When I found out, yet again, that the IVF baby growing in my womb was actually created from my husband’s sperm and his mistress’s egg. I didn’t throw a violent, hysterical fit and destroy the pregnancy like the previous times. Instead, I chose to play the obedient wife. I nurtured the baby and gave birth to him. Since then, I became the biggest joke in the entire upper-class social circuit, single-handedly keeping hundreds of gossip blogs in business. Every cheating billionaire wished they had a wife as “magnanimous” and “forgiving” as me. Every mistress in our social circle prayed they could seduce a husband like mine. As for the other elite wives, they looked at me like I was a pathetic, spineless disgrace to womanhood. Until the tenth month, when I safely delivered the baby boy. The moment I was wheeled out of the delivery room, Arthur kissed my forehead as gently as he always did. “Chloe is terrified of pain, and you can’t conceive anyway. It’s perfect that you could carry the child for us.” “Don’t worry, she only wants to be a mother. She won’t threaten your position as Mrs. Vance. You are still the only woman I truly love.” Everyone said I loved Arthur Vance to the point of madness. They said that because I couldn’t beat the mistress, my only choice was to join them. But only I knew the truth. I was forced to carry this child by the Vance family matriarch, calling in a life debt I owed her from years ago. Now that the eldest Vance grandson was born. The divorce agreement she promised me would finally go into effect. As the local anesthesia wore off, the throbbing pain from the C-section incision woke me from my stupor. Opening my eyes, I saw Arthur holding the baby, his face beaming with absolute joy. “Honey, Grandma has already picked out a name for our baby. All you have to do is sign this, and we can register his birth certificate.” He handed me the paperwork. Seeing the name Arthur Vance II written on the line, my groggy brain instantly snapped awake. Arthur Vance II. The Second. Carrying on the legacy. That was the beautiful hope I had for my own unborn son. It was the expectation we once had for our love. And more importantly, it was the traditional naming convention reserved exclusively for the eldest son of the 13th generation in the Vance family tree. Years ago, to save Arthur from kidnappers, I took a knife to the abdomen for him. It severely damaged my reproductive organs, making it nearly impossible for me to conceive. Later, during our first successful IVF pregnancy, I walked in on him sleeping with my illegitimate half-sister, Chloe, in our marital bed. In the ensuing chaos, he shoved me. I hemorrhaged and was forced to have a late-term abortion. It was a fully formed baby boy. After recovering from the miscarriage, I wanted to set up a small memorial for him and bury him in the family plot. But the family’s spiritual advisor said the child had died prematurely, so the timing was bad, and we had to wait. I waited for over a year. Throughout this current pregnancy, Arthur whispered in my ear countless times, asking if we could give the name “Arthur II” to this bastard child. I never agreed. But now, looking at his expectant eyes, the memory of him crying and begging for my forgiveness back then just made me feel sick. I knew Grandma didn’t pick that name. Chloe just loved stealing everything that was mine. She must have whispered it into Arthur’s ear. Whatever. The divorce was already set in stone. The last name of a sociopathic father wasn’t worth fighting over. “Whatever. Call him whatever you want.” “I only have one condition. Do not list me as the mother on the birth certificate. My real son in heaven wouldn’t like it.” Arthur froze, a flash of guilt crossing his eyes. “Evelyn, please don’t worry. I only used her because she shares half your bloodline. Me and her…” Before he could finish, a loud crash echoed from the hallway. “You little bitch, who told you you could show your face here?!” Chloe was knocked to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I just wanted to come see the baby.” Grandma Vance was relentlessly striking her with her heavy wooden cane. “Get out!” In that instant, Arthur reacted like a startled bird. He didn’t even have time to hand the baby to the nurse. He practically tossed the newborn onto my chest and sprinted out the door. The weight of the baby pressed directly onto my freshly sutured incision. A piercing agony shot through me, and I cried out in pain. But he acted like he couldn’t hear me and kept running. He threw himself in front of the old woman’s cane without hesitation, shielding Chloe tightly behind his back. The way he aggressively protected her made his comforting words from a minute ago seem like an absolute joke. “Grandma! It was my idea! I did it for the Vance family! Stop hurting innocent people!” Grandma Vance froze for a second, instinctively looking past him into my room. Seeing the stark white hospital bedsheets rapidly turning crimson with my blood, she slammed her cane hard against Arthur’s back. “You animal! Her incision hasn’t healed, how could you just drop the baby on her?!” Arthur’s eyes filled with sudden panic and regret. He was about to rush back into the room to check on me. But behind him, Chloe suddenly went limp and collapsed. Panicking, he scooped her up into his arms, ready to carry her away. Grandma Vance blocked his path with her body. “Don’t you dare leave! Your wife is bleeding out in there! Do you still want a family or not?!” Arthur’s eyes were torn with hesitation. “I do! But she got hurt because you hit her! I can’t just leave her! Evelyn… she has you here, she’ll be fine!” Once upon a time, he used to shield me from every storm just like that. Once upon a time, I was never the option he chose to abandon. Fighting through the blinding pain, I looked at him with dead eyes. “Grandma. Let him go.” He seemed shocked that I was being so magnanimous. After all, in the past, to stop him from leaving, I had thrown tantrums, screamed, cried on the floor, and discarded every last shred of my dignity. He gave me a complex look, opening his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately turned and strode quickly down the hall. The nurses and postpartum care specialists rushed in to re-stitch and treat my wound. The baby was rocked to sleep. My phone suddenly buzzed with a text from him. [I forgot about your incision, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want a scene at the hospital, it would look bad for the Vance family’s reputation.] [Chloe passed out, she needs someone with her, so I won’t come back tonight. Get some rest.] I stared at the screen for a long time. I remembered a time when I got slightly injured while traveling out of state. He took an eleven-hour flight, canceled all his multi-million dollar meetings, just to accompany me to a basic checkup, refusing to leave my side for a single second. Seeing me sigh, Grandma snatched the phone from my hand. Looking at his cold, dismissive words, she let out a harsh scoff. “That ungrateful bastard! When he gets back, I’ll teach him a lesson. Don’t worry, Evelyn, Grandma will…” Hearing this, I suddenly laughed. I looked at her with perfectly calm eyes. “You tacitly approved of all of this, didn’t you?” “I don’t care what he does anymore. You promised me before that once I delivered this child, you would help me get a divorce. I expect you to keep your word.” Her expression froze, a heavy, thick guilt filling her old eyes. “It’s Grandma who wronged you.” “I’ve already tricked him into signing the divorce papers. Rest here in the postpartum center for the next thirty days, and then you can leave.” Grandma took the baby with her, hiring a private team of nannies to care for him. I stayed at the luxury postpartum center under the guise of “recovering,” completely isolating myself from the outside gossip. But that night, the scandal still spread like wildfire through the elite circles. The heir to the Vance empire flew into a rage for his mistress, abandoning his wife who just gave birth, defying the family matriarch to protect his sister-in-law. Vance Group’s stock plummeted for days. Arthur was drowning in corporate fires. Chloe’s “relationship advice” influencer accounts were besieged by furious netizens. The old scandal—where I had personally exposed her for seducing her brother-in-law, only for Arthur to forcefully suppress it—was dug back up. She was universally despised across all platforms. If Arthur hadn’t intervened with his legal team, her accounts would have been deleted, and she would have faced millions in breach-of-contract penalties from her sponsors. I didn’t see him again until seven days later. The first thing he did when he walked in was look at me with profound disappointment. “Evelyn. Are you happy now, getting your revenge on us like this?” I paused for a second before realizing he was blaming me for spreading the gossip to the press. It made sense. I used to work in PR and media; manipulating the narrative was my specialty. Unfortunately, the first time I went crazy and leaked the truth about him and Chloe, he threatened my agency, claiming I was violating NDA and committing defamation, and forced them to fire me. It wouldn’t be easy for me to find people to help me pull a stunt like this now. I gave him a sidelong glance, having long since lost the urge to feel wronged by his false accusations. I continued putting together the memorial gifts for Arthur II’s upcoming anniversary. “You should know that the scandals you two are involved in aren’t just the ones the public knows about. If I actually wanted to expose you, you’d be bleeding a lot more cash than this.” He stood frozen in the doorway for a long time. When he spoke, his voice sounded almost helpless. “After this blows over, I’ll cut ties with her. But you have to promise me, we’re going to live a good life together from now on, okay? We have a child now. We’re going to be a happy family.” He said exactly the same thing to me almost every single day when I was pregnant. But it never stopped him from continuing to tangle with Chloe behind my back. One day he pitied her for being an illegitimate child, the next day he felt bad because she had no family to rely on. In short, he had a million excuses for why he “couldn’t control himself” around her and why he had to ensure her life was perfectly comfortable. He stood in the doorway, refusing to leave, as if he would stay planted there until I answered. Looking at his shadow blocking the sunlight, I gave a dismissive, non-committal hum. It wasn’t until the next morning, when a fake “sex tape” supposedly showing me having an affair went viral across the entire internet, that I realized what he meant by “after this blows over.” Arthur released a public clarification video. In the video, he told the media with a heartbroken expression that Chloe had discovered I was cheating on him during my pregnancy. To protect my own image, I maliciously spread false rumors about him to destroy him. Chloe, crying beautifully on camera, claimed she only tried to advise me not to hurt Arthur’s feelings, but I assumed she was going to expose my affair and decided to destroy her in revenge. The entire internet demanded that Arthur immediately divorce a “disgusting slut” like me. But he put on the performance of a deeply devoted martyr. “No matter what mistakes Evelyn makes in this life, I cannot stop loving her.” Watching his sickeningly hypocritical performance, I couldn’t hold it in and vomited into the trash can. Hearing me retch, Arthur, who was standing outside my suite, rushed in. “What’s wrong?” I frowned, looking at Chloe trailing right behind him, and shoved his hand away. “Nothing. Just realized how disgusting you are. To cover up your mistress’s sins, you’re willing to completely destroy your own wife’s reputation at any cost. Arthur Vance, your love is truly spectacular.” His face turned chalk-white. He opened his mouth to explain. But Chloe suddenly dropped to her knees, crying like a fragile, broken doll. “I’m sorry, sister, it’s all my fault! Arthur only used you as a shield to protect me.” Arthur’s heart instantly ached for her. He glared at me reproachfully. “I came here specifically to talk to you about this. That video was completely AI-generated. At the end of the day, she’s your sister. Sacrificing yourself a little to help her is what family does. I’m helping her because I want to maintain your family bonds! Why do you always have to be so aggressive toward her?” “Besides, you’re a stay-at-home housewife. Public reputation doesn’t matter to you. What outsiders say won’t change my feelings for you. As long as I know it’s fake, that’s enough. But she’s different. She has no one to rely on, and her entire career is built on social media. If her image is destroyed, her life is over.” Listening to his high-sounding, self-righteous defense, I felt nothing but pure nausea. A stay-at-home housewife? I’m only in this position because of you! Back then, he didn’t just force my company to fire me. He blacklisted me across the entire media industry, declaring that anyone who hired me was declaring war on the Vance Group. I faced endless rejections. When I finally found a job at a small, independent PR boutique, he maliciously reported us to regulatory boards until we were shut down. Eventually, my professional licenses were revoked, and I became an untouchable pariah in the industry. I was too lazy to argue with him. My postpartum doula told me I needed to keep my mood elevated during my recovery month. Anyway, in half a month, I would be completely free. Grandma had promised me that when the time came, she would clear my name and prove my innocence. What these two thought of me didn’t matter anymore. I looked at him with a deadpan expression, let out a long exhale, and rolled over, pulling the covers up. “Whatever you say. Do what you want.” He thought I was going to jump up and attack Chloe like I used to. He was so tense he was practically shielding her with his entire body. But seeing me just turn my back and lie down, all his defensive posturing abruptly halted. After a long pause, he asked in a tone of pure disbelief. “You… you aren’t mad?” My voice was entirely flat. “Isn’t this what you always wanted? For me to get along with her?” He let out a massive sigh of relief and chuckled. “You’ve finally learned to behave. I knew you weren’t that heartless. I’ll definitely make it up to you in the future.” I didn’t reply. I didn’t even glance at him until they walked out the door. After a long silence, I placed a hand over my chest. It was beating steadily. No racing, no pain. So this is what letting go feels like. For the next few days, perhaps driven by guilt, he visited me frequently. Even when I gave him the cold shoulder or completely ignored him, he didn’t get angry. He just kept rambling on about the beautiful life we would have together. It wasn’t until he brought up the “One-Month Celebration Banquet” for the baby that he finally spoke with hesitation. “Chloe will never be able to publicly claim her biological child in this lifetime. So, I was thinking… before the baby is old enough to understand, I want to let her attend the banquet openly as the mother.” “It would give her some closure. What do you think?” My hands didn’t stop knitting the tiny sweater I was working on. I didn’t even raise my eyes. “I already told you, do whatever you want. This isn’t my child. Whatever you decide has absolutely nothing to do with me.” He choked on his words. A mix of redness and faint anger flashed in his eyes. He reached over and snatched the memorial items I was preparing for Arthur II out of my hands. “Why are you acting like this lately?! Do you even know what her attending as the mother means?! It means publicly acknowledging her as the Lady of the Vance family! You used to fight me to the death over this!” I paused, looking at him with utter boredom. “Isn’t that a good thing? Just two months ago, when you guys were sleeping together, weren’t you crying about how tragic it was that you couldn’t give her a legitimate title in this lifetime?” He froze, standing there completely paralyzed, his face turning as white as a marble statue. I took my items back, my emotional state so incredibly stable it was as if nothing had happened. His desperate, rambling explanations—claiming he didn’t actually love her, that he was just drugged and took her virginity, so he felt obligated to take responsibility for her—were completely defeated by my absolute, suffocating silence. After that day, he didn’t visit me again. But I frequently saw Chloe posting on Instagram. They took the baby and shot dozens of different “Happy Family” studio portraits. On the day I was discharged from the postpartum center, the entire Vance family was throwing a massive banquet for the bastard child. Grandma told me the final divorce decree would be processed by tomorrow. I went back to the penthouse to pack my things. The warm, cozy marital home we had designed together had been completely remodeled into a style Chloe liked. Even the beautiful maternity portrait of him holding my pregnant belly, which used to sit next to the TV, had been replaced by a massive family portrait of him, Chloe, and the baby. In the photo, Arthur was smiling radiantly. It was an even happier smile than the day he successfully proposed to me. I walked into the master bedroom, planning to pack some of the clothes I owned before we got married. But after tearing through the entire walk-in closet, I couldn’t find the hand-embroidered, pure silk cheongsam my mother had made for me before she died. I was just about to call the staff to ask about it, when I saw a photo on Instagram. It was Chloe, wearing my mother’s cheongsam at the banquet.

