I married a university professor. He was always so restrained and composed, never losing control, taking me only thrice each night. During a reshoot of a kissing scene for a movie, the set happened to be in the very university classroom where he taught. He didn’t interfere, showed no signs of jealousy, and of course, he didn’t love me. Suddenly, I grew weary of the relationship and proposed a divorce. My stated reason was a lack of variety and passion. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon my “little clothes”—my intimate garments—in his study, already well-worn and familiar from his touch. Was this still the same aloof, ice-cold husband I knew? I recoiled in shock, but he advanced, step by relentless step… 1 I married my father’s most esteemed student. After graduating from college, I chose not to follow the path my parents had meticulously planned, instead plunging headfirst into the chaotic world of acting. My professor parents, naturally, vehemently opposed this decision. Eventually, we struck a compromise: within two years, regardless of my success in the entertainment industry, I had to get married. Two years flew by in the blink of an eye. My father, sequestered in his study, made a phone call to someone. A few days later, Finn Burke came to our house for dinner. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his silver-grey suit lending him an air of both dignity and refinement. He was no longer the somewhat impoverished and unassuming boy I remembered from high school. My heart gave a violent lurch, and I wished I could just bury my head beneath the table. 2 My parents, both professors, had countless accomplished students, yet I was their sole “bitter fruit.” My academic record was dismal, but I was a virtuoso when it came to dating. Throughout high school, I barely had any time between boyfriends. I’d dated them all: the school bully, the straight-A student, even the sweet but dim-witted blond surfer types. Finn was a year my senior and consistently ranked first in the entire school. He was the impoverished student in the faded uniform, his top button always meticulously fastened. And he was also the unapproachable, ice-cold figure, like a peak of a snow-capped mountain, who gave speeches every Monday at the flag-raising ceremony. One time, I was a minute late for school. Right at the gate, I was snagged by Finn, who was on discipline duty. “Oh, come on, just help me out, please?” Few could resist my charm offensive, especially for just a mere minute’s tardiness. Finn lifted his thin eyelids and glanced at me, utterly unmoved. With chilling indifference, he jotted down my name. 3 This guy was utterly infuriating. My best friend, Brittany, had a good laugh at my expense, so I made a bet with her: I’d pursue Finn and make him my boyfriend. I just couldn’t believe he’d keep that lifeless expression even with a girlfriend, right? He still had a year until graduation, and during his tenure on discipline duty, I could pretty much stroll in late or skip class whenever I pleased, couldn’t I? Brittany chuckled, saying, “Don’t forget me when you get rich.” I’d never dated anyone like Finn, so I was brimming with confidence. I poured all my accumulated wisdom into a love letter for him. The next day, as he carried a stack of assignments back to his classroom, I bit my lower lip shyly and handed it to him. Finn gave me a half-smile, his long fingers taking the letter from my grasp. I thought it would be a cinch, but after half a month of sending him love letters, he remained unyielding. Just my luck, my ex-boyfriend, Caleb Hayes, returned from an intensive training camp out of town. In the equipment room, he had me pinned against a table, kissing me. This precise moment was witnessed by Finn, on discipline patrol, and the student council members trailing behind him. 4 My ex-boyfriend, Caleb, the school’s resident bad boy, had me pressed between a desk and his body. “Baby, let’s get back together. I promise I’ll never make you angry again.” Caleb was handsome and flamboyant, a magnet for girls at school. Yet, in front of me, he was like a docile, oversized Mastiff. He was an expert kisser and incredibly good at teasing. Every time we kissed, he’d lift the hem of his shirt, guiding my hand to feel his perfectly sculpted eight-pack abs. I was naturally drawn to handsome men of all types. Being with Caleb had always been—well, let’s just say I was well-fed. But his possessiveness was overwhelming. If I went out to buy a bottle of water, he’d suspect I was cheating. Forget about me even smiling at another guy. We’d had countless arguments because of it. I was exhausted. Less than a month into our relationship, I couldn’t take it anymore and broke up with him. “No, you’re too clingy. I hate people who try to control me so much.” “I’ll change, I promise. How about that?” His voice was lazy, thick with affection. Caleb set me on the desk, his hands on my waist, as he leaned down, apologizing for his mistakes. Student council members patrolled the school daily, busting early relationships, stopping bullying… Finn, with several other student council members trailing him, pushed open the door. His eyes, frozen with coldness, looked at Caleb and me as if he’d caught us in the act. The students behind him quickly picked up their pens and started scribbling in their notebooks. I scrambled off the desk, my heart pounding with dread. Caleb didn’t even flinch. He adjusted the collar of my school shirt, then turned his head. “Write whatever you want. Just finish up and leave. Don’t interrupt me trying to win back my girlfriend.” He was a baseball player, having just won first place in his training camp and brought honor to the school, so he certainly had the capital to be arrogant. Later, after Caleb’s relentless pursuit, I got back together with him. My bet with Brittany about chasing Finn simply fizzled out. 5 That year, Finn scored the highest in the entire state on his college entrance exams, earning him a spot at State University. His high score remained unbroken, making him a legend throughout the high school. After that, I never saw him again. To my utter shock, the unapproachable “ice prince” I’d given up on pursuing years ago was now my blind date. He was a successful professional, also serving as an honorary university professor. His eyes had shed their bookish stiffness and youthful awkwardness, replaced by the distinct charm of a mature man. I was completely taken aback that Finn had agreed to a blind date with me. We sat across from each other by the floor-to-ceiling window of a fancy Western restaurant. He twirled the water glass between his fingers, then asked directly, “When can we get married?” His family was pressing him hard. And as for me, I genuinely needed a marriage partner at the moment. Finn’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he listed the advantages of marrying him: he wouldn’t interfere with anything I did, and he’d agree to a separation whenever I wished. After some thought, he seemed like the most suitable candidate for marriage. We would each get what we needed, without any emotional strings attached. 