“Just sign it. The firm has decided to ‘realign’ your position.” Madeline, the Department Director, pushed the severance agreement across the mahogany table. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. Her gaze was fixed somewhere near my shoulder, shifting with a restlessness that betrayed her guilt. Beside her sat the HR lead, wearing a smile so practiced it felt like a ceramic mask. I picked up the pen and scanned the document. Three months of severance plus a performance kicker. It was standard. Exactly what the law required, and not a penny more. “Fine,” I said. I signed my name—Ben Cross—and stood up. Madeline blinked, looking stunned. “You… you don’t have anything to say? No questions?” I gave her a thin, dry smile. “Is there anything left for me to hand over?” They traded a glance, their eyes mirroring a profound confusion. They expected a breakdown, a plea for mercy, or at the very least, a dignified argument about my three years of service. What they didn’t know was that I’d been waiting for this moment for exactly ninety days. 1. The conference room was freezing. Outside, the July heat was baking the Chicago skyline, but inside, the vents were blasting a clinical, recycled chill. Madeline sat across from me, her fingers tapping a rhythmic, mindless beat on the table. She was wearing a navy power suit today, the kind with pearl-inlaid buttons on the cuffs. On her wrist was a brand-new Cartier Love bracelet. I remembered her bragging about it on Instagram after her birthday three months ago—a gift to herself for a “record-breaking year.” The HR guy was a kid, maybe twenty-five, named Tyler. I’d never seen him before; he must have been one of the new hires brought in to handle the “restructuring.” He held a leather-bound folder like a shield. “Ben, we’ve got the transition paperwork ready,” Tyler said, his voice soft, as if he were trying not to wake a sleeping infant. “The firm is offering a standard package based on your tenure. Please take a moment to verify the figures.” Ben. I’d been at this firm for three years and four months. My employee ID was #001847. I was the senior-most Account Manager in the entire Midwest Division. Three years ago, when I started, the Midwest Division didn’t exist. It was just me, a laptop, and a list of cold leads I’d turned into gold, one grueling flight at a time. Back then, they didn’t call me “Ben.” They called me the “MVP.” “Once you sign, HR will coordinate the rollover of your 401k and provide your letter of recommendation,” Tyler continued. “The severance amount is $168,000. It’s all there in the breakdown.” I glanced at the number. $168,000. Perfect. “Don’t worry about the hand-off,” Madeline finally spoke, her voice carrying a forced, brittle warmth. “The company will assign someone to step in. We want you to focus on your next chapter. Take some time for yourself, Ben. You’ve earned it.” “Mhm.” I flipped to the final page and scrawled my signature. As the ink dried, I saw Madeline’s shoulders drop an inch. She’d been holding her breath. She probably thought I’d cry. Or maybe she thought I’d burn the bridge, screaming about how I’d carried the Midwest’s largest accounts on my back for thirty-six months. I’d won “Producer of the Year” at the last annual gala. She was the one who handed me the trophy, beaming at the cameras, telling the board that I was the “unshakable foundation” of her department. That was only eight months ago. “Reggie,” I said, using the nickname I knew she hated when things were formal. “I’m going to pack my desk now. I’ll be out by five.” “Oh? So soon?” “Let’s be real. The severance offer expires at end of business today. I wouldn’t want to give the firm an excuse to ‘realign’ the payout, too.” A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She knew the drill. Sign today: full package. Wait until tomorrow: a legal battle for half. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “regarding the transition, you’ll need to brief Hailey on the current pipelines, client dossiers, and project timelines—” “No need.” I cut her off. “Excuse me?” “My laptop doesn’t hold client dossiers. Everything the firm is legally entitled to is already in the CRM. As for project timelines, I submitted my weekly report on Friday. You should have read it by now.” Madeline’s expression soured. “Ben, what is this attitude? We’re trying to make this professional.” “This is professional,” I countered. “The agreement states my final day is today. I will complete my contractual obligations before I leave. Is there an issue?” She opened her mouth, then closed it. Tyler kept his head down, pretending to be very interested in the staples of his folder. I grabbed my messenger bag and walked to the door, but stopped with my hand on the handle. “By the way, Reggie. Just a curiosity.” “What?” “How many people are being let go today?” She hesitated. “I don’t see why that’s relevant.” “Just wondering about the ‘alignment.’” She tried to hold my gaze but failed. “Sixteen.” “Sixteen,” I nodded. “All from our department?” “No. Across the firm. But… you’re the only one from the Midwest Account team.” “I see.” I pushed the door open. “Good luck with the quarter. You’re going to need it.” I checked my phone the moment I hit the hallway. 2:43 PM. A notification from Dexter, a top-tier executive recruiter, was glowing on my screen. “How’d the meeting go?” I typed back three words: “It’s done. Signed.” He replied instantly: “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at five. We’re headed to Apex Systems to finalize your offer with their CEO. Welcome to the $5 million club, Ben.” I smiled and slipped the phone into my pocket. Three months ago, Dexter had called me out of the blue. He’d said, “Ben, Apex Systems wants to poach you. We’re talking a $750k base, a $5 million total package over three years, plus equity.” At the time, I was sitting in my glass-walled office, watching Madeline tell me through a Zoom call that “the budget was tight” and my well-deserved raise would have to “wait another year.” Wait. She’d been asking me to wait for three years. Year one: “You’re new. Let’s see some consistency first.” Year two: “The market is volatile. We need you to be a team player.” Year three: “Your numbers are great, Ben, but you need to think about the ‘Big Picture.’ It’s not just about your individual commission.” The Big Picture. I was making $180,000 while bringing in $50 million in annual revenue. Madeline was making $800,000 while she hadn’t closed a new lead since the Obama administration. Her clients were my discoveries. Her bonuses were built on my sweat. Her “Leader of the Year” plaques were earned by my late nights. And she wanted me to wait. So, when Dexter called, I didn’t hesitate. I asked, “When’s the interview?” I’d spent the last three months playing the role of the loyal soldier, while secretly preparing for the day the “realignments” would inevitably hit. I knew the firm was looking to cut high-earners to pad the year-end margins. I knew they thought I was too expensive. I sat on my sofa that night, staring at the ceiling. I’d given this place three years. I thought I cared about the culture. But when I looked closer, who was I caring for? Madeline? Who took the credit and gave me crumbs? The firm? Who didn’t even give me a two-week heads-up? My colleagues? Half of them were already sharking for my desk space. I had fed my heart to a machine that didn’t have a soul. Why would I stay for a second longer than I had to? 2. As I packed my desk, I could hear the whispers from the neighboring cubicles. “Is Ben really gone?” “Yeah, just saw him come out of the room with the HR Reaper.” “No way. He’s the top producer. Why him?” “He’s over thirty, man. He’s got a family, mortgage, expectations. Look at the others they cut—all the seniors. They want the hungry kids who don’t know any better.” “That’s brutal.” “That’s corporate. Nobody’s indispensable.” I didn’t look back. I tucked my favorite mug, a leather pen holder, and a framed photo of my dog into a cardboard box. It took fifteen minutes. Three years and four months of a career, reduced to a box that wasn’t even full. “Ben.” I looked up. It was Hailey. I’d mentored Hailey for the last year. She was twenty-six, a Yale grad with a sharp tongue and a mediocre work ethic, but she knew how to play the office politics game better than I ever did. “You heard,” I said. “I did.” She stood there, looking performatively sad. “Ben, I’m… I’m so sorry.” “It’s fine, Hailey.” “Who did this to you? Was it Madeline? I could talk to her—” “Nobody ‘did’ anything,” I said, lifting the box. “Strategic adjustment. It’s business.” “But your numbers…” “The numbers belong to the team now, right?” I looked her dead in the eye. She flinched. At the last company retreat, when I was given the MVP award, Hailey had posted a photo on LinkedIn with the caption: “So proud of what our team has achieved together! Collaboration is the key to success.” The photo was of me and Madeline. Hailey wasn’t even in the shot, but she had framed the victory as a collective effort. She felt she’d “contributed” because she’d booked a few flight tickets and printed out some decks. “So, what’s next for you?” she asked. “Taking some time off. Re-evaluating.” “If… if you need anything,” she said, fidgeting with her lanyard. “I know a few recruiters. I could put in a word?” I laughed. “I think I’ll be okay, Hailey. Thanks.” “Ben, don’t be like that. We worked together for a year—” “Hailey,” I interrupted. “Do you know why I said the performance belongs to the team?” She shook her head. “Because that’s exactly what Madeline told the board. She said, ‘This wasn’t Ben’s win; it was the department’s.’ And while she was saying that, you were in the back of the room, nodding the loudest.” Hailey’s face went pale. “Ben, I didn’t mean it like that…” “It doesn’t matter what you meant.” I shifted the box to one arm. “What matters is—do you actually think you can replace me?” She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “Madeline thinks you can,” I said. “The firm thinks you can. But do you?” She looked down at her shoes. “Let me ask you a question,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, cold hum. “How many major accounts are in the Midwest portfolio?” “Twenty-three,” she answered quickly. “Wrong. Twenty-seven. We signed four new ones last month. Did you miss the memo?” Silence. “Out of those twenty-seven, how many of the decision-makers’ personal cell phone numbers do you have?” “…” “How many of their procurement cycles do you know by heart? Their pain points? Their kids’ names? The exact reason they hate our competitors?” Still nothing. “You were right before,” I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “The revenue is the team’s. It’s on the company’s ledger.” I walked past her, my shoulder brushing hers. “But the clients? The clients are mine.” 3. At 5:00 PM sharp, Dexter arrived. He was driving a sleek black Porsche Cayenne, idling at the curb in front of the office tower. I threw my cardboard box into the backseat and climbed into the passenger side. “Nervous?” he asked, pulling into traffic. “Why would I be nervous?” “True.” He grinned. “The guys at Apex are more anxious than you are. Their CEO, Malcolm, called me three times today just to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind.” Apex Systems. The undisputed titan of the industrial software world. They’d just finished a massive Series C round, valued at over a billion dollars. Their Midwest presence was currently a vacuum—a massive opportunity with no one to lead it. They didn’t just want an account manager. They wanted a general. And they knew I had the map to the territory. “Dex,” I said. “Yeah?” “Do you think I’m worth $5 million?” Dexter glanced at me, his expression turning serious. “What are you thinking, Ben?” “Just… reflecting on the last few hours.” “You’re absolutely worth it,” Dexter said. “The five million isn’t just for your time. It’s for the three years of relationships you’ve built and the technical expertise you possess. If Apex tries to build the Midwest from scratch, it’ll take them five years and twenty million dollars in trial and error. With you, they skip the line. You’re a shortcut.” “I guess you’re right.” “So don’t overthink it. You’re worth what the market is willing to pay.” I nodded, looking out the window as the city lights began to flicker on. Madeline had told me I was “replaceable.” The firm had told me I was “overhead.” At $180,000, I wasn’t worth keeping. At $5 million, I was the prize they were fighting for. “You know what the biggest thing I learned in the last three years is?” I asked. “What?” “Never let anyone else set your price.” Dexter chuckled. “Sounds like something out of a self-help book.” “But it’s the truth,” I said. “Three years ago, I walked into that building thinking my goal was to be a ‘good employee.’ Then I realized ‘good employee’ is just a code word bosses use to keep you compliant.” “Go on.” “Think about it. What is a ‘good employee’? Someone who is obedient, works late, doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask for more. You take the hits, you stay in your lane, and then, when it’s time for a raise, they tell you that you still have ‘room to grow.’” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “I spent three years being a ‘good employee’ and all I got was a cardboard box. So, I learned.” “Learned what?” “To be good to myself instead.” The Porsche pulled into the Apex Systems campus. It was a sprawling, modern tech fortress—three times the size of my old firm. It had a gym, a rooftop lounge, and a vibe that felt like the future rather than a dying cubicle farm. “We’re here,” Dexter said. “Malcolm is waiting in the boardroom.” I pushed the door open, feeling the warm evening air hit my face. “Dexter, thanks.” “For what? I’m just doing my job.” “For the phone call three months ago. You didn’t just poach me.” “I know,” he said, looking at me with a knowing smirk. “So, tell me. Out of those twenty-seven clients… how many are coming with you?” I thought about the cell phone numbers in my contacts. The dinners. The trust. “At least eighteen,” I said. “To start.” “And does Madeline know?” “She hasn’t a clue.” “What’s she going to do when she finds out?” “She’s going to regret calling me ‘replaceable.’” Dexter laughed, a rich, appreciative sound. “Then let’s give her something to regret.”