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My mom showed up at my door, panicked. My uncle had taken a bad fall and needed thirty thousand dollars for surgery immediately. I rushed her to the nearest ATM to withdraw the cash. But when I looked at the screen, I was dumbfounded. Insufficient funds. The debit card belonged to an account my wife, Chloe, and I set up when we got married. It was our “emergency reserve fund”—strictly for depositing, never for withdrawing. Every month, the second my paycheck hit, I religiously transferred eight thousand dollars into that account. I had done this without fail for exactly five years. Forget thirty thousand. There should have been over four million dollars in there. But right now, the balance was a pathetic $1.03. I called Chloe a dozen times. Not only did she ignore the calls, but she eventually turned her phone off. I had no choice but to borrow the money from a friend. An hour later, she finally texted me back. “Ethan, I was looking at houses with Liam earlier. It was too loud, so I didn’t answer.” “Did you need something?” 1 I swallowed my rising panic and anger, making up a random excuse to brush off her question. Then, I casually asked where she and Liam were looking at houses. She replied: Riverfront Estates. It was a luxury development, averaging over three million dollars a unit. We had gone to see the model homes when they first opened last year. I even wanted to put a down payment on one, but she refused. I didn’t say anything else and ended the conversation. At seven o’clock that evening, Chloe finally walked through the door. A faint scent of men’s cologne drifted into my nose. It was the woody, cedar scent Liam—her childhood best friend—always wore. Our one-year-old son, Leo, was sitting in his high chair, babbling and playing with a spoon. I fed him a bite of steamed egg, looking up at my wife as she took off her coat. “How was house hunting with Liam today?” She paused for a fraction of a second, her face shifting into its usual warm, gentle smile. “It was fine. Liam thinks the layouts at Riverfront Estates are great. Good views, and the price is fair.” “That’s not what you said when we looked at them,” I said, looking down and stirring the soup in my bowl. “You said it was too far from the city center, the amenities weren’t built yet, and it wasn’t worth the price tag.” “That was then. The area has developed a lot since last year. I heard the subway extension is opening next year.” She sat down, picked up a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks, and naturally changed the subject. “By the way, why were you calling me so frantically this afternoon? I couldn’t hear you clearly.” “It was nothing. Just a minor issue with my mom’s side of the family. It’s already handled.” She gave a soft “Oh,” and didn’t press further. Leo started slapping the table with his little hands, demanding water. Chloe got up to grab his sippy cup, coaxing him in a soft, sweet voice. I watched her back. Her long hair was pinned up loosely, and her cream-colored loungewear made her silhouette look incredibly gentle. We dated for three years and had been married for five. After eight years, I thought I knew the woman sleeping next to me inside and out. Until this afternoon. That glaring balance on the ATM screen felt like a brutal slap across my face. “By the way,” I put my chopsticks down, speaking as if the thought had just crossed my mind. “I’m thinking about trading in the old Volkswagen. I’ve got my eye on a new BMW, it’s around sixty thousand. What do you think?” Chloe’s hand, holding the sippy cup, stopped moving. She turned her head, her brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you suddenly want a new car? You’ve only had that one for eight years.” “It’s getting old, and the space is tight. When we take the kid camping, we can’t fit all the gear.” “But sixty thousand is so expensive…” She set the cup down and sat back in her chair. “If you buy a new car, won’t that put too much financial pressure on us?” “Our monthly living expenses are already pretty high.” “A car is a depreciating asset. The moment you drive it off the lot, it loses value.” “Plus, you’ve kept that Volkswagen in great condition. It can easily run for another few years. There’s no need to buy a luxury car just to show off…” She listed her reasons one by one. Her logic was clear, her tone earnest and sincere. The perfect picture of a frugal, forward-thinking wife putting her family first. Over the past five years, I had heard these exact words countless times. I had always felt grateful—even guilty—for having a wife so practical and devoted to our family’s future. But hearing them now felt like fine needles being driven relentlessly into my heart. I stayed silent, offering no rebuttal, and just kept eating. After washing the dishes, Leo was getting sleepy, rubbing his eyes while leaning against Chloe. “I’m going to give him a bath and put him to bed.” She picked up our son and walked toward the bathroom. On the coffee table, the screen of her phone was still lit up. I walked over, picked it up, and quickly opened her banking app, pulling up the transaction history. Row after row of transfers filled the screen. 2 The recipient’s full name was partially asterisked out, but the last four digits of the account number were crystal clear. It was the exact same account every time. The frequency of the transfers was staggering. Multiple transactions a month. Some were for thirty or fifty thousand. Some were over a hundred thousand. The largest single transfer? Five hundred thousand dollars. It happened today. Holding my breath, I scrolled all the way to the bottom to find the very first record. March 15th of this year. A transfer for fifty thousand dollars. Liam had posted a photo of himself at the airport on Facebook, announcing his return from Europe. The date on the post was March 14th. Late that night, I lay in bed, completely unable to sleep. Beside me, Chloe’s breathing was steady. She was fast asleep. I stared at her quietly, feeling a bone-chilling unfamiliarity toward the face next to me. Five years ago, on a night just like this. We had just gotten our marriage license. She brought up the idea of a reserve fund with utter seriousness. “Ethan, we need to plan for our future.” “We’re going to have kids, and our parents are going to get older.” “This money is strictly for saving, never for spending. It will be our safety net.” I was so moved back then. I thought I had found the perfect partner. For the next five years, the moment I got paid, I transferred eight thousand dollars into that account, leaving myself with barely enough to survive on. To save money, I quit smoking cold turkey after a decade. I declined every social invitation that cost money. I wore my clothes and shoes until they were practically falling apart. Whenever my coworkers showed off their new cars or watches, I just smiled. In my mind, I thought about the steadily growing number in that bank account, and I felt it was all worth it. That was my investment in our future. My commitment to our family. I never in my wildest nightmares imagined this would be the result. Five years. Sixty months. Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Turned into $1.03. Suddenly, a flood of memories from the past few years rushed into my mind. Chloe was always so supportive of my frugality. When I wanted to take her out for a nice dinner, she said cooking at home was healthier. When I wanted to buy her a nice winter coat, she said it was a waste of money. Back then, I just thought she was sensible and good at managing a household. Now I understood. It was all a performance to make me more willing to dump money into that account. And what about her? Her skincare products were always high-end luxury brands. Her clothes looked simple, but the fabric and tailoring screamed expensive. I used to think her parents occasionally subsidized her, or that she bought them with her own meager salary. Looking back, I was certain my four hundred and eighty thousand had heavily subsidized her pristine, elegant lifestyle. The most pathetic part? I had actually felt guilty about it. I felt guilty that she married me and didn’t get to live a luxurious life. I felt I was holding her back. I walked out to the balcony, leaned against the railing, and lit a cigarette. My first cigarette in five years. The next day was Saturday. When Chloe woke up, I had already made breakfast. “Why are you up so early today?” She looked a bit surprised, rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.” I placed fried eggs and milk on the table. “Leo isn’t awake yet, let him sleep a bit longer.” She sat down, took a bite of toast, and started scrolling through the news on her phone, just like any other normal day. Her demeanor was perfectly natural. Not a single trace of guilt. I watched her quietly, then suddenly spoke: “Did Liam get enough money together for his house?” “Why are you asking about that?” She smiled, put her phone down, and took a sip of milk, pretending to be totally unbothered. “Just curious. Riverfront Estates isn’t cheap. He just moved back to the States this year, where did he get that kind of cash?” “His family is helping him out, and he has some savings of his own.” She answered immediately. It sounded rehearsed. “Is that right?” I looked down, cutting my eggs. “I heard the down payment for the smallest unit over there is over a million. His family can really afford that?” Chloe fell silent for a few seconds. “Liam studied abroad, he has a great career. Buying a house isn’t a huge problem for him.” “You eat first, I’m going to go check on Leo.” I watched her retreating back, noticing the slight panic in her hurried steps. My heart sank into a lightless abyss. I picked up my phone and sent a text to a friend: “Hey, you around? I need you to look into something for me.” Five days later was my father-in-law’s birthday. The driveway of the Miller family home was packed with cars. Carrying bags of loose-leaf tea and health supplements, I looked entirely out of place amidst the lively, well-dressed crowd. Every time someone from the Miller family looked at me, there was a faint, unmistakable trace of contempt in their eyes. I grew up in a rural, working-class town. After getting into a good university, I stayed in the city, working my way up the corporate ladder to become a Project Manager. But to this family, the only thing they saw was my background. When I first wanted to marry Chloe, the Millers violently opposed it. Her mother explicitly called me a “country bumpkin” who wasn’t worthy of her daughter. Her father didn’t say much, but his attitude was freezing cold. In the end, it was Chloe who insisted, and since my income was actually quite good, they reluctantly agreed. Five years later, nothing had changed. 3 From the kitchen, Chloe’s mother’s voice rang out: “Chloe, when is Liam getting here? I specifically called him and told him he absolutely had to come today.” “Don’t worry, Mom. He said he’s coming.” Chloe replied. I walked out to the backyard and lit a cigarette. I was already halfway through the pack I bought yesterday. “Hey brother-in-law, why are you out here all alone?” Chloe’s younger brother, Jake, strolled over. His tone was flippant. I told him I was just getting some fresh air. He chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, man. Our family is just like that. Honestly, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.” It sounded like comfort, but the dismissive look in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. By 11:30 AM, all the guests had arrived. Two large, round dining tables were set up in the living room. My father-in-law sat at the head of the main table. I was seated at the secondary table, shoved in with some distant relatives. Just as we were about to start eating, the sound of an engine pulled into the driveway. Everyone looked up. A brand new, gleaming black Mercedes parked by the front gate. Liam stepped out of the driver’s seat. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit and holding several high-end gift bags. My mother-in-law’s eyes lit up instantly. She practically sprinted to the door. “Liam! You’re here! Come in, come in!” Chloe stood up from her seat, the corners of her mouth curling up unconsciously. I saw it clearly. Her eyes were shining. Liam politely greeted everyone, handing out expensive gifts. Premium imported liquor for my father-in-law. A designer silk scarf for my mother-in-law. The newest iPhone for Jake. He even brought a massive, incredibly expensive Lego set for my son, Leo. “Liam, you are too kind! You really shouldn’t have!” The family couldn’t stop smiling as they accepted the gifts. In stark contrast, the tea and supplements I had placed in the corner looked pathetic and embarrassing. Liam was seated at the main table, right next to my father-in-law. I sat at the secondary table, watching them laugh and chat from a few chairs away. Chloe sat diagonally across from Liam. They would occasionally make eye contact, then quickly look away. Just like every other family gathering over the past few years. Maintaining the perfect, appropriate distance. That was exactly why I was completely blind to it until today. The feast began. Dish after dish was served, and the table grew loud and festive. I ate in silence, listening to their conversation. “Liam, this car is gorgeous. Brand new?” Chloe’s older cousin suddenly asked. Liam smiled modestly. “Just drove it off the lot. It was only about fifty grand. Nothing special.” “Fifty grand and you say it’s nothing special?” My mother-in-law raised her voice intentionally. “Someone here is still driving a cheap, thirteen-thousand-dollar piece of junk. What has it been, eight, nine years?” “And he still can’t afford to upgrade. Pathetic.” The table went completely quiet for a second. My father-in-law cleared his throat. “Let’s just eat.” But my mother-in-law clearly had no intention of stopping. “If you ask me, a man needs to be capable.” “Look at Liam. He hasn’t even been back in the country for a year, and he’s already bought a car and is looking at houses.” “But some people have absolutely zero ambition.” “I guess this is as good as his life is ever going to get.” Chloe whispered, “Mom, please stop.” “Did I say something wrong?” My mother-in-law shot a glare in my direction. “I didn’t approve of this marriage from day one. He’s from the country, how broad could his horizons possibly be? If you hadn’t been so blindly stubborn about marrying him, I never would have agreed!” Liam smiled, playing the peacemaker. “Mrs. Miller, Ethan actually works very hard.” “What’s the point of working hard? Look at the garbage he bought for us.” She shook her head. “Embarrassing.” The other relatives at the table chimed in, looking at me with thinly veiled contempt. I didn’t say a word. I just kept eating. Liam, probably riding the high of the compliments, brought up his house hunting. “Mrs. Miller, actually, I already put down the deposit for Riverfront Estates. The down payment went through yesterday. I’m just waiting to sign the final paperwork.” Someone asked how much the down payment was. “A hundred and eighty thousand,” Liam answered smugly. “My family helped out a bit, and I used some of my own savings.” My mother-in-law’s eyes sparkled again. “Look at that! That is what you call a successful man!” “Unlike some people, living in a cramped, old apartment, driving a cheap beater, and acting like they’re doing great.” She stared directly at me. “If I had known things would turn out like this, I would have stopped Chloe from marrying you at all costs.” “A bumpkin is a bumpkin. You can’t polish a turd!” Everyone at the tables turned to look at me. Chloe’s face looked terrible. “Mom, I said stop.” 4 My father-in-law finally spoke up again. “Enough. It’s my birthday today. Let’s keep the peace.” I put down my chopsticks. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood up. My mother-in-law sneered, “What? Can’t handle a little criticism?” “Are you throwing a tantrum?” I looked at her, then I looked at Chloe. She avoided my eyes, staring down and fidgeting with her napkin. Liam stood up. “Ethan, Mrs. Miller is just blunt. Don’t take it personally.” “I’m not taking it personally.” I looked at my father-in-law. “Dad. Happy birthday.” He nodded, his expression complex. I took a deep breath. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the room to hear perfectly: “Since we’re all gathered here today, I’d like to make an announcement.” “I’ve made a decision. Chloe and I are getting a divorce.” The words struck the room like a bomb. Everyone froze. After a moment of absolute shock, Chloe jumped out of her chair. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” “I haven’t lost my mind.” I looked at her with dead calm eyes. “I am completely serious. I am divorcing you.” “And the reason? Just because my mom criticized you?” “The reason?” I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, pulled out a thick manila envelope, extracted a stack of printed papers, and tossed them onto the glass lazy Susan in the middle of the main table. “Before we get to that, I want you to answer a question for me. For the past five years, I have religiously deposited eight thousand dollars every single month into our ‘Emergency Reserve’ account. A total of four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Where is that money now?” The glass tray slowly spun, displaying the printed pages to the Miller family. It was a dense log of banking transactions. Dates, exact amounts, and the last four digits of the receiving account. Chloe froze in place, staring at the stack of papers, her lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. The Miller family was dead silent, looking at each other in confusion. “You don’t want to say it? Fine, I’ll say it.” I glanced at Liam, who was equally paralyzed, and pulled out my phone, opening the investigation report my friend had sent me. “Starting from March of this year. Not even eight months.” “The funds transferred out of our joint account went to a recipient with account number ending in 8347. The account holder’s name is Liam Vance.” “There are exactly forty-seven transfers. The total amount is four hundred and sixty-eight thousand, seven hundred and thirty dollars.” “March 20th. Five thousand dollars. For Mr. Vance to buy a new wardrobe after moving back from Europe.” “May 7th. Twelve thousand dollars. Mr. Vance’s annual membership fee for an exclusive country club.” “From July to present, two fixed transfers a month totaling thirty thousand dollars. Used to pay off a car loan.” “Oh, right. The loan for that shiny new Mercedes parked out front.” “Last Friday. A single wire of fifty thousand dollars, transferred directly to the developer’s escrow account for Riverfront Estates. The memo line says ‘Deposit’.” “And these… these correspond to charges at several luxury hotels in the city.” “Do I need to read the hotel names and the exact dates you two checked into the rooms?” With every transaction I read, another layer of color drained from Chloe’s face. Liam tried to shrink away from the stares of the room, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The expressions of the Miller family shifted from shock, to confusion, to absolute, humiliating horror. My mother-in-law opened her mouth, seemingly trying to interrupt me, but no sound came out. “Oh, almost forgot.” I put my phone away and looked at Chloe. “That new coat you’re wearing? Bought it last month. Two thousand, eight hundred dollars.” “That limited-edition skincare set on your vanity? Twelve hundred.” “Both paid for using the secondary debit card linked to that account. I pulled the transaction history.” Chloe’s body was trembling visibly. She finally managed to speak, her voice completely dry. “You hired someone to investigate me?” “If I didn’t, how would I have known that the nest egg I spent five years bleeding myself dry to save had become someone else’s personal slush fund? And that it was secretly financing my wife’s luxurious lifestyle… and…” I paused, my gaze slicing toward Liam, “her affair.” “ENOUGH!” Chloe shrieked, interrupting me. Her chest was heaving violently, her face flushed red with panic and rage. “Ethan, you’re just saying all this because you want a divorce, right?!” “Fine! I agree! We’ll divorce!” “We split the assets fifty-fifty, but I get full custody of Leo!” I, the man who had obeyed her every command for five years, laughed. “Fifty-fifty? Keep dreaming.” “My terms are simple. You leave with absolutely nothing.” “And that four hundred and eighty thousand dollars? You will pay me back every single cent.” “You’re out of your fucking mind!” Jake finally lost it. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pointing directly at my nose, screaming. “Ethan! Who the hell do you think you are?! What gives you the right to make my sister leave with nothing?!” “Even if she cheated, that money is marital property!” I pulled the final piece of paper out of the envelope and gently placed it on the table. It was the conclusion page of a DNA paternity test. I spoke slowly, my voice dripping with ice. “Because of this.” “Chloe didn’t just commit adultery and drain our accounts. She had another man’s baby.” “I am not Leo’s biological father!”