6 After getting our marriage license, I followed him back to our marital home. That evening, after showering, I lay in bed scrolling through my phone. The gentle patter of water from the bathroom soon stopped. Click. First, a rush of steamy air escaped. Then, a tall, well-built man, wrapped in a towel, revealing an impressive eight-pack, appeared strikingly before me. Finn was over six feet three inches tall. It was clear that one of his arms was twice the circumference of mine. I bit my lip, feeling a shameful flicker of desire. Finn pulled back the covers and got into bed. The crisp, minty scent of him enveloped me, surprisingly pleasant. He leaned against the headboard, putting on anti-glare glasses to read a physics research paper. He wasn’t planning on us sleeping in separate rooms? What was I supposed to do? Distractedly, I scrolled through my phone, texting Brittany, my best friend. “It’s your wedding night! You’re not getting it on with your super hot husband, and you have time to text me?” “I’m not even going to mention whose loss that body difference is.” I’d meant to use voice-to-text, but just then, Finn called my name. The next second, Brittany’s clear voice boomed through the quiet bedroom. The air instantly froze, and I felt my scalp tingle with embarrassment. Finn gently placed his book on the nightstand. “Anya, ready for bed?” My mind went blank. Uh, what? Finn took off his glasses, slid down, and leaned over me. A mint-scented kiss landed softly on my lips. Wait, he meant sleep, as in actual sleep, not sleep, as in… that! Finn was a very well-endowed man. In my teenage years, watching those explicit movies with Brittany, fifteen inches seemed like an incredible feat. I wrapped my arms loosely around his firm shoulders, thinking Finn surely topped eighteen. On our wedding night, we made love three times. The first time, he was careful. The second, he held back. The third, he indulged slightly. I was due on set soon, and I wondered if I’d even be able to walk. With tears in my eyes, I pleaded, “No more, please. I’m really at my limit.” Finn’s sweat dripped onto my neck as he carefully watched my reaction, then frowned and withdrew. He first carried me to the bathroom to clean up. Afterwards, I heard sounds of him satisfying himself in the bathroom alone. I bit my lip, silently pulling the covers over my head, muffling the low, husky groans. Again, I thought that a marriage without love, just sex, was pretty good. Physical satisfaction, no strings attached—mutual respect. 7 Soon after, Finn packed his bags, announcing he was going abroad for a business trip, with no fixed return date. I quickly joined the cast of “The Crown Princess.” It was a palace intrigue drama, and I was, once again, playing the villainous second female lead. As I was practicing my lines, a shadow suddenly appeared in the mirror. Then, a pair of hands rested on my shoulders. “Girlfriend, we meet again.” It was Ethan Vance, who had shot to fame after a massively popular BL drama, amassed countless loyal fans online, and recently won the Best New Actor award for a film. In our previous project, we’d co-starred in a high school romance. He was the male lead, I was the second female lead. Our on-screen chemistry as a couple actually outshone the main leads. Now, he was enjoying unprecedented fame in the entertainment industry. At some point, the entire lounge had emptied, leaving just me. I stood up, turned around, and put some distance between us, pulling the sheer fabric of my costume higher to cover my shoulders. “Ethan, please don’t joke around, it’s just acting.” Ethan took a step closer to me, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “To be honest, I’ve actually been thinking about making it real.” “I just landed a new movie role, and there’s a spot for the second female lead that I think would be perfect for you. How about we discuss it privately in my room tonight?” His men’s cologne was strong and bold. I instinctively wrinkled my nose. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew exactly what he meant. I smiled, “No thanks, my schedule is a bit packed these days.” “You’re turning down such a great opportunity?” Ethan clicked his tongue. Seeing someone approaching, he quickly composed himself and left. 8 I thought the matter would quietly blow over. But Ethan, true to form, decided to stir up trouble. While I was getting my makeup done, the director suddenly announced a change: the first scene would now be one where I’m humiliated by homeless men. “How can this be? Anya hasn’t even had time to memorize the lines!” My agent, Gwen, who was visiting the set, exclaimed, clutching the notice. “And this scene wasn’t even in the original script!” The assistant director grumbled, “What’s the big deal? There aren’t many lines in this scene anyway, just focus on your expressions. Last-minute additions, cuts, and script changes are normal. You guys are always making a fuss.” He then rolled his eyes and left. The entertainment industry was in a downturn, and good roles were hard to come by. Perhaps the director had his reasons. So, I obediently followed instructions. What I hadn’t anticipated was that this was Ethan’s obedience test, a test that nearly left me with lifelong psychological trauma. 9 After my makeup change, I lay draped in a transparent veil, half-reclining on a soft chaise. Soon, several actors entered, dressed in dirty, ragged homeless clothes, their eyes murky. With a shout of “Action!” several hands began to roam over my body. The scant fabric of my costume, barely covering me, was almost ripped off. Someone even took the opportunity to pinch my waist amidst the chaos, then grinned lewdly at me. This went far beyond the scope of acting, exceeding my psychological threshold. The set was a cacophony of noise, and I cried out in alarm, “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” Despite clearly breaking character and reacting strongly, no one called “Cut!” The extras didn’t stop; they became even more aggressive. I smashed the liquor decanter nearby. The prop was expensive, and that finally brought them to a halt. My tears and snot had long smeared together, and I hugged myself tightly, trying to catch my breath. “My apologies, Anya. We just thought you were still in character,” the director said casually from behind the camera. 10 I tidied my clothes and went to the monitor room to find the main director. I wanted to tell him that audiences weren’t interested in such scenes anymore. But then I saw Ethan handing him a cigarette. I heard them talking: “Ethan, adding this scene was a good idea, but it probably won’t pass censorship.” “We can just cut it out later, leave only the wide shots.” Ethan noticed me and walked out. I followed him to an deserted area where several RVs were parked. Outside the set, a few young girls held up Ethan’s posters, screaming “Brother, brother!” frantically. “Anya, I actually really like you. How about we date secretly?” “You know how many A-list and B-list actresses and idols have pursued me, and I’ve turned them all down.” “But if it’s you… I might give it a try. I have a lot of resources. Even if I just drop a few crumbs, it’ll put you in a much better position than you are now.” He spoke casually, a cigarette held between the fingers of one hand, the other reaching out to touch my face, his expression one of confident determination. I disgustedly turned my head away, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” Ethan shrugged, looking nonchalant. “Lying to me? If you really do, bring him out. Then I won’t bother you.” His agent was looking for him. Luckily, I had been prepared and turned off my phone’s recording feature, finally feeling a sense of relief. If it came down to it, it would be a lose-lose situation. At worst, I’d just quit acting. 11 As dusk began to fall, I walked towards my trailer, phone in hand. Finn’s call came through. He asked if there still hurt, if the swelling had gone down after three days. Just as I was about to hang up, I suddenly asked, “Finn, when are you coming back?” “If you’re back in the country, could you pick me up from the set?” Perhaps it was the sting of recent humiliations, but a rare catch entered my voice, and my toes unconsciously scuffed the dirt beneath my feet. “Anya, what’s wrong?” His voice softened deliberately, like he was comforting a child. I opened my mouth to speak. “Mr. Burke, the client has been waiting for you in the conference room for five minutes. You need to go immediately.” His secretary was rushing him to a meeting. I hung up abruptly, then belatedly tapped my head. We were merely a contract couple. How could I possibly be acting so vulnerable and childish with him? I must have lost my mind.

