pregnancy, when I was tidying up James’s old belongings in our military housing, I found a heavy iron box. Opening it, I discovered all the letters he’d written before dangerous missions – his last wills. I picked up the topmost one, the ink still fresh, my fingertips trembling with tenderness. But the moment I unfolded the letter, I felt a chilling dread. The opening address wasn’t me. To my dearest Kate, My breath caught. My gaze frantically dropped, fixing on the last paragraph: If I fall, all my assets go to you. As for Norma, please take care of her. If she asks… tell her I never loved her. Don’t let her hate you; I’ll carry all the guilt alone. My hands shaking, I frantically opened every single letter. Seven hundred and thirty-two of them. Every single one began with “Kate” and ended with “Kate.” And Kate was none other than my best friend. 1 I knelt amidst the scattered letters. My fingertips trembled so much I couldn’t hold a thin piece of paper. Tears streamed uncontrollably, blurring the words on the pages. Kate, eat an extra bowl of the rice balls with fermented rice wine from that place on the west side of town for me tonight, the one you love. Kate, I’m sorry to make you sad again. Kate, after I’m gone, please scatter my ashes beneath that old locust tree, so I can always watch over you. The old locust tree. Our old locust tree. When I was eight, the devastating news of my parents’ sacrifice arrived. I curled up in the corner of the mourning hall, crying until no sound came out. James and Kate, one on each side, stubbornly held my hands, leading me away from the somber room. We ran to the old locust tree in the backyard, which had stood for countless years. Kate’s face was still tear-streaked, but she raised three fingers, pointing at the tree trunk, her voice choked yet incredibly clear: “Grandpa Locust, I swear to you, from now on, I will protect Norma for her mom and dad, for my entire life! No one is allowed to hurt her!” James immediately mimicked her, raising his fingers, his small face stern and determined. His voice was even louder than hers: “And me! I’ll protect Norma for my entire life too! Even longer than you!” Later, they did. My world, because of their presence, was safe and bright. The child in my womb seemed to sense my intense emotional turmoil, kicking restlessly. I instinctively clutched my belly, but my fingertips brushed against the letters scattered on the floor. My vision blurred again. I futilely tried to stuff the letters back into the box. But my hands wouldn’t obey, just fumbling wildly. Every letter felt like a scorching coal, burning, making my insides seize up. I don’t know how long passed, but I finally collapsed against the wall, drenched in cold sweat. From outside the door, I heard approaching footsteps and familiar bickering. Kate’s voice was crisp, tinged with her usual disdain for James: “James Sterling, slow down! So clumsy, you’ve spilled the fermented rice wine soup! Buying two portions isn’t enough, you had to clear out their whole pot, showing off how much you can eat, huh?” James’s voice was deep, equally tinged with his usual impatience: “What do you know? Norma’s pregnant now, her appetite is unpredictable. What’s wrong with buying more? What if she wanted to eat it?” The door opened. Kate peeked in first, saw me on the floor, and rushed over, helping me up. “Why are you sitting on the floor? Pregnant women shouldn’t get cold, hurry and get up!” James quickly put down the rice balls he was holding and ran over, checking my forehead with one hand and supporting me with the other. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I let them both help me up. Kate was the first to notice my swollen, red eyes, asking anxiously, “Why are your eyes so red? Did James bully you?! Tell me, I’ll punch him for you!” James looked at her exasperatedly, “Kate, don’t talk nonsense. I adore my wife; how could I possibly bully her!” He then turned back to me, gently cupping my face, his eyes full of concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” “Who hurt you?” “Or is your stomach upset? I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” 2 The concern in their eyes was utterly genuine. Kate even had tears welling in hers. But as James’s hand brushed my cheek, asking me softly, I clearly saw a fleeting look of disappointment and suppressed longing in Kate’s eyes. Before, I had never noticed. Now, it was so obvious. The cold words from the letters crashed into my mind again. Kate, tomorrow I’m going to propose to Norma. I know this is selfish, and incredibly unfair to you. But Norma… she needs me more. She’s too lonely. And you, Kate, you will always be the one I love most, my best comrade, the one I can always trust my back to. If there’s a next life, I promise I’ll marry you. At the end of the letter, there was a dark, irregular stain. Like a dried water mark. It must have been a tear. I once believed that marrying James was the greatest fortune of my life. I once believed that his kindness to me was truly because he loved me. Never did I imagine that all of it was merely his compassionate charity. How benevolent, and how cruel. A strong, metallic taste rose in my throat, which I desperately suppressed. I suddenly bent over, dry heaving violently. Nothing came up, only cold, acidic bile burning my esophagus. The child in my belly seemed startled, moving more fiercely. A tearing, dull pain erupted from my lower abdomen, quickly sweeping through my entire body. “Norma!” “Sweetheart!” Chaos, jostling. James’s arms around me were stiff as iron. Kate’s tearful voice was distant, then close. A warm dampness spread beneath me. The cold corridor of the military hospital, the harsh white lights flashing across my vision. I don’t know how long passed before the doctor removed his gloves. “I’m sorry, the fetal heartbeat has stopped. Sudden, severe intrauterine distress, leading to violent contractions… we couldn’t save the baby.” The baby. Gone. Five simple words, yet they drained every last bit of strength and warmth from my body. I heard Kate’s and James’s fractured voices by my ears. “Sweetheart, it’s alright… we’ll have a second, a third child later.” “Yes, Norma, don’t be scared. Once you recover, there will be more.” They sounded so distressed, so sincere. I just lay there, eyes open, my mind replaying not the words on the letters, but much older images. 