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When I was ten years old, my parents’ business went bankrupt, and the crushing debt drove them to jump off a building. Faced with vicious debt collectors pounding on our door, my older brother—the one who had abandoned us to become a rich woman’s sugar baby—finally returned. He brought bodyguards, sold the house our parents left behind, paid off the debt collectors, and forcibly dragged me into his car. “From today on, you’re with me. Mom and Dad still owe eighty thousand dollars. When you grow up and start making money, you’re going to pay it back.” I glared at him with pure hatred. “Why did you even come back?! Mom and Dad are dead because of you! Why wasn’t it you who died?!” 1 He went dead silent. I had known since I was little that I had an older brother. He left home when he was 18. He said our family was too poor and couldn’t give him the life he wanted, so he hooked up with a wealthy older woman and became her kept boy. At school, classmates would always ask me, “Hey Cole, is it true your brother is a sugar baby? That is so pathetic!” “Your brother is trash. All the money your family has probably comes from him sleeping around, right?” “My mom said your brother is a whore and told me not to play with you!” I always hated him. I hated him for being shameless and dragging my reputation down with him. I also hated him because if it wasn’t for him, my parents wouldn’t have been so desperate to make money. They took out loans to open a storefront, only for it to fail and ruin them. Now he was back, and he had sold the only thing my parents left behind. After I screamed at him, he looked at me and sneered. “I actually do want to die, but I just won’t!” “Listen to me, you little brat. You want me dead, but I’m going to stay alive! Besides me, absolutely no one wants you. You better behave, or I’ll throw you right back where I found you!” Hearing that, ten-year-old me went pale with fear. Even though I hated him, I knew I had no other choice. Those relatives back home? They all assumed my parents had secretly left me money. After barely speaking to me for two minutes, they were already trying to drag me to the bank. They didn’t care about me at all. But this brother I had never met didn’t seem much better. But I had no choice. He was my legal guardian. I took a train with him to a strange, new city, eventually arriving at a high-rise apartment. This was his place. It was very clean, but there were women’s clothes, shoes, and socks scattered around. My room was on the second floor. It was small, but honestly, it was much nicer than anything I was used to. “You can do whatever you want normally, but when my girlfriend comes over, you stay in your room. Don’t come out and cause trouble for me!” I kept my head down and didn’t speak. My brother’s girlfriend was a middle-aged woman who wore glasses. When she saw me, she gave a faint smile. “So this is little Cole!” I nodded, grabbed a glass of water, and quickly ran upstairs to shut my door. I could tell from her smile that she was keeping her distance. It was just like the teachers at my old school. They would nod and smile at me, but the smile never reached their eyes. It was the look you give a stray dog—a completely expendable little thing. As my mom used to say, “Some people look down on everyone else. We can’t afford to associate with them.” She was one of those people we couldn’t afford to associate with. My brother told me to call her “Ms. Claire.” She ran a local trading company and drove luxury cars. When Ms. Claire visited, she would bring gifts for my brother and snacks for me. But she only ever stayed for a few hours. She never spent the night. I was enrolled in a nearby elementary school. Here, no one knew my brother was a sugar baby. But I was still terrified. I was terrified someone would find out, and I would be mocked again. This routine lasted for two years. I started middle school. During the summer break, I had nowhere to go, so my brother took me to his office. That’s when I found out he actually worked at Ms. Claire’s company. On my very first day, someone casually mentioned that the heavy-set, older guy in the office was Ms. Claire’s husband. In that instant, my blood ran completely cold. I hated my brother. Why did he have to bring me here? Every time I ran into that man, my heart pounded. I was terrified he would scream at me, calling me the brother of the whore who ruined his marriage. Ms. Claire’s husband, who everyone called “Big Mike,” would always wave at me when he saw me. “Hey kid, come help me carry this!” He’d have me carry his bags and then try to hand me cash. I was too terrified to take it. I was afraid he would demand it back later, or worse, scream at me for having no shame. When I refused the money, Big Mike would just ruffle my hair. At the end of the summer, he bought me two new outfits and even personally drove me to school on my first day. When I found out the middle school had dorms, I immediately applied to board there. 2 My brother was not happy about it. “You can live at home. Why do you need to board?” “It’s easier to study. You work overtime and don’t come home on time anyway. I’ll go hungry.” That explanation silenced him, and he eventually agreed. Ms. Claire, however, was annoyed. “Why is he going to a dorm? He should come back and hang out on the weekends!” Before her hand could land on my head, Big Mike slapped it away. Terrified they were going to start a screaming match, I hugged my backpack and sprinted into the school. After that, I went back once a week. My brother kept my room exactly as it was. But gradually, more and more things started piling up in that room. I didn’t think much of it. I only slept there one night a week, and it was his apartment anyway. Until a new transfer student arrived in my class. He was from my old hometown. The moment I saw him, pure panic set in. And, just as I feared, he cornered me. “Cole! It really is you! You and your brother moved here?” “Is your brother still a sugar baby for that rich lady?” After saying it loudly, he dramatically covered his mouth, feigning shock. “Oops! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I totally forgot it’s a secret!” All the other kids looked over. In that moment, I felt all the blood rush to my head. The culprit, Tyler, acted completely smug. “Oh, come on Cole, don’t look at me like that! You’re scaring me!” The other kids swarmed around. “Tyler, are you serious? His brother is really a sugar baby?” “Oh my god, I had no idea. No wonder he got dropped off in a luxury car on the first day!” “The brother of a sugar baby is probably going to be a sugar baby too!” I clenched my fists tightly. Tyler kept going: “Hey guys, stop talking about it, or he’s going to have to transfer schools again!” “After all, a sugar baby is basically just a parasite!” I looked up at him. “What about you? Why did you transfer here? You got caught stealing at our old elementary school and the principal made you read a public apology in front of the whole school! Did you transfer here because you couldn’t show your face there anymore?!” Tyler’s face violently contorted. “Cole, you think you’re so great?! Your brother has slept with more than one married woman! And you… you’re probably just some bastard he had with one of his random hookups!” “What the hell are you talking about?!” “Everyone back home says you’re just the little! Bastard! Your brother popped out!” The moment the words left his mouth, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I lunged forward, slapped him across the face, grabbed him by the hair, and beat him like my life depended on it! Eventually, a teacher had to physically rip us apart. “Cole! Tyler! What are you doing?!” “Mr. Davis, he hit me first!” Tyler immediately played the victim. I wiped a smear of blood off my face, my voice ice-cold. “Mr. Davis, he was talking shit!” I glared at Tyler with pure hatred. He stopped wailing, but inevitably, they called our parents. Tyler’s mom showed up. When she saw me, her face twisted in disgust. “Cole! You little bastard, how dare you hit my son?!” “Mom, it hurts so much!” Tyler shrieked. “Mom, kill him! Beat him to death!” Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “You know I don’t have a mom. I only have a brother, and according to you, he’s a whore. So basically, I have absolutely nothing to lose!” Tyler froze. His mom’s face cycled through shades of red and white before she yelled, “I don’t care what your excuse is, you are going to apologize right now!” My brother didn’t show up. Big Mike did. After hearing what happened, Big Mike pointed a thick finger right at Tyler. “If anyone’s apologizing, it’s you first! Who told you to run your mouth?! Calling my little brother a bastard born from a whore, huh?!” “I’m calling the cops right now for defamation! Do you have proof?! Show me the proof! If you don’t have any, I will sue you into the ground!” 3 Tyler’s face turned completely pale, and he was eventually forced to apologize. His mom looked sick to her stomach. She clearly didn’t expect me to have someone like Big Mike backing me up. She shot me a venomous glare, pinched Tyler’s arm hard, and muttered that he was useless! I didn’t say anything, just went back to class. Big Mike patted my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Your brother… he’s in a tough spot, but he is absolutely not a bad person.” I stayed silent. Back in class, the way my classmates looked at me had changed, but I didn’t care. Tyler came back and glared at me. I glared right back, raising my voice: “Tyler, if I hear a single rumor about my family in this classroom again, I am calling the cops and having you arrested for spreading slander!” Tyler slammed his fist on his desk but didn’t say a word. I felt incredibly vindicated. Yeah, they all say my brother is a sugar baby, but where’s the proof? Without proof, who dared to talk trash? My ruthlessness, combined with Tyler’s pathetic crying, actually put the other students’ minds at ease. Tyler, on the other hand, was permanently branded with the label of “thief” and could never shake it off. When I went home that weekend, my brother was there. I noticed there were baby clothes and a crib in the apartment. Seeing me, he waved me over. “Come look at this! I bought these for your little nephew. Cute, right?” I clenched my fists. The secret I had violently defended at school for two years had just been casually destroyed by his own hands. I had just threatened Tyler, demanding proof that my brother was a sugar baby. But seeing the baby clothes my brother bought… I felt like an absolute clown. My legs felt like they were made of lead. I finally dragged myself over to him and stared. “Why did you become a sugar baby? Why did you have to have a bastard child with a married woman?!” The moment the question left my mouth, my brother’s lips trembled. For a long time, he couldn’t form a single word. I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and sprinted out the door. My brother yelled from behind me, “Cole! Get back here!” I screamed like a maniac: “I’m never coming back! I don’t have a brother like you!” I missed my parents. When they were alive, they always told me my brother had excellent grades, but that they were useless and couldn’t provide for him, which forced him to run away. But why did he come back? And fine, he came back, but why did he have to drag me here, forcing me to personally witness his degradation and his sins? It made me sick! I went back to school and never returned to the apartment. My brother found out from my homeroom teacher that I was at school, but he didn’t say anything. He just asked the teacher to transfer my living expenses to me. I wanted to refuse the money out of pride, but I couldn’t. I needed it to survive. It wasn’t until the end of the semester, when I was standing at the school gates with my luggage, that Big Mike showed up again. He pulled me into his car, hesitating several times as if he wanted to say something. I could tell we weren’t taking the route to the apartment. Doing the math, Ms. Claire should be due to give birth any day now. He sighed heavily. “Cole, I’m taking you to see your brother.” I looked up at him, finally asking the question that had been burning inside me. “You don’t hate him? He destroyed your family. He’s a homewrecker.” Big Mike patted my arm. “Silly kid, he’s not a homewrecker. Your brother is the most responsible kid I know. He’s not a sugar baby. You’ll understand when you see him.” I didn’t want to see him. But Big Mike drove me directly to the hospital. My heart sank! Did Ms. Claire have the baby? But Ms. Claire and Big Mike were married. This dynamic was completely messing with my head. When I followed Big Mike into the hospital room, I saw my brother lying in the bed. His stomach was massively swollen, and his face was a sickly, waxy yellow. Seeing that, my brain exploded! Suddenly, everything made sense. 4 “Mike, why did you bring him here?” Seeing me, my brother struggled to sit up. Big Mike rushed over and gently pushed him back down. “I brought him so you two could see each other! So you wouldn’t regret it!” Looking at my brother like this, I didn’t need anyone to explain it to me. He had a terminal illness! There was a guy back in our hometown who looked exactly like this. He eventually died a suffocating, agonizing death. My mom had said it was uremia—end-stage kidney failure. There was no cure. Seeing him like this now, after only a few months of not seeing him, he had wasted away to almost nothing. I slowly walked over. My brother touched my hand. “Haven’t seen you in a few months. You’ve lost weight.” “Cole, I probably won’t make it to see you graduate.” Big Mike cut him off. “Stop talking nonsense! You’re young! Don’t worry about the medical bills!” My head was buzzing. I had no idea he was this sick. I opened my mouth, but for a long time, no words came out. Big Mike nudged me. “Did you go mute? Your brother was so sick but refused to let me tell you. Now that you’re here, if you have something to say, say it!” I finally managed to squeeze out one sentence: “Where is the baby you had with Ms. Claire?” The moment I said it, Big Mike’s eyes went red. My brother just smiled. “He’s already born. He’s in the incubator. Mike will take you to see him in a bit.” I looked at Big Mike, whose eyes were red, feeling completely confused. I stood blankly by the bed and asked another question. “Are you going to die?” Since our parents passed away, he was my only living relative. Even though I didn’t like him, the thought of him leaving me, leaving me completely alone in this world, still terrified me. Hearing me say that, he laughed. “No. But even if I die, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already set up a safety net for you.” “I don’t want it!” I violently yanked my hand away from his. “You never asked me what I wanted! When Mom and Dad died, you dragged me here without asking me. Now you’re dying, and you say you’ve planned out my future, but you never asked me about that either! So I don’t want it.” “You’re right. You don’t want it.” My brother’s voice grew heavy. “That was my oversight. You’re a living, breathing person, of course you have your own thoughts. But Cole, you’re still young.” “I understand everything! Stop lying to me! You became a rich woman’s sugar baby, you had a bastard child with her, and now that you’re sick, Big Mike is somehow forced to take responsibility for you?!” “You crazy kid!” Big Mike stood there, looking shocked. “You didn’t tell him?!” My brother shook his head. “I never got the chance. And I didn’t even know where to begin.” Big Mike sighed. “You sit down and explain it to him properly. I’m going to go check on the baby.” After he left, my brother tried to comfort me. “Mike and Claire are good people. This baby… Mike and I already talked it out. He’s going to sponsor your education.” “Cole, you have to understand something. No matter what happens, even when you’re pushed to the absolute brink, as long as you’re alive, there’s hope. As long as you’re alive, you can start over.” “My life wasn’t a waste. I went out, I hustled, I wanted to build up savings. But I never expected… the money I was saving for your college tuition would all be spent on this illness.” “But I don’t regret it. Because I got out there and saw the world.” Hearing him say that, I didn’t know what to say. My throat felt completely blocked, and my voice came out raspy. He patted my hand. “Go see your little nephew. He’s a really good-looking kid!” Relieved to escape the heavy atmosphere, I practically sprinted out of the room.

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On the very first day the “real” heiress, Chloe Miller, returned to the family, she threw all my belongings out of my bedroom. “I am Mom and Dad’s biological daughter. You’re just a fake. You can pack your bags and get out.” “Oh, by the way, before you leave, I need you to refund all the money you’ve spent in our house for the past twenty years. Let’s call it $500,000 a year. That’s ten million dollars total. Just wire it directly to my account.” I silently handed her a QR code for the “Family Reunion Queue.” “Understood, Miss Miller. But before we get to that, you need to scan this, join the queue, and wait for your identity verification.” Chloe slapped the QR code out of my hand. “Evelyn Vance! Who the hell do you think you are?! How dare you block me from reuniting with my family?!” I sighed helplessly, trying to explain. “I’m not blocking you. You just need to wait in line.” But Chloe, desperate to claim her billionaire status, refused to listen. “You think I need to wait in line?! Just wait until I find Mom and Dad! You’re going to be kicked out on the street, you imposter!” However, what Chloe didn’t know was that before her, exactly 499 other people had shown up claiming to be the long-lost daughter. My parents were so overwhelmed they had long since delegated the entire “Family Reunion” department to me. … Chloe ambushed my mother by the elevator just as she finished a board meeting. “Mom!” She dropped to her knees right there in the lobby. “I’m your real, biological daughter!” My mother didn’t even bat an eyelid. Her assistant, Mark, immediately stepped forward. “Miss, if you are here for a family reunion, please make an appointment online.” Tears streamed down Chloe’s face on command. “Mom! Look at me! I’ve suffered so much all these years…” My mother finally looked up. She glanced at her Rolex. “Thirty-six seconds. You started crying five seconds slower than the girl last month. You didn’t break the record, kid.” Chloe was dumbfounded. “What?” My mother pulled out her iPad and swiped a few times. “Applicant YM-37. Chloe Miller, twenty-two years old. Lives in a low-income housing complex on the East Side. Parents deceased. Finished college on financial aid.” Chloe’s face paled. “You… you investigated me?” My mother patted her shoulder. “Kid, your acting isn’t bad, but your lines are too cliché. I recommend you go watch Season 2 of The Crown. Their dramatic monologues are much better written than yours.” With that, she stepped into the elevator and left. At 3:00 PM, my dad went to inspect one of the Vance department stores. Chloe showed up again. This time, she changed her strategy. “Dad!” She held up a photograph. “Look, I looked exactly like you when I was a kid!” My dad took the photo and inspected it. “Nice Photoshop,” he said. “But next time, remember to make the ears a little smaller. Nobody in the Vance family has ears that big.” Chloe panicked. “This is a real picture of me as a baby!” “Kid, last year we had someone bring in a highly sophisticated AI deepfake video claiming to be my daughter.” My dad sighed. “Their tech was way more professional than yours.” He handed the photo back to her. “Go find Evelyn. She handles this department.” Chloe stomped her foot in frustration. “Dad! How can you be so heartless?!” My dad didn’t even look back. “Call me Mr. Vance.” At 8:00 PM, my grandmother’s private jet landed. Chloe had been squatting in the VIP arrivals lounge all afternoon. “Grandma!” She literally threw herself onto the floor. “I am your real granddaughter!” Grandma Vance had just gotten off a transatlantic flight and was still severely jet-lagged. She squinted at her. “What number is this one for the year?” Her bodyguard replied, “Fifty-seven, Ma’am.” Grandma nodded. “Do you have an appointment?” Chloe was stunned. “N-No…” “Then I can’t help you.” Grandma waved her hand dismissively. “Last year, a girl camped out at the airport for three days before we made an exception and squeezed her in.” She gestured for her bodyguard to help Chloe up and shoved a business card into her hand. “This is my granddaughter’s contact info. Make an appointment with her first.” Chloe looked down at the business card. It read: Evelyn Vance – Director of True Heiress Verification Project. Her face turned a sickly shade of green. The next day, Chloe stormed into our family estate. “I want a DNA test!” She slammed her hands on the table. “Right here! Right now!” My parents exchanged a look, both looking a bit exhausted. “Kid,” my mom said, “It’s not that we don’t want to…” “You’re guilty, aren’t you?!” Chloe sneered. “You’re afraid the test will prove I’m the real one!” My dad rubbed his temples. “Last year, I had blood drawn thirty times. It’s only the beginning of the year, and I’ve already had blood drawn fifteen times. My doctor told me if I give any more blood, I’m going to become severely anemic.” Chloe choked on her words. I walked over, carrying a cup of tea. “Actually, there’s another way.” “What way?” She looked at me suspiciously. “We can use hair or nail clippings,” I said. “The technology is very advanced now; we don’t strictly need a blood draw.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s do it right now!” I smiled. “Sure, but you still have to wait in line.” “Wait in what line?!” “My parents only have a limited quota of hair and nail clippings to give out each month, and this month’s quota is already maxed out. There are over two hundred samples ahead of yours waiting for lab results. The earliest we can get to yours is next month.” Chloe exploded. “Evelyn Vance! You’re doing this on purpose!” I shrugged. “Just following protocol.” Chloe couldn’t wait a single second. She paid a scalper twenty thousand dollars to buy an expedited VIP queue ticket. Then, she was escorted to the third floor, into the “Heirloom Authentication Room.” She strutted in, chest puffed out like a proud peacock. “I have an heirloom!” She pulled out half of a jade pendant. “The nurse at the hospital gave this to me back then! It’s one of a kind!” The authentication clerk, Sarah, took the pendant and scanned the barcode on Chloe’s VIP ticket. “Applicant YM-37, Chloe Miller. Heirloom Category: Jade Pendant.” Sarah read from her screen, “Currently, there are 287 jade pendants registered in our database.” Chloe’s smile froze. “How many?” “287.” Sarah pulled up the data visualizer. “Among them, 143 are half-pendants, and 144 are complete pendants.” Chloe flipped out. “That’s impossible!” Sarah smiled politely. “In the beginning, it was just two halves that could fit together. Later, people started bringing in quarter-pieces.” She clicked open a web browser. “Now there’s even a ‘Jade Pendant Fragment Puzzle’ service on Amazon. Only $9.99, free shipping.” Chloe looked like she was going to be sick. I spoke to her through the intercom from the surveillance room. “Miss Miller, your pendant is a standard mass-produced model. Retail value is about thirty-eight bucks at the flea market.” Chloe looked up, searching for the camera. “Evelyn! You set me up!” I laughed. “It’s called market research.” Chloe refused to give up. “I have a birthmark!” She aggressively pulled her collar down. “A butterfly shape on my left shoulder! One of a kind!” Sarah sighed and opened another database. “Out of the 500 ‘heiresses’ who applied this year, 108 claimed to have a butterfly-shaped birthmark.” Chloe’s eyes widened. “How many?!” “108.” Sarah zoomed in on the pie chart. “76 on the left shoulder, 32 on the right shoulder.” Chloe panicked. “My birthmark is different! It has a unique shape!” Sarah nodded. “Yes, Applicants #43, #87, and #201 said the exact same thing.” She clicked open a photo gallery. “Number 43’s butterfly has polka dots. Number 87’s has tiger stripes. Number 201’s is a 3D optical illusion.” Chloe’s lips trembled. “Impossible…” I delivered the final blow over the intercom. “Miss Miller, maybe you should try getting a tattoo? Tattoos are accepted as heirlooms now too.” Furious, Chloe grabbed the teacup off the table and smashed it on the floor. “That’ll be a damage fee,” Sarah immediately printed an invoice. “Custom imported porcelain. Two hundred and eighty dollars.” Chloe still wasn’t dead yet. “I look exactly like Mrs. Vance when she was young!” She pointed at a vintage family portrait on the wall. “Look!” Sarah sighed heavily and turned on the projector. “Please observe this ‘heiress.’” A photo of a girl appeared on the massive screen. She didn’t just look like my mom. She looked like my dad, and she even looked like my grandma. “We call her the ‘Family Portrait Chimera,’” Sarah said. “She won the ‘Most Resembling the Vance Family’ award last year.” Chloe stayed quiet for three days. But I knew she wasn’t just sitting around twiddling her thumbs. Sure enough, she showed up at the Vance Family’s quarterly gala. Halfway through the banquet, Chloe suddenly let out a piercing scream. “My necklace is missing!” She covered her face and sobbed loudly. “That was the birthday present my adoptive mother gave me! Sob!” The entire ballroom went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at her. Chloe sniffled and hiccuped. “It was just here a minute ago…” Her gaze swept across the room and landed perfectly on me. “Miss Vance,” she said timidly. “You went to the restroom just now, didn’t you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I did.” “Then…” She hesitated dramatically. “Could I please look inside your purse?” The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs. My mother frowned. “Young lady, what are you implying?” Tears streamed down Chloe’s face perfectly on cue. “Mom, I don’t mean anything by it! I just want to find it…” I laughed. “Sure.” I handed her my purse. “Look all you want.” Chloe took the purse and pretended to rummage through it. Then, she “accidentally” dumped the entire contents onto the floor. Clatter— Lipstick, keys, and my phone scattered across the marble. And sitting right in the middle was a diamond necklace. “I found it!” Chloe gasped in shock. “This is it!” She snatched the necklace up, looking at me with tear-filled, betrayed eyes. “Miss Vance… why would you…” I cut her off. “Miss Miller. Do you know why the Vance family banquet hall is equipped with 128 high-definition security cameras?” Chloe froze. “What?” I pulled out my phone and cast the security feed to the massive screens around the room. The footage clearly showed Chloe sneaking up behind me and slipping the necklace into my open purse. “Over the past three years,” I scrolled through the incident database, “exactly 47 ‘heiresses’ have tried this exact trick.” My assistant chimed in through the PA system: “This is the 48th time. Can we please get some new material?” I bent down and picked up the necklace. “Also… I bought this necklace last week at Cartier. I still have the receipt.” I looked at her. “Where’s yours?” Chloe’s face turned green. “Is this how the Vance family treats its biological daughter?!” Grandma Vance let out a cold laugh. “The last person who said that to me is currently serving three to five in federal prison.” Chloe fled the ballroom in absolute humiliation. The next day, Twitter exploded. #VanceHeiressSecretMidnightRendezvousWithRivalCEO# The post included a blurry photo of me helping a man into a car. The angle was incredibly deceptive; it looked exactly like we were kissing. I checked the account that posted it. A notorious paparazzi blog. I clicked into the comments. “Here we go again. Which number is this one for the year?” “The last guy who spread rumors about her got sued for five million dollars.” “Sis, delete the post. The Vance family’s cease-and-desist letters arrive faster than Amazon Prime.” I posted a tweet of my own: “Thank you, Miss Miller, for helping me promote our new clean energy project, and for helping me break my personal record for ‘Fastest Defamation Lawsuit Filed.’” Attached was a photo of the filed court documents. Chloe panicked and immediately deleted her post and deactivated her account. On the third day, Chloe somehow managed to forge a security pass and infiltrated the corporate headquarters. She walked into my office carrying a cup of coffee. “Miss Vance,” she said, looking down submissively. “I’m so sorry about yesterday…” I didn’t take the cup. “Put it on the desk.” She set the coffee down but didn’t leave. “Did you need something else?” I asked. She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me?” I smiled. “You can leave now.” She turned to leave, clearly unwilling. I picked up the coffee, sniffed it, and pressed a button under my desk. “Miss Miller is suspected of attempted poisoning,” I said into the intercom. “Please escort her to security for questioning.” Chloe exploded. “You’re making baseless accusations!” I pointed at the coffee mug. “Did you know that all the mugs in the Vance executive suites are custom-engineered?” She froze. “The bottom of the mug has a built-in chemical detection sensor.” I showed her the notification on my phone. “It can identify common drugs and toxins.” The screen read: Laxative compounds detected. Incident #23 of the fiscal year. Chloe went ghost pale. “Y-You’re lying!” Security guards burst into the room. “You have no right to arrest me!” she shrieked. I pulled out a thick binder of legal files. “Based on this,” I said calmly. “Over the past five years, exactly 89 people have tried to drug me. Every single one of them went to jail.” As the guards dragged her away, she was still screaming: “Evelyn Vance! Just you wait! I’ll be back!”