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In my previous life, I resented Emily, the fake daughter, for occupying the place that rightfully belonged to me. I fought for and snatched at Emily’s belongings, earning myself a reputation for being consumed by jealousy. My biological father, Mr. Davies, claimed I had been corrupted, brandishing a belt to discipline me. My biological mother, Mrs. Davies, tearfully pushed me away: “If I had known you would become like this, I would rather not have given birth to you.” My brother, Henry, shielded Emily behind him: “My sister should be as pure and kind as Emily.” “You are so malicious; you don’t deserve to be my sister.” But they all forgot that I, too, should have grown up carefree by their side. Fine, if you prefer someone pure and kind. Then in this life, I will be that pure and kind girl. And I will make you willingly offer everything I desire. 1 When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was brought home to the Davies family. My biological parents were filled with guilt. They decorated my room like a princess’s, but its location was poor, facing north, deprived of sunlight. The two best rooms on the second floor were given to my brother, Henry, and to Emily, the fake daughter. In my previous life, because of the room issue, on the very first day I returned, I had a huge fight with my birth parents. I demanded why they hadn’t reserved the best room for me. I was determined to claim Emily’s room, scattering her belongings everywhere. Eventually, Emily, with red-rimmed eyes, conceded. “This room always belonged to Anya. Now that she’s back, it’s only right that I give it to her.” Under the guilty gazes of the whole family, she moved all her things into the guest room. “I never truly belonged in this family anyway, so let me stay here. As long as Anya feels better, I don’t care what happens to me.” I got the best room as I wished. But the very next day, my parents quietly transferred ownership of a luxurious apartment to Emily. “Emily, Anya was being unreasonable. Consider this apartment an apology from Mom and Dad on Anya’s behalf. If you’re ever unhappy, you can move in whenever you like.” “Mmm, thank you, Mom and Dad.” Emily hugged my mother, her suppressed tears making my parents’ hearts ache. Then, thinking of my unreasonable self, they sighed helplessly. 2 This time, I still didn’t step into the room prepared for me. I kept my lips tightly pressed together, standing by the doorway, my gaze lowered. “Mom, can I switch rooms?” “What’s wrong? Is the room not good enough?” My birth mother thought I was dissatisfied with the room and quickly took my hand, asking. I shook my head. “The room is wonderful. I never dreamed of living in such a beautiful room.” “But… everything is too perfect. So perfect that I’m afraid it’s all a dream, and it might just disappear suddenly.” I let my eyes well up with tears at just the right moment. My birth mother’s grip tightened, pulling my hand more firmly. “Silly child, of course not. This is real. Mom and Dad brought you home, and from now on, this is your home. You can do whatever you want in your own home.” Is that so? Yet, in my previous life, why did I have to resort to a hysterical argument just to get a room that was already mine? Why, when I asked for what was rightfully mine, did you make me feel like I was being unreasonable? “Mom, are you really serious?” My birth mother nodded. “Then, can I change rooms?” I insisted strongly, and my birth mother reluctantly gave in. “Alright, there are plenty of empty rooms. Pick whichever one you like, live wherever you want.” As my birth mother said this, I distinctly felt Emily, standing behind her, tremble slightly. My gaze passed over them, settling on Emily’s room. Emily’s pupils contracted sharply, and she instinctively clenched her fists. I deliberately kept my gaze fixed, standing still as if in deep thought. Then, just before Emily seemed to make some decision, I suddenly spoke. “Mom, I want to stay in that one.” My fingertip swept past Emily’s room, then past Henry’s room, finally landing on the staff quarters downstairs. My birth mother followed my gaze. Seeing which room I indicated, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She quickly exchanged a glance with my birth father, then forced a smile. “Anya, dear, that room is for the household staff. It’s small and cramped. How could you stay there?” “Sweetheart, be a good girl, let’s pick another one.” I shook my head, a look of longing on my face. “I think it’s wonderful. It has a comfortable bed and its own bathroom.” “I used to think that if I could ever live in such a nice room in this lifetime, I would die content. I never thought that day would actually come.” “Mom,” I pleaded, looking at my birth mother, “Can I have this wish?” “This…” My parents’ eyes darted between each other, their faces cycling through shades of red and white, like a colorful painting. Seeing that my parents didn’t know how to respond, Emily stepped forward to mediate. “How can this be? Why don’t you take my…” “Thank you, Mom and Dad.” Before Emily could finish, I cut her off directly, effectively silencing anything else she was about to say. This time, I wouldn’t give her the chance to display her gentle kindness. I turned and skipped downstairs, feigning an air of great happiness. Mom and Dad, you like kind and sensible daughters, don’t you? You feel guilty, don’t you? Well, now that your own biological daughter is suffering, how much guilt will you feel? 3 Early the next morning, the Davies family was woken by the sound of pots and pans clattering and breaking in the kitchen. When they came downstairs, I was on the floor, picking up shards. “Hiss~” The sharp edge of a broken bowl cut my rough fingertips. Blood immediately welled from the wound. Did it hurt? Not really. Compared to the beatings from my adoptive father, Mr. Evans, this was nothing. But my eyes still welled up with tears. I cautiously looked up, meeting my parents’ bewildered gazes. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad, I woke you.” “I just wanted to make breakfast for you, but the cabinet was too high for me to reach.” “So, I accidentally…” I lowered my head, not daring to look at them, trembling as I softly sobbed. Like a startled little rabbit. In my previous life, I had seen Emily act this way countless times. So, in this life, I had her act down pat. Sure enough, my birth mother ignored the shards on the floor and stepped right in, carefully pulling me out of the kitchen. “Child, we have a chef. You don’t need to cook.” My birth mother asked the housekeeper to bring the first aid kit and meticulously tended to my wound. I sniffled. “I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just become a habit.” “My adoptive father said if I didn’t work, he wouldn’t feed me.” “Mom, the taste of hunger isn’t pleasant. I don’t want to go hungry again.” My birth mother’s hand suddenly froze. They had investigated everything I had been through, knowing every detail. They felt guilty about me. In my previous life, it was the same. But they thought that by simply making amends, they could erase their guilt. And my daily jealousy provided them with a convenient excuse to dismiss that guilt. My birth mother looked away, raising a hand to wipe her face. She was crying. But this wasn’t enough. “Mom, it’s all my fault. Please don’t be sad.” I reached out and wrapped my arms around my birth mother’s neck. My oversized sleeve fell away, revealing the scars on my arm. “Anya, what happened to your arm?” My birth father, standing nearby, noticed the scars at once. My birth mother snapped out of it. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, she grabbed my wrist. She lifted my sleeve. A series of horrifying scars were exposed. My birth mother’s tears could no longer be held back. She hugged me, crying heartbrokenly, “My child, my poor child.” Even my birth father, usually so calm, wise, and unreadable, couldn’t help but get misty-eyed. In my previous life, when faced with my scars, they had merely looked away, advising me, “The past is the past. You need to learn to move forward.” “You have enough to eat and wear now. Don’t keep bringing up the past.” Back then, I was like a madwoman. I accused them of being unfit parents, of showing favoritism. It turns out, sometimes, the crazier you act, the less pity you receive. The calmer you are, the more people empathize. My past self thought that acting out would awaken their guilt. How foolish. 4 Under my deliberate display of vulnerability, my parents’ pity for me grew day by day. In contrast, they paid less attention to Emily. Emily had grown up being pampered by the family. Naturally, she was somewhat displeased by this shift in affection. But I had taken her path, leaving her no opportunity to showcase her understanding and kindness. She sat on the opposite sofa, watching us—a seemingly happy family of three—like a stranger. My peripheral vision secretly focused on her. Her pale fingertips repeatedly kneaded the throw pillow in her hands, her eyes filled with tears. Was she hurting? In my previous life, I felt the same way. My unreasonableness made my parents gradually lose faith in me. Emily, with her sweet words and kind heart, made my parents beam with joy. The three of them sat across from me, just as they are now, flaunting their happiness. To them, it seemed I was the outsider. If I were truly unrelated to them, it might not have mattered. But that warm family affection, that should have been mine. Watching everything that was rightfully mine being taken by another, my heart ached no less than Emily’s did now. … My parents, under my subtle guidance, now thought of me first for everything. Even the luxurious apartment they had given Emily in the previous life was now mine. “Anya, we know you’re still getting used to things after coming back, so Mom and Dad want to give you your own independent space. If you ever feel uncomfortable in this house, you can move in there anytime.” I looked at the name on the property deed, a cynical sneer forming in my heart. Indeed, money flows to those who don’t need it, and love flows to those who aren’t deprived of it. In my previous life, I lacked both, yet they gave them to Emily, who lacked neither. In this life, even after trying their best to make amends, they still felt it wasn’t enough and wanted to give more. But who would complain about having too much wealth? I feigned a slight refusal, then reluctantly accepted. I was genuinely worried that one day, I might suddenly be cast out, just like in my previous life. Having more security always seemed like a good idea.