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For three years of marriage, the “Wife’s Seat” decal on the passenger side of Preston Moore’s car had been a permanent fixture. It was a brand, a claim, a lie. I found the prenatal exam results tucked in the glovebox. It wasn’t mine. When I confronted him, Preston didn’t even look up from his tablet. He was as cool as the marble countertops in our kitchen. “It’s a prop, Nora. My parents are breathing down my neck for an heir. Don’t read into it.” A few weeks later, at a high-stakes business gala, I watched him peel shrimp for his assistant, Lacey, with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. He didn’t offer a word of explanation. “She’s an employee,” he’d said later, dismissing my hurt with a flick of his wrist. “I was being a good boss. If you’re that insecure, just fire her.” But the next time I saw Lacey, she wasn’t filing papers. She was standing in my hallway, her hand resting on a slight swell in her stomach, a triumphant smirk on her face. In a fit of blind, white-hot rage, I pushed her. I didn’t mean for her to fall so hard. I didn’t mean for the hospital trip to end the way it did. Preston didn’t yell. He didn’t even mention the “accident.” He stayed devoted—scary devoted. He pampered me by day and was relentless, almost feral, in bed by night. I thought he’d forgiven me. Then the kidnappings started. Seven times in a single month. Seven times I was snatched from the street, dragged into basements, and broken. My own pregnancy—a tiny, flickering life I hadn’t even told him about yet—was lost in a blur of blood and concrete floors. My parents, desperate to save me, poured their dignity and their fortune into the hands of shadows, only to die in front of me when the ransom wasn’t enough. When I finally crawled back to our estate, covered in grime and dried blood, the front door was ajar. I heard laughter from the living room. Preston’s inner circle—the elite, the untouchables—were gathered around the poker table. “I’ve got five million on the wife,” one of them chuckled, throwing a chip into the center. “Nora is obsessed with Moore. Even when she finds out the truth, she’ll crawl back. She’s addicted to him.” “I’m in for twenty million,” another countered, his voice dripping with malice. “Forgiveness? She’ll be on her knees thanking him. Preston arranges a ‘disappearance’ every seven days like clockwork, and she still looks at him like he’s her savior.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, the taste of copper filling my throat. Tears carved tracks through the filth on my face. It wasn’t bad luck. It wasn’t the city’s underbelly. It was Preston. Every bruise, every scream, every drop of my parents’ blood—it was all a tribute to Lacey. It was his way of balancing the scales for her lost child. Leaving him would take a lifetime of courage, but I only needed seven days to disappear. … I stood in the shadows of the foyer, a ghost in my own home, watching Preston lift Lacey from the sofa. He carried her upstairs with a reverence that made my skin crawl. “Preston’s too good to her,” one of his friends remarked, watching them go. “Lacey so much as coughs and he starts shaking. Look at him—she’s just a little lightheaded and he’s acting like the world is ending.” “Remember when she lost the baby?” another whispered. “Preston nearly leveled that hospital. The surgeon who performed the procedure is lucky to be walking.” When Preston came back downstairs, there were fresh red marks on his neck. The men started to tease him, but he held up a hand. “Keep it down. Lacey’s sleeping. Is the facility ready?” “Top of the line,” his associate replied. “The private care wing is finished. A hundred-million-dollar project, just like you asked.” Preston nodded, his expression hardening into something cold and crystalline. “From now on, you refer to her as Mrs. Moore. I’m moving her in permanently in a few days.” “And… what about Nora?” Preston’s voice was a whetted blade. “The moment she forced Lacey into that surgery, she signed her soul over to me. Every ounce of pain Lacey felt, I want Nora to feel a hundredfold.” I swallowed back a sob, my lungs burning. “The cycle is almost up,” the man continued. “When do we ‘rescue’ her this time? If we leave her out there too long, she might get suspicious.” Preston let out a short, mocking laugh. “Suspicious? She spends every second of those kidnappings praying I’ll walk through the door. By the time I ‘save’ her, she’ll be more in love with me than ever.” I leaned against the wall, my vision blurring. I should have known. Our estate was a fortress, guarded by the best security money could buy. Yet, every time I was taken, the guards had been elsewhere. My parents had found me so easily because Preston had left breadcrumbs for them to follow—all the way to their graves. A sharp scream from upstairs shattered the silence. Preston’s face transformed into a mask of pure panic—an emotion he had never once wasted on me. He sprinted up the stairs. I stood there, frozen, as a team of on-call doctors rushed past me. Lacey had simply had a nightmare. That was all it took to move heaven and earth in this house. After a long while, I heard Preston’s voice booming from the landing, raw with misplaced fury. “Tell the next crew to move the date up. Lacey’s trauma is too deep. Nora needs to hurt more. Now.” I stared down at my arms, at the mottled purples and yellows of my skin. This was the man who used to fret over a mosquito bite on my ankle. My agony had become his therapy, and my husband was the architect of my hell. I tried to turn, to run, but my legs gave out. I hit the floor, the grit from the street digging into my open wounds. The noise drew him. Preston appeared at the top of the stairs and froze when he saw me. In an instant, his “loving husband” mask was back on. He ran down and gathered me into his arms, his touch making my stomach turn. “Nora! God, you’re finally home! I’ve been searching everywhere. Tell me who did this to you. I swear, I’ll make them pay.” Tears fell from his eyes onto my cheek. I felt nothing but a cold, hollow vacuum in my chest. I marveled at the performance. How many years had I been blinded by this acting? I let out a broken whimper, my lips trembling. He carried me to our bedroom, but his eyes flickered nervously toward the closed door across the hall—Lacey’s room. “I… I turned that into a nursery for the baby,” he lied, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I had to lock it. I didn’t want you to see it and be reminded of what we lost.” I stiffened in his arms. Another lie. I looked at his handsome face, and all I saw were the flashes of my father’s dying eyes and the blood on the clinic floor. The nausea surged. I couldn’t stop it. I retched, a dark, bitter bile spilling onto the expensive rug. Before I blacked out, I heard his voice, stripped of all warmth, whispering to someone nearby. “Take her back out. Just make sure you don’t damage her womb.” This time, perhaps fearing he’d pushed too far, the “kidnappers” only kept me for a day. Preston held me again when I “returned,” his voice a masterpiece of heartbreak. “I’m so sorry, Nora. They intercepted the car on the way to the hospital. Who are these people? Talk to me, honey. Let me protect you.” I looked at him and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. He didn’t want to protect me. He wanted to preserve my body so he could witness the death of a thousand more of my children. “The doctor is coming,” he whispered. “Just hold on.” But the doctor never came to my room. I heard the frantic footsteps in the hallway all night. Every medical professional in the house was in Lacey’s room. I lay in my own blood, my clothes fused to my skin by dried plasma, shivering until I passed out from the pain. When I finally managed to limp downstairs the next morning, Lacey was sitting on the sofa. When she saw me, she feigned a violent shudder of fear. Preston was instantly at her side, shielding her from me. “Nora, don’t start. Lacey is staying here for a while. She’s fragile. Don’t go near her.” I didn’t say a word. I walked past them, out the front door, and drove myself to the crematorium. When I went to claim my parents’ remains, the attendant handed me a small plastic bottle filled with a clear, caustic liquid. My heart stopped. “What is this?” “A woman came by,” the attendant said, looking uncomfortable. “She said the deceased died with ‘bad energy.’ She brought a priest and a gentleman. They insisted the bones be dissolved in this solution to… clear the aura, they said.” I hit the wall, my breath hitching in my throat. The world tilted. I dialed Preston’s number with shaking fingers. The call connected, and for a second, I heard the low, rhythmic sounds of intimacy. I pushed past the disgust. “Preston… my parents’ ashes. Why? Why would you do that?” “Lacey was having nightmares about them, Nora,” he said, his voice dropping into that calm, gaslighting tone. “The medium said their spirits were restless because of the ‘accident’ with the baby. We had to neutralize the remains. It’s for the best, really. Even for them.” I hung up. I went home, walked straight up to Preston, and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. When I turned to Lacey, Preston’s hand caught my shoulder and shoved me back. “Have you lost your mind?!” he roared. “They were two dead people, Nora! Get over it!” Lacey dropped to her knees, sobbing. “It’s my fault, Nora! Don’t be mad at Preston! Hit me if you have to!” The sight of her—the woman responsible for the erasure of my family—sent the blood rushing to my head. I reached for a heavy crystal ashtray on the side table. CRACK. Preston was faster. He grabbed the ashtray and slammed it into my forehead. “I won’t let you hurt her again!” he snarled, pulling Lacey into his chest. Blood poured down my face, blinding me. He didn’t even look back as he led her away. I sat on the floor, found the first aid kit, and stitched my own skin while my world burned. My phone vibrated. I answered, and the sound of the voice on the other end broke the dam. I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. “Silas… I couldn’t even keep their ashes. I’m done. I don’t want him anymore.” The man on the other end was silent for a beat, his voice a low, vibrating rumble of controlled rage. “Nora. I’ve booked you a flight for tomorrow night. Get to the airport. I’m ending the Moore dynasty. It’s time for the sun to set on that house.” Suddenly, a pair of large hands wrapped around my waist. I froze. Preston stood behind me, frowning. “Who was that?” “Nobody.” “Baby, I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered, kissing my temple. The smell of Lacey’s perfume clung to him. “You have to understand, I love you. I’ve always loved you. But Lacey lost a child because of you. I’m just trying to help you atone.” I nodded numbly. Atone. What a beautiful word for torture. He sat me down and opened his laptop, scrolling through designer catalogs. He ordered dozens of high-fashion pieces—all in Lacey’s size. Then, almost as an afterthought, he picked out two plain wool coats for me. “Lacey is delicate,” he said, not looking at me. “She needs the best to feel safe. You’re stronger than her, Nora. You don’t need the labels.” I looked away. He had forgotten that I was the one born into old money. I had spent my life in silks until I met him and lowered my standards to match his ego. He had mistaken my sacrifice for a lack of taste. A scream echoed from the garden. Preston bolted. I followed slowly, arriving to see a black viper coiled on the patio, hissing at Lacey. Preston didn’t hesitate; he lunged, snapping the snake’s neck with his bare hands. Lacey collapsed into his arms, weeping. When she saw me, she crawled to my feet, her eyes streaming. “Nora, I know you hate me for being with him, but I lost my baby too! Why would you put snake pheromones in my foundation? Why would you try to kill me?” My heart hammered against my ribs. Before I could speak, Preston’s hand blurred. The slap sent me reeling. He picked Lacey up and walked away, his eyes looking at me as if I were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. Hours later, two of Preston’s “security” men grabbed me. They dragged me to the back of the estate, to the pit where Preston kept his exotic reptiles. They threw me in. The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. Hiss. I clawed at the door until my fingernails tore. Snakes slithered over my boots, their cool, dry scales grazing my skin. I screamed until my throat was raw. The intercom crackled. Preston’s voice filled the small, humid room. “This is for your own good, Nora. You need to learn discipline. You can’t keep attacking Lacey. Consider this a cooling-off period.” I slumped against the wall, the darkness pressing in. Then, the audio changed. The sounds of Preston and Lacey in bed began to play over the speakers—a deliberate, psychological flaying. A heavy weight settled on my shoulder. A viper struck. When I woke up, the world was black. Not the darkness of the pit, but a flat, hollow nothingness. I reached out, tumbling from a bed onto a hard floor. I was blind. A familiar scent entered the room—sandalwood and expensive tobacco. “Nora, why won’t you just bow your head?” Preston’s voice was soft, almost pitying. “Just apologize. Lacey is so kind; she’d forgive you in a heartbeat.” I shoved his hand away when he tried to touch my face. His tone sharpened. “The venom wasn’t lethal. Your sight will return in a few days. I’ve already punished the person who put the poisonous snake in the pit.” I let out a jagged, cynical laugh. “Oh? And how did you punish her, Preston?” “She’s grounded,” he said, his voice turning defensive. “No TV, no phone, no shopping for a week. She’s learned her lesson. What more do you want, Nora? She didn’t mean for it to go that far.” He stormed out. On the day I was “released” from his private medical wing, my vision was still a milky blur. I fumbled my way through the house to find the bottle of my parents’ dissolved remains. Lacey met me at the door. With Preston gone, the mask vanished. She grabbed a handful of my hair, her face twisting into something demonic. “You’re still here? Why don’t you just go die like your parents did?” I wrenched myself away, grabbed my bag, and headed for the airport. Lacey watched me go, a cruel glint in her eyes. She pulled a small pill from her pocket and swallowed it. Within minutes, she was slumped on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. Preston returned to a bloodbath and went insane, racing her to the hospital. Lacey sobbed in his arms, “Don’t… don’t be mad at Nora… she didn’t mean to…” At the airport, I was barely out of the taxi when I was dragged into a blind alley. “Nora Whitlock, right? Someone paid us a lot of money to make sure you never walk again.” My brain felt like it was exploding. I fumbled for my phone and hit speed-dial. “Preston! Help me! Please!” “Lacey just lost her second child because of you, Nora,” Preston’s voice was like ice. “She’s in surgery. You’re really going to try the ‘damsel in distress’ act now? Go to hell.” He hung up. The men took my phone and smashed it against the brick wall. As the lead man unbuckled his belt, I closed my eyes. “Preston,” I whispered to the empty air. “You’re going to wish you had died in that pit with me.”

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The entire internet knows my relationship with the A-list actor is a disaster. They are eagerly waiting for me to be publicly rejected and humiliated on a celebrity divorce reality show. However, on the very first night, the normally aloof and untouchable superstar had a near-meltdown when he drew the “separate bedrooms” card. During our fireside chat, he pitifully complained to the whole world that I wasn’t spending enough of his money. In the heartbeat challenge, my single “Hubby” sent his heart rate soaring past 140. And when the producers handed him a fake divorce agreement, he completely lost his cool, crying his eyes out and threatening to sue the show. Netizens: [Well, I’ll be damned. So you’re the desperate housewife here, bro?!] [Ahhh, they tricked us! It’s a divorce show masquerading as a dating show! Why is this so good?!] [Girl, stop smiling! Turn around, your husband is about to drop dead from a broken heart!] 1 I’m a C-list actress, famous mostly for my scandals and my working-class background. I have the looks, the acting skills, the talent… wait, no, I just have the looks. My family background is average, and my public image is, well, debatable. My popularity always hovered around the lower tiers. That was until the news of my secret marriage to the top-tier superstar, Arthur Vance, broke out, shocking the entire internet. Besides the massive gap in our status and family backgrounds, there was another reason for the shock: everyone in the industry knew Arthur had a subtle hostility towards me. At an awards ceremony, across the crowded room, Arthur (who was standing dead center) and I accidentally locked eyes. Caught off guard, I maintained my bright, sweet, fan-service smile. The man, however, looked extremely uncomfortable. He quickly dropped his smile and, in a moment of panic, actually rolled his eyes. When the video leaked, his massive fanbase was incredibly confused. Arthur was known for being aloof and a man of few words, but he was also famously gentlemanly, polite, and emotionally stable. Yet, he showed such undisguised disgust solely towards me. Later, netizens dug up the few other times Arthur and I were caught in the same frame. No matter how brightly he was smiling a second before, his face would instantly freeze the moment he saw me. Add to that my naturally soft, whiny voice. In the eyes of the internet, I became the desperate wannabe, constantly throwing myself at him while he gave me the cold shoulder. Now that our secret marriage was exposed, these videos went viral again. Netizens relentlessly mocked me, claiming Arthur had a physiological aversion to me and was red in the face from anger. Hordes of haters tagged a divorce reality show on my social media: [Please, just divorce him! Let our Arthur go!] [This girl has some thick skin. How can she still smile when her husband clearly despises her?] [Poor Arthur. A guy who barely shows emotion was forced to roll his eyes. Imagine how miserable his life must be.] … Under the intense pressure from the internet, the divorce reality show actually sent us an invitation. Arthur and I were forced together by our grandfathers; there was absolutely no love involved. Our daily interactions were no different from strangers living in the same house. I had long had enough of this stagnant, dead-end life. I agreed to the show without hesitation, ready to secure one last massive paycheck before we divorced. Just as I was grinning like an idiot, counting the zeros on my compensation fee, I noticed Arthur staring at the contract with a complex expression, hesitating to sign. “What’s wrong?” I asked, a bit confused. “My pen is broken,” Arthur muttered, looking down. “There’s another one right there.” “That one’s broken too…” Sensing his reluctance, I assumed he didn’t want to waste his precious time on me. I put on my best whining voice to coax him: “It won’t take up too much of your schedule. Let’s just go, please?” “O-okay then.” Arthur stumbled over his words, the tips of his ears turning red as he hastily scribbled his signature. 