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Arthur was known in our circle as the perfect husband, obsessively devoted to his wife. He personally created an “Evelyn Manual” for me, detailing every single one of my preferences and allergies with obsessive precision. No contact with strawberries, zero exposure to pollen, and the warm water I drank every morning had to be exactly 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Even more insane, he required every employee at his company to memorize it. I used to deeply believe that I was living a life of fairy-tale happiness that others could only dream of. Until the night of our fourth wedding anniversary. He spent the entire evening busy in the kitchen, finally bringing out my favorite blueberry mousse. I took the first bite, and an agonizing, prickling itch instantly clawed at my throat. Five minutes later, hives had spread all over my body. As the ambulance wailed outside, Arthur held my hand, his face deathly pale. “Impossible. I made it myself. I checked the recipe three times…” But through the dizzying haze of suffocation, I could distinctly taste it—hidden beneath the blueberry aroma was the unmistakable flavor of strawberry. He didn’t care about my fatal allergy anymore. … When the light above the emergency room doors finally clicked off, I still had a breathing tube down my throat. Before the anesthesia fully wore off, my hearing returned. Through the crack in the door, the nurses’ hushed conversation hit my eardrums, word by word: “Mrs. Vance is so lucky. Ten minutes later and she’d be gone.” “No kidding. Mr. Vance was so frantic his eyes were totally bloodshot… But hey, do you remember that Miss Chloe from the VIP maternity ward last month?” “Oh yeah, the one Mr. Vance accompanied, right? We were just saying how incredibly attentive he was to his ‘sister.’ He didn’t miss a single prenatal appointment. He was even more meticulous with her than with his own wife.” “Sister, my ass,” a voice whispered, dropping an octave. “My cousin works at the County Clerk’s office. She said that massive estate in the hills on the West Side was transferred to Chloe’s name three months ago.” Footsteps approached. I closed my eyes. Arthur sat on the edge of my bed. He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “Evie… I’m so sorry…” I’m so sorry. Those three words acted like a key, violently unlocking the floodgates of my memories. I had gone into anaphylactic shock from strawberries three times before. The worst time, they had to perform an emergency tracheotomy. Arthur had knelt outside the ICU that day, swearing on his life that he would never let a single strawberry product within a hundred-yard radius of me again. He even put it in bold print on the first page of his corporate employee handbook: Strawberry products are strictly prohibited. Violators will be terminated. And now, strawberries had somehow made their way into the anniversary dessert he personally made for me. It wasn’t carelessness. It was a change in habit. He was no longer hyper-vigilant and terrified of the word “strawberry.” Because someone else wasn’t allergic. In fact, she loved them. If it hadn’t been for the nurses’ gossip just now, my heart probably would have softened. Just like the past twenty years—every time he made that face, I would forgive him. But now, my heart felt like it was being crushed by a massive, invisible fist. The pain made my entire body curl up. The heart monitor started blaring. My heart rate was spiking. “Doctor!” Arthur shot up, his voice panicked. In the chaos, the screen of the phone resting on his bedside table lit up. A new notification popped up: [Artie, I miss you.] Sender: Chloe. In that fraction of a second, all the sound in the room faded away. Only those four words remained, searing into my heart like a red-hot branding iron. Searing it until this heart would never beat for him again. My heart rate gradually stabilized. Arthur let out a long sigh of relief and tucked the blankets around me. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here with you.” The night grew deep. I looked at his sleeping profile. This face used to be the absolute religion of my youth. At six, he got a scar fighting a bully for me. At twelve, he blushed furiously while buying pads for me. At eighteen, he changed his college applications just to stay with me. At twenty-four, at our wedding, he knelt in front of my mother’s grave and swore: “I will protect Evelyn with my life.” Now, he had split his life in half and given the other piece away. Given it to Chloe. The product of my father’s infidelity. The same girl who, fifteen years ago, handed me strawberry juice disguised as strawberry ice cream. The girl who stood outside the ICU glass window, smiling as she watched me hover between life and death. The most laughable part was that her triumphant return was entirely orchestrated by Arthur. He probably thought I was his caged bird now, unable to fly away. Just like he was absolutely certain that my family’s corporation, Sterling Group, couldn’t survive without the Vance family, and that I couldn’t survive without him. My phone vibrated. It was an encrypted message from my family’s head butler, Uncle Ray: “Miss, the property deed has been verified. The West Side estate was transferred to Chloe three months ago. The payment account is directly linked to Mr. Vance.” I knew it. In that moment, my heart plummeted into a glacier. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain—just a freezing, absolute numbness. “Keep tracking the cash flow. I need every single transfer record. Don’t miss a cent.” “Also,” I paused, typing, “contact Attorney Lee. Tell him to prepare to execute the emergency corporate structuring plan my mother left behind. But tell him to hold off until I give the final order.” “Understood.” On the third day after I was discharged, I drove to the West Side estate. The security guard at the gate stopped me. “Who are you here to see?” “Arthur Vance.” I rolled down the window. “I am his wife.” The guard’s expression turned incredibly awkward before he finally let me through. In my rearview mirror, I saw the guards huddling together, whispering. See? Everyone knew. In this marriage, the biggest fool of all was me. I parked the car and stood outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa. I watched as Arthur gently fed a bright red strawberry into Chloe’s mouth. I suddenly remembered when I was twenty. I was hospitalized again due to allergic complications. Arthur sat by my bed, repeatedly stroking the IV needle marks on my hand, his eyes bloodshot. “Evie, I swear I will never let another strawberry get near you.” His heartbreak was genuine back then. But the plate of bright red strawberries sitting on the coffee table right now was also genuine. Arthur noticed me. His movement paused for just a second. Then, he stood up and walked toward the front door. There was no panic on his face—only the distinct annoyance of being interrupted. “Evie,” his tone was flat, even carrying a hint of reprimand. “How did you find this place?” “Explain.” My voice was raspy. “Chloe moved back to the States to start her career. She needed a place to stay.” He lit a cigarette. “You know how unreliable your father is…” “Fifteen years ago, she almost murdered me,” I cut him off. Arthur blew out a puff of smoke, obscuring his expression. “Evie,” he frowned. “How long ago was that? Chloe was only ten. She didn’t know any better.” “And now?” I pointed inside the house. “She knew perfectly well I was allergic, yet she intentionally bought strawberry jam and swapped it with the blueberry. Is that ‘not knowing any better,’ or is that trying to murder me a second time?” “Evelyn,” his voice turned cold. “Chloe just grabbed the wrong jar. Do you really have to be this aggressive?” Aggressive… In the past, he would say other people were malicious. Now, I was the one being “too petty.” Chloe pushed the front door open and walked out. Her loose loungewear couldn’t hide the slight curve of her pregnant belly. She was holding half a strawberry, the red juice seeping through her fingers. “Sister, please don’t be mad at Arthur. It was my fault…” The sight of that bright red juice made my stomach churn violently. And Arthur just stood there, watching. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t immediately neutralize the threat like he had a million times before. Instead, he subtly shifted his body, stepping slightly in front of her, shielding her. That tiny, subconscious movement… …shattered the last pathetic shred of hope I had left. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the sharp pain helped me maintain my composure. “Monday’s board meeting,” my voice was unnervingly steady. “I want your three proxy votes.” Arthur visibly let out a sigh of relief. A knowing, arrogant smirk touched his lips. “Of course. Didn’t we agree on that ages ago?” “I’m talking about a permanent proxy transfer,” I continued. “And this estate. Sign it over to my name tomorrow.” Chloe’s face instantly went pale, but Arthur just laughed and shook his head. “Evie, stop acting out. What’s mine is yours.” He was giving me an “out,” absolutely certain that the Sterling Group desperately needed the Vance family’s backing. He was certain that twenty years of history meant I could never leave him. Every word he spoke was a reminder: Evelyn, you don’t have the leverage to burn this bridge. Chloe gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, her voice soft and whiny: “Artie, I don’t need the house. Just please don’t be mad at her…” “See how understanding Chloe is?” Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Evelyn, you never used to be like this.” Used to be. The Evelyn of the past believed in love. The Evelyn of today didn’t. “The three votes. The estate,” I repeated, even offering a small smile. “Or, I revoke the corporate backing for your clean energy licensing renewal.” I watched his smile instantly freeze. I enunciated every word: “Those connections belong to my mother’s estate. I gave them to you, and I can take them back.” Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away. As I got into my car, a text from Arthur popped up: “Let’s talk. You know I love you.” I stared at those three words, remembering how he had just shielded Chloe with his body. I dialed a number. “Take the evidence of Chloe’s father embezzling corporate funds and send it anonymously to the FBI’s financial crimes division. I want it done today.” In the rearview mirror, Arthur’s figure sprinting out of the house grew smaller and smaller. “And take the evidence of Arthur transferring marital assets and committing adultery… package it up, and send it directly to his mother.” The lights at the charity gala were blinding. When Arthur brazenly walked in with Chloe on his arm, the entire ballroom fell dead silent for a fraction of a second. The smooth, jade bracelet on Chloe’s wrist stabbed my eyes. It was the heirloom bracelet my mother had personally placed on my wrist right before she died. Arthur walked straight toward me, his tone entirely casual. “Jewelry is meant to be worn.” He noticed me glaring dead at the jade bracelet and frowned slightly. “Besides, you’re the older sister. You should be more magnanimous.” Older sister… I remembered the vow he made kneeling at my mother’s grave. He swore he would never let any filth touch anything I cared about. Now, he was personally hand-delivering the absolute worst kind of filth right to my face. “Take it off,” my voice was as cold as dry ice. Arthur grabbed my arm. “It’s just a bracelet.” He lowered his voice, his breath brushing against my ear. “Evelyn, you’ve been spoiled by power for too long. You can’t handle the slightest bit of compromise. That’s a bad trait.” He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to caress my cheek, but stopped mid-air. “I’m helping you grow.” Grow… Using my dead mother’s heirloom, my husband’s betrayal, and an illegitimate sister’s provocation… to help me grow. At that moment, Chloe started taking the bracelet off, but her movements were exaggeratedly slow, like a scene playing out in slow motion. “Sister, please don’t be mad. I’ll give it back to you right now…” Her fingers trembled, her eyes reddened. She looked like a terrified, bullied victim. But her eyes were smiling. Fifteen years ago, standing outside the ICU glass window, that was the exact same smile she wore while she watched me fight for my life. As she spoke, the jade bracelet slipped from her wrist, tracing a perfect arc through the air. I saw Arthur instinctively reach out to catch it. And I saw the microscopic, deliberate flick of Chloe’s fingertips right before the bracelet fell. SMASH! It felt like my heart violently seized in sync with the sound of the shattering jade. Something inside me shattered right along with it. After a moment of silence, Arthur bent down and picked up the largest shard. He glanced at it casually and tossed it back onto the floor. “It’s fine that it broke.” He wrapped his arm around Chloe’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” Then, he looked at me. “You terrified Chloe. Apologize.” The eyes of the entire ballroom were locked on us. He was waiting for me to lose control. He was waiting for me to scream. He wanted me to act like a hysterical, unhinged wife and physically attack Chloe in front of everyone. Because then, he could perfectly justify his narrative: “See? Evelyn is just too spoiled.” It was his twisted way of proving he still possessed absolute control over me. I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. Then, I heard my own voice. It was terrifyingly calm. “I am sorry.” A flash of absolute shock, mixed with an imperceptible trace of anxiety, crossed Arthur’s eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected me to bow my head so peacefully. But the anxiety vanished in a second. Very quickly, his eyes returned to the arrogant composure of a man in control. I followed his gaze toward the auction stage, and my breath caught. It was my mother’s vintage violin. He had actually put it up for auction. My private accounts only had five million dollars in liquid cash right now—the initial funding for my new project. And Arthur, knowing exactly where my vulnerability lay, bid the price up to six million, brutally crushing my dignity. Bang. The gavel fell. Amidst the applause, Chloe stood up and raised her champagne glass toward me, her smile sickeningly sweet. Arthur turned his head and gave me a faint smile. “Chloe wants to learn the violin. Mrs. Sterling’s violin going to a daughter of the Sterling family is perfectly fitting.” The guests around us exchanged sly, knowing looks. So, CEO Vance has finally gotten sick of his domineering wife and is elevating the gentle, sweet illegitimate daughter to take her place. After the gala, Arthur forced me into his car. “Next week’s board meeting,” he lit a cigarette. “I’ll vote ‘yes’ with my three proxy votes. But my condition is… you have to publicly acknowledge Chloe’s child as a legitimate heir to the Sterling bloodline, and eventually add the child to the family trust.” I turned to look at him. “And if I don’t?” Arthur laughed. It was the laugh of a man holding all the cards. “You won’t,” he said. “You care too much about the Sterling Group. You care too much about the empire your mother built. Evelyn, you’re too emotional.” The car pulled up to the estate. He leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Think about it carefully. I want your answer before the board meeting on Monday.” I got out of the car and walked through the front gates without looking back. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind me, I called Uncle Ray. “Initiate Plan B,” I said. “Deliver all the evidence to the District Attorney’s office first thing tomorrow morning.” …