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“Eight coins, no more, no less, tossed into the engine for good luck.” The frantic flashing of the dashboard alarms sent a cold sweat down my uniform. “Oh, come on, it’s a holiday! Doesn’t that turbine look just like a wishing well? I just threw in a few coins for good fortune.” The new flight attendant, a Gen Z, chewed gum nonchalantly while touching up her makeup. “I only tossed in eight, for ‘prosperity,’ to bless our flight with a safe journey.” “This is a jet engine! Foreign object ingestion can lead to an in-flight breakup, destroying the plane and killing everyone on board! You’re trying to murder everyone on this aircraft!” “You’re being so dramatic! I was doing it for everyone’s good. What’s a few coins going to do?” She rolled her eyes, grabbed a bag of crisps from the cart, and tossed it at the cockpit door. “Here, have some crisps. Calm down, alright?” “Making such a fuss over nothing. You’re so provincial. Just take off already, you pathetic man!” I slammed my hand on the cabin door switch, locking the air bridge. “Are you insane? I’m going to expose you!” “You won’t have to. Air Traffic Control has already called the authorities. Endangering public safety. You’ll be having your holiday dinner at the station this year!” … Urgent footsteps echoed down the air bridge. Maksim, the Operations Manager, was the first to burst in, his face ashen. “Who told you to lock the door? Open it right now!” He pointed at the cockpit door, yelling at me. “Captain, are you trying to get fired? Have you calculated how much the company gets fined for every minute of delay?” “Mr. Maksim, a foreign object has been ingested into the engine. We cannot take off.” Lenore immediately squeezed past him, clinging to Maksim’s side, tears instantly welling up. “Mr. Maksim, you have to stand up for me!” She pointed at me, her voice choked with sobs. “I just threw in a few coins for good luck, and he called me a murderer and threatened to have me arrested.” “He even yelled at me in front of everyone. I was so scared.” “So many VIP clients are waiting on board. Whose fault will it be if we’re delayed?” Maksim immediately shielded Lenore behind him, glaring at me. “You’re a grown man, why are you arguing with a young lady? It’s just a few coins!” He pointed his finger at my nose. “Do you even know what an engine is made of? Titanium alloy! The hardest metal in the world! What could a few coins possibly do to it?” “I’ve been in management for years, and I’ve never seen such an irresponsible pilot!” “You’re scaremongering! This is professional negligence!” I pulled out my phone, intending to show him the engine photos I’d just taken. “It’s regulation. Any foreign object ingestion requires a grounded inspection.” Maksim swatted my phone away and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Tower, cancel the alert. It was an internal crew misunderstanding.” He barked into the walkie-talkie, then turned to me, his voice chilling. “For the company’s on-time performance assessment at the end of the year, this plane will fly today.” “Whatever happens, I, Maksim, will take responsibility!” I ignored him, firmly blocking the cockpit door. “I am the Captain. I make the final call on this aircraft.” I pulled out my flight manual from my pocket and flipped to the section on foreign object damage. “The manual states that suspected foreign object damage must be confirmed by maintenance. Not taking off is just a delay. Taking off is a catastrophe.” “I have the final authority.” Maksim scoffed, laughing angrily, and tore the four stripes from my shoulder. “Captain? Do you really think you’re someone important?” He slammed the epaulets onto the ground, pointing at Lenore behind me. “This young lady had good intentions, wishing good fortune for everyone on board. Don’t you understand social graces? No wonder you’re single!” I looked at the epaulets on the ground, saying nothing. Maksim’s mood shifted faster than flipping a page. He turned to Lenore, his voice softening. “Don’t worry, Lenore. The manager is here.” “These kinds of pilots are just uncultured. Don’t pay him any mind.” He put an arm around Lenore’s shoulder, as if comforting a child who had suffered a great injustice. “Come on, I’ll take you to first class to relax and have some champagne to calm your nerves.” Lenore, teary-eyed, nodded. As she passed me, she cast a triumphant glance. Before leaving, Maksim picked up the interphone in the air bridge. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience, but due to the Captain’s sudden personal health issue, this flight will be delayed for some time.” “His emotional state is currently unstable, and for everyone’s safety, we need a moment to address the situation.” His voice echoed throughout the air bridge and the cabin. I listened to the broadcast, to the murmurs and discussions beginning in the cabin, and clenched my fists. The next day, the company’s official notice came down. “Captain Luke Miller is suspended from all flying duties pending further review due to a lack of big-picture thinking, insubordination, and causing a significant flight delay.” The memo was circulated to all departments, effectively a public execution. I returned to the flight preparation room to pack my personal belongings. Lenore was sitting in my usual seat, scrolling through her phone and slurping spicy noodles. The pungent smell filled the entire room. My flight bag was under her feet, and my flight log, placed beneath her noodle bowl, was soaked with a large red oil stain. Seeing me enter, she didn’t even lift an eyelid, spitting a gnawed chicken bone onto my desk. I walked over, wanting to retrieve my flight log. Annoyed by my presence, Lenore pulled out my flight checklist. It was a checklist I’d used for ten years, every page filled with notes and insights. Without even looking, she muttered disdainfully, “What a piece of junk.” Then she grabbed it, wiped the oil from the corners of her mouth, crumpled it into a ball, and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can. “What are you looking at?” Lenore swung her phone, raising an eyebrow triumphantly. “Mr. Maksim said this VIP prep room is now exclusively mine.” “You pathetic man, you don’t deserve to be in here anymore.” She shoved her phone screen in my face, the bright social media interface glaring. The title read: “Beware! Arrogant Pilot Maliciously Delays Flight and Tries to Arrest Me Out of Jealousy for My Youthful Beauty!” The photo was a side profile of me, accompanied by her tearful selfie. The comments section had exploded. “This guy is so pathetic. Why wouldn’t he let the beautiful young lady pray for good fortune?” “A road-raging pilot is terrifying. He should be banned for life!” “He looks like a creep. Maybe he tried to hit on her, failed, and got mad?” “Dug it up! His parents are just regular factory workers. No wonder his personality is so dark.” Someone had already doxxed my home address and phone number. “Everyone, let’s go flood his accounts! Let him know we young ladies aren’t to be trifled