3 In my senior year of high school, when I vaguely realized my feelings for James had surpassed mere friendship, I confided everything to Kate without reservation. Kate was stunned for a moment, then she looked at me with disdain: “Norma, how could you like him?” “He’s completely unworthy of you.” After that, Kate disliked James even more, almost falling into a cold war with him. On the day James and I officially became a couple, Kate and James had a huge fight. She cried until her eyes were red, but wouldn’t say a word about why. Later, James went to military academy, and Kate went to medical school. Both eventually joined the armed forces, and Kate became the accompanying medic for his team. Because my body couldn’t adapt to the military environment, Kate held my hand and said, “Norma, don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on James for you.” Later, James proposed to me, and Kate cried uncontrollably at our wedding. She clutched James’s collar, her voice choked yet fierce: “James Sterling, if you ever dare to treat Norma badly, I’ll be the first to come after you.” James, uncharacteristically, didn’t talk back. He just looked at her trembling lips, his eyes red, and softly replied, “Alright.” From then on, James’s attitude towards her subtly shifted. When Kate criticized him, most of the time he just listened. Sometimes he would even indulge her, saying, “You’re absolutely right.” The day I found out I was pregnant, Kate cried again. That night, she drank a lot, crying and drinking. She said, “Norma, I’m so happy for you, you’re going to be a mother…” “I probably won’t ever get married. Your child will be my child.” “Norma… I really envy you…” She was incoherent, but I just assumed she was drunk. Later, James walked her home. He was gone for a long time. When he returned, his eyes were a bit red, and his lip was cut. He said it was too dark downstairs, and he accidentally ran into a wall. Kate was never one to cry easily. Yet, whenever it involved James and me, her tears seemed to flow effortlessly. Once, I asked her, “Kate, all these years, have you truly never liked anyone?” She suddenly looked up, quickly glanced at James, and smiled, saying, “Of course. I’ve recently taken a liking to a younger guy. I’ll introduce him to you later.” As Kate said this, the glass in James’s hand fell and shattered. And that younger guy, I never saw him. So, everything had been there for me to see. I just never did, or rather, I never wanted to. Now, they knelt before my bed, crying their hearts out. I looked at their two tear-streaked faces, contorted with pain. Suddenly, even breathing felt cold. Finally, I simply closed my eyes and said softly, “I’m tired.” 4 Late at night, James and Kate left the hospital room. I opened my eyes, got out of bed, and followed them. At the end of the corridor, James drew Kate into his arms, comforting her softly. “It’s alright, don’t be too sad.” His hand gently patted Kate’s back, a familiar and tender gesture. Kate’s face was buried in his shoulder, her shoulders subtly shaking. “But… the baby…” Her voice was broken. “Norma… she loved this baby so much…” “If I hadn’t insisted on you accompanying me to watch the sunrise in Westview today, or going to the movies, or buying those rice balls…” “It’s not your fault, this was an accident. No one wanted this.” James interrupted her, his jaw brushing against the top of her head. This intimate gesture made my stomach churn again. Early this morning, James had said he had a small mission, and Kate needed to accompany him. His tone was normal; he even tucked me into bed thoughtfully, telling me to get more rest. I’d seen the red veins in his eyes and just assumed he was tired, even feeling concerned for his safety. How could I have suspected? They were my husband and my most trusted friend. One protected the country, the other saved lives. All my trust, at this moment, seemed so laughable. Kate looked up, her tear stains glistening in the dim light. “James, I suddenly feel so guilty towards Norma. She’s your wife.” James looked at her, the emotions in his eyes so thick they almost spilled over. It was pain, tenderness, struggle. It was a gaze of complete devotion, a mix of all complex emotions, directed solely at one person. That look had never rested on me with such intensity. “Kate, don’t overthink it,” his voice was hoarse. “I’m the one who wronged you.” “As for Norma… I’ll take good care of her.” A deeper pain and self-reproach flickered in Kate’s eyes. She opened her mouth, then once again buried her face deeply in his embrace. And I stood in the shadows. Watching my husband and my best friend. In the dead of night, just after I lost my child, they were licking each other’s wounds. The most painful thing, it turned out, wasn’t their deception. It was this unspoken, deeply ingrained connection and sorrow between them. That shared, secret world that completely shut me out. I didn’t disturb them. I just slowly, step by step, retreated back to my room. The next day, Kate’s eyes were still swollen, but she had already put on a disdainful expression, criticizing James’s porridge for being too hot and the side dishes too salty. James, frowning, occasionally retorted. But neither of them mentioned the baby. If it were before, seeing them like this, I would have felt reassured, felt happy. But now, I leaned against the headboard, watching quietly. Every deliberately averted glance. Every unnatural pause. Every raised voice to mask their guilt in an argument. Each was like a fine needle, pricking my heart. I started to become silent. All day, I either stared blankly out the window or closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Talking required effort. Dealing with things required energy. And all my effort and energy had vanished with that little life I never met.

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