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When I was twenty, I surrendered myself to my worst enemy, trading my body to beg him for mercy, just so he would spare my mother. But my mother still died. She died in a horrific multi-car pileup. When they pulled her from the wreckage, half her head was gone. Dragging my exhausted, aching body, I stormed into his corporate boardroom and screamed hysterically: “Arthur! I gave you everything you wanted! Why did you still have her killed?!” The only response I got was a vicious, stinging slap across the face. Arthur Vance didn’t even look up at me. His voice was ice cold. “When my mother jumped off that balcony right in front of me, I wanted to ask why, too.” “I wanted to ask why your mother, Evelyn, was such a cheap whore that she had to seduce my father. Why she had to drive my mother to her death.” “Chloe, the karma is just beginning. You’re crying way too early.” Using the 99 intimate photos he took of me that night, he blackmailed me into marrying him. Then, he publicly, extravagantly dropped millions courting his childhood sweetheart, a wealthy heiress, shocking the entire city. He forced me to hand-fold 999 origami roses for her, until my fingers were sliced open and dripping blood. He forced me to deliver condoms to them in the middle of a torrential downpour, leaving me with pneumonia that landed me in the hospital. Arthur’s goal was simple: he wanted me to watch him fall in love with and pamper someone else, until I wished I was dead. What he didn’t know was that after six years of mutual torture, I really was dying. And by now, there were only three photos left to delete. … After my final round of chemotherapy failed and I spent seven days in a coma, I never expected to find Arthur waiting outside my cheap apartment. He shoved me violently against the door, absolutely furious. “Chloe, when Audrey asked you for those things, why didn’t you give them to her?!” “Don’t think for a second I won’t actually leak those photos!” The photos. Those sickening, degrading photos that never should have been taken. If he leaked them, I would truly be ruined. A familiar wave of panic finally pierced through my chemo-addled brain, giving me a moment of clarity. I struggled to lift my head. “I’ll give them to her. What exactly does she want?” I vaguely remembered that before I went in for chemo, Arthur had sent me a barrage of voice memos. But back then, my entire soul was consumed by praying to survive, so I hadn’t bothered to listen to a word he said. Opening the chat log now, there were hundreds of unread voice messages. In the short audio clips, Audrey was throwing a tantrum, and Arthur was coaxing her. “Arthur, why did you write her love letters, make her a snow globe, and give her all this stuff?” “I don’t care, they’re mine! Make her give them to me!” So Audrey wanted our matching couple items. …The gloves, the mugs, the engraved pens. Back when Arthur loved me the most, he insisted on buying everything in matching pink and blue sets. Those items, and the memories attached to them, felt so distant it was like they belonged to a past century. My eyes involuntarily began to sting, but Arthur pinched my chin, forcing me to look at him. His expression was full of mockery: “What, Chloe? Can’t bear to part with them?” The last time I refused to give my mother’s jade bracelet to Audrey, Arthur had my mother’s grave dug up. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, I wouldn’t have even been able to save her urn. I shook my head frantically. “No, no! I’ll get them for you right now.” With that, I leaned heavily against the doorframe, struggling to unlock the door, and forced my exhausted body inside. The voice memos were still playing. “The things Audrey asked for—bring them to my office by 6:00 AM tomorrow.” “Where the hell are you?” “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve ignoring my messages for days. Get out here right now!” … “Audrey and I are getting engaged tomorrow. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” Engaged? My heart skipped a beat. The snow globe in my hand slipped and crashed onto the floor. It rolled right to Arthur’s feet. He bent down, picked it up, and studied my pale face. “What? I’ve been with Audrey for six years, am I not allowed to get engaged?” “Or did you actually think I married you because I still had feelings for you? Pathetic.” Arthur turned the snow globe over. Seeing the childishly carved “Arthur & Chloe” on the bottom, he let out a cold sneer. “You don’t deserve this.” He grabbed a box cutter from the desk and viciously gouged the names out. As the plastic shavings hit me, I bit my lip, tasting bitterness. Of course I didn’t deserve it. It was common knowledge that Arthur hated me and didn’t love me. No one knew about our six-year marriage. To everyone else, I was just a delusional gold-digger trying to latch onto someone out of my league. They didn’t know I had wanted to end things peacefully and leave a long time ago. During the most painful times, I had even threatened to kill myself. But Arthur had printed out all 99 intimate photos and threw them in my face: “Go ahead and die, Chloe. If you do, I’ll release every single one of these.” “I’ll let the whole world know that the older whore gave birth to a younger whore. She seduced the father, and you seduced the son.” “I’ll let everyone see what a cheap slut you are. I’ll make your mother the most despised sinner on the planet!” I had no choice. No matter how wrong my mother was, I wanted her to rest in peace. And I didn’t want to become the subject of vulgar gossip. So, for six long years, I lived by his rules: one act of torture, one apology, one deleted photo. Now, there were only three photos left. Arthur was about to marry the woman he loved. It was finally going to be over. Thinking of this, I wearily packed the things I had gathered into a bag and offered a forced, eager smile. “What else do you need me to do to delete the last three photos?” Arthur stared at me. Then he turned his head and saw my mother’s portrait hanging on the wall. His face instantly darkened. A bad feeling washed over me. I twisted my body to run. But he grabbed my ankle and threw me onto the couch. I struggled in panic. “Arthur, are you crazy?! My mother is right there!” Arthur was brutal, devoid of any emotion except pure contempt: “The daughter of a whore who climbed into her best friend’s husband’s bed thinks she deserves dignity?” I stopped struggling. In an instant, my mind flashed back to the day Arthur confessed his love to me when we were eighteen. I was so happy. But when I pushed open my front door, I saw my mother and his father rolling around in bed. And out on the balcony, Arthur’s mother, her face deathly pale, turned around and jumped off. Arthur screamed like a madman—a sound of absolute despair and hatred. Just like now. He gripped my waist tightly, looking like he wanted to break me into pieces. I pulled a throw pillow over my face, blocking out my vision. “Arthur. We can do this. Two photos.” Arthur went at it the entire night. When I refused to look, he forced me to face the wall. I desperately tilted my head back, watching the ceiling light sway back and forth. The smoke from the incense hastily placed in front of the dirt-covered urn obscured my mother’s portrait. But for some reason, I felt like she was smiling a very bitter smile. A long time ago, I asked her: why Arthur’s mother? If Arthur’s mother hadn’t kindly taken us in when we were homeless, we would have frozen to death on the streets that winter night. My mother cried and told me that Arthur’s mother was dying of an illness. She was terrified we would be kicked out and homeless again. She said she had no other choice. But after Arthur’s mother jumped, his father died of a sudden heart attack. Rival families swooped in, seized the Vance Corporation, broke Arthur’s leg, forced him to crawl between their legs, and called him trash. My mother finally realized she was wrong. So, this selfish, self-serving woman worked three jobs, sold her blood, and even sold a kidney to put Arthur through college. I dropped out of school and took his place at business dinners, drinking myself sick and forcing smiles to win clients. But Arthur would just punch his leg—the one that ached whenever it rained—his eyes bloodshot: “I had a perfect family, and you two destroyed it.” “You think acting like good people for a few years wipes the slate clean? Keep dreaming!” After he reclaimed the Vance Corporation, he systematically hunted down and destroyed everyone who had ever humiliated him. I had no choice. To let him vent his rage, I let him degrade me in bed. But my mother still died. I spent every penny I had investigating her death, only to find out it really was just an accident. It took away my only justification to hate Arthur. But loving him was just too exhausting. When it was finally over, the sky was already growing light. My entire body ached and I was freezing. I curled up tightly on the couch and drifted off, dreaming again of the snowy night he and his mother came to pick us up. He gently cupped my face and told me not to cry. His hands were so warm, too warm to be a dream. I opened my eyes. The warmth on my face instantly vanished, leaving only the cold tracks of undried tears. Arthur stood in front of me, his body hidden in the shadows. I froze for a second, then grabbed his sleeve, my voice hoarse: “Two photos. Delete them.” He ignored me, turning his back with a cold expression to leave. I panicked, but my body gave out. I pitched forward and smashed my head hard against the floor. Blood gushed out. I wiped at it frantically, my voice growing desperate: “Arthur! Delete them! Did you hear me?!” As my consciousness began to blur, his icy voice drifted in and out: “Chloe, you’re really going to defend that whore of a mother to the end?” “Fine. Come work as a server at my engagement party. I’ll give you what you want and delete them all.” The first word that floated into my mind was cruel. Today was technically our ten-year anniversary. But my body couldn’t wait any longer. “Okay.” As soon as I arrived at the banquet hall, Arthur’s secretary tossed me a server’s uniform. When I hurried out after changing, Arthur was still there. He stared at my face, his gaze strange. The fall earlier had left a massive, dark bruise across the center of my face. I had to pack on powder to cover it up, but the gray over the sickly pale skin just made me look terrifying. I tried to add blush, but it just made my face look like a grotesque mix of white and red—more suited for a funeral than a party. I didn’t know what to do, so I just forced a smile. He threw a slice of cake at me and sneered, “You look like a ghost with that makeup. Eat this quickly, don’t pretend to faint and gross people out later.” The cloying, sweet smell hit my nose. My instinct was to throw up, but Arthur just stood there watching me. I forced it down with a deep frown. Only then did he leave with a dark expression. I struggled to carry trays around the banquet hall. My stomach was churning violently. My steps felt light and floaty. I had to set the tray down and rush toward the restroom. But someone suddenly blocked my path. “Chloe, I thought you were so capable.” It was Audrey. She swirled her champagne and leaned close to my ear: “Arthur still loves me more. I hired someone to break his leg, and he still wants to marry me.” “You treat him so well, yet he wishes you were dead.” My entire body went rigid. I used to think Arthur would hate Audrey too. After all, when the Vance family fell, the Audrey’s family were the ones who humiliated him the most. But instead, Arthur held her in the palm of his hand and spoiled her endlessly. I was bitter about it, but he told me it was because Audrey was smart. At the final, critical moment of his corporate takeover, Audrey betrayed her own father and begged Arthur for peace. And I wasn’t smart. Stomach acid surged up my throat repeatedly. I didn’t have the energy to deal with Audrey. I struggled to speak. “Excuse me. Move.” Audrey provocatively swished her dress. “Don’t leave yet. Take a good look at my dress.” I couldn’t control it anymore. I vomited violently. Most of what came up splattered directly onto her pristine white dress. Oh god. I frantically tried to wipe it off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” But my vision was blurred. I missed my mark and accidentally yanked the tablecloth, sending everything crashing to the floor in a chaotic mess. A large hand suddenly grabbed my collar and yanked me backward. “Chloe, did you forget what I warned you about?” I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t stop dry heaving. Arthur stared at me with pure, unadulterated darkness in his eyes. I looked back. Audrey stood frozen behind me, looking furious. I couldn’t help but glance at her dress again. I recognized it. It was the design Arthur had drawn for me when he was 18. Back then, I told him I wanted to embroider a snowflake on the lapel of his suit. Arthur had one on his suit right now. Only now, the snowflake on her dress was covered in my vomit, looking filthy. I reached out with a trembling hand to wipe it, but he shoved me away violently. “Playing the victim won’t work on me. This is your own stubborn fault.” “Pick it all up with your bare hands!” I crashed to the floor. My hands were sliced open by the sharp, broken glass. Arthur put his arm around the crying Audrey and strode away. The other guests all walked away in disgust. I vaguely heard someone say they were moving to a different hall, leaving only a few guards to watch me clean. If I moved too slowly, they would kick me. The Wedding March played from somewhere far away. Or maybe it was close. I was in a daze. I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly someone was standing in front of me, using the tip of their shoe to tilt my forehead up. “Chloe, do you regret it now?” I opened my eyes blankly. Regret what? Regret not cutting ties with my mother? But Arthur, that woman you hate so much… she gave birth to me, she raised me. She saved me from a man who beat and molested me. Even when we were at a dead end, she gave me the last half of her steamed bun. What do you want me to do? What could I have done? I didn’t answer. I just felt incredibly tired. The surrounding area got noisy again, but Audrey’s voice pierced through: “Really? Arthur, the land you bought me in the slum district has already started demolition?” When I stumbled out of the apartment in a daze this morning, I thought I saw a red “Demolish” spray-painted on the wall downstairs. I jolted completely awake. “What land?” “Arthur! Which block in the slums?!” By the time I rushed back, half the neighborhood had already been reduced to rubble by the excavators. My mother’s ashes were still inside the apartment. The machines roared. I charged forward like a lunatic, grabbing someone’s walkie-talkie. I was violently thrown to the ground. Blood and tears mixed on my face as I gritted my teeth and forced myself back up. “Stop the demolition! Stop! I live here! I haven’t moved out yet!” A pair of dress shoes suddenly appeared in front of me. I looked up blankly. It was Arthur, who was supposed to be at his engagement party. He looked down at me with cold indifference. I frantically grabbed his pant leg, begging: “Arthur, you know my mother’s ashes are still in there.” “I’m begging you, just stop it for ten minutes. Let me go in and grab it, please?” But the heavy, unreadable darkness in his eyes sobered me up completely. I froze, tears pooling in my eyes. “…Arthur, you did this on purpose?” A demolition project this massive… the only reason the landlord wouldn’t notify me was if Arthur ordered him not to. I was in a coma in the hospital for seven days. The exact day I woke up, he ordered me away so I wouldn’t be home. He did all of this just to completely obliterate the very last trace of my mother’s existence in this world. My voice was hoarse. “…Why? Why are you doing this?”