2 The show invited three couples and opted for a 24/7 live-stream format. Before filming began, the director assigned a rough script and conflict points for each couple. But considering my decade-long lack of acting progress and Arthur’s massive status, the director ultimately decided to let Arthur and me freestyle. The moment I dragged my two small suitcases into the camera’s view, the viewer count and live comments skyrocketed: [Here they come! The most dramatic couple has finally arrived.] [LMAO, the contrast is brutal. The other couples either held hands or walked side-by-side. Not only is Arthur not walking with Elena, but he’s making her carry her own luggage.] [Tsk, so what if she schemed her way into a rich family? She’s still just a glorified maid with no dignity. They didn’t even have a proper wedding announcement. The Vance family probably doesn’t even acknowledge her.] It wasn’t just the live chat mocking me. Chloe, the female half of another couple, also noticed my disheveled state and threw a subtle jab: “Elena, a woman’s hands are very delicate. Liam never lets me carry heavy things. If people didn’t know better, they’d think you were Arthur’s hired help.” Chloe and I debuted around the same time. She was highly competitive and loved comparing herself to others. When she married the director, Liam Sterling, she posted endless updates showing off her entry into “high society.” But the Sterling family was nothing compared to the Vance Group. So when my marriage to Arthur was exposed, it was understandable that she was furious. However, I was here to make money, not to engage in catfights. I couldn’t be bothered with her. The commentators in the studio had probably done their homework and accepted my persona as the Vance family’s despised punching bag. Seeing my silence, they assumed I was swallowing my pride and looked at me with deep sympathy. Live Chat: [LOL, Chloe and Liam are on a divorce show because he’s ‘too possessive’? Are they sure they aren’t just here to show off? The gold digger must be so jealous seeing our Chloe so happy.] [It’s her own fault for shamelessly clinging to an arranged marriage from their grandfathers. If she’s miserable now, she only has her own greed to blame.] Just then, the camera panned. Arthur wasn’t looking as relaxed and carefree as everyone thought. He was struggling to push five massive, connected suitcases, arriving late to the scene. The other guests, who had been whispering and enjoying the show, froze for a second before rushing over to help, joking: “Arthur, aren’t you a minimalist? You’ve gotten fancy lately! Do you need help throwing this trash bag away?” Arthur coldly dodged their hands, looking displeased. I pushed through the crowd: “Uh, those suitcases are all mine. And that’s not a trash bag, that’s Arthur’s luggage.” Live Chat: [I’m dying! Turns out Arthur is the ‘maid’ here.] [So relatable! When my husband and I travel, all his stuff fits in one plastic bag.] [What’s so funny? Arthur looks furious, he clearly didn’t want to do it! To make a seasoned actor show his true feelings like that, this girl really is something else.] [Arthur, stop holding back! Explode already! Can’t wait to see Elena get rejected daily.] The show started stirring up drama immediately, having us draw straws to decide if we’d sleep in separate rooms. Me: “Can we skip the drawing? Arthur and I will just choose—” Before I could say “separate,” the usually silent man cut me off. “I’ll draw.” Chloe feigned sympathy: “It’s okay, Elena. I know you want to use this chance to share a room with Arthur. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” The live chat found this hilarious: [Judging by how disgusted Arthur usually looks, I bet they’ve never even shared a bed. That’s why Elena is so desperate. What a pathetic rich wife.] [Did anyone else notice? Arthur just secretly glared at Elena like five or six times in the last ten seconds. Those looks were lethal. This is too funny.] 3 Arthur nervously opened the slip of paper. Seeing the word “Separate,” both the live chat and I let out a massive sigh of relief: [Thank god they didn’t draw ‘Together’. That must have terrified Arthur.] [I mean, Elena is genuinely gorgeous, her voice is sweet, and her smile is adorable. If I were Arthur, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.] [Commenter above, are you insane?!] The host asked each of us if we were satisfied with the results. Chloe, who also drew “Separate,” looked pitifully at Liam: “I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m a little worried I’ll have insomnia.” The host deliberately asked me: “Elena, you must sleep alone quite often, right? Any tips to share?” I replied with maximum snark: “Sorry, I rarely sleep alone.” Who would understand? Arthur had the face of an ascetic monk who was utterly bored with the world. But in private, he was more insatiable than anyone. What his fans called “gentlemanly and polite”… Was actually him ravaging me half to death while playing deaf and dumb. Thinking back on it, I almost regretted that day when, driven by hormones, I burst into his bedroom wearing a bathrobe, sat on his lap, and said: “Even if it’s a contract marriage, we need to fulfill our marital duties.” One of the main reasons I was in such a rush to divorce him now was that my fragile body simply couldn’t handle that level of frequency. When it was Arthur’s turn, his thick, long eyelashes fluttered, and his voice was low and cold: “If I’m not satisfied, can I change it?” Not getting the expected answer, the host was a bit confused: “According to the rules, you can’t change it.” Arthur took a deep breath: “Can I draw again?” The host shook his head helplessly: “No.” A trace of hostility flashed across the man’s already deep, brooding features. I gently tugged at his sleeve: “Follow the rules.” Arthur nodded and walked away, his arms and legs moving stiffly in tandem. Live Chat: [Wait, does our Arthur actually want to share a room with Elena?] [How is that possible? He’s probably just saving her some face in front of the audience.] [Oh no, I actually think they’re kind of cute together. Elena said one soft word and Arthur instantly obeyed.] [Is that obedience, or is he just so annoyed he’s speechless? He was so mad he forgot how to walk normally!] Without Arthur working me over, I had a dreamless, refreshing night’s sleep. The next day, I woke up early. Chloe was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Liam. They were playfully arguing over whether to have boiled or fried eggs. Arguing and arguing, they inexplicably ended up hugging each other. Chloe even shot a provocative look at me, looking unkempt and fresh out of bed. It was as if she was saying: “So what if you married Arthur? My husband loves me, yours doesn’t.” The camera suddenly pointed at me: “Today is the Couples’ Telepathy Challenge. Random question: What does Arthur like to drink for breakfast?” “Iced Americano?” I guessed randomly. After getting married, Arthur started taking over his family’s business and was semi-retired from the entertainment industry. He woke up before dawn to go to the office. How would I know what he liked? Soon, the host caught Arthur, who had just returned from a morning run: “Arthur, what do you like to drink for breakfast?” “Hot latte.” The host chuckled: “Then what does Elena like to drink most for breakfast?” “Iced Americano,” Arthur replied without hesitation. “But I worry that drinking cold things all the time is bad for her health, so I often switch it out for a hot one.” I looked shocked: “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me?! I always thought the housekeeper bought the wrong thing. Hot Americanos are for dog—” Halfway through, I realized the risk of offending people and quickly swallowed the rest of the sentence. The host was even more surprised than I was: “Arthur, do you usually cook for Elena?” Arthur nodded slightly, a hint of pride in his demeanor: “She’s so tired every night; she needs more rest in the morning.” Chloe’s smug expression drastically changed, and she dropped her spatula. The commentators in the studio were grinning from ear to ear. 4 Failing to get the desired dramatic effect, the host stubbornly fired off several more compatibility questions. The final result: Arthur guessed every single one of my preferences correctly. And I barely managed to guess one question right about him. Even when the evening “Fireside Chat” began, I still hadn’t fully recovered my senses. Although we lived under the same roof and had “deep, negative-distance” contact every day, Arthur and I actually communicated very little. For one, we both had our own careers to hustle for. For another, Arthur was the textbook definition of an Earth sign. Repressed, man of few words, and completely stoic. I had wanted to ask him multiple times about those viral videos where he supposedly glared at me—did he really hate me that much? But he always anticipated my questions and dodged them. Yet now, he was acting like he knew me inside and out. Live Chat: [This is scary. Even the “wife-guy” Liam got a question wrong about Chloe, but Arthur got a perfect score! Is this really not scripted? It’s weirdly sweet.] [Just look at Elena’s shocked face, you know it has to be real. Her acting isn’t that natural.] Me: Thanks a lot, truly a backhanded compliment. [I’m dying of curiosity! If Arthur really despises Elena like the internet says, why would he cook for her?! But if you say he likes her, they act like they barely know each other…] [Agreed! This couple is so interesting! Everyone else gives off old married couple vibes, but these two have this bizarre, ambiguous tension.] The theme for the Fireside Chat was “Money.” Just looking at the topic, I knew this segment was mostly aimed at me. The host pointed the spearhead at Liam and Chloe first: “When filling out the questionnaire, both of you mentioned having some conflicts regarding family finances.” Chloe huffed: “Yeah, there’s a popular saying online: ‘Where the money is, the love is.’ But Liam still hasn’t handed over his bank cards to me.” The female half of the rapper couple joked: “But at least Director Sterling is really willing to spend money on you, Chloe. I always see you posting bags and jewelry worth hundreds of thousands on Instagram. Unlike my guy here, who won’t even set up a shared account for me.” Chloe looked down shyly: “It’s okay, really. Compared to material things, I value emotional connection more. But Elena is the one who truly went from rags to riches through marriage. She should have more to say about this than me.” I heard the hidden barb in her words and gave a sweet smile: “Marrying rich is indeed awesome. Once Liam reaches Arthur’s status, you’ll understand.” Chloe’s smile stiffened. See? If I give a real answer, she gets upset. Live Chat: [LMAO, the gold digger doesn’t have a single decent piece of jewelry on her body and she’s still talking tough. Truly, the more you lack something, the more you emphasize it.] [Exactly. To those crazy people shipping them earlier, please have some taste.] Host: “Arthur, have you and Elena had any conflicts regarding family finances?” At that moment, Arthur, who had been secretly watching me, complained pitifully: “I wish she would spend more of my money.” The live chat exploded: [Wait, I recognize every word Arthur just said, but put together, I don’t understand them at all.] [I’ve already screenshotted this and sent it to my boyfriend. We need more ‘conflicts’ like this, please!] [What is going on? The desperate housewife the show promoted turned out to be YOU, Arthur?!] [Is it possible Arthur feels Elena’s poverty is an embarrassment to the Vance family?] Arthur rarely spoke so many words in one breath: “You never even opened the jade, the pearl necklaces, the clothes, or the bags I bought.” I looked completely bewildered: “You bring things home and never say a word. How was I supposed to know they were for me?” Arthur’s eyes flickered, and the atmosphere became temporarily awkward. The studio commentators couldn’t help but laugh out loud, offering a sharp critique: “The most urgent thing for these two is to add each other on WeChat.” I pointed to the perfume sitting by the door being used as bug repellent, trying to salvage the situation: “It’s not like I haven’t used any of the things you bought…” The female rapper suddenly dropped her jaw and stood up excitedly: “That bottle of perfume could buy a courtyard house in Beijing! Elena, you’re actually using it as a room deodorizer?! That’s insane! God, what would it cost you to make me rich too?!” Hearing this, the other guests also gathered around, wanting to inspect it. That perfume didn’t even smell good. I only liked how the bottle looked and casually praised it. I thought it was just a cheap trinket… In an unnoticed corner, Chloe dug her nails into her palms, looking at Liam and muttering: “Didn’t you say no one would spend astronomical amounts on something so flashy and useless?” Liam shrugged casually: “Yeah, normal people wouldn’t. After all, not everyone can be Arthur Vance.” Chloe bit her lip, glaring resentfully at the perfume bottle. I wanted to take advantage of the chaos to talk to Arthur. But the man anticipated my move again. The moment my butt left the seat. Arthur immediately got up and went to the restroom. Leaving me standing alone in the wind. The live chat was also in a frenzy: [Stop, just stop. To those who said Elena was a punching bag living in living hell, can I please go suffer like that for a few days?] [Ahhh, is it possible Arthur likes Elena but is afraid of rejection, so he doesn’t dare let her catch him looking at her?] [Bro, being married for a year and still acting like a secret crush? Is this human behavior?] [But look at Chloe and Liam, they even feed each other. Even the rapper couple who fight every day occasionally hug and touch faces. Arthur and Elena don’t look loving at all.] [If he’s an Earth sign, it actually makes sense. Back when I had a crush, the person didn’t even know I existed.] [Whatever, this top-tier ambiguous tension is divine. I’m shipping it.]

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I was my mother’s little “feeding doll.” Whenever my younger sister refused to eat, my mom would put a freshly cooked meatball in my bowl. Once my sister started craving it, the meatball would be snatched away and fed to her instead. My mom always said, “Your sister is delicate. You’re the older sister, you need to be sensible.” The year I turned eight, it was the last meatball again. My mom smiled and brought it to my lips. For some reason, as if possessed, I swallowed it whole. My mom slapped me hard across the face, knocking me out of my chair. “You act like a starving ghost! That was for your sister!” The back of my head slammed heavily against the corner of the table, and the world instantly went black. When I opened my eyes, I saw my mom holding my sister, speaking to her softly. “Don’t cry. Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” She didn’t even glance at me lying on the floor. She just carried my sister out the door. “Kneel there and reflect on what you did. You can get up when you admit you were wrong.” Slam. The door closed. I stood up from the floor, wanting to tell her I was wrong. But when I looked down, I saw that I was still kneeling there on the floor. Mom, this time, I really won’t steal my sister’s meatball ever again. … The smell of braised pork was so rich it almost smelled bitter. I was kneeling on a dining chair, gripping the edge of the table. My stomach started growling again. Grrr— My sister, Lily, frowned and pushed her bowl away. “I’m not eating! The fat is disgusting!” The bowl clattered against the table, spilling a few grains of rice. My mom wasn’t angry. She patiently picked up the spilled rice and put it back in the bowl. “This is organic pork from Grandma’s farm. It’s delicious.” “I don’t want it!” Lily started kicking her legs. My mom sighed and turned her attention to me. “Chloe.” She picked up the last, largest braised meatball. The sauce dripped from the meatball onto the white rice. “This meatball smells so good. Does Chloe want it?” I nodded frantically, my mouth instantly filling with saliva. I hadn’t had a proper meal in two days. Yesterday’s leftover noodles were thrown in the trash because my mom said overnight food wasn’t healthy. But I could have eaten them. I wanted to say I didn’t care if it wasn’t healthy. “You want it?” My mom brought the meatball to my lips, the hot steam hitting the tip of my nose. “Smells great, want a bite?” She was coaxing me, but her eyes darted toward Lily. Lily stopped kicking and stared intently at the meatball. It was hers. I knew it was hers. I knew the routine perfectly. I was supposed to open my mouth and pretend to take a bite. Then my mom would flick her wrist and pop the meatball into Lily’s mouth. Lily would chew triumphantly and make faces at me. I would swallow my saliva and watch her finish it. This time was supposed to be the same. I opened my mouth, and the meatball touched my lips. It smelled so good. It really smelled so good. Before my brain could react, my teeth had already closed down. Chomp. A huge bite. I pulled the entire meatball into my mouth. I didn’t chew; I just swallowed it straight down. The scalding hot meatball slid down my esophagus, burning my chest. But I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt the hand that had been clawing at my stomach for two days finally let go. Lily was stunned. My mom was stunned too. The next second, a piercing scream shattered my eardrums. “WAAAAAH—!” Lily swept her bowl onto the floor, shattering the porcelain into pieces. “She ate my meat! That was mine!” My mom’s face instantly twisted in rage. Smack! My cheek burned, and my ears rang. The taste of meat lingered in my mouth, now mixed with the metallic tang of blood. “Are you a starving ghost reincarnated?!” my mom screamed, pointing at my nose. “That was to stimulate your sister’s appetite! Who told you to actually eat it?!” “Spit it out!” She reached out and dug her fingers into my mouth, her nails scratching my gums. But the meatball was already in my stomach. I couldn’t spit it out. Lily cried even louder, rolling on the floor. “I don’t want to live! My sister stole my food! I want KFC!” My mom was heartbroken. She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and turned to pick Lily up. As she turned, she saw me still sitting on the chair, looking dazed. With nowhere to vent her anger, she shoved me violently. “Get out of here! I’m sick of looking at you!” I was very light. I flew backward off the chair. Thud! A dull thud sounded as the back of my head struck the sharp corner of the solid wood dining table. Everything in front of me started to go dark. My mom’s furious face, Lily’s wide-open mouth, and the broken porcelain bowl on the floor. I slid down limply, my knees hitting the floor, my upper body slumped over, my head hanging low. Like I was apologizing. In the last second before I lost consciousness, my only thought was: That meatball was really delicious. 2 “Stop playing dead.” My mom’s voice came from very far away. “Every time you do something wrong, you pull this dead-weight act. Who is it for?” I opened my eyes and found myself standing next to the dining table. Weird, didn’t I fall? I looked down, and there was another person on the floor. Wearing my ill-fitting, faded, washed-out school uniform. Kneeling on the floor, head almost touching the ground. Was that… me? I reached out to touch the me on the floor, but my hand passed right through. Am I dead? When that thought popped up, I surprisingly wasn’t very scared. Instead, I felt a sense of relief. No more starving. No more walking on eggshells. My mom was comforting Lily. “Be a good girl, sweetheart. If you cry until your eyes are swollen, you won’t be pretty anymore.” “Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” “Dad will be home soon. Let’s have him take us to KFC.” Lily sniffled, pointing at me on the floor. “Why isn’t she moving?” My mom sneered. “Too ashamed to show her face. Stealing food, shameless.” “Let her kneel. She can get up when she realizes she was wrong!” The door opened, and my dad walked in carrying his briefcase. “What’s going on? I could hear the crying from the hallway.” Lily threw herself into my dad’s arms. “My sister stole my meatball!” “Mom hit her, and now she’s just lying on the floor refusing to get up!” My dad frowned, glancing at me on the floor with impatience. “Is that it? Why make such a big deal out of it?” He walked over and nudged my calf with the toe of his shoe. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself!” I didn’t move. My dad thought I was being stubborn and loosened his tie. “Fine, developing a temper, are we?” “If you don’t want to get up, then keep kneeling. No dinner for you tonight.” “Come on, let’s go get KFC.” Lily smiled through her tears. “I want a bucket, and I want ice cream too!” “Alright, whatever you want.” The family of three put on their shoes and headed out. Slam! The security door closed, and the apartment fell silent, except for the ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I floated in mid-air, looking at myself on the floor. The posture was awkward. The angle of my bent neck was too sharp. A tiny bit of blood oozed from the hair at the back of my head. Not much. It was hidden by my hair and ran down into my collar. No wonder they didn’t see it. It was getting dark. The lights were off. My stomach wasn’t growling anymore, but I still felt hungry. I wanted KFC too. I had never had it. Every time they went, they locked me in the apartment and left me two steamed buns. When Lily came back, she’d have ketchup on the corner of her mouth and intentionally breathe in my face. “Sister, the fried chicken smells so good. Too bad you can’t have any.” I floated over to the dining table. The bowl of white rice that had been knocked over was still there, along with a few drops of meat broth on the table. I leaned over the table, trying desperately to smell it. But I couldn’t smell anything. I was dead. I didn’t even have the right to smell things anymore. At 11 PM, the lock clicked, and they came back. Lily held a red balloon in one hand and a half-eaten egg tart in the other. “Mom, I’m sleepy.” “Take a bath before bed, you’re all greasy.” My mom took off her shoes and turned on the living room light. The light was blinding. I instinctively shielded my eyes. The me on the floor was still in the same position. My mom glanced over and paused for a second. “Still kneeling?” She let out a scoff. “Such a stubborn temper. I wonder who she gets it from.” My dad yawned. As he walked past the dining room to the bathroom, his pant leg brushed against my shoulder. I swayed slightly, then steadied. My dad stopped and looked back. “Chloe, that’s enough.” “You have school tomorrow. Go wash up and go to sleep.” I ignored him, and my dad got angry. “Can’t you hear me talking to you? Are you mute?” He reached out to grab me. 3 My mom’s voice came from the bathroom. “Don’t pay attention to her. It’s a bad habit we’ve spoiled her into. Let her kneel. Let’s see how long she can keep it up!” My dad’s hand stopped in mid-air, then withdrew. Grumbling, he went into the bathroom. Then came the sounds of washing up and laughter. Lily splashing water in the bathtub, my mom scrubbing her back, my dad watching TV in the bedroom. How heartwarming. Except for the corpse kneeling on the floor in the corner of the dining room. It was late. The lights went out one by one. The master bedroom door closed. I floated to the crack in the door and peeked inside. Lily slept in the middle, my parents on either side, tucked snugly under the comforter. Lily still clutched that balloon in her hand. I floated back to the dining room and sat on my own back. It was so cold. The body on the floor had completely cooled, and the joints were beginning to stiffen. I just sat there, keeping myself company. At 3 AM, my mom came out for a glass of water. Wearing her pajamas, she groggily walked into the dining room. In the moonlight, my dark silhouette kneeling there looked like a monster. My mom paused mid-sip. She stared at me for a moment, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She set down her glass and took a step forward. “Chloe?” She called out hesitantly, her voice very quiet. I floated right in front of her face and yelled: “Mom, I’m dead! Look at me!” My mom couldn’t hear me. She just pulled her pajamas tighter and shivered. “Crazy,” she muttered. “Trying to scare people in the middle of the night.” She turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door firmly. In that moment, I completely gave up hope. At 6 AM, my mom was the first to wake up. Wearing an apron, she hummed a tune as she walked into the kitchen. Walking past the dining room, she didn’t even spare the me on the floor a single glance. The smell of frying eggs and the sweet aroma of warm milk wafted from the kitchen. Lily woke up. Wearing her little bunny pajamas, she walked out rubbing her eyes. “Mom, I want sweet milk.” “Okay, Mom will get it for you.” Walking past the dining room, Lily saw me. She ran over and hugged my neck from behind. “Sister, stop sleeping.” “I want to ride the horsey. Get up and be my horsey!” She shook my body vigorously. If it were before, I would obediently get down on all fours and let her ride on my back. Even if the floor dug painfully into my knees, I had to smile and whinny like a horse. Because my mom said that’s what an older sister is supposed to do. But today, I didn’t move. Lily got upset. She let go and gave me a hard shove. “Are you going to get up or not? If you don’t get up, I’ll tell Mom to hit you!” That shove broke the delicate balance. The already stiff corpse, maintaining its kneeling posture, fell rigidly sideways. BANG! A loud crash. Louder than the sound of hitting the table yesterday. I fell to the floor, arms and legs still bent, frozen in a kneeling bow. That face was finally revealed. Pale, tinged with blue. Eyes half-open, pupils already dilated, staring blankly at the ceiling. A bit of dried sauce lingered at the corner of my mouth. The last trace left by that meatball. Lily was terrified. She reached out to grab my hand. “AH!” She screamed and yanked her hand back. “Mom! Mom!” “Sister turned into an ice cube! She’s so cold!” My mom, who was frying an egg, jolted. The spatula dropped to the floor. She rushed out. “What is it? Why are you screaming so early?” She saw me lying on the floor. That grotesque posture. “Chloe?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Stop pretending. The floor is cold.” “Hurry up and get up. Mom is frying an egg for you.” It was the first time she had ever offered to fry an egg for me. Unfortunately, it was too late. My mom got closer. She crouched down and reached out to push my shoulder. Her hand met freezing cold flesh. 4 My mom’s pupils instantly dilated. “AH!” My dad, still asleep, was so startled he rolled off the bed. He rushed out, pulling up his pants, not even fully dressed. “What’s wrong? Is there a fire?” He saw my mom slumped on the floor, and me lying beside her in that bizarre posture, and his face instantly turned white. He rushed over, his trembling hand reaching for my nose. No breath. He checked my neck. No pulse. “She’s dead…” My dad fell heavily onto the floor, a wet spot instantly spreading across his pants. “How could she be dead? She was perfectly fine yesterday.” My mom seemed to suddenly snap awake. She threw herself at me, shaking my body frantically. “Chloe, wake up! Don’t scare Mom.” “Mom won’t punish you anymore. Mom will take you to KFC.” “Get up! Spit out the meatball, okay? I won’t blame you.” She cried, snot and tears smearing all over her face. But I just stared at her coldly. The ambulance arrived, and so did police cars, red and blue lights flashing against the windows. Neighbors crowded around the door, peering inside. “What happened? I heard a kid died.” “Oh, what a sin. I heard them beating the kid yesterday.” “Those parents are so biased. They were so cruel to the older girl.” My mom heard them. She snapped her head up and roared at the door: “What are you looking at? Get lost!” “My daughter just fell down! Doctor, quickly, save her!” A few people in white coats walked in. They took one look at the body on the floor and shook their heads. “Lividity has already set in. She’s been dead for at least twelve hours.” My mom lunged like a madwoman, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve. “You’re lying! She was still kneeling last night! She moved!” “She’s just greedy. She ate too much and fainted.” “Please, I’m begging you, save her…” A young female police officer looked at my thin, small corpse, her eyes reddening. She turned to look at the solid wood dining table. On the corner of the table was a smear of dark, dried blood. “Take the body,” the officer’s voice was cold. “Call the coroner to determine the cause of death.” My mom froze. “Why do you need a coroner?” “I won’t let you cut my daughter open! She died from a fall!” “There’s no need to investigate! It was an accident!” She fought desperately to stop them. But the harder she fought, the more suspicious the police grew. In the interrogation room at the police station, my mom sat in an iron chair, hands tightly clasped together. “I really didn’t hit her. I just gave her a light push.” “How was I supposed to know she would lose her balance? I never thought she’d hit her head on the corner of the table.” “Officer, I’m her biological mother! How could I possibly want to hurt her?” She cried a river of tears. If I hadn’t been floating right next to her, remembering her cold, indifferent face last night… I almost would have believed her. In the next room, the female officer was questioning Lily. Lily held a lollipop the officer had given her. “Sweetie, why was your sister kneeling on the floor yesterday?” Lily licked her lollipop. “Because my sister stole my meatball.” “Mom got mad and slapped my sister.” “Then Mom pushed her, and my sister’s head hit the table.” The officer’s pen paused. “And then?” “And then my sister kneeled on the floor.” “Mom said she had to kneel until she rotted.” Lily’s voice was crisp and innocent. “Kneel until she rotted.” The female officer took a deep breath and closed her notebook. Meanwhile, in the autopsy room. An older medical examiner wearing a mask held a gleaming scalpel. “Deceased: Female, 8 years old.” “Developmentally delayed. Height corresponds to a 6-year-old child.” “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, resulting in intracranial hemorrhage. This is the fatal wound.” The scalpel sliced open my skin. I didn’t feel pain, just a chilly draft. The medical examiner opened my stomach. Everyone held their breath. They expected to see the undigested meatball. The proof of the “greed” my mom had claimed. But the moment the stomach was opened… The older medical examiner’s hand trembled. The assistant next to him covered his mouth, nearly vomiting. “What is this?” The older examiner used forceps to pick up a clump of residue. “This child… why is her stomach full of… this?”

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When my little brother’s pre-school physical revealed his blood type didn’t match ours, my dad demanded a divorce. A paternity test proved it: my brother was my mother’s child, but not my father’s. He was my “half-brother.” The boy I had called “little brother” for seven years was actually my uncle. It turns out that when the precious, only son becomes a cosmic joke, the neglected daughter can suddenly become the golden child. 1 The year my mom was pregnant with my brother, the incense burning in front of the fertility shrine in our living room never went out. When the ultrasound revealed it was a boy, my dad went up and down the hallway handing out cigars to everyone he saw, his voice booming so loud the whole apartment building could hear: “The Miller family finally has an heir!” My bedroom was cleared out and painted sky blue. A corner of the living room was sectioned off with an old bedsheet, and that became my new “bedroom.” My mom pointed at my faded stuffed animals and elementary school certificates: “Throw this useless junk out. Don’t let it take up my son’s space.” After my brother was born, his nickname became “Precious.” As for me, growing up, they mostly referred to me as “that girl,” or they just didn’t address me at all. At the dinner table. My mom would pick the vegetables my brother didn’t like out of his bowl and drop them into mine. “Eat this, it has the same nutritional value.” If my brother threw a tantrum and knocked something over, I was the one who got yelled at for not cleaning the table fast enough. When my brother was in kindergarten and wanted a two-hundred-dollar motorized toy car, they bought it without blinking an eye. When I was in middle school and wanted a thirty-dollar study guide, I had to listen to her complain about it for half a month. “All you know how to do is waste money! What’s the point of a girl studying so much? I think finishing middle school is enough for you. Mrs. Henderson next door is hiring at her salon; you should go learn a trade and start earning money to help out the family.” My dad, whose eyes rarely left the TV, chimed in: “Your mother is right. What’s the point of three years of high school? Better to start working early. In a few years, find a decent family to marry into, and our job is done.” I stared blankly at the only family portrait in our house. It was taken for my brother’s 100-day celebration. I was standing on the far edge, smiling a smile that looked worse than crying. In the future they planned for me, I was a straight, downward-sloping line. Drop out, work menial jobs, get married, and use my fleeting value to feed this family that revolved entirely around my brother. 2 This continued until the summer after I graduated middle school. My brother was getting ready to start elementary school. The results of his school enrollment physical came out on a Thursday morning. During lunch, my dad slammed the piece of paper down hard onto the glass dining table. My brother stopped whining for lobster. Startled, he dropped his spoon into his bowl, splashing rice water everywhere. “Our son is type AB,” my dad said, glaring at my mom. “I’m type A, you’re type O. Tell me, how exactly did we produce an AB child?” “What are you yelling for?! You’re scaring our Precious!” Having a son gave my mom all the power in the house, so she no longer bothered to hide her domineering and unreasonable nature. “Is it that young guy who moved in downstairs? I’ve noticed that ever since he moved in, you dress to the nines just to take out the trash.” “Bullshit! The test results must be wrong.” My mom looked at the lab report. She said it was a mistake, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the tablecloth tightly. “I took him to get tested myself.” My dad yanked my brother, who was now crying in fear, toward the door. As he passed the kitchen and saw me washing dishes, he barked, “You come too.” After the test, my mom quickly coaxed my brother into his room. As the door closed, I could hear his quiet sobs. Having been spoiled since birth, he had never seen our parents act like this. I went to the balcony to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them up. In the living room. My mom was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds. She spat the shells all over the floor, spit flying everywhere as she ranted: “When that stupid report comes back, I’m definitely suing that garbage clinic. They’re going to pay me tens of thousands for emotional distress.” “And you, Richard Miller, don’t think you’re getting away with this easily!” My dad didn’t say a word. He just chain-smoked, one cigarette after another, until the ashtray looked like a small mountain. 3 The report wouldn’t be ready until Monday afternoon. The entire weekend, my dad chain-smoked until the apartment was choked with smog, and my mom lost all her usual patience for my brother’s crying. On Saturday afternoon, my best friend from middle school asked me to go to the bookstore with her to pick out some high school study guides. It was the only thing I had been looking forward to all summer. Just as I was about to head out, my brother charged at me like a little cannonball and hugged my leg. “Sister, play with me! I want to play Ultraman fighting monsters!” “Sister has to go out for a bit. I’ll play with you when I get back tonight, okay?” “No! I want to play right now!” His mouth puckered, and he started to wail. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her face dark. “Where are you running off to now? If your brother wants you to play with him, then play with him. All you know how to do is run wild outside. Do you have any idea how to be an older sister?” “Mom, you promised I could go to the bookstore with my friend. And it’s just for a little while…” “What promise?! Do you not see what’s going on in this house right now? Stop causing trouble.” she wiped her hands and walked over. “You stay home and watch your brother.” The last flicker of hope in my heart snapped and died. My mom turned and went back to the kitchen. I took a deep breath, crouched down, and tried to reason with my brother. He casually grabbed an orange and threw it at my face. “Troublemaker!” “Leo, if you keep acting like this, I’m going to get mad!” “You wouldn’t dare! Just you wait.” As he yelled, he ran toward the “bedroom” separated by the old bedsheet. My heart tightened, and I chased after him. “What are you doing?” Too late. He ducked under the sheet and immediately spotted the manila envelope sitting next to my pillow. Inside was my acceptance letter to City High School. It was the proof of my hard work, earned over countless nights studying amidst the blaring TV and my brother’s crying. “What’s this?” He picked it up curiously. “Put that down! You can’t touch that!” My voice cracked. Seeing my panic only egged him on. He deliberately held the envelope high, a nasty smirk on his face. “Mommy, Daddy! Sister’s hiding something good!” “Give it to me!” I lunged to grab it back. “No, I won’t! Garbage from a money-drain!” Under my horrified gaze, his two small hands grabbed both ends of the envelope and pulled hard. Riiiiiiiiip— The sound of tearing paper felt like a knife slicing into my heart. The paper with my name on it, my only hope for the future, was torn clean in half. Still not satisfied, he ripped it a few more times, letting the pieces fall around his feet like snow. I stared at the shreds on the floor, my mind buzzing. Months of endurance, grievance, and my faint hope for the future were torn to shreds in an instant. “Ah!” I let out a low, guttural roar that I didn’t even recognize as my own. I charged at him, shoved him hard to the floor, pinned him down, and rained punches on him. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My brother was stunned for a second before erupting into earth-shattering wails. “WAAAAAH… Mommy! Sister’s hitting me! Mommy, help!” My mom rushed in. Seeing me on top of my brother, her eyes instantly turned red. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and violently yanked me off him. The immense force sent me stumbling backward into the bed frame, the back of my head throbbing with pain. “Are you out of your mind?! How dare you hit your brother! It’s just a stupid piece of paper; so what if he tore it?! Do you really think you’re going to that useless high school? Let me tell you, no way in hell! You vicious little brat. He’s your own brother!” My brother hid behind my mom, crying while simultaneously making faces at me. There wasn’t a single tear on his face. My mom hugged him tightly, checking him for injuries, cooing endlessly: “Don’t cry, Precious. Mommy’s here. Mommy will hit her! This jinx, daring to touch my son!” My arms hurt, my scalp was burning, but none of it compared to the gaping hole in my chest. Hearing the noise, my dad came in from the balcony. He just frowned and yelled impatiently, “What’s all this racket? Haven’t we got enough problems?” Then, his gaze swept over the torn paper on the floor without lingering for a second, and he turned right back around to stare out the window and smoke. The smoke blurred his back, and it blurred the last shred of hope I had for this family. Amidst my mother’s cursing and my brother’s smug looks, I picked up the pieces, one by one. Using clear tape, I carefully pieced them back together. 