with!” I felt a wave of suffocation. Maksim happened to pass by the door. Seeing the scene, he didn’t stop it. Instead, he patted Lenore’s shoulder. “Well done. You understand how to use new media to maintain our company’s positive image.” “This is the new generation our company needs, much better than some of the old guard.” He turned to me, his face grim, and ordered. “Luke, what are you standing there for? Apologize to Lenore right now!” “How much negative impact have you caused your colleague and the company with your impulsiveness? Can you bear that responsibility?” I didn’t look at him, nor at Lenore. I silently bent down and picked up the oil-stained flight checklist from the trash can. I carefully unfolded it, smoothing out the creases. Then, I turned and left the preparation room. My eyes, however, had turned to ice. I didn’t go home; I went straight to the hangar. “Miller, these are the coins found on the tarmac – eight of them. And here’s the preliminary damage report. Take it.” I took the evidence bag and the report. “I also copied the tarmac surveillance footage for you, just in case,” Old Robert whispered. I took photos and, along with pictures of the torn checklist, saved them all into an encrypted folder. “Thanks, mate.” “No worries. We all believe you. That woman and Maksim have been lording it over everyone for ages. We’ve been fed up with them.” Three days later, the non-destructive testing report from the engine’s original manufacturer arrived. The email from the German engineer included detailed endoscope photos and data analysis. The conclusion: eight coins were ingested the moment the engine started, leading to severe curling and fracturing of 18 fan turbine blades, and multiple internal damages to the core engine. Repair solution: replace the entire engine. Estimated cost: 30 million Euros. The report was immediately escalated to the Civil Aviation Authority. The CAA swiftly formed an investigation team, classifying the incident as a “serious flight safety hazard.” The company was immediately ordered to suspend some routes for rectification. The entire company was in an uproar. When Maksim’s call came, I was at home organizing evidence. “Luke Miller, get your backside to the company right now!” His voice roared through the phone. I walked into Maksim’s office. Lenore was there too, sobbing on the sofa. Maksim slammed a German report onto my face. “You’re so capable, aren’t you? You’re the Captain, aren’t you? The plane is your responsibility, so why didn’t you stop her from throwing coins?” “Now you’ve caused such a huge mess. Are you deliberately trying to ruin the company?” The edge of the paper cut my face, burning hot. Lenore cried even harder, pointing at me through her tears. “I’m just a child! I didn’t know anything! How was I supposed to know that thing was so precious?” “It’s all because the engine wasn’t made strong enough! How could it break with just a few coins thrown in?” “You’re the Captain! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Were you deliberately trying to make me look bad, trying to ruin me?” Maksim pulled out a printed document from his drawer and slapped it on the table. “This is the ‘Accident Liability Report.’ Sign it now.” I picked it up. It stated in black and white that the cause of the accident was my “negligence in pre-flight inspection, failing to detect foreign objects on the runway,” subtly changing the nature of “deliberate coin throwing” to “accidental ingestion.” They even had a backup plan, ready for me to admit it was a “bird strike.” “You take responsibility for this, and the matter will be closed.” Maksim stared at me, his eyes dark. “If you don’t sign, the company will notify the entire industry and revoke your pilot’s license. You’ll never touch a cockpit again in your life.” “I know all the recruitment managers at every airline. I guarantee you won’t even find a ground staff job!” “The company’s reputation has been damaged because of you, and we’ll demand 30 million in compensation from you!” I looked at these two legal ignoramuses performing their charade in front of me and suddenly smiled. I put down the report and asked calmly, “Are you sure you want to fabricate an aviation accident investigation report to cover up a mistake?”

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When the entertainment industry’s big celebrity “roundup” scandal broke, Tiffany was posting her ‘conquest’ photos on social media.” The caption read: “Battle-hardened, yet still haven’t experienced the feeling of pupils losing focus.” I found it amusing and even shared the gossip with my boyfriend, Adrian. But Adrian stared intently at his phone, his eyes bloodshot. That night, Adrian excused himself, claiming he had to work late. Hours later, the intern updated her “conquest” photos once more. “First ‘pupil focus loss’ experience: accomplished!” This time, the man in the picture had a distinctive red mole on his collarbone. It was identical to Adrian’s. 1. I’m not the type to just stew in silence, so I called Adrian immediately. But after a few “dings,” the call disconnected. I stubbornly tried several more times, each call hung up instantly. I left Adrian a message on our chat app, demanding he call me back right away to explain. But the next moment, I scrolled past two new posts from Tiffany. “Ugh, so annoying. Can some ‘doting wives’ develop a bit of self-sufficiency? Stop calling and disturbing people’s beauty sleep!!” “Called over a dozen times, truly frightening. I bet the doting wife will be kneeling downstairs at my apartment later, begging her husband to come home, right? (Mouth covered in a giggle)” These posts were clearly aimed directly at me. At this point, I didn’t need Adrian to confirm anything. So, I announced our breakup directly on my own social media. “Called my boyfriend, but accidentally woke up his bedmate. I felt truly bad, so I had no choice but to turn my boyfriend into an ex-boyfriend, just so the bedmate could calm down.” Then I messaged Adrian privately: “Unilateral breakup. You’re on your own.” Even though I’d sent the breakup message, a part of me still hoped Adrian would offer an explanation. We’d been childhood friends for over two decades; I didn’t want our relationship to end so ambiguously. A minute after sending the message, Adrian called me back. “Summer, I’m so sorry. My boss was holding us in a meeting, so I had to keep hanging up on you.” “Do you know your breakup message scared me? Are you misunderstanding something?” I didn’t reply, but listened carefully to the background noise on Adrian’s end. There was the sound of typing, and I could faintly hear a man’s voice hyping up his subordinates. “Summer, listen, if you don’t believe me, my colleagues are all working overtime right now. They’ll think I’m slacking if I even call you back.” Seeing I didn’t respond, Adrian immediately held his phone further away. The typing sounds from the phone grew clearer, occasionally mixed with a few grumbles from overworked employees. Could I really have misunderstood? But Tiffany’s posts were too coincidental. Adrian then softly pleaded with me a few more times, seemingly being urged by his colleagues’ glares. After much thought, I decided to wait for Adrian to return home to clear things up. 2. The next morning, Adrian came home, looking exhausted. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, as if he really had worked all night. But seeing me, he still forced a smile, trying to appear energetic. He held up a bag and said, “Summer, haven’t you been wanting to try the pastries from that new bakery? I specifically waited in line to get them. Try them while they’re still warm.” The bag contained pastries from a popular bakery. They were supposedly so popular you had to queue for an hour to get them. My mood brightened a little. Maybe I was just overthinking things. But after opening the box, I paused again. I remembered the bakery’s promotional images showed eight pastries, but there were only six here. The pastries were also no longer warm, and even had some congealed grease on them. They looked like leftovers. Adrian noticed my confusion and explained, “Maybe the bakery was too busy and gave the wrong quantity. And I rushed home, so some of the filling might have leaked, which is why they look like this.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t get my darling Summer the best-looking pastries. It’s my fault.” Adrian resorted to his usual charming act, trying to win me over. But after the events of last night, the alarm bells in my mind wouldn’t stop ringing. I didn’t avoid Adrian. I directly took out my phone to check Tiffany’s updates. Sure enough, just fifteen minutes earlier, Tiffany had uploaded several breakfast photos on another platform. “The man who abandoned his ‘lovesick old lady’ to sleep with me actually queued for an hour this morning to buy me pastries, supposedly from a bakery the old lady always wanted to try but never got to!” The photos clearly showed pastries and popular new items from that very bakery. On the table were used tissues and two sets of cutlery, and there were exactly six leftover pastries in the box. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to be angry or to just smile bitterly. Adrian was willing to queue for an hour for Tiffany, but he couldn’t even bother to buy a full box of pastries to fool me. I placed my phone in front of Adrian, waiting to see what else he would try. Adrian’s face fell. Then, frantically, he reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled away. “Summer, I know what you’re thinking. You think I have something going on with that crazy woman, but I swear I haven’t had any contact with her!” “I really was working overtime last night, all the way until this morning. If you don’t believe me, you should believe my colleagues, right? You’ve met Daniel and Robert before; they can vouch for me!” As he spoke, Adrian called Daniel. The call was answered quickly. Daniel, having heard the gist of the situation, vouched for Adrian wholeheartedly. “Summer, you have to believe Adrian. All of us colleagues know how much he loves you. How could he cheat?” “We worked overtime all night yesterday. I have video proof. If you don’t believe me, I can send you the video.” Adrian also looked at me sincerely, his eyes watery like a large dog afraid of being abandoned. I received the video from Daniel. Everything in the video looked normal; they were indeed working overtime. But Adrian, who briefly flashed by in the video, wasn’t wearing the same clothes as last night. I asked Daniel, “The shooting date of this video isn’t yesterday, is it? Are you really going to use your integrity to cover for Adrian’s lie?” Daniel still tried to argue, but I shut him down with one sentence: “My mother just prayed for me yesterday. The oracle said that anyone who lies to me will have a year of bad luck.” Daniel, originally from a superstitious background, immediately fell silent. 3. Adrian kept trying to explain. But I was focused on only one thing: packing all of Adrian’s clothes into a suitcase and throwing it out the door. I stood at the doorway, gesturing for Adrian to take his things and get out of the apartment. Seeing me so cold-hearted, Adrian also started to get angry. “Summer, do you have to be like this? I’ve explained everything. I have nothing to do with that crazy woman, but you just won’t listen to me and live in your own delusions!” “How many more times do I have to say it? I’m innocent. I never cheated on you!” Faced with his evasions, I said only one word. “Get out—” 4. Adrian and I officially separated. My friends all assumed I was single again, and some even sent me contacts for younger men, telling me to just relax and have some fun. I wasn’t in a hurry to start a new relationship. Adrian and I had known each other for over two decades and been in love for ten years; the impact of that relationship wouldn’t simply vanish overnight. Moreover, Adrian was still relentlessly bothering me, which made me even less inclined to love someone new. Seeing that I was unresponsive, Adrian packed gifts and went to visit my parents. He adopted a humble posture and tearfully complained to my parents for a long time. He claimed that other women were trying to seduce him, and when he refused, they tried to falsely accuse him. After some back and forth, my father actually believed him and urged me to reconcile with him. “Your father heard from Adrian. That woman tried to seduce him, and that’s why she went to such lengths to destroy your relationship. You need to trust Adrian more. You two are going to get married. How can you always be so suspicious of your husband?” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to my father’s old-fashioned nonsense about marital virtues, so I quickly said a few words and hung up. Then I unblocked Adrian, sent him a middle finger emoji, and dragged him back to the block list. Probably thinking that appealing to my parents had worked, Adrian went to my house for several days in a row to drink with my father. After a while, even my mother believed his nonsense and advised me to give him another chance. I was so annoyed that I decided to talk to Adrian in person. Fearing Adrian might try some candlelight dinner, kneeling-to-propose-reconciliation trick, I didn’t schedule a meeting in advance. Instead, I went directly to Adrian’s apartment after work to wait for him. Who knew I’d stumble upon a big surprise shortly after arriving? Adrian walked ahead, his face cold, while a long-haired woman scurried behind him and hugged him. “Tiffany, I told you, don’t come looking for me anymore!” Adrian seemed very angry. He struggled a few times but couldn’t break free from Tiffany’s embrace. Tiffany buried her face in his back, laughing freely: “Adrian, stop pretending. Who was it who said they’d die happy in my arms? How could you forget what you said after just a few days?” Her slender fingers caressed Adrian’s face, then she blew a breath into his ear. “I’m in my safe period today, and I haven’t had dinner. Want to take me to your place for a bit?” Adrian’s face remained grim, but he stopped struggling. Seeing this, Tiffany walked directly in front of him and kissed him. They kissed for a long time, so long that I managed to record two long videos before they finally stopped. Adrian cursed, “Are you that desperate for a man? Can any man just take you home?” Tiffany chuckled, “No, it has to be a man I fancy.” Adrian snarled, “Are you a public transport vehicle?” Tiffany said, “But aren’t I the ‘public transport vehicle’ you love?” The two of them were entwined for so long, they didn’t even notice me standing nearby. Perfect. I didn’t need to talk to Adrian anymore. The footage I had just recorded on my phone would be enough to shut everyone up. Back home, I sent the uncut video to my social media, with the caption: “Two public transport vehicles illegally entered [Apartment Name]—is it a distortion of human nature or the degradation of morality?” 