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As the holidays approached, our company held its annual awards banquet. Everyone else received a hefty year-end bonus, but me? The top sales rep? I just got a piece of paper. To be exact, it was a contract transferring the title of “Corporate CEO & Legal Figurehead” to my name. My boss, Richard Vance, patted my shoulder, his face plastered with a hypocritical smile. “Ethan, I’ve always seen immense potential in you!” “Keep up the hard work in the new year, and I guarantee you’ll take home more money than anyone else by the end of it.” “Come on, sign this document. From today on, you are the official face of the company. You’ll even get a cut of the equity dividends at the end of the year. No other employee gets this kind of VIP treatment!” I stared at him coldly, forcibly suppressing the urge to introduce the sole of my shoe to his doughy face. If I hadn’t secretly overheard his conversation earlier, I might have actually fallen for his bullshit! The company’s financial black hole was getting bigger by the day. Handing me the CEO title right now? He was clearly setting me up to be his scapegoat. Since you want to play dirty, Richard, don’t blame me for playing dirtier. 1 In the executive office, Richard leaned back in his plush leather chair, a cigar clamped between his teeth, smiling amiably at me. “Ethan, your contributions to the company this year have been massive. It’s obvious to everyone.” “So, the board has decided to give you the ultimate reward.” “Once you become the legal CEO, you’ll be part of the executive inner circle. From now on, any major company decisions will have to go through you first…” Richard talked a big game, trying to dazzle me with a pie-in-the-sky pitch. I really, really wanted to expose him right to his face and slap my resignation letter across his desk. Just yesterday, I returned to the office after meeting a client. I was planning to go straight to Richard’s office to give him a progress report, but my stomach acted up, so I hit the restroom first. While in a stall, I overheard Richard talking on his phone near the sinks. He spoke with dripping contempt: “Ethan is just a dog I keep on a leash!” “I tell him to jump, he asks how high. As long as I throw him a bone and stroke his ego, he’ll work himself to death for me like a rented mule.” “He’s no ‘top sales rep.’ He just knows a few buzzwords and has a slick tongue. He flirts with the clients, and they hand him the contracts. Even without him, I could send a monkey in a suit to close those deals.” “Ethan doesn’t even have a college degree. His education is a joke. If he wasn’t so easy to manipulate, and if he didn’t constantly refuse to ask for a raise, I’d never hire trash like him!” “Our financial loopholes are about to blow up in our faces. At the next board meeting, those investors are definitely going to demand an audit. It’s going to be a disaster.” “So, I’m going to transfer the legal CEO title to Ethan. Before I do that, I’ll have him hand all his active client accounts over to you…” Hearing those words, I was so furious smoke practically blew out of my ears. I almost lost it and beat him to a pulp right there in the bathroom. But ultimately, reason prevailed. Even if I beat the crap out of him, what would it accomplish? If I laid a finger on him, Richard would call the cops, press charges, and extort me for a massive settlement. It wasn’t worth it. Richard coughed lightly, pulling me from my thoughts, and smiled his fake smile. “Ethan, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and sign!” “Once you sign and the paperwork is filed, I’m hosting a dinner at The Capital Grille tonight. The whole executive team is getting together…” Before he could finish, I said flatly, “Mr. Vance, I am incredibly grateful for your high regard.” “However, my education is limited, and my contributions are negligible. I’ve been with the company for less than three years. I absolutely cannot shoulder the immense responsibility of being the CEO. You should find someone more qualified.” Hearing my refusal, Richard’s face darkened slightly. At that moment, his executive assistant, Chloe Miller, spoke up. She gave me a saccharine, fake look. “Ethan, Mr. Vance is showing you incredible appreciation. Don’t throw away a golden opportunity like this!” “You don’t even have a college degree. In any other corporate firm, they wouldn’t even look at your resume.” “Mr. Vance not only hired you but mentored you. And now he’s elevating you to the executive suite! Do you have absolutely no gratitude for everything he’s done for you?” “Mr. Vance believes in you. If you refuse, aren’t you just slapping him in the face?” “Ethan, opportunities like this don’t come around every day. If you miss this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” I sneered internally, but kept my face completely neutral. “I know I can’t handle the burden of being the legal representative. With my low education and lack of seniority, I’m perfectly happy just being a regular employee.” “You, on the other hand, Chloe, have an excellent degree. Plus, you’re Mr. Vance’s sister-in-law. You are the perfect candidate for the CEO position.” “Keep the wealth in the family. Let’s leave the CEO title for Miss Miller!” Hearing this, Chloe glared at me viciously and snapped, “Ethan, don’t be an ungrateful prick!” “You…” Before she could finish, I cut her off, feigning complete innocence. “Chloe, why are you getting so defensive?” “Recommending you for the CEO role is a huge compliment!” “Could it be that you don’t want to be a top executive?” “Or is there something… wrong… with the CEO position?” Chloe was furious. Just as she opened her mouth to yell, Richard slammed his hand on the desk, his face cold. “Enough! Both of you, quiet down!” “Ethan, do you really not want the CEO position?” “If you take it, I can promise you a 5% equity stake in the company…” I shook my head decisively. “I think being a regular employee is great. I’m a man with low ambitions. I just don’t have that kind of drive.” Richard’s gaze turned dark and venomous. He was clearly pissed. However, he didn’t blow up immediately. He said coldly, “We’ll discuss the CEO position later. Starting today, Ethan, I need you to hand over all your active client accounts to Chloe.” “And any projects you haven’t closed yet? Transfer those to her as well.” “Alright, you’re dismissed. Get out.” Just as I stepped out of the office, I heard a loud crash from inside. Sounded like Richard had smashed his favorite custom coffee mug against the wall. A cold smirk curled on my lips. You’re mad already? The real show hasn’t even started yet! 2 I had zero complaints about handing over my clients and pending projects to Chloe. But when the rest of the office found out, the way they looked at me instantly changed. They instinctively distanced themselves, whispering among themselves with thinly veiled schadenfreude. “Is Ethan an idiot? Can’t he see the boss is completely phasing him out?” “I always hated that guy. He didn’t even graduate college, why the hell does he get to sit at the same level as us Ivy League grads?” “The most annoying part is that his sales numbers are higher than ours. All he does is kiss ass and drink with clients, right?” “Good riddance. A parasite like him should have been fired ages ago.” “At the awards banquet, everyone got a fat bonus except him, and he didn’t even complain. What a pathetic, brainless corporate slave!” I wasn’t exactly popular in the office. It wasn’t because I was arrogant or aloof. When I first joined, I genuinely tried to build good relationships with my coworkers. But they all looked down on me. The main reason? My lack of a fancy degree. Back then, Richard saw that I was a smooth talker and had helped him close a massive deal, so he reluctantly brought me on board. At the time, I was incredibly grateful. I worked like a madman. Even though I had the lowest base salary, my workload was the heaviest in the entire company. No matter how others viewed me, I put my head down and crushed my quotas, just to repay Richard for giving me a chance. My first year, I brought in $10 million in contracts, accounting for 30% of the company’s total revenue. My second year, I closed $25 million, making up 50% of the revenue. By my third year, 80% of the company’s total sales volume was signed by me. And my salary? It remained frozen at the exact same entry-level rate I started with. Even the fresh college grads they hired last year had a higher base salary than I did. Originally, I planned to ask Richard for a raise after the awards banquet. Now? There was absolutely no need. The debt of gratitude I owed him had been paid off tenfold a long time ago. But Richard wanted to squeeze the very last drop of value out of me, and then kick me into the abyss to take the fall for his crimes. That wasn’t just bad business; it was pure evil. Over the next few days, I clocked in and out normally, completely ignoring the bizarre, mocking stares from my coworkers. Until the day before the winter holidays. The moment I walked into the office, the atmosphere felt different. My coworkers looked at me like I was a clown, their eyes brimming with malicious joy. I had just sat down at my desk when Richard walked out of his office. He was holding a thick stack of red bonus envelopes, handing them out one by one. The staff was grinning ear to ear. Richard cleared his throat and smiled warmly. “Everyone worked hard this year. I hope we can keep up the momentum next year and hit new revenue records.” “Today is the last workday before the holidays. You can all clock out early this afternoon. Remember to be back in the office on the 8th. I’ll have kickoff bonuses waiting for you.” The office erupted in cheers, aggressively showering Richard with flattery. Richard glanced at me, a fake, plastic smile on his face. “Ethan, there’s no bonus for you. Don’t take it personally.” “Given your sub-par performance during your last few contract negotiations, the clients had some complaints. It negatively impacted the company’s reputation. Honestly, you should be thankful I’m not docking your pay.” “This holiday, don’t bother going back to your hometown. Stay here and man the office.” “And don’t even think about holiday overtime pay. Consider it your unpaid contribution to the company to make up for the reputational damage you caused.” After Richard finished, the mockery on my coworkers’ faces grew even more intense. I had already handed all my clients and projects over to Chloe, so Richard didn’t even bother pretending to be nice anymore. His stance was crystal clear: as long as I refused to sign the CEO transfer paperwork, he was going to make my life a living hell. My response was simple. I pulled out the resignation letter I had already prepared and dropped it on my desk. “Find someone else to man the office. I quit.” 3 My resignation went through flawlessly. Richard signed off on it right then and there. After I packed up my box and walked out the glass doors, Chloe stood in the executive office, looking confused. “Richard, didn’t you say we had to force Ethan to take the CEO title?” “Why did you approve his resignation so easily?” “Do you have a new scapegoat lined up?” Richard smiled confidently. “Relax. Ethan isn’t escaping my grasp.” “He is the absolute perfect fall guy. Think about it: over the last few years, he signed the vast majority of our contracts. His name is all over our biggest projects.” “As long as we force him to become the legal CEO, when the company’s finances explode in six months, we can pin 100% of the blame on him.” “I’ve already forged evidence showing him taking kickbacks and embezzling company funds. When the time comes, I’ll leak it, and Ethan will become public enemy number one.” “Your job right now is to keep his old clients happy. Squeeze as many advance payments out of them as possible.” “That way, in six months when the company goes bankrupt and Ethan goes to federal prison, we can take the cash and disappear to a tropical island.” Chloe sat on Richard’s lap, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Richard, what about my sister?” Richard let out a disgusted snort. “When she goes bankrupt, you think I’m going to stay with that ugly old hag?” “Besides, she’s not even your biological sister, and you’ve always hated her anyway. This is the perfect chance to get your revenge!” Chloe’s smile grew wider. She wrapped her arms around Richard’s neck. “If she hadn’t suddenly been ‘found’ and brought back to the Sterling family, all the Sterling wealth would have been mine.” “She grew up in the country. Her looks, her body, her education—she’s inferior to me in every way. But just because I’m the adopted daughter, she inherited everything. It’s not fair.” “She funded this entire company. Once we tank it, she’ll lose everything.” Richard laughed arrogantly. “When the financials blow up in six months, right before we leave, I’ll clean out our joint bank accounts and empty the house. She’ll be just as broke and destitute as that loser Ethan!” Chloe kissed Richard hard, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s put that aside for now. How are you going to force Ethan to willingly become the scapegoat?” Richard smiled evilly. “Ethan’s family is poor. His parents are old, but they’re still working minimum wage jobs just to survive.” “If his parents were to have a little… accident… and couldn’t work anymore? And suddenly needed a massive amount of cash for medical bills? Do you think Ethan would come begging to me?” “When that happens, I’ll have him completely by the balls!” Just as Richard and Chloe were getting handsy in the office, a frantic knocking echoed on the door. “What is it?!” Richard barked angrily. His trusted assistant’s panicked voice came through the wood. “Boss, your wife is here! She’s already in the lobby!” 4 Richard and Chloe scrambled to fix their clothes, both looking visibly panicked. Chloe stammered, “Richard, why is my sister here?!” “Didn’t she leave all the company operations to you?!” Richard ran a stressed hand through his hair. “How the hell should I know what that old hag is plotting!” “Why didn’t she call ahead?!” “Do you think she’s here to audit the books?!” “Pull yourself together. Don’t act suspicious.” The moment they stepped out of the office, a sharply dressed woman in her mid-thirties strode into the bullpen. It was Richard’s wife, Victoria Sterling. The employees all greeted her with immense caution and respect. The veterans knew exactly who held the real power. It wasn’t Richard; it was the formidable Victoria, who could crush Richard with a single thought. Richard slapped on a look of sheer joy and rushed over. “Honey! What are you doing here? I thought you were out shopping and playing bridge with your friends!” Chloe also plastered on a bright smile, adopting a playful tone. “Victoria! Were you worried Richard was messing around behind your back? Don’t worry, I’m keeping a close eye on him for you!” Victoria completely ignored Chloe. She looked at Richard and asked flatly, “Where is our top sales rep? The guy named Ethan. Is he here?” Hearing this, the employees exchanged bizarre looks. After all, I had just quit an hour ago. The owner’s wife suddenly showing up specifically looking for me was incredibly strange. Chloe asked cautiously, “Victoria, why are you looking for Ethan?” Victoria glanced at Chloe, then turned back to Richard. “Ethan’s parents were in a severe car accident. They’re in the hospital.” “He’s our top performer. It’s only right that we go show our support.” “I was shopping nearby when I heard the news, so I came straight here. I was going to take Ethan to the hospital to see them.” Chloe was just about to blurt out that I had quit, but Richard desperately shot her a warning glare. He quickly turned to Victoria, his face a mask of sycophantic concern. “Honey, I just heard the news too! I was just getting ready to head to the hospital!” “Ethan came in this morning throwing a massive tantrum, screaming about resigning. I have no idea what got into him. I tried to talk him out of it for an hour, but he wouldn’t listen. I had no choice but to approve it.” “He probably got the call and rushed straight to the hospital. Let’s head over there right now. We can check on his parents, and while we’re at it, we can try to convince him to come back to the company.” Victoria gave Richard a long, unreadable look. She didn’t say a word, and simply turned to leave. Richard and Chloe followed closely behind. Half an hour later, they arrived at the hospital room. When they saw the people standing outside the door, both Richard and Chloe froze. The people standing there were the primary investors and board members of the company! Richard looked at them in complete shock, instinctively asking, “What are you guys doing here?” The board members completely ignored Richard and Chloe, respectfully greeting Victoria instead. Victoria looked at Richard and said flatly, “I asked them to come!” “I’m going to announce something right in front of them!” Richard and Chloe’s hearts plummeted into their stomachs. “Announce what?” A cold sneer crept onto Victoria’s lips. “You’ll find out in a minute.” “Let’s go inside and check on Ethan’s parents first.” Without waiting for their response, Victoria pushed open the door to the hospital room. When they saw what was inside, Richard and Chloe’s faces contorted in absolute, paralyzing terror.

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In my past life, I married an old man for money, but I ended up kicking the bucket before him. When I opened my eyes again, I was reincarnated as a billionaire heiress in Manhattan. Looking at the incredibly handsome, dirt-poor college student standing in front of me, I decided it was my turn to experience the thrill of keeping a sugar baby. I loaded up his campus dining card, paid his tuition, and bought him anything he looked at for more than two seconds. But the way he looked at me was always icy and distant, like an untamed, feral puppy. That was, until the day I accidentally found a hidden diary in the back of his desk drawer. Flipping to the last page, I saw a very familiar handwriting: “I’m sorry.” “This time, let me be the one who leaves first.” !!!!!!! Wait… Old man?! 1 When my chauffeur pulled up to the university gates in my Bugatti, Liam was setting up a small folding table, selling hand-drawn calligraphy prints for the holidays. He was 6’1″, with messy, dark hair falling perfectly into his eyes, and striking, delicate features. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a GQ magazine, completely out of place on a dusty sidewalk. He caught my eye immediately. I squinted. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to sponsor this college boy. After all, in this life, I really wanted to see what it was like to have my own kept man. Seemingly sensing my gaze, Liam looked up. His detached, world-weary eyes met mine. “Large prints are fifteen dollars. Small ones are eight.” I reached out and picked up one of the prints. “Your handwriting is really nice.” I looked up at him. “How much to write my name?” His grip on his calligraphy pen tightened, his face deadly serious. “Not for sale.” Fine, not for sale. Then why are your ears turning red? The corners of my mouth curled up. No rush. We have plenty of time to negotiate this business deal. 2 Liam wasn’t just gorgeous; he was also top of his class. Because he was broke, besides selling prints on the street, I found out he also worked as a private tutor. “What’s your hourly rate?” “Eighty dollars an hour.” “Deal.” I blinked at him, looking the picture of sincerity. “I’m Chloe. Let’s exchange numbers so we can schedule sessions.” He frowned, hesitated for a moment, and then reluctantly pulled up his contact info for me to scan. After adding him, I pretended to casually ask: “By the way… do you tutor any other students from our school?” His finger, swiping on his phone screen, paused. “No. Just you.” Just me! What a godsend! “Hey Liam, off-topic question.” “Yeah?” “Would your girlfriend mind… that you’re tutoring a girl?” He finally turned his head to look at me. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I fought hard to suppress my rising smile. No girlfriend? Perfect. That means you’re completely available to be sponsored by me. “Liam, have you ever considered an annual retainer?” I leaned in slightly closer to him. “Name your price.” He kept a straight face and said, “I’m not for sale.” Wow, that sounds familiar. Very much my vibe from my past life. 3 In my past life, I had a sick mother, a gambling-addicted father, and a younger brother in school. To keep my family afloat, I worked five jobs simultaneously. But in the end, I still couldn’t pay off the massive debts my deadbeat dad owed to loan sharks. I was dragged into a dark alley by the collectors. I thought my life was over right then and there. Unexpectedly, a Bugatti suddenly pulled up to the mouth of the alley. An older man wearing a bespoke, high-end suit stepped out of the car. You could tell that in his youth, he must have been devastatingly handsome. He asked me if I was willing to be his kept woman. He would pay off all my father’s debts. He would guarantee my entire family a life free of financial worry. “I’m not for sale.” As I recall, I said the exact same thing to him back then that Liam just said to me. The older man just smiled and didn’t say anything, but he still solved my problem with the loan sharks. Not only that, he quietly took care of my mother’s medical bills, my brother’s tuition, and even paid to have our leaky, rundown house repaired. He would occasionally drop by to see how I was doing, but he never brought up the “kept woman” arrangement again. During casual conversation, I learned he had never married. He had always held a torch for his “first love,” and I just happened to look 90% like her. Maybe I was moved by everything he had done for me. Or maybe when you’re truly destitute, your principles are like wet paper—they tear at the slightest touch. I actually ended up being the one to propose we get married. After we got married, he treated me with immense respect, practically worshiping the ground I walked on. We maintained a strictly platonic relationship. Once, I was wearing a lace nightgown and accidentally tripped into his arms. His arms instantly tensed, and his breathing grew heavy, but he immediately steadied me and took a step back. Living with him for five years, it wasn’t that I didn’t develop any feelings for him. But the massive age gap was a chasm we could never cross. I never expected that I would die in a car crash before he did… When I opened my eyes again, I was a billionaire heiress in Manhattan. This time, it was my turn to enjoy life! 4 I scheduled my tutoring session with Liam for the evening. I specifically took a shower beforehand. My hair was half-wet, draped over my shoulders. I changed into a silk slip dress. Liam rang the doorbell right on time. “Good evening, Liam.” His gaze slid off me instantly. He followed my housekeeper straight into the study. “Liam, I don’t know this word,” I pushed my notebook toward him. “Can you translate it for me?” “Sensitive. It means easily affected or emotionally reactive.” “Oh.” I rested my chin on my hand, poking his elbow with the tip of my pen as I continued: “What about this one?” “Seduce. To entice or tempt.” I swung my legs, my toes “accidentally” brushing lightly against his calf. “How do you say ‘moth to a flame’?” “Like a moth to a flame!!!” He violently yanked his leg back, leaning so far backward he almost tipped his chair over. “Chloe, sit properly.” I completely ignored him and pulled my chair even closer. “I can hear you better this way.” “Chloe,” his tone was dead serious, “do you know… this is very dangerous.” “How dangerous?” I feigned innocence. “More dangerous than Calculus and the LSATs?” He stared at me, then suddenly reached out, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and threw it directly over my head… “Put it on.” I sat there, stunned inside his jacket for two seconds. It smelled like his clean laundry detergent. “Liam, you’re so mean.” He ignored me and continued writing out the math equations. Watching him sit there—refusing to play the victim, refusing to sell his body, purely selling his brainpower—I suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. …What is going on here? I’m the one paying him! Why does it feel like I’m the one who doesn’t dare step out of line? My desperate attempt to seduce him just now didn’t look like a sugar mommy… It looked like… a sugar baby!!! Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you?! In this life, you’re supposed to be the one holding the purse strings! 5 A sugar mommy needs to act like a sugar mommy. New semester. I swiped Liam’s student ID card, went to the cafeteria kiosk, and dumped five thousand dollars onto his meal plan. I was afraid if I put any more, he’d be too embarrassed to accept it. When I found him in the library that afternoon, he was wearing headphones, deep in his coursework. I pulled out the chair across from him and slid the card over. “Liam! You don’t have to survive on $3 ramen cups this semester!” He picked up the card, looked at me, and furrowed his brow. “What is this?” He slid the card back to me. “I don’t need this.” “What do you mean you don’t need it?” I flashed a fawning smile. “You tutored me, and my grades went way up. This is your bonus!” “You already paid me for the tutoring sessions.” His tone was hard, and he pushed the card closer to me. “I’ll withdraw the cash and return it to you.” Back and forth. That card slid across the table multiple times. Watching Liam’s absolute, unwavering determination to resist capitalist corruption, I suddenly felt the urge to tease him again. I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hands, and asked softly with a sly smile: “If you don’t want money… do you want a different kind of bonus?” He looked up at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “For example…” I intentionally dragged out the word, my eyes dropping to his perfectly shaped lips. “…A kiss?” Cough! Cough!! Liam blushed furiously from his cheeks all the way down his neck. He frantically grabbed his water bottle, trying to look calm as he took a gulp. “What… what are you talking about?!” “Oh, you don’t want that?” I pretended to have a sudden realization. “Then I guess cash is more practical, right, Liam?” He took a deep breath, snatched the card from my hand in one swift motion. “Just this once. Never again.” 6 Never again? Once a door opens, it stays open. After observing him, I realized that Liam’s washed-out white button-down, whose collar was starting to sag, and his faded jeans were no longer worthy of a face that could be on a billboard. So, the next time he came to my apartment to tutor me, I placed a designer shopping bag right on top of his textbooks. “What is this now?” His tone was calm, but heavily guarded. “Your battle armor, Liam!” “Uh… my horoscope said that if you wear this, it’ll boost my academic luck!” Liam stared at me. His expression practically screamed, Keep making up bullshit, I’m listening. I kept a straight face and pushed the bag closer to him. “Seriously! Go to the bathroom and try it on!” He didn’t move, just stared at me in silence. I sighed and made a move to stand up. “If you’re too lazy to do it… should I help you change?” “My customer service is top-tier. I’ll even start by unbuttoning your shirt…” Before I could finish, Liam shot up from his chair like a rocket, snatched the bag, and took long, rapid strides toward the bathroom. I laid my head on the desk, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Gotcha. Now I know exactly how to handle you. About ten minutes later, he came back out. My eyes instantly lit up. The cream-colored cashmere turtleneck softened the usual cold, aloof aura around his eyes, adding a layer of gentle warmth. Help me. This isn’t a nerd… He looks like the male lead walking straight out of a winter K-drama! “…Are you done staring?” Liam awkwardly tugged at the hem of the sweater. “Nope.” I looked at him, my eyes sparkling. “Liam, wearing this… you look illegally handsome!” He pressed his lips together, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get back to the math problems.” “Wait! Your collar isn’t folded right.” I reached out, my fingertips pretending to accidentally brush against the skin of his neck. He abruptly stepped back, his face flushing with embarrassment and annoyance: “…Chloe.” I knew exactly what he meant. I silently pulled my hand back, but my eyes were still glued to him. He was gorgeous, but he was also genuinely freezing cold. This wasn’t a sugar baby. This was an unapproachable ice prince! 7 I was just trying to figure out how to melt this iceberg when I bumped into Liam at the library… sitting next to another girl. An advanced calculus textbook was open in front of them. They were sitting quite close. Liam had his head turned, listening to her, occasionally nodding. Sunlight, books, a boy and a girl whispering about schoolwork… Why did this picture look so damn harmonious?! The level of interaction between them had already vastly surpassed his usual “Not for sale,” “I don’t need it,” and “Put your clothes on” routine with me! And this girl didn’t even have to pay him an hourly rate! The boba tea in my hand suddenly tasted bitter. I was jealous. I was pissed. I, Chloe the Sugar Mommy, had been feeding this guy for weeks. I loaded his meal card, bought his clothes, and gave him all the compliments in the world. And the iceberg barely melted for me, but someone else was enjoying the shade?! Now I finally understand why sugar daddies always get so obsessed with a single target. The feeling of having something right in front of you but being unable to eat it is agonizing. In my past life, I died young. In this life, I somehow managed to be born into unimaginable wealth, and who knows how long I’ll live. I decided to cherish my limited lifespan and take a different approach. Hanging myself on one tree wasn’t my style. Especially a tree that was trying to grow branches toward someone else! I refuse to believe Liam is the only handsome, broke college student on this campus!