4 The paternity test results came out on Monday. My dad went to get them alone. After I finished cleaning the apartment, making sure it was spotless, I walked up to my mom. “Mom, school’s about to start. Can you lend me the tuition and meal money for the first semester of my freshman year?” “Didn’t I tell you? If you dare to go to that money-wasting high school, you have to earn every penny yourself.” Just as I was about to promise to pay her back double next semester, the front door opened. My dad had a file folder in his hand. “Here, let me see.” My mom walked over, looking triumphant. My dad dodged her hand, threw the envelope onto the coffee table, and patted me on the shoulder. “Good girl, go back to your brother’s room for a bit.” “…Okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I was their biological daughter. But a part of me felt a strange sense of disappointment. I cracked the door open slightly, a bad feeling creeping over me. My dad ignored my mom, walked straight over to my brother, and squatted down in front of him. “Don’t ever call me ‘Dad’ again.” WAAAAH— My brother burst into tears. My mom snatched up the report, her eyes scanning the paper before locking onto a specific section. “This is impossible…” her lips trembled. “It’s right there in black and white.” My dad stood up. “He’s your biological brother. Your half-brother.” My brother’s crying grew louder, and for the first time, my mom screamed at him. “Stop crying! Are you mourning the dead?!” The room fell terrifyingly silent. My mom stared blankly at my dad, her lips moving as if trying to digest those words. Suddenly, like she had been struck by lightning, she stared at my brother huddled in the corner of the sofa. Her gaze was no longer filled with its usual doting love. She walked toward him, step by step. She crouched down in front of him and rubbed her fingers hard against his face, like she was inspecting a strange object. “Half… brother?” she repeated. “Then… then where is my son? The son I carried for nine months?!” “Mommy, that hurts.” My brother was terrified and tried to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders tightly. Her nails dug into his soft flesh, drawing blood. “Where is my son?!” Her voice pitched up, sharp and piercing. “I gave birth to a boy! Where did he go?!” “Stop screaming!” My dad smashed the ashtray on the floor. “Go to your sister’s house and ask your brother’s real mother!” It was my aunt’s turn to host my grandmother this month. When we knocked on the door and my aunt saw our entire family standing there, she was completely confused. Before she could say a word, my mom marched into the house and dragged my grandmother, who was prepping vegetables, out of the kitchen. My grandmother stumbled, the vegetables scattering across the floor. “Oh my, what’s going on? Are you trying to kill an old woman?” My mom pulled my brother forward and shoved him in front of my grandmother. My brother’s voice was hoarse from crying. He sat on the floor and hugged my mom’s leg. “Mommy, don’t leave me…” “Here, here, don’t cry. Come to Auntie.” My aunt’s health was poor, and she hadn’t been able to conceive for years, so she was especially fond of my brother. “If your mommy doesn’t want you, Auntie wants you.” My aunt was probably secretly planning to rely on my brother to care for her in her old age if she really couldn’t have kids. “Sis, whether you or I want this kid, we have no choice but to take him.” My mom scoffed coldly, clutching the crumpled report as she walked toward my grandmother. “What do you mean?” my aunt asked, confused. “Because he’s our mother’s son.” My aunt almost laughed out loud. She hugged my brother and wiped his tears. “Precious, look, your mommy is throwing another tantrum at Grandma. Let’s ignore her. I’ll take you to get KFC.” My mom ground her teeth, trying desperately to suppress her rage. “Mom, why aren’t you saying anything?” All the color drained from my grandmother’s face. 5 “Mom, say something!” My aunt looked back and forth between my grandmother and my mom, finally realizing something was very wrong. “When I gave birth to him in the countryside, you were the only one there.” My mom’s voice started to shake. “You said the baby inhaled amniotic fluid and needed to be resuscitated… You said he was saved, but his health was weak, and you told me to rest and recover while you took care of him…” My grandmother’s eyes darted around, her lips moving, but she couldn’t offer an explanation. My aunt, holding a struggling Leo, stepped aside and handed me her phone. “Quick, call your Uncle Mark. Before they start fighting.” “No wonder you suddenly insisted on going to stay with your friends for a few months! Dad is dead! Whose bastard is this?!” My mom grabbed my grandmother’s shoulders and shook her violently. “Where did you put my son?!” “I, I…” My grandmother closed her eyes, tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. “You what?!” My dad roared. “If anything has happened to my son, I’ll make you pay with your life!” My grandmother’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. “I, I left him… left him in the countryside.” “Left him in the countryside?” my mom repeated softly. “You sent my son away? And swapped him for your… your bastard?!” My grandmother knelt there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. My mom lunged at her. “Where is my son?! Tell me!” Seeing this, my aunt plastered an awkward smile on her face, trying to ease the tension: “Sis, calm down. Mom, this has to be a mistake. Look how old you are, this is absurd.” My aunt’s voice grew weaker and weaker, until she saw her savior finally arrive.

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

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At the IPO celebration banquet, the massive screen suddenly began playing photos of me working as a bottle girl at a nightclub years ago—a job I took solely to raise funds for his startup. In front of everyone, Julian announced my dismissal from the company. “You’ll do anything for money. Julian, you use me and throw me away. Have you no shame?!” I screamed. Raising his champagne glass, he mocked me in front of the entire press corps: “You’re asking if I have shame? You were sharing a bed with a man when you were seventeen. Who knows how dirty that money you gave me really was.” The flashing cameras blinded me. A surge of blood rushed to my head, and I collapsed on the stage. When I jolted awake, I was back in the past—on the very day a seventeen-year-old Julian knelt on the floor, begging me to lend him the money to start his business. 1. The burning sensation from thousands of camera flashes erupting simultaneously still danced across my retinas. My ears were ringing with the snickers of the so-called “elite” at the banquet. “Who knows how dirty that money you gave me really was.” Julian’s arrogant, condescending voice echoed in my head. I shot up, my back drenched in cold sweat. I gasped for air, my oxygen-deprived brain buzzing. There was no champagne tower, no red carpet, and no media waiting to watch me become a joke. Before me was only peeling, yellowed wallpaper, and the air smelled of cheap ramen and the distinct mustiness of a humid Southern summer. Where was I? I frantically felt my surroundings until my fingertips brushed against a round mirror with rusted edges. The face in the mirror had tight skin, full of youthful collagen. But beneath her eyes were the dark circles of chronic sleep deprivation, and her hair stuck messily to her cheeks. Seventeen. I stared dead into the mirror, my nails digging so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. This wasn’t the exhausted face of a thirty-year-old. It was the face of a seventeen-year-old—the stupid, naive girl who would fight the whole world for Julian. My stomach churned, a physical wave of nausea rising in my throat. Back then, to sell just one bottle of liquor, I let people force me to drink until my stomach bled. He held me, crying like a baby, swearing he would treat me right for the rest of his life. And what happened? At his IPO celebration, in front of the entire world, he casually dismissed that painful past as “dirty.” This cramped, 100-square-foot room was once our so-called “love nest.” We squeezed onto a twin-sized bed. To save money, we even used newspapers as curtains. Back then, I thought it was romantic struggling together. Looking at it now, it was just absurd. I stood up, my bare feet hitting the concrete floor. The chill seeped through my soles straight into my bones. This real, physical sensation forced me to admit the truth. I had been reborn. Right after being publicly humiliated by Julian, fainting from pure rage, I had returned to a decade ago. I didn’t know whether to be thankful that God gave me a second chance, or laugh at the cruel irony of being stuck in this damn time loop. The cicadas outside chirped incessantly, making the summer heat even more suffocating. The muggy, damp air inevitably dragged my thoughts back to the past. It was on a similarly stifling afternoon. During P.E. class in my junior year of high school, the sun was so brutal it felt like it was melting the track. Not wanting to roast, I hid in the shade behind the equipment shed. I had barely sat down when a figure stumbled and collapsed right in front of me. It was Julian. He was as thin as a rail back then. His uniform hung loosely on his frame. He was deathly pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat. The symptoms… looked like low blood sugar. I didn’t have any candy on me, so I half-dragged, half-carried him to the nurse’s office. The nurse wasn’t there. I ran back to my classroom, swallowed my pride, and begged a girl who always had snacks for a piece of chocolate. When I ran back, panting, and shoved the half-melted chocolate into his mouth, those eyes that usually avoided everyone stared straight at me. Like a drowning man clinging to his only piece of driftwood. In that moment, I thought I had saved a young man in distress. Looking back, it wasn’t a rescue; it was the prologue to the story of the farmer and the viper. Julian was an outcast at school. It wasn’t a secret. The rumors about his family background were more numerous than summer mosquitoes. His mother, despising poverty and craving wealth, had run off with another man when he was very young. Unable to cope, his father committed suicide by jumping into a river. He was raised single-handedly by his grandmother in a rural village. His uniform was always washed until the colors faded, with obvious patches on the elbows. The soles of his sneakers were peeling, sometimes making an embarrassing flapping sound when he walked. The boys in our class made a sport of bullying him. They would “accidentally” knock over his water bottle or scribble on his desk. The girls would dramatically cover their noses when he walked by, acting as if he carried some incurable disease. He always kept his head down, shrinking into corners like a frightened quail. Even the day he passed out—if I hadn’t happened to see him, he probably could have baked into a mummy under the sun, and no one would have given him a second glance. Back then, I had an overflowing sense of justice. I felt the whole world was bullying him, and it was my duty to protect this “poor soul.” I started seeking him out constantly. If someone purposely tripped him, I would charge forward and shove them back, even if they were a head taller than me. When no one in the cafeteria would sit with him, I would slam my tray down right across from him, ignoring the weird looks from everyone else. One thing led to another, and as our feelings grew, we started dating. He was very good at pleasing people. Every morning, he would carefully pull a still-warm hard-boiled egg from his patched pocket and press it into my hand. I only learned later that it was his entire breakfast. At the time, I thought it was the most precious gift in the world. On the way home from school, he would pedal his beat-up bicycle—where everything rattled except the bell—and carry me through the streets and alleys. The wind would catch the hem of my skirt. I would hold onto his thin waist, listening to him paint a picture of our future. “When I make money, I’m going to buy you a big house. I’ll make you the happiest princess.” “I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life. I’ll never let you suffer.” The vows still echoed in my ears, but reality had slapped me hard in the face. I looked around the cramped apartment. That single twin bed was glaringly obvious. This was where we lived after “eloping” for the sake of our so-called love. To save rent, we squeezed onto that bed, keeping each other warm, dreaming of the future. Back then, his eyes were full of gratitude and love. But ten years later, at the IPO banquet, the Julian in the tailored suit could effortlessly spin this as a stain on my character. “You’re asking if I have shame? You were sharing a bed with a man when you were seventeen.” The sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted my thoughts. The rusted cylinder made a harsh, grinding noise. Click. The door opened. Seventeen-year-old Julian stood in the doorway. He was wearing his faded uniform, the collar slightly askew. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. That face was incredibly deceptive, especially paired with that cautious, terrified-of-being-abandoned expression. In my past life, it was this exact face, crying so heartbrokenly after his grandmother passed away, that broke me. I thought he was the most pitiful person in the world, and that no one but me could save him. I ran home like a maniac, begging my parents to take in this “homeless” soul. The result was entirely predictable. My parents were already against high school romance, and given Julian’s terrible reputation at school, they refused outright. “You’ve lost your mind! What’s so great about a guy like that? He’s dirt poor, and he’s got no character!” my father roared, his face red with anger. My mother stood beside him, bent double crying, gripping my sleeve tightly: “Sweetie, don’t be stupid! This is about your entire future!” At the time, my head was full of the image of Julian standing alone at his grandmother’s funeral. I thought my parents were cold-blooded, materialistic, and full of adult prejudice. Like a self-righteous crusader, I yanked my arm away and screamed at them: “You’re just snobs! I despise you!” Then, in the dead of night, I stole my parents’ savings and stormed out, never looking back. I thought I was so cool. Fighting the whole world for love—it was a plot straight out of a romance novel. The night we eloped, Julian and I huddled in a train station waiting room. He held my hand and swore, “I promise I’ll treat you ten, a hundred times better in the future. I’ll make sure you never regret choosing me today.” I believed him. I really believed him. Even later, when we were living in a basement apartment and eating instant noodles, I thought it was just a necessary trial for true love. How was I supposed to know that what I gave up wasn’t just my education, but my bright, promising future? I hadn’t just abandoned my parents; I had abandoned the only people in the world who truly loved me. Life after eloping was a slow, agonizing execution. Julian’s so-called “startup” started out as just flipping electronic scrap. He didn’t have enough capital. So, he set his sights on the savings I had stolen from my parents. It was the last of our living expenses. “Just this once. If we make money, we can move into a big house. You won’t have to suffer with me anymore.” I refused. He dropped to his knees and begged me. Kneeling on the cold concrete, he slapped himself hard, over and over, calling himself useless, saying he had dragged me down. My heart softened. I gave him the money, and we couldn’t even afford food. To make ends meet, I was forced to wash dishes. My hands peeled from the harsh detergent. But that meager salary was just a drop in the bucket. It couldn’t fill the massive hole in our lives. Finally, unable to pay rent, I went to work at a nightclub. The first time I put on that revealing promotional uniform, I hid in the bathroom and cried for a long time. Greasy hands groped me, and the harsh liquor burning my throat felt like swallowing razor blades. Every time I came home, vomiting until I was dizzy, Julian would hold me with red-rimmed eyes. “Just wait a little longer. When I’m rich, I’ll give you my life.” How touching. In those moments, I felt all my suffering was worth it. Even when someone secretly took photos of me selling liquor at the club, I didn’t care. I only thought that selling one more bottle meant a little more startup capital for Julian. Later, Julian actually succeeded. His company went public; he was worth hundreds of millions. I thought our hard times were finally over. But what followed were his increasingly late nights and the lingering scent of foreign perfumes on his clothes. I found diamond stud earrings in his pockets. I saw texts from interns on his phone: “Mr. Vance, where are we going tonight?” I confronted him with the evidence. He didn’t even look up. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under? Can you stop being unreasonable and suspicious all the time?” Unreasonable? I suffered with him for ten years, and my reward was being called unreasonable. On the day the company went public, a beautiful young woman stood beside him, holding his arm, smiling brightly. Julian listened to her. He decided that if he didn’t fire his “plain Jane” wife, he would look like he was “afraid of his wife,” which would undermine his authority with the shareholders. And so, that scene unfolded. The big screen lit up. It didn’t show the company’s brilliant achievements. It showed videos of me being forced to drink and being groped at the nightclub. The audience gasped. Julian stood under the spotlight, looking deeply pained. “I never imagined my wife had such a disgraceful past.” “For the sake of the company’s image, I have to make this decision…” He kicked me off the board, using the excuse that he wanted me to “return to the family.” With just a few words, he manipulated public opinion to nail me to the cross of public shame. I snapped completely out of my past memories. Looking at the slightly awkward teenager in the doorway, my stomach churned again. The visceral disgust overpowered the shock of rebirth. Julian moved his lips, as if trying to say something. This time, he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for the money like I remembered. He didn’t put on a tearful performance. He just stood there, his expression complicated. It was a strange look. Not the look of a poor kid desperate for cash, but more like he was scrutinizing me, even carrying a hint of… an unnameable hesitation. Could he also be…? The thought flashed through my mind for just a second. Whether he was or not, it had nothing to do with me anymore. I didn’t say a word. I simply walked around him toward the stairs. As we brushed past each other, I heard him call my name: “Elena…” His voice was very quiet, as if something was caught in his throat. I didn’t stop, and I didn’t look back. I walked out of that dilapidated apartment building, found a payphone, and with trembling hands, dialed the number I knew by heart. Half an hour later. A taxi slammed on its brakes by the curb. My father hadn’t even put his shoes on properly. My mother’s hair was a mess. They stumbled out, running toward me. Seeing them looking so worn out, my tears fell instantly. “You stupid girl! Do you have any idea how worried we were?” My father raised his hand as if to slap me, but when it landed, it was just a gentle pat on my back. My mother pulled me into a fierce hug, crying so hard her whole body shook. “You’re back. Thank God you’re back…” I hugged her back just as tightly. That warm embrace felt so real I wanted to bawl. This time, I would absolutely never let go.

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My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart lost a game. The penalty was to slap a female friend in the room. And the only other woman there, was me. She stood up, acting all hesitant. “I don’t know, Victoria is older than us. She probably doesn’t like the kind of games we young people play.” The rest of the crowd jeered: “If you don’t slap her, you have to down your drink.” Mia looked conflicted. “But I’m severely allergic to alcohol.” My boyfriend nudged me toward Mia. “Just let her slap you, it’s not a real slap anyway, just for show.” “Mia is allergic to alcohol, she can’t drink. Don’t make this hard for her.” I thought I misheard him. I asked again. Noah was slouching lazily on the couch. “I said just let her slap you, it’s not real, we’re just playing a game.” I froze. “What if I don’t want to?” Mia smiled and explained. “Victoria, I won’t really hit you.” “I’ll just lightly tap your face, and we can say I passed the dare.” I still flat-out refused her. The others started hollering again. “Then drink! Mia downs the drink in front of her and it’s over.” Mia looked at the shot glass in distress. “But I’m allergic, what am I supposed to do if I can’t drink?” My boyfriend beside me got annoyed. He curled his lip. “You really can’t just play along and pretend for a second?” “Mia is allergic, stop giving the poor girl a hard time.” I stared at him. “I’m giving her a hard time?” “Aren’t you?” I let out a dry laugh. “Let’s break up.” The eyes of the entire room snapped toward us. Noah looked stunned. “Break up? Why? Just because Mia has to slap you for a game?” “Yes, just because of this.” Mia laughed awkwardly. “It’s just a game, Victoria, don’t take it so seriously.” “Noah is just worried about me. When I was a kid, I accidentally had two sips of liquor and immediately passed out on the floor, unable to breathe. He was so terrified he gave me CPR right then and there.” She nudged the two friends sitting next to her. “Ugh, I told you guys we shouldn’t play this. Victoria is a few years older than us, she doesn’t get the fun of the game and now she’s mad.” Every word was dripping with passive-aggressive condescension. I wasn’t about to indulge her. “Why do I need to ‘get’ this kind of game? A bunch of people using a game as an excuse to grope each other?” I pointed at one of the guys. “Does your girlfriend know you’re passing water mouth-to-mouth to other women?” “And you, your wife is home nursing your baby, and you’re sitting here with another woman in your lap calling her babe.” “And dragging innocent bystanders into this, running up to someone just to call them ugly for no reason, what is wrong with you?” “Whether you’re actually playing a game or just using it to cheat, you know best.” Noah’s frat brothers turned beet red at my words. Someone muttered under their breath. “It’s literally just a game, taking it way too seriously.” “Told you not to date older women.” “Generation gap.” “Almost 30 and still such a buzzkill.” I pushed open the door of the VIP room. Without looking back. “That’s right, I am a buzzkill, so this older woman is out of here.” “They’re a bunch of toxic losers.” After venting to my best friend, I felt a lot better. “Vic, are you really going to break up with your golden retriever boyfriend this time?” “After all, with how hot he is, you used to say you’d give him anything if he just shed a tear.” I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face. Noah had a gorgeous face and an incredible body. And his skills in bed were phenomenal. He checked every single one of my boxes. I had indeed said things like that in the past. But if looks were all there was… Anyone would get tired of it eventually. I stared at the nineteen missed calls from Noah on my phone. And made up my mind. “Yes, I’m really breaking up with him this time.” My best friend smiled and shook her head. “Alright, I’ll bet three days.” “In less than three days, he’ll definitely come begging for you back, and you’ll forgive him.” I didn’t have to wait three days. Because Noah was already at my door to repent. When I got home. Noah was kneeling on the front porch. It was raining outside. He was completely drenched. Even though he clearly arrived a while ago, he made no effort to change out of his wet clothes. The thin white dress shirt clung to his skin, tracing the smooth, muscular lines underneath. He kept his head bowed. “I was wrong.” “I panicked back there, I’m sorry.” I stepped around his body. And sat straight down on the couch. “What were you panicking about?” “I…” I lit a cigarette. Taking my time to speak. “You were panicking that she might actually have an allergic reaction if she drank that shot, right?” Noah stayed silent. “Yes. I promised Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan I’d take good care of her.” “Acute anaphylaxis is serious, she could go into shock.” I blew out a ring of smoke. “So you needed her to slap me?” “She wasn’t actually going to slap you.” Noah panicked and tried to explain. “She wasn’t really going to hit you. Look, I messed up, Vic, can you forgive me?” My face hardened. “There were so many other ways to get her out of that dare. You could have taken the shot for her, or let her accept whatever the penalty was for losing.” “But you didn’t. Your first reaction was to make me play along and be her prop.” “You didn’t want her to drink, and you didn’t want her to be punished.” “So you offered up my face.” “When I refused, you guys had the nerve to say I was being a buzzkill.” “Who gave you the right?” Noah kept apologizing while moving closer to my side. He carefully took off my high heels. “It’s my fault, Vic.” “I didn’t think it through, I’m so sorry.” I pushed him away coldly. “A person’s subconscious first reaction exposes a lot of problems, do you know that?” “Noah, you don’t love me nearly as much as you think you do.” Noah had begged me to go to this party. Normally, I hate attending things with the younger college crowd. Noah gave me the puppy dog eyes and pleaded for five days. “Just this once, please?” “My friends all really want to meet you.” “And my neighbor just moved back from Europe, she wants to meet you too.” “Neighbor?” “Yeah, my old neighbor.” I knew Noah had a childhood sweetheart he grew up with. Their families lived right across the hall from each other. Noah’s mother died early. His dad became violently abusive whenever he got drunk. During Noah’s dark childhood. It was Mia’s family that gave him love and care. Later, Mia’s family moved to Europe. The two of them gradually lost touch. Noah met me in college. We met, fell in love, and the relationship was pretty smooth sailing. Right around our three-year anniversary. Noah suddenly got news that his childhood crush was moving back to the States. “Vic, she’s literally just the neighbor who lived next door to me growing up.” I looked at the picture on Noah’s phone. A sharp nose, big bright eyes. “She’s pretty.” Noah wrapped his arms around me. “You’re not actually jealous, are you? Relax, I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’ve always seen her as a little sister.” “If I had any feelings for her, we would have dated a long time ago.” As we spoke. Noah’s lips found mine again. In the heat of the moment. Noah whispered in my ear: “You know me, I don’t like young girls. Girls my age are too much drama, I like older women.” I was six years older than Noah. The year he started college as a freshman, I went back to campus for a recruiting event. I was incredibly stressed out and busy at the time. While walking through the student center, I accidentally bumped into a guy coming the other way. The iced coffee in his hand spilled all over me. The kid realized my blouse was designer and expensive. He bowed his head and apologized. “I’m so sorry. Please tell me how much the shirt costs, I’ll pay you back in full.” I was too busy with work. I just waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t expect him to latch onto me because of it. “Please, if you won’t let me pay for the shirt, at least let me do something else to make it up to you.” “If there’s anything else I can help you with, please let me know, otherwise my conscience won’t let it go.” “Miss Sterling,” “Victoria,” “Boss,” “Beautiful”… He haunted me like a charming little ghost, popping up everywhere until he wore me down. Until we finally ended up sleeping together. My best friend laughed at me. “Never thought you’d fall for a younger guy.” I stuck my tongue out. “Dating a younger guy actually has its perks.” In the days that followed. He was like a loyal puppy. Satisfying my every need. I just didn’t expect. That no matter how good the dog is, if he sees a wild bone outside, he’s going to want a taste. In the month before Mia came back to the States. Things subtly started to change. Once, Noah was in the shower. His phone suddenly got a call. It was an international number. I remembered him mentioning his childhood friend who lived abroad. So I answered the call. I said “Hello” twice, and asked “Who is this?” A hostile voice suddenly demanded from the other end. “Who the hell are you?” I replied politely. “I’m Noah’s girlfriend. He’s in the shower, but I’ll tell him you called as soon as he’s out.” Before I could even finish. She slammed the phone down and hung up. When Noah got out, I told him what happened. His expression instantly changed to pure panic. He didn’t even care that the water dripping from his hair was soaking his clean shirt. “Did you say anything else to her?” “No, that was it.” “Okay, I got it.” He grabbed his phone. I don’t know what he texted her. But that night. That international number called him fifteen times. Until Noah finally picked up the last call. I heard the voice on the other end say: “Wow, Noah. You get a girlfriend and you wait until now to tell me?” That was when I realized. That he had completely hidden our relationship. He never told his childhood friends about me. And that welcome-back party. Was actually a firing squad set up specifically for me. The moment Mia arrived, she completely bypassed me and made a beeline for Noah. Only after hugging him and kissing his cheeks did she remember I was there. She pointed at me: “Noah, who is this?” Noah put his arm around my waist. “My girlfriend, Victoria.” Mia covered her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Oh! So she’s your girlfriend? I honestly thought she was one of your corporate managers.” Noah’s other frat buddies snickered along with Mia. “Haven’t seen you in a few years, didn’t know you were into this type, bro.” I suppressed my anger. And reached out my hand amicably. “Hi, I’m Victoria.” When she looked at me again, her eyes were filled with an inexplicable, fiery hostility. “I’m Mia, Noah’s childhood sweetheart.” Realizing that sounded a bit out of line. She quickly added: “Hahaha, I’m kidding, please don’t be mad. I’m just the girl who grew up in the apartment next door to him.” At the dinner table. They came at me from every angle. Prying into my career, probing about my income. Interrogating me on how Noah and I got together. “Victoria, you’re almost 30, when are you and Noah planning to tie the knot?” “Too bad Noah is only 24, he probably won’t settle down this early.” “If Noah doesn’t want to get married, aren’t your parents breathing down your neck?” “Are you really willing to wait until he’s 30 to get married?” “But if he’s 30… you’ll be 36.” “Victoria, does anyone ever call you a cougar for dating him?” I shot down these questions one by one. “I’m not in a rush, my family doesn’t pressure me.” “Marriage? Depends entirely on my mood.” “My family doesn’t have a royal bloodline to pass down, so I’m not stressing about having kids.” “Cougar? Never heard of it. I’ve heard of a sugar baby though, I wonder if that means the same thing.” Until Noah finally decided to step in and rescue me. “Alright, stop messing around guys, Victoria and I have a long way to go, we haven’t thought about marriage yet.” I don’t know why. But when Noah said that. His eyes kept darting over to Mia. Even an idiot could tell. That there was absolutely some history between him and Mia.