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In the fifth year after I legally severed ties with my family, I waited on a familiar table of guests at the restaurant where I worked. As I carried their pre-ordered cake into the private dining room, the family of three suddenly froze. I didn’t blink. I sang “Happy Birthday,” placed the cake on the table, and politely closed the door behind me. But a moment later, the daughter chased me out into the hallway, holding out a slice of cake on a small plate. “Mom told me to bring this to you. Today is your birthday too.” “In all the years you’ve been gone, Mom and Dad talk about you every single day. They’re getting older. Just come home, okay?” The young woman’s eyes actually welled up with tears as she spoke. I remained perfectly polite, utterly detached, and gave a slight shake of my head. The next second, the slice of cake was smashed forcefully against my chest. An older woman stormed out of the room, screaming: “What did we ever do to mistreat you?! Why do you hate us this much?!” I quietly looked at the young woman standing in front of me—my identical twin sister. I thought about it for a second. Probably because her name was “Hope.” And my name was “Blight.” 1 The commotion in the hallway was loud. When my parents rushed out of the private room, their eyes instinctively locked onto Hope first. “Hope, sweetie, are you okay? Don’t be upset, baby.” My mother, always the emotional one, wrapped her arms around Hope, who was trembling with manufactured anger. My mother’s eyes were red. I quietly pulled some paper towels from an apron pocket and began wiping the frosting off my uniform. Out of habit, I didn’t say a word. The man, who had initially swallowed his reprimand, suddenly exploded when he saw my passive reaction. “Blight, this is your mother and your sister! What kind of attitude is that?! You disappear without a word for five years, and the first time we see you, you decide to throw a tantrum and show us up?!” Hearing that name again after five years—the name I despised from the absolute bottom of my soul—still made my stomach physically churn. My breath hitched for a second. When I looked up again, I flashed a perfect, corporate customer-service smile. “I apologize, sir. My name is Maya.” “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to step away to clean my uniform, so I don’t ruin your appetite.” Five years of grinding through the real world had taught me not to act on impulse. After delivering my lines smoothly, I turned and walked away. Behind me, the three of them stood frozen in place, as if they’d been struck by lightning. They probably never imagined that the hysterical, scorched-earth daughter who had severed ties with them would ever become so polished and detached. … By the time I finished my shift and cleaned up, it was late at night. Just as I walked up to the bus stop, a car slowly pulled up to the curb right in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing my mother’s cautious face. “It’s too late. Let me give you a ride.” Seemingly afraid I would refuse, she quickly added, “It’s just Mom. Just let Mom give you a ride, okay?” The flickering streetlights reflected in her eager eyes. The sight of it almost made me laugh. My mother, a renowned child psychologist, was always so confident. She honestly believed that if she just showed up, she could win me back. I had seen this exact tactic when I was a child. But I wasn’t a child anymore. “No need. My roommate is on her way to pick me up.” Clearly not expecting a rejection, she looked stunned for a moment, but stubbornly refused to drive away. I knew she probably thought I was just making up an excuse. But I had no desire to explain anything to her. There was no point. 2 When my mother first got pregnant, she had a strong feeling she was having a girl. She picked out the name “Hope” very early on. She was at the absolute peak of her career. As a child psychologist, she had seen her fair share of broken, unhappy families, so she was absolutely determined to give her child a life filled with hope and light. Unfortunately, she had identical twin girls. The delivery was horrific; she suffered a massive hemorrhage and nearly died. Lying in her hospital bed, weak and exhausted, her eyes burned with an astonishing level of resentment. “Name one Hope, and name the other one Blight. She’s just an unwanted extra anyway. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have almost died!” And so, the second-born twin—me—was burdened with the sin of nearly killing my mother before I even opened my eyes. For the next few years, I was always the forgotten one. For a busy professional like my mother, taking care of one child was already exhausting. When it came to the “extra” child, she just did the bare minimum to keep me alive. Because of this, Hope constantly used our identical faces to her advantage, eating my portions of food without anyone ever noticing. One night, I was so hungry my stomach cramped. I sneaked into the kitchen. I knew there was half a cup of yogurt left in the fridge from what Hope had been eating. Earlier that day, after she finished my portion of yogurt, she was too full to finish her own. She whined to my mother to put it in the fridge so she could eat it tomorrow. “Mommy, this is my yogurt. You can’t give it to Blight,” she had insisted repeatedly. I stared at my mother, desperately wanting to expose the lie. But the moment I opened my mouth, I was impatiently cut off: “Blight, I told you, you and your sister get one cup each! You are not allowed to steal from your sister!” But I was so incredibly hungry. I was so hungry I couldn’t sleep. I’ll just take a tiny taste. Nobody will notice, I thought. I held the yogurt cup, dipped my finger in, and licked it. It tasted amazing. But the very next second, I was caught by Hope, who had followed me. The house lit up as she started screaming and crying. I stared at the yogurt that had spilled all over the floor from the shock, completely terrified and lost. “Blight! You’re learning how to steal at this age?! Didn’t I tell you this belonged to your sister?! Are you that much of a glutton?!” My mother hugged a sobbing, hiccuping Hope and screamed at me. Hope kept going: “Actually, my sister always steals my snacks…” Lie. She was the one who constantly stole my snacks! “And at lunch, my sister didn’t like the steak you made, Mommy. I said I would eat it, but she just threw it in the trash and said she’d rather throw it away than give it to me…” Lie. I didn’t throw that steak away on purpose. She didn’t like it, but she refused to let me eat it. My mother stroked a rambling Hope’s hair, her eyes filled with nothing but heartbreak for her. I panicked. “No, Mommy, it’s not true! It’s not what she said!” I wanted to defend myself, but I was terrible with words. All I could do was repeat, “It wasn’t me,” and “I didn’t steal it,” over and over again. “I didn’t pick the wrong name for you. You really do live up to your name. You’re a blight, rotten right down to the root. Blight, how did I ever give birth to a bad seed like you?!” Beep! The sound of a horn pulled me out of my memories. My roommate pulled up on her electric scooter. Just as I was about to climb onto the back seat, my mother actually stepped out of her car. “Blight… are you really choosing to ride on that piece of junk instead of getting in my car? It’s freezing tonight. Why do you insist on making yourself suffer like this?” She reached out to grab my arm. My response was to ruthlessly slap her hand away. “Mrs. Miller,” I still addressed her formally. “Isn’t everything I am today entirely your doing?” 3 Years of neglect and false accusations molded me into someone extremely sensitive and quick to anger. I was the absolute polar opposite of Hope, who had excellent grades, a sunny personality, and was the textbook example of my mother’s perfect parenting. “Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller, we asked you to come in today regarding a bullying incident involving Blight. She put an allergen into a classmate’s water bottle. The student is currently in the hospital.” “The school has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying. We have decided to expel Blight.” Before arriving at the principal’s office, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Sure, my grades were terrible, I hated talking to people, and I looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with. But I strictly lived by the rule: If you don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with you. I barely even knew the classmate they were talking about. I immediately knew it was Hope. She used our identical faces to do something horrible and pinned it on me. Half of my terrible reputation was a direct result of her actions. If it were the usual petty gossip, I wouldn’t have bothered explaining. But I didn’t want to be expelled. “Hope brought mangoes from home this morning. I didn’t put them in the bottle.” I stared intensely at the two people sitting in front of me—the people I biologically belonged to, but refused to acknowledge as parents. It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized my palms were sweating profusely from anxiety. I forced my chin up, confronting them. “It wasn’t me. Hope did it. She was jealous because that girl took the number one rank in the grade from her last week.” Their faces were dark. My father was the first to let out a cold snort. “Look at the wonderful daughter you raised! You call yourself a child psychologist, and you can’t even teach your own child!” With that, he turned and walked out, completely washing his hands of the situation, just like he always did. My mother despised anyone using her proud career as a weapon against her. She spun around and delivered a vicious slap, snapping my head to the side. She pointed a shaking finger at me, screaming that I was a “failure.” “Hope has always had perfect grades! Why would she be jealous of anyone?! Blight, you are truly beyond saving. You actually tried to drag your sister down with you!” I was forcibly expelled. Locked in the house all day, I eventually developed severe bipolar disorder. Most days, I just lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting time waste away. Forgetting to eat for an entire day was normal. My family treated me like I was invisible. They only checked in to make sure I was still breathing. To them, it was better that I didn’t have the energy to cause trouble. One day, I turned on the TV, and by pure coincidence, an interview with my mother was playing. The interviewer asked, “What is your perspective on the increasingly severe mental health issues among teenagers in modern society?” On TV, my mother looked infinitely kinder and more approachable than she ever did with me. She smiled and said, “A child’s psychological issues mostly stem from parental neglect. We need to start with the parents, building bridges of communication…” “With a mother like you, your child must be incredibly outstanding,” the interviewer marveled. She nodded in agreement. “Yes, I have an incredibly outstanding daughter. Her name is—” “Hope.” 4 I smashed the TV. But to them, I was just “throwing another tantrum.” My mother couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I stood barefoot amidst the shattered glass and plastic, the soles of my feet sliced open and bleeding. From that day on, I started acting out with a vengeance. Since my mother refused to acknowledge me as her daughter, I was going to violently prove my existence. I stopped coming home at night. I stopped going to school. I learned how to smoke, how to drink, and how to waste my days in internet cafes. I was willing to destroy myself if it meant inflicting damage on them. Even though it brought me zero pleasure, I still used every ounce of my energy to torture them. I went back to the internet cafe. Sitting in front of the computer, I started staring into space again. I didn’t actually want to use the computer; it was just a habit to sit there for two hours. It was enough time for my clothes to soak up the smell of stale cigarette smoke, just so I could go home and piss off my mother. But that day, I met Julian. The only light I would ever have in the first half of my life. When I saw him sneaking into the internet cafe, trying to hide his face, I couldn’t believe it. After all, this was “delinquent behavior” according to my mother. I never imagined Julian—the genius math Olympiad champion—would ever set foot in a place like this. Logically, a complete academic failure like me shouldn’t have ever had the chance to meet Julian. But ironically, he was the object of Hope’s intense jealousy and admiration. Hope was ranked number one in our grade, but that was only because Julian was fully focused on national competitions and didn’t take the regular school exams. She absolutely hated it when people said that if Julian came back to regular classes, she would have to step down from the throne. Over time, I had constructed an image of an untouchable genius based on her complaints. He was completely different from the clumsy guy sitting next to me, who couldn’t even figure out where the power button on the PC tower was. I leaned over and pressed the power button for him. “Thanks.” He smiled sheepishly. After that, I always saw Julian in the exact same seat on Friday afternoons. As time went on, we got to know each other. He told me his family was incredibly strict. He only had two short hours of free time on Friday afternoons. “I actually hate the math competitions. It’s incredibly dry and boring, and studying for it is exhausting. But my parents exhaust themselves trying to push me to the top, so all I can do is sneak out to relax for a bit.” “Maya, please keep my secret.” I hadn’t told him my real name. The word “Blight” was too ugly. I didn’t want to hear it coming from his mouth. I had wondered countless times why my mother couldn’t have named me something normal, like Maya. That way, I could be Maya, and that other person could be Blight. Julian and I always played co-op games together. He would tell me all the school gossip, even though I had been expelled a long time ago. Sometimes, he would bring me snacks—cake, chocolate… The first time I drank the yogurt he brought me, I cried. “What’s wrong? Does it taste bad? I won’t bring it next time,” he panicked, clumsily trying to wipe my tears, looking completely devastated. I let myself enjoy the feeling of being cared for. With tears shining in my eyes, I smiled and replied: “This is the first time I’ve ever had yogurt. It’s so good, it’s so good I could cry!” We became best friends who talked about everything. The distance between us closed rapidly. My mental health issues were finally under control, and everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. We were in the noisy internet cafe, in the middle of a co-op match, when the guy next to us raged at his game and violently threw his water cup across the desk. I was sitting right next to him and jumped out of my skin. When I regained my senses, I realized Julian had instinctively pulled me into his arms, shielding me. Wrapped in a tight embrace, I looked up, just as he looked down. “Are you okay? Did it scare you?” I shook my head. Our breaths tangled together, and my face instantly flushed burning red. Julian froze for a second, then awkwardly pulled away. We went back to our game, but neither of us could focus. Suddenly, my pinky finger was hooked by his. I turned my head and met Julian’s youthful, slightly nervous face. “Maya, let’s go out,” he said. I felt like I had been hit by a truck made of pure joy. My face turned bright red, and I had no idea what to do. Julian, however, immediately regretted his delivery. “Oh man, I should have prepared a proper, formal confession for you.” I still remember telling him it didn’t matter, that he could just give me one later. But later, in the dead of night, waking up from nightmares, I would always cry and whisper: “Don’t be with me.” I’ll ruin you.