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When my husband got sick, I went to his office for the first time to call in sick for him. The receptionist looked at me like I was crazy. “You must be joking. The man you’re talking about is our company’s CEO.” “Besides, our CEO and his wife commute to work together every single day.” “And you definitely don’t look like the CEO’s wife…” The next second, my husband—who was supposed to be bedridden at home—walked out of the elevator with his arm wrapped around his first love. Our eyes met, and his smile froze on his face. I looked at him in his bespoke suit, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my cheeks. “The watch on your wrist is worth more than my yearly salary, yet you played the part of a broke accountant making three thousand bucks a month to me.” “You told me your startup went bankrupt. I sold the only house my parents left me to cover your debts. I wrote code during the day and worked the cash register at a convenience store at night. I wouldn’t even go to the hospital when my stomach ulcers were bleeding!” “Tell me, why did you play me like this?!” My husband mumbled, unable to form an answer. His first love smiled and linked her arm through mine. “Don’t blame him. When he married you, he swore to me that everything he owned, including his body and his wealth, belonged to me.” “So stop wishing for things that aren’t yours.” Seven years of marriage. I thought we were surviving the storm together, but I was just a temporary extra in someone else’s script. But I am Nolan Pierce’s legal wife. Can they really take everything and leave me with absolutely nothing? 1 “Shut up, it’s not your turn to speak! Nolan Pierce, tell me right now, is this true?!” I cut off Vanessa Croft’s smugness, demanding an answer with red eyes. Nolan sighed. “Eleanor, listen to me. I was just afraid that if you became a wealthy socialite, you’d lose your drive and ambition. I didn’t want to hurt your pride. Besides, didn’t you say you would provide for me?” “Stop gaslighting me! Seven years! Nolan, we’ve been married for seven years! Are seven years not enough for you to know what kind of person I am? If I didn’t have ambition, would I have sold the only property my parents left me to fund your startup?!” My voice started to tremble. “Or did you just think I was stupid enough to be fooled for a lifetime?” He let go of Vanessa’s hand and reached out to grab me. “It’s not like that, El.” I took a step back. My footing was a little unsteady because my heels were worn out, but I could never bring myself to spend money to replace them. My eyes fell on Vanessa. She was wearing a pair of Valentino heels, a haute couture dress, and on her wrist sat a sparkling Tiffany & Co. bracelet. Back then, Nolan used to joke with me: “When I’m rich, I’ll buy you so many luxury goods you can show them off all over Instagram.” Turns out he really did buy them. He just gave them to someone else. I choked down the bitterness in my throat and asked him. “Not like what? What about her?” Nolan glanced at her. “Vanessa and I are just friends.” Vanessa’s smile immediately dropped. “Nolan!” Nolan grabbed her arm, gave her a warning look, and then turned back to me. “It’s true that Vanessa is my first love, but you knew that back then. When have I ever hidden my past from you?” “We are just business partners now. She wants to invest in my company.” I gritted my teeth. “Then what did she mean by what she just said?!” Nolan carefully glanced at Vanessa before giving a dismissive excuse: “Come on, you know she loves to joke around. She was just messing with you…” Before he could finish, Vanessa cut him off. “I wasn’t joking. Didn’t you say exactly that to me on FaceTime the night of your wedding? Eleanor was literally sleeping right next to you…” Nolan barked out in a panic: “Vanessa!” Vanessa rolled her eyes and went quiet. But my heart had already hit rock bottom. It was all true. Nolan didn’t dare look me in the eye. His guilty conscience was masked by impatience. “Don’t listen to Vanessa’s nonsense, none of that happened. Just go home for now. I have to meet a client soon. I’ll explain everything to you tonight.” I took a deep breath. “You don’t need to explain anything.” “I want a divorce from you, Nolan Pierce.” “That’s exactly eight words. Let’s call it a million dollars a word.” “Eight million dollars to buy out our marriage and let you two be together. Sounds like a bargain, doesn’t it?” 2 “Eleanor, calm down. We’ll talk about this at home.” I cut him off. “You mean that crumbling five-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment with the peeling paint?” I really wanted to laugh. His expression changed. The employees arriving for work in the lobby were starting to stop and stare. He reached out to grab me. “Stop making a scene here, it looks bad.” “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth. He refused to let go. “Aren’t you just throwing a fit because I didn’t spend my money on you? Do you really have to play the victim in public?” “I slept with you for seven years for free! You should be grateful!” “Let me tell you, the more you act like this, the less money you’re ever going to get from me!” I stared at him in utter disbelief. I never imagined I’d hear such vile words coming from my own husband’s mouth. I felt like I didn’t know him at all. Or rather, I had never truly known him. Vanessa watched us struggling and let out a mocking laugh. “Let’s go, Nolan. It’s so embarrassing to make a scene here.” “Didn’t you promise to buy me a new bag before we meet the client?” Nolan agreed without hesitation. “Yeah, no problem. And I’ll help you upgrade your car, too! Image is everything when meeting clients, after all.” Vanessa shot me a provocative glare. “Hear that? Nolan’s money is my money. You want eight million for a divorce? Keep dreaming.” “But hey, you did take care of Nolan for me all these years. That counts for something. If you’re willing to call me ‘big sister’, I’ll tell Nolan to cut you a check so you can replace those cheap Temu knockoffs you’re wearing.” Those words stung more than a physical slap. I thought of all the days I spent penny-pinching. I thought of the winter coat I hadn’t replaced in five years. I thought of the makeup I never dared to buy. I thought of being humiliated by drunk customers during my night shifts at the convenience store. The humiliation boiled over. As Vanessa arrogantly leaned her face in to mock me, I used every ounce of strength I had and slapped her right across her self-proclaimed aristocratic face. Vanessa stumbled back two steps. Time seemed to stand still. It took a few seconds for Vanessa to process what happened. Her face twisted in rage. “You bitch! You piece of trash! Nolan! She hit me!” Nolan reacted instantly. He shielded Vanessa behind him, tenderly cupping her cheek. “Eleanor, are you crazy?!” He raised his hand and brought it down hard. I didn’t have time to dodge. My entire face burned with a stinging pain. Fighting through the pain, I screamed at Nolan: “Don’t push me!” Nolan yelled back: “Push you? Try hitting her again! If you had a spine, you wouldn’t be saying this crap!” “You have zero ambition! Seven years of marriage and you’re still a bottom-tier coder! If you were actually capable, would you need to work a cash register at a convenience store after your day job?!” “You’re useless, so don’t take your anger out on other people! If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being a failure!” “Do you know I don’t even dare bring you up to other people? I’m embarrassed by you!” The cut on my face started to bleed. It felt sticky, the warmth slowly turning cold. I felt so cold. My whole body was freezing. I thought of my manager making my life a living hell, dumping everyone else’s unfinished work on me. I was the only one working until midnight for the exact same salary, all because he knew I was desperate to pay off my husband’s debts and wouldn’t dare quit. I was afraid Nolan would worry, so I never told him about any of it. But now, my deepest wounds had become the very weapons the person I loved most was using to stab me. I looked at them coldly, my voice hoarse. “Nolan Pierce, as of today, we are done.” He froze for a second: “What?” “You think eight million is too much? Fine. The money you owe me, the blood you made me shed—I will collect it all in court, penny by penny.” And the marital assets. Including the company he started with my money, the profits from all these years, the houses, cars, and bags he bought for Vanessa. I was going to take half of everything. Vanessa’s head snapped up: “In your dreams!” I didn’t answer. I just turned around and walked toward the main doors, step by step. With every step, my face throbbed. With every step, I bled. But I kept my back perfectly straight. A person can fall down, but they must never bend the knee. As for whether I was dreaming—I didn’t need to answer her. I trusted my lawyer would give her the answer. 3 By the time I walked out of the law firm, it was completely dark. I endured the pain and went home. The second I walked in, I saw an open suitcase in the middle of the living room. Nolan was packing his clothes. Vanessa was sitting on the couch. “You’re back?” Nolan looked up at me. His tone was as calm as if nothing had happened. “Perfect timing. I need to tell you something.” “Vanessa’s health has always been fragile. Your slap today triggered her heart condition.” “The doctor said she needs someone to take care of her. I’m going to stay with her for a few days.” I picked up a box of condoms from the corner of his suitcase. “Did her cardiologist prescribe these, too?” He impatiently snatched the box out of my hand. “It got tangled in my shirts and fell in by accident. I didn’t even notice. You’re just being paranoid.” “I know you’re in a bad mood today, so I’m not going to argue with you. Vanessa needs me right now. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” Needs. When he needed me, I was always there. When I needed him, he was with someone else. Is that fair? No. But marriage has never been about fairness; it’s about willingness. I was willing for seven years. Now, my heart was dead, and my love was gone. “Okay,” I said, turning and walking into the bedroom. I opened the closet and started packing his things. When I got to the framed photos, my hands paused. It was our wedding photo. I was smiling so brightly. His eyes were full of light. “Eleanor, what are you doing?” He followed me in, a trace of panic finally bleeding into his voice. “Weren’t you leaving?” I didn’t look back. I threw the framed photo into the trash can. “I’m helping you pack, saving you a trip.” “I told you it’s only for a few days—” “Then don’t ever come back. Take your stuff, take the person who needs you, and get out.” Nolan fished the frame out of the trash and carefully placed it back on the nightstand. “Stop throwing a tantrum. Once she’s better, I promise I’ll come right back.” Vanessa appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Nolan, I have a new project I want you to invest in. It’s guaranteed to make a massive return. I sent the business plan to your phone, take a look.” Nolan barely even glanced at it before casually replying: “Don’t worry about it, I don’t need to read it. I’ll have accounting wire you ten million tomorrow.” Before his phone screen went dark, my sharp eyes caught the header of the business plan. This was Vanessa’s tenth startup attempt. Ten million dollars. How long would I have to stand at a cash register, how much code would I have to write, just to earn that? I could probably work myself to death and never see that kind of money. I thought of the news stories about 32-year-old tech workers dropping dead from exhaustion. If I hadn’t discovered the truth and kept breaking my back to pay his fake debts, that probably would have been my fate. Hearing his answer, Vanessa looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Eleanor, why are you sneaking peeks at my business plan? Do you want to start a company too?” I didn’t expect her to catch my gaze despite my efforts to hide it. Nolan glanced at me. “Don’t joke around. She doesn’t have the brains for it. She can’t even tell a bull market from a bear market. If she actually tried trading, she’d buy high and sell low every time. She’s destined to be a corporate drone for the rest of her life.” I coldly cut him off: “Are you done?” He froze. I pointed at the door. “If you’re done, get out. Get out of my apartment!” “Eleanor, this is our—” “No, this is mine. I pay the rent. I pay the water, electricity, and gas. I bought the furniture and the appliances. Other than living here for seven years, what exactly have you contributed?” He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. Because I was telling the truth. For the past seven years, not only did I transfer him a thousand dollars a month to pay his “debts,” but I also covered every single household expense. I even pinched pennies just to buy him expensive suits and watches, terrified his coworkers or friends would look down on him. And the truth? He was rich. Filthy rich. He played me for a fool while throwing millions at another woman, and called her “just a friend”! Nolan’s tone turned icy: “Fine. I’m leaving. Don’t regret this!” “Get out!” The front door slammed shut. The apartment was suddenly dead silent. It was too quiet. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. I could hear my own heartbeat. I slowly sank to the floor. The tears fell, hitting the hardwood floor. One drop. Two drops. I covered my face and sobbed uncontrollably. I don’t know how much time passed, but my phone vibrated. I picked it up. It was a photo from an unknown number. On a large hotel bed, Nolan was fast asleep. Vanessa’s face was pressed against his chest. There was a line of text below the photo: “Thanks for stepping aside.” I stared at that photo for a very, very long time. Then I typed back: “Thanks for taking out the trash.” Message sent. The private investigator had told me Nolan was extremely careful and he had never been able to get concrete evidence of infidelity. Now I had it. 4 The next day, I stood in front of the HR department’s glass doors. The words on the paper in my hand were almost comical. Embezzlement? Three point two million dollars? Absurd. I was just a tech team lead. The largest funds I ever handled were for team equipment procurement. Where would I get the authorization to move three point two million? I spoke coldly to the HR director: “I demand to see the system operation logs and the audit reports.” The HR director pushed his glasses up his nose, a trace of pity in his eyes. “Our company was acquired. If you want to see them, you have to ask the new boss.” “And who exactly is the new boss?!” “Ms. Croft.” … I shoved the door to the CEO’s office open like a maniac. Sure enough, Vanessa was sitting behind the desk. Nolan was beside her, looking down at some documents. “Well, well, if it isn’t our brilliant tech lead.” Vanessa’s smile was sickeningly bright. “Team Lead Eleanor. Actually, shouldn’t it be former Team Lead?” The blood rushed to my head. But I forced myself to stand my ground and take a deep breath. “Nolan, that audit report is forged. Procurement orders require three-tier approval. I only have recommendation rights, not final signature authority. The system logs will prove it.” Nolan finally bothered to look up. “The system was hacked. The logs were lost. And what a coincidence, the only logs lost were the ones involving the procurements you handled.” The coincidence was so laughable I actually scoffed. “I built the company’s security architecture with my own hands. I wrote the firewall rules myself. You expect me to believe it just got hacked because you said so?” Vanessa leaned back in the executive chair, grinning broadly. “That’s exactly why I suspect you. An inside job is the easiest thing in the world, isn’t it? Modifying a few log files, forging a few procurement records… that’s a piece of cake for a senior engineer like you, right?” I clenched my fists. “You tampered with the database!” Vanessa stood up. “You need evidence to make accusations. Right now, every single log points directly to you. Have fun facing the lawsuit for massive damages. Who knows, you might even do some prison time.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice: “Or… you could get on your knees and beg me? Maybe if I feel merciful, I’ll tell Nolan to ask for a lower settlement?” My stomach churned with disgust. “Nolan, do you seriously have nothing to say?!” Nolan looked at me, his tone light and indifferent. “You’re the one with sticky fingers. We’re giving you a way out. We’re actually helping you.” I screamed in pure fury: “Helping me?! Nolan, you played me for a fool for seven years, wasn’t that enough? Now you’re using this despicable trap to ruin my life?! Do you hate me that much? You hate me so much you have to destroy everything I have to be satisfied?!” His face went pale. Vanessa lunged forward and grabbed my arm: “Who the hell do you think you’re yelling at?!” “Let go of me! You just want to see me beg on my knees, don’t you? You want to see me crawl over like a dog and lick your boots? Keep dreaming!” I turned to Nolan: “I’m not paying a single cent. And I’m not pleading guilty to anything. Call the cops if you have the guts. I’ll see you in court!” Nolan’s lips trembled. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vanessa beat him to it. “Nolan, why don’t you step outside and get a coffee to cool off?” Nolan hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked out. The second the door closed, Vanessa’s disguise completely vanished. “Let’s lay all our cards on the table, Eleanor. You’re just bitter, aren’t you? Bitter that Nolan chose me. Bitter that you’re not getting enough money in the divorce. Bitter that you saw that photo?” My body went rigid. “Oh, looks like I hit a nerve.” “Good picture, wasn’t it? Nolan was so incredible that night. We went through three whole boxes…” The blood was roaring in my ears. “What exactly is your point?” My voice was ragged. “My point is that you’ve lost, Eleanor. Completely and utterly. Nolan’s body is mine, his heart is mine, and everything he owns is mine. Including this company, and every single dime he makes in the future.” “And you? You’re just trash waiting to be thrown out.” I raised my hand and slapped her hard. My palm cracked against her cheek. Vanessa touched her face. A vicious glint flashed in her eyes, but she quickly smiled again. “Getting angry? I’ll give you one last chance, Eleanor. Walk away from the marriage with nothing, and disappear forever. If you do that, I’ll drop the charges and let you live.” “Three point two million dollars, Eleanor. How much code do you have to write to earn that?” In that split second, the last thread of my sanity snapped. Just as I tackled Vanessa to the floor and raised my hand to beat the living hell out of her, the door swung open. Nolan stood in the doorway. Vanessa wiped at nonexistent blood on the corner of her mouth. “Nolan! She attacked me again! I was just trying to talk to her reasonably, and she went crazy!” I tried to explain. “I didn’t—!” “Enough!” Nolan cut me off. He spoke into a radio in his hand, and two bodyguards immediately appeared, grabbing me by both arms. One of them kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to drop to the floor. They forced my face flat against the carpet. I heard Nolan’s cruel, cold voice above me. “Vanessa, however she hit you, hit her back.” Vanessa walked closer and then planted her high heel directly on my face. She ground the heel into my skin, and then, without hesitation, kicked me right in the face. My nose exploded in pain, and blood began pouring out instantly. Suddenly, I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. I just felt ridiculous. Seven years of pouring my heart and soul into a marriage, and this was my reward. Nolan’s voice echoed coldly. “You really don’t know when to quit, Eleanor. I’m calling the cops right now. Let’s see how tough you act then.” The moment he finished speaking, his cell phone rang. He answered it, looking confused. As he listened, his expression grew increasingly grim. When he hung up the phone, he stared at me in disbelief. “You… you actually filed for divorce…?”

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After being brought back to my wealthy biological family, the fake heiress, Serena, took me along on ninety-nine dates with her fiancé. Every single time, she would cry and say, “You’re the one who should be his fiancée. I’m just an imposter.” She would brazenly lock me in a room with Elias, and deliberately re-gift me the presents he gave her. She even made me wear the exact same dress as her to test him. And every single time, Elias firmly chose her. Satisfied by his unwavering preference time and time again, Serena’s behavior became increasingly outrageous. Until the final time, when Serena demanded that Elias propose to her on a livestream witnessed by hundreds of millions of netizens. Under the scrutiny of the entire internet, Serena once again claimed she was unworthy and bought a red-eye flight to Paris. “Elias, she’s the one who should be your fiancée.” She thought this time would end exactly like all the times before. But Elias looked at the millions of viewers on the livestream, and then at his cousins behind him, who were eagerly waiting to see him become a laughingstock. He tiredly massaged his temples. “Chloe, will you marry me?” … I smiled and put on the ten-carat pink diamond that originally belonged to Serena. Amidst the blessings of the guests and elders, I became Elias Vance’s fiancée. After seeing off the guests, only the two of us were left at the venue. Elias looked at the string of red exclamation marks indicating blocked messages on his phone and rubbed his temples. “Chloe, I’m sorry. If you ever meet someone you truly like, you can come to me anytime to break off the engagement.” “When that time comes, the Vance family will give you a fair compensation. We might have to attend some banquets together for a while. I appreciate your help.” Because of Serena’s repeated “humility,” Elias had been humiliated dozens of times, and the Vance family elders already had major issues with him. If it weren’t for me stepping in today, Elias and the entire Vance family would have become the laughingstock of our social circle. I nodded gently, my demeanor perfectly composed. “It’s alright. Until my sister comes back, I’ll play the role of your fiancée.” “Please don’t blame her. She just lacks a sense of security. When she returns, I’ll return the position of Mrs. Vance to her.” “I’ll be in your care for the time being, Mr. Vance.” Thinking about Serena running away from the proposal, Elias’s face turned incredibly grim. But when he looked at me, his expression softened slightly. He took out his phone and transferred three million dollars to my account as compensation. “If your parents hear any news about Serena, please let me know.” I nodded at him with a look of deep concern. But the moment he turned away, I deleted the location data Serena had sent me a few hours ago. She wanted to use me to relay her location to Elias, hoping for a grand, romantic, cross-continental chase, just like before. But now, I am Elias’s fiancée. Did she really think I was going to spit out what was already in my hands? Keep dreaming! After Elias drove away, I returned to the Sterling estate. My parents were sitting on the couch, anxiously calling Serena’s phone over and over. When their eyes fell on me, they looked hesitant, as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. “Chloe… Serena and Elias grew up together. They are deeply in love. Your engagement to Elias today was just a stopgap measure…” “Serena is so kind-hearted. She’s willing to give all of this back to you, but you have to remember, she doesn’t actually owe you anything.” Serena’s biological mother swapped us at birth, allowing Serena to live my life as the Sterling heiress for over twenty years. Yet, my own biological parents were sitting here telling me she didn’t owe me anything. That, in itself, was a blinding display of favoritism. But I simply offered a soft smile. “I know. Don’t worry, Mom, Dad. Sister abandoned Elias at the proposal today, and the Vance family was definitely going to be furious. I only stepped in to be Elias’s bride for her sake.” “I’ll take care of Elias’s family for her and help explain things to them. When Sister comes back, I’ll return to my proper place.” My parents visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl. Once your sister is back, we will definitely find you a good match.” “We’ll find a family with a slightly lower social standing, so you can live comfortably without pressure.” I smiled politely and turned around. Wait for her to come back? By that time, I’ll probably already be married to Elias. 2 The next day, I dressed in an elegant, understated outfit and went to the Vance family’s main estate. The Vance family had prospered for generations, possessing deep roots and old money. This marriage was a massive step up for the Sterling family. My parents could absolutely never find another family of this caliber, which was why they were so determined to have Serena marry into it. But why should I listen to them? I brought gifts to visit Elias’s grandmother. She was a true aristocrat from the last century, and she was extremely pleased with my gentle, dignified demeanor. From then on, I visited the estate every day. Sometimes I would personally cook a dish, sometimes I would just sit and chat with old Mrs. Vance. I didn’t deliberately try to flatter Elias, but rather, I thoughtfully and subtly integrated myself into his life. After running into me at the estate several times, Elias invited me to attend a gala as his plus-one. It was my first time attending an event of this scale. Elias had been worried that I wouldn’t understand high-society etiquette and might make a mistake, but my performance completely exceeded his expectations. I conversed with the guests with perfect grace, looking every bit like a socialite who had grown up in the upper-class circle. Elias couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Under the chandelier lights, a hint of genuine warmth appeared in his eyes. “When did you learn all this? I remember Serena saying the family that adopted you struggled financially. You shouldn’t have had access to this kind of environment.” “Struggled financially” was an understatement. I thought of the moldy peeling paint, the drafty windows, and the adoptive parents who only knew how to beat and scold me. Yet, I maintained my elegant smile. “I was afraid of embarrassing you, so I specifically hired two etiquette coaches.” “Thankfully, my hard work over this period hasn’t gone to waste.” Elias looked genuinely impressed. “To learn all this in such a short time… you’re very smart, Chloe.” I just smiled and didn’t say anything. When I first returned to the Sterling family, Serena secretly mocked me for being ignorant and unrefined. I still remember our first meeting. She cried and apologized to me, while deliberately wearing a designer outfit worth tens of thousands of dollars, swaying it right in front of my face. She used her flawless, porcelain skin to highlight my sallow, malnourished complexion. She used her twenty years of high-society upbringing to contrast my rough, unpolished manners. So, the moment I got my first allowance, I secretly hired etiquette coaches. Whatever Serena knew, I was going to learn. And whatever she didn’t know, I was going to learn that too. But I would never tell Elias any of this. “It was the least I could do.” Elias was very pleased with my answer and pulled out a black Amex card. “We are an engaged couple now. If you need anything from now on, just use this.” I flashed a playful smile and accepted it happily. “Thank you, Elias.” From that day on, my relationship with Elias grew closer. I would deliver lunch to him at work under the guise of it being from old Mrs. Vance, and I accompanied him to various events. I always maintained a comfortable, respectful distance from him. Within two months, he had grown entirely accustomed to my presence. What truly changed his view of me was during a site visit with international clients. The French translator had a sudden emergency, and I stepped in, using fluent French to help the Vance Group secure the partnership. That time, Elias stared at me for a very long time. I stood in the sunlight and smiled back at him. Elias looked stunned, as if he was seeing me for the very first time. When we parted ways that day, his expression was incredibly complex. “Chloe, you are completely different from what I imagined. You are truly an exceptional person.” From that day forward, the way Elias looked at me changed. It turned into the way a man looks at a woman. I pretended not to notice and continued to treat him with the same relaxed, easygoing attitude. He started asking me out for lunch and dinner, and would specifically bring back gifts for me when he went on business trips. Until one evening at a networking event, a man deliberately tried to get me drunk to take advantage of me. Elias immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me, and beat the guy to the ground. When I was taking Elias to the hospital to get his bruised knuckles checked, I hugged him tightly for the first time. My hands gripped his tightly. “Elias, please be okay. You have to be okay. This is all my fault.” He squeezed my hand back and rested his head on my shoulder. “Chloe, don’t worry. I’m fine.” I could hear the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. As we were getting closer and closer, Serena, who had been waiting endlessly for Elias to come running, finally lost her patience. She used her friends back home to subtly leak her location to Elias. 3 She fully expected Elias to be ecstatic, cancel all his work overnight, and fly across the world to find her. But unfortunately, Elias merely stared at the address for a long time, and ultimately, did not go. Serena was furious, stomping her feet in anger. It was also around this time that she learned from my parents that on the very day she fled the proposal, Elias and I had gotten engaged. She believed Elias loved her so much that he could endure her ninety-nine tests. She was convinced that the only reason he wasn’t coming for her this time was because the Vance family elders had intervened. She had always been spoiled rotten and couldn’t handle the slightest grievance. She immediately called the Vance estate to demand answers. Her words were incredibly vicious: “You archaic relics of arranged marriages! Just because your own marriages are miserable, you have to intentionally torment me? Let me tell you, Elias won’t marry anyone but me!” “If you have the guts, try forcing him to marry Chloe! He would rather die than agree to it!” The person who happened to answer the phone was old Mrs. Vance. Upon hearing Serena’s tirade, she collapsed and was rushed to the ER. Old Mrs. Vance was nearly ninety years old, and her health was already fragile. The sudden surge of extreme anger put her in critical condition. She gripped Elias’s hand and told him her only dying wish was to see him get married. After all, Elias was the son of her beloved youngest child, and he had been her absolute favorite since he was born. “Elias, just marry Chloe. Before I die, I need to see you and Chloe married.” That night, Elias chain-smoked for hours and made several phone calls that wouldn’t connect. In the morning, he came to find me again. “Chloe, let’s get married.” The conditions Elias offered were incredibly generous. Not only did it include shares in the Vance Group, but also a multi-million dollar bridal gift. He said, “We’ve been very happy together these past few months. I believe you have feelings for me too. Perhaps we can try to live together like a normal married couple.” “I did have a history with Serena, but I will let her go. I will work hard to be a good husband. Will you marry me?” Elias looked slightly apprehensive. What reason did I have to refuse? This was supposed to be mine from the very beginning. The Vance family began preparing for the wedding. Serena still had no idea what was happening back home. She was still in Paris, waiting for her prince charming to break through all societal norms, defy all the elders, and appear before her bathed in light. She didn’t know her white knight was currently trying on wedding dresses with me. She even sent me another provocative text. “Chloe, I’ve given everything back to you. Have you finally gotten Elias’s and our parents’ love?” “Don’t think that just because you’re the biological daughter, you have everything. I just want to tell you, you will never be better than me, even if I hand the opportunities right to you over and over.” I didn’t reply. I calmly gazed at the radiant, smiling bride in the mirror, and then took a gorgeous selfie. Serena was stunned for a long time. Then, my phone started pinging non-stop with a barrage of abusive messages. I didn’t reply to a single one. I calmly blocked and deleted her. Serena’s signature move was advancing by retreating. The first day I came home, she announced she was giving the title of the Sterling heiress back to me, and then proceeded to slit her wrist in public with a pocket knife. My parents panicked. They spent an entire week fussing over her in the hospital, without speaking a single word to me. Seeing that my parents didn’t care about me, the maids served me cold leftovers for a week. When she returned from the hospital, she put on another fake show, saying she wanted to give me her bedroom and all the expensive jewelry my parents had bought her over the years. My parents were heartbroken for her and immediately labeled me as aggressive and power-hungry. “Chloe, it’s true you are our biological daughter, but what did Serena do wrong? She’s already being so understanding. Can you please stop targeting her?” Between the two of us, she was always the winner. She was always the one “stepping back,” and every time she stepped back, the distance between my parents and me grew wider. She was using this method to assert her dominance over me, making me realize clearly that our parents would only ever love her. And that applied to the fiancé who was originally supposed to be mine, too. But this time, she wouldn’t win. Because not everyone in the world is like the parents who raised her for twenty years, ready to indulge her infinitely. In the past, she had used me to test Elias hundreds of times. Even when we wore the exact same dress, even when she drugged him and locked us in the same room, Elias firmly stood by her side. And then she would scream with joy, throw herself into his arms, and make him spin her around. Every time that happened, I would stand awkwardly to the side, completely reduced to a prop meant to highlight her. Endless coddling had made Serena forget that the one thing in this world that cannot withstand constant testing is the human heart. I calmly prepared for the wedding with Elias. Because of old Mrs. Vance’s condition, the wedding was arranged hastily. But it had all the grandeur and prestige it required. That day, the Vance family hosted a lavish banquet, gathering all relatives, friends, and business partners. After Elias took me to pay respects to the ancestors, the highly anticipated show finally began. Even old Mrs. Vance, who hadn’t fully recovered, was discharged from the hospital. She sat kindly in the front row to witness our vows. Below the stage, countless elites and dignitaries watched the newlyweds. After a round of enthusiastic applause. The officiant raised the microphone: “Mr. Vance, do you take Ms. Sterling to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I…” Just as Elias took the microphone, Serena, wearing a full wedding gown, burst through the doors with massive fanfare. “Elias Vance, don’t you dare! I object!” 4 She looked at Elias with tear-filled eyes. “Elias, are you really going to marry her? Have you forgotten our decade of love?” “I know you were forced into this. Now that I’m back, you can marry the woman you truly love.” My parents also stood behind Serena. “That’s right. You and Serena grew up together. As long as you’re willing, the bride can be swapped to Serena right now.” Serena looked at Elias with deep affection. “I was wrong before, but I’ve done some serious soul-searching these past few months. Elias, let me be your bride, okay?” Elias looked at Serena with a complex expression, then accepted the microphone from the officiant. Serena smiled, her eyes crinkling, and took a step forward to lovingly loop her arm through his. “I only did those things before because I lacked a sense of security. But now I understand, you are my safest harbor. I will never push you away again.” “Elias, as long as you’re willing, today is our wedding, and I am your bride. My sister will bless us too, right?” My eyes turned red. I looked at Elias as if I wanted to speak but stopped myself, remaining silent. Elias forcefully pushed Serena’s arm away and took my hand. “Serena, today is my wedding with Chloe. As her sister, what exactly are you doing here?” Elias’s gaze was firm. Serena, who had thought victory was in her grasp, instantly contorted her face in shock and disbelief. “Did my sister say something to you?” “Chloe, I… I really can’t live without Elias. Please, give him back to me.” Seeing Serena looking so heartbroken, my parents immediately darkened their faces and came over to pull at me. “Chloe, this marriage was originally your sister’s. Are you trying to steal your sister’s man?” They were glaring at me in front of all these people, trying to force me to yield the bride’s position to Serena. Below the stage, old Mrs. Vance’s face had turned incredibly dark. She stood up shakily, leaning heavily on her cane. “What do you take my grandson for? Chloe is the granddaughter-in-law I have chosen. If you insist on swapping her for Serena, then this wedding is off.” My parents hurriedly stepped forward to support old Mrs. Vance with fawning smiles. “Mrs. Vance, you don’t understand. Chloe grew up on the streets. She has no upbringing and doesn’t know etiquette. She can’t compare to Serena.” “Serena is the one truly fit to be the daughter-in-law of the Vance family.” Old Mrs. Vance struck her cane hard against the floor. “Serena is the one with no upbringing! Chloe is filial and well-behaved. My eyes aren’t blind yet!” “The doors of the Vance family aren’t open for just anyone to walk through!” Seeing the old lady’s firm stance, Serena looked at Elias, tears on the verge of falling, hoping he would stand up for her. “Ms. Sterling, whatever it is, it can wait until after Chloe’s and my wedding is over.” Cold and ruthless, Elias called for two security guards to drag Serena away, then signaled the officiant to continue the ceremony. The beautiful, lyrical music started playing again. “Chloe, don’t worry. The woman I am marrying today is you.” “I will never let you down.” I put on a performance of being utterly moved, gazing at him with teary eyes. “Okay. I believe you.” Serena’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. She couldn’t understand. Why, after so many tests where Elias had never wavered, did he suddenly become so set on me after she merely went abroad for a few months? Even with her pouring her heart out to him, he refused her. Elias didn’t spare her a single glance. He calmly exchanged rings with me. The moment the officiant announced that the groom could kiss the bride, Serena completely snapped. “Elias, watching you marry someone else is worse than death!” With that, she grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table like a maniac and slashed it toward her own wrist. My parents were terrified and rushed to stop her, screaming at me as they did. “Chloe! Your sister is committing suicide, and you have the nerve to just stand there!” “Elias, Serena’s love for you is pure and true!” “Are you really going to just let her die?” Elias hesitated for a split second. Serena seemed to think this was her opening, calling out “Elias” in a tearful voice. But in the next second, Elias pulled out his phone and dialed 911. “Ms. Sterling is a guest, after all. It would be bad luck if something happened to her at Chloe’s and my wedding.” “This hospital has an excellent trauma center. They won’t let anything happen to her.” Serena stared at Elias in absolute disbelief. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she genuinely fainted.

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