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When my ex-husband, Arthur Vance, finally tracked me down, I was in the middle of picking out a cemetery plot for my late husband. The one I really wanted was too expensive, but I was terrified that buying a cheaper one would be doing him a disservice. Just as I was agonizing over the decision, Arthur asked me if I wanted to remarry him. The rejection that was on the tip of my tongue mutated into a very cautious question: “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur looked at me, completely taken aback. After all, the woman I used to be treated money like dirt. He nodded, his eyes showing a flash of heartache I couldn’t quite understand. “Yes. As long as you play the role of an obedient, well-behaved wife.” I agreed without a second of hesitation. And I learned exactly how to be a good wife. I stopped checking his phone. I stopped demanding he remember our anniversaries. I stopped caring when he refused to set boundaries with his female “best friends.” But eventually, he screamed at me like a madman: “I just wanted you to listen to me! I didn’t want you to stop loving me!” … 1 When Arthur Vance found me, I was looking at cemetery plots for my late husband, Liam. I was even wearing a small white camellia pinned to my hair in mourning. Thinking about how Liam had drained his entire life savings to pay for my medical treatments, and how he had ultimately died saving me during the earthquake… my eyes couldn’t help but well up with tears. We were supposed to be on our honeymoon right now… Just as I was sinking into my grief, Arthur sat down directly across from me. His eyes critically scanned my outfit. The woman who once wore exclusively haute couture was now sitting in front of him wearing a stretched-out hoodie and faded, washed-out jeans. I looked so pathetic there wasn’t a single trace of my former wealthy life left. He frowned deeply. “You left me just to live like this?” I froze for a second before finally recognizing him. My ex-husband. We had been divorced for five years. Seeing me stay silent, Arthur assumed I was just overwhelmed with joy. He said flatly: “As long as you apologize and admit you were wrong, we can remarry. How about it?” I originally wanted to tell him to go to hell, but then I remembered the plot I had just been looking at cost seven figures. Even if I delivered DoorDash for the rest of my life, I might never be able to afford it. Thinking of that, I asked him carefully, “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur stared at me in silence. Deep in his eyes, there was a flash of heartache I didn’t quite understand. He said, “As long as you’re a good, obedient girl, I’ll give you a hundred thousand. But if you act like you used to—throwing tantrums, acting crazy, and being constantly paranoid—then I’ll…” Before he could finish his threat, I immediately raised my hand in a pledge. “I understand. I will be obedient.” Arthur looked surprised. “Have you really thought this through? You used to be… you were never this easy to talk to.” I offered a helpless smile. “Like you said, Mr. Vance. That was how I used to be.” Used to be. I used to be the woman he held in the palm of his hand. I was Mrs. Vance, the envy of New York’s elite circle, and the most celebrated genius architect in the industry. Whether I relied on him or on myself, I could have lived an incredible life. But now? My reputation was completely destroyed. His childhood sweetheart had issued an industry-wide “blacklist” against me, making it impossible for me to find a decent job anywhere in the city. If I hadn’t met Liam, I probably would have just been a rotting corpse at the bottom of a cliff. Where was my former pride supposed to come from? Arthur’s expression shifted slightly. He frowned. “What did you just call me? Mr. Vance?” Looking at me sitting across from him—acting perfectly obedient, yet radiating a cold, impenetrable distance—Arthur felt like his heart had been submerged in water. It felt damp. Suffocating… Terrified he would get angry and take away my hundred thousand dollars, I quickly explained, “Did you forget? You were the one who forbade me from calling you ‘husband’.” Arthur’s face instantly went a shade paler. He remembered. He remembered that our marriage had been a secret. I was the Chief Architect at his firm. Publicly, everyone thought I was just a highly valued employee. And to make sure no one found out, he strictly forbade me from ever calling him “husband” at work. So, for years, I only ever called him “Mr. Vance.” Arthur looked annoyed. He rubbed his temples. “That was when you were at the company. We had to keep it professional. You don’t have to do that anymore.” A dense, prickling pain spread across my chest. Yeah. I don’t have to do that anymore. Because the career I was so fiercely proud of had been completely annihilated by him. I never had to play the role of his employee again. Unable to handle my silence, Arthur stood up irritably. “Come home with me.” I stood up obediently and followed him to his Cullinan. The moment I opened the door, I froze. The entire interior was customized in baby pink, and the dashboard was plastered with photo booth pictures of Arthur and Chloe. Chloe was his childhood sweetheart. She was also the spark that ignited our divorce. Noticing me staring blankly at the photos, Arthur panicked slightly and rushed to explain. “Chloe hurt her leg recently. My mom insisted she stay at our house so it’d be easier for me to drive her to and from work.” “You know how she is. She’s innocent, always has her head in the clouds, and likes this kind of childish stuff, so…” Before he could finish justifying it, I smiled and cut him off. “It’s pretty cute.” Arthur looked at my perfectly calm, unbothered face. “You don’t mind?” I shook my head, smiling. “Why would I mind? You two grew up together, you’re practically siblings.” “If something was going to happen between you two, it would have happened years ago. I never would have stood a chance.” 2 I thought saying that would make Arthur happy, but his face actually darkened by several shades. I had no idea why he was getting mad. Those were the exact words he used to say to me whenever I got jealous. Unfortunately, back then, I never believed in purely platonic friendships between men and women. So even when he said that, I still demanded he keep his distance from Chloe. He agreed to my face, but behind my back, he and Chloe were practically inseparable. Until the day I caught them at a gala. I lost my mind, screaming and hitting him. And the result? I was the one who suffered the brutal consequences. Did he forget all of that? Whatever. I didn’t care enough to manage his moods. I just looked down at my phone, calculating how long it would take me to save up enough for the cemetery plot. Arthur felt an absurd sense of unreality. He never expected that after just five years, I would completely, effortlessly accept his relationship with Chloe. But… this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Wasn’t I supposed to scream at him for crossing the line? Looking at my calm profile, Arthur comforted himself: It must be because she doesn’t want to lose me again. She’s too scared to get angry. At that moment, I remembered that a photo of Liam was still at my old apartment. I asked Arthur if we could swing by there first. Arthur refused immediately, looking deeply disgusted. “Do you honestly think my mansion has room for your garbage?” “Just call your landlord, tell them you’re breaking the lease, and have them throw it all away.” I opened my mouth, originally wanting to tell him that I wasn’t renting, that I owned the place. But on second thought, I just nodded submissively. That tiny, three-hundred-square-foot studio was the only inheritance Liam left me. There was no need for outsiders to know about it. The rest of the drive was silent. Half an hour later, I was standing in front of the house that used to be my marital home. In the front yard, the sycamore tree I had planted myself was thriving, looking lush and vibrant after five years of weathering the elements. I was a bit surprised. I distinctly remembered that on the day I left, Arthur swore he was going to rip this tree out by its roots. I didn’t expect it to still be standing here five years later. Arthur walked up beside me, looking incredibly unnatural as he offered, “I hired a Feng Shui master. He said this sycamore tree is good for my fortune, so I didn’t dig it up.” I nodded, wondering why he felt the need to explain that to me. I wasn’t narcissistic enough to think he kept the tree because he was still in love with me. Honestly, I was still waiting for him to tell me the real reason he wanted to remarry me. Very quickly, I got my answer. He wanted to remarry me… for his little childhood sweetheart. The front door opened from the inside. I saw Chloe, looking pale and fragile, being supported by a maid. She smiled brightly. “Arthur! You’re back!” I had already figured out on the drive over that she was living here, so I gave her a perfectly natural nod. “Long time no see, Chloe.” Chloe clearly didn’t expect me to be so calm. Her face wore its usual fake, saccharine smile as she greeted me affectionately, “Evelyn! It’s been so long.” “I told Arthur my birthday wish was for you two to get back together, and I can’t believe he actually went out and found you!” “It looks like Arthur really is my personal Santa Claus. He makes all my wishes come true.” If this were the old me, hearing those words would have shattered me. So the only reason I was brought back was because it was another woman’s birthday wish. But now? Not only was I not depressed, I looked at her with genuine, profound gratitude. “Thank you so much, Chloe. Mr. Vance told me you hurt your leg? Don’t worry, I will take excellent care of you.” This time, Chloe’s mask completely cracked. She stared at me in shock, forgetting to even deliver her next line. Arthur also stared at me in disbelief, trying to find some trace of sarcasm or fakeness in my eyes, only to realize I was being 100% sincere. The bizarre, suffocating feeling in his chest grew stronger. He quickly tried to explain, “Chloe is just joking with you. You’re my wife. If I want to remarry you, obviously it’s because I’ve thought about it from every angle.” I smiled and flattered him smoothly. “You are the CEO of the Vance Group. Any decision you make is obviously the result of deep, strategic thinking.” “Chloe’s wish was just a reference point. I get it. I totally understand.” I didn’t expect that even after I said that, Arthur still wouldn’t be satisfied. His face was dark as he glared at me, his eyes hiding a deep, probing confusion I didn’t understand. I looked back at him, blinking innocently. Ultimately, defeated by the clear, untroubled look in my eyes, he turned and stormed into the living room in a huff. I followed closely behind, but as I reached the doorway, Chloe blocked my path. Chloe leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Five years away, and your manipulation skills have definitely leveled up.” “Too bad that in the face of absolute favoritism, your little ‘playing hard to get’ routine isn’t going to work.” “Let me tell you the truth. Arthur only brought you back because I can’t get pregnant. He wants you to carry a baby for me, so I can officially marry into the Vance family without any pushback.” My heart skipped a beat. Have a baby? I couldn’t help but slowly rest my hand over my lower abdomen. Once upon a time, there was a baby growing there too. But tragically… it was murdered by its own father. 3 The look of absolute disgust on Arthur’s face that day was burned into my memory with crystal clarity. He had said: “A malicious, venomous woman like you has absolutely no right to bear my child.” I never imagined that five years later, he would actually want me to have a baby for him. But… I couldn’t have kids anymore either. If Arthur found out, would he throw me out on the street? Then what about the cemetery plot…? Thinking of this, I made a silent vow. I absolutely could not let Arthur find out. Just then, Chloe suddenly screamed and stumbled backward, her eyes turning red. “Evelyn, if you don’t like me, you can just say it… why did you stomp on my foot?!” The maid standing next to her immediately chimed in, pointing a self-righteous finger at me. “Madam, Miss Chloe already has an injured leg. With you stomping on her like that, she’s going to be in agony for days.” “You are truly…” Faced with these two dramatic actresses, I raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, then immediately bowed my head and apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I was well accustomed to Chloe’s two-faced performances. In the past, I used to constantly complain to Arthur about her, calling her a manipulative snake. Unfortunately, Arthur never believed me. He said I was insane with jealousy, maliciously twisting the actions of an innocent little girl. Even though this “little girl” was exactly one month older than me. Because of that, I had no intention of trying to explain myself to Arthur. I just offered a prompt, sincere apology. A short distance away, Arthur’s face darkened. Seeing him look over, I assumed he was going to reprimand me just like he used to. I immediately took the initiative: “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but I acknowledge that I hurt Chloe.” “I accept my punishment. I will go to the attic right now.” Having said that, I turned and started walking toward the stairs. The attic had a confinement room. It was a “reflection room” Arthur specifically had built for me. Every time I “hurt” Chloe or disobeyed him, he would lock me in there to reflect on my actions. For twenty-four hours. No food. No water. In the beginning, I used to fight back and struggle. But eventually, I suffered a miscarriage while locked in that pitch-black room, and it gave me severe claustrophobia. After that, the mere threat of it reduced me to a sobbing, begging mess on my knees. Thankfully, I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. During that earthquake, I was trapped in a tiny, pitch-black space propped open by Liam’s body. It was completely dark, and we were covered in blood. But as his life slowly slipped away, I felt the most profound, intense love I had ever known. He pulled me out of my final psychological shadow. It was just that this time, the price had been far too high. Without realizing it, my eyes began to sting and turn red. When Arthur grabbed my wrist, this was the scene he saw—my head bowed submissively, my eyes holding absolutely zero resentment, only a trace of raw vulnerability. I looked like a fawn that had been abandoned by its mother in the wilderness. A sharp pain pierced Arthur’s heart. The inexplicable rage that had just flared up in his chest was instantly extinguished. He asked, a mix of helplessness and confusion in his voice, “When did I say I was sending you to the confinement room?” I looked up, genuinely shocked and flattered. “Huh? I really don’t have to go?” My reaction instantly stung Arthur’s eyes. He actually felt a surge of regret for how he had treated me in the past. He explained awkwardly, “When I locked you in there before, it was because you were immature. You made mistakes and were too stubborn to admit them, so I wanted to teach you a lesson.” “Now, it wasn’t on purpose, and your attitude in apologizing was excellent. There’s no need for punishment.” As he spoke, he looked over at Chloe standing nearby and smiled warmly. “Besides, Chloe is so kindhearted, how could she possibly want you punished over such a minor accident?” Chloe’s mask almost ripped right off her face. She stared at me with an unfamiliar, deeply unsettled gaze. The corners of her mouth twitched into a stiff smile as she nodded. “Yeah, Evelyn. If you go to the attic, it’ll make me look like I’m being aggressive and demanding.” I shook my head, quickly explaining, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so used to…” Chloe instantly switched to playing the victim. “I knew it! Evelyn still blames me. It was my fault back then, I was immature and didn’t know boundaries, and it caused a rift between you two.” “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I formally apologize to you.” Arthur looked at me suspiciously. I knew exactly what he was thinking—he was wondering if I was trying to stir up drama again. I had just managed to dodge a punishment; there was no way I was letting Chloe trap me in another narrative. I put on my most sincere, earnest face. “How could you say that? I let go of all that a long time ago.” “Oh, by the way! Don’t you love my steamed sea bass?” “I’ll go to the farmer’s market right now, buy the freshest fish, and make it for you.” “But once you eat my fish, you’re not allowed to bring up the past anymore, okay?” My response effectively killed Chloe’s performance. She stood there awkwardly, watching me turn and run toward the front door. Before she even had a chance to speak, she watched Arthur walk right past her and chase me out the door. 4 Arthur grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowed. “I brought you back to be the lady of the house, not to be a servant.” I shook my head, looking completely unbothered. “It’s fine! I used to cook for Chloe all the time anyway.” Arthur opened his mouth, but it felt like a cork had been shoved down his throat. He couldn’t utter a single sound. He remembered a few years ago when Chloe had been pushed down the stairs. To make me “atone” for my sins, he forced me to act as Chloe’s personal maid for three months. Chloe was an incredibly picky eater, and I was never a good cook. The meals I brought her were repeatedly knocked to the floor, and I was forced to remake them from scratch. Back then, my hands were covered in burn blisters, but he never once felt an ounce of pity for me. After those three months, I firmly asked for a divorce. He blamed me for being unrepentant, and in a fit of rage, signed the papers. And that was the beginning of our five-year separation. Arthur sighed heavily. “You’re still blaming me for that, aren’t you? You’re saying this on purpose to remind me that I bullied you for Chloe’s sake.” “But honey, you were the one in the wrong back then. If I didn’t give the Miller family a proper explanation, the corporate partnership between our families would have been jeopardized…” “I’m not just your husband, I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation.” I didn’t expect that just volunteering to cook a meal would trigger another one of Arthur’s endless, self-justifying lectures. I had zero interest in hearing what he had to say. All I wanted to know was if he was going to drive me to the market, because the good one was pretty far away. When I made my request, I saw Arthur’s face turn incredibly bitter. It almost looked like… sadness. I had no idea what was wrong with him. I just rushed him, “Hurry up! If we get there late, all the fresh fish will be sold out.” Arthur got into the car with a dark expression. He drove me to the supermarket, quietly watched me buy groceries, and quietly drove me back home. Once we got back, he immediately jumped into a video conference call. Chloe sat closely by his side like a little bird, occasionally feeding him pieces of fruit. Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen prepping dinner, my mind racing: How the hell am I going to get Arthur to pay me my allowance? The cemetery sales rep had just texted me. Someone else was looking at that specific plot. I needed to pay the deposit immediately. … An hour later, the three of us were sitting at the dining table. I placed a tender piece of fish into Chloe’s bowl and asked, “Is it good?” Chloe raised an eyebrow in approval, immediately defaulting to treating me like a servant just like she used to. “The fish is decent. Tomorrow I want chicken stew with glass noodles, sea snails, and Australian lobster.” I immediately whipped out my phone, typing as I spoke: “No problem. Um… Mr. Vance, do you have time to take me grocery shopping tomorrow? If not, could you transfer some money to me?” “Otherwise, I don’t have any money to buy groceries.” Arthur stared at me in absolute shock. Then, he pulled out his phone and started transferring the money, while simultaneously telling Chloe: “Chloe, Evelyn isn’t a chef. If you want something specific, just tell Mrs. Higgins to make it.” Chloe’s face instantly turned an ugly shade of pale. She put down her chopsticks and looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I understand. I’m intruding on you two.” Saying that, she stood up to leave. “I think it’s better if I just go back to my own house. Otherwise, what happens if I say the wrong thing again?” As she turned, she suddenly fell to the floor. Her knee hit the hardwood with a loud, heavy thud. Just hearing the sound, you knew it had to hurt. Seeing this, Arthur rushed over and scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes were red as she tried to push him away. “Let me go, I don’t want you to hold me.” “Since Evelyn is back, everything I say is wrong, and everything I do makes you unhappy.” “It’s better if I just go home.” Arthur patiently coaxed her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t mean anything by it.” His gaze dropped to her knee, his voice filled with heartache. “Your knee… I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He carried Chloe and practically sprinted toward the front door. As he reached the exit, he suddenly turned back, only to see me sitting at the table, casually eating my dinner as if nothing had happened. He swallowed whatever explanation he was about to give and said coldly, “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” I replied obediently, “Okay.” The exact second they left, I immediately wired an $80,000 deposit to the cemetery sales rep. Arthur didn’t come home for the next few days. I was thrilled to have the peace and quiet. One afternoon, while I was enjoying some tea, the butler suddenly led a group of people into the house. He said Mr. Vance had sent them to deliver clothes, bags, and shoes. It was the latest season’s collections from all the major luxury brands, and I could pick whatever I wanted. I selected several classic, high-value bags and some staple clothing items, already calculating how much I could sell them for on luxury resale sites in a few weeks. That night, I went to sleep early. In my dreams, I saw Liam. He was standing in a field of wildflowers, smiling and waving at me. I ran over, threw my arms around him, and said excitedly, “Liam! I made a hundred thousand dollars today! Aren’t I amazing?” He hugged me, his eyes full of tenderness. “Don’t force yourself to suffer just for me.” I shook my head. I didn’t feel like I was suffering at all. Besides, compared to everything he did for me, the little bit of acting I was doing was absolutely nothing. Suddenly, I felt something cold and wet on my skin, accompanied by heavy, low panting. It violently shredded my dream to pieces. I opened my eyes in extreme annoyance and saw Arthur pinned on top of me, passionately biting my earlobe. A wave of intense nausea surged up my throat. I completely lost control, violently shoved him off me, and sprinted to the bathroom to vomit.

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