5. Over the next few hours, I received countless messages and calls, all wanting to extract new gossip from me. A few friends even created a group chat to furiously denounce Adrian, with even his childhood bedwetting being cited as a sign of his scoundrel nature. My mom called too, asking, “Summer, did Adrian really do something like that?” I sighed, “Absolutely. I listened to your advice and wanted to talk to him properly, but when I went to his apartment building, I stumbled upon this.” “Ugh, Mom, I feel so exhausted, I don’t want to love anymore…” I deliberately adopted a depressed tone, which made my mom scold my dad, telling him not to consider Adrian, that scoundrel, as a son-in-law anymore. Over the next few days, the incident’s popularity didn’t wane, even spreading to old alumni groups. Because of this, Adrian, who had been kept in the dark by mutual friends, found out. He called, trying to get me to delete the video and clear his name. “Summer, I don’t know when you got to my apartment, but that day I was really rejecting Tiffany. She forced a kiss on me. I was the one being molested.” Banking on the blurry audio in the video, Adrian assumed I hadn’t heard their explicit flirting, so he tried to fool me like an idiot. “Adrian, stop treating everyone like fools. You’re a young man, 6 feet 1 and 155 pounds, and you’re telling me you were helpless against a frail woman’s molestation?” “You might as well openly admit you enjoyed it. At least then I wouldn’t add another mark against you in my mind.” “Summer!” Adrian’s tone was agitated. “Do you know that because of this video, my company’s management has already spoken to me, and my old classmates are all laughing at me behind my back? This was all just a misunderstanding, why do you have to post it online and ruin me?” “Come on, Summer, quickly delete those videos and help me clarify with our classmates.” “Just say I was drunk that day, disoriented, and Tiffany forced a kiss on me. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. We’ll be good from now on, okay?” I scoffed, “Adrian, did you ‘slip’ into bed with Tiffany too? Stop feigning sincerity. Even a dog’s bark is more believable than you.” At this point, Adrian dropped his act of being a devoted partner and roared furiously: “Summer! We were together for ten years, how could you stab me in the back like this?” Even through the phone, I could feel Adrian’s rage. Yes, everything I did was indeed meant to spite him. He thought I disregarded our past affection, but did he ever consider my feelings when he was fooling around with Tiffany? If I were a lovesick fool, I’d probably be in agony right now. “Adrian, I merely told everyone the truth. Is that considered a betrayal?” “Let me tell you what a betrayal is: a betrayal is you lying to me to go mess around with Tiffany. A betrayal is you disregarding our twenty years of friendship, acting like a public transport vehicle while still expecting me to be your sucker and marry you.” Due to his guilt, Adrian unconsciously raised his voice: “Summer! I just made a mistake any man might make! Why are you so heartless? Do you have to completely ruin me?” “I’m not ruining you; you’re ruining yourself. But don’t overthink it. Things like AIDS or syphilis probably won’t be so unlucky as to infect you. The probability is likely zero.” With that, I intended to hang up, but Adrian delivered one last threat. “Fine, Summer, don’t you dare regret this! You’re just jealous that Tiffany attracts men, aren’t you? Then I’ll be with her, and make you, this ‘man-hater,’ look even more pathetic!” Adrian clearly didn’t realize his threat had no effect on me. Losing his love was like a shark losing a chicken bone. For a while after, Adrian, to spite me, would constantly flaunt his relationship with Tiffany in various ways. He not only posted intimate photos and gift photos of them, but also shared pictures of the ultra-thin condoms they used. To ensure I saw them, Adrian even created a new account and paid for promotional ads. Tiffany also boldly declared on her social media: “It’s 2024, and I can’t believe there are still such old-fashioned ‘old maid’ wives out there. She got dumped by a man, and now she’s taking it out on another beautiful woman (eye roll) (eye roll)” “So what if I’m a ‘thousand-man slayer’? Are you jealous? Just say it. Don’t snoop and take pictures like a cockroach in the shadows. But it’s all good now~ The little cockroach’s darling husband is now my forty-ninth boyfriend. The wife must be crying her eyes out in the restroom~ (smile) (confetti)” This prompted several mutual friends to send me screenshots, asking if they had lost their minds. I replied: “Perhaps their brains are rotting.”

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1 A month after my mother’s funeral, my father brought his mistress home. I lost it—screamed, cried, and hurled a heavy crystal glass at her and her daughter. The mistress played the delicate damsel, clutching her head and leaning on my father, assuring him she was fine. That enraged him. For the first time, he shouted at me to go to my room. Blazing with fury, I didn’t obey—I stormed out. His face purpled, hand on his chest. “If you leave, don’t come back!” But I did, penniless, burning to make him regret the affair, losing me, and above all, my mother. Outside our mansion, reality was brutal. A high school dropout, I landed menial jobs—scrubbing floors, delivering takeout, maid work—earning barely $3,000 a month, nowhere near enough for a decent place. I shared a cramped, damp basement with strangers. One night, rushing a delivery, I ran a red light. The last thing I saw was a semi‑truck’s grille. I died unclaimed in a morgue, while my father threw a lavish party for his newborn son’s first month. He had his perfect family. I died alone in the dark. Then I opened my eyes—back to the day his mistress and her daughter first entered our home. This time, I didn’t scream or cry. I slipped something into my father’s tea. A little something to make sure he’d never have another child. … CRASH! The crystal glass found its mark, shattering against the mistress’s forehead. She let out a soft cry, clutching the bleeding gash as she crumpled gracefully into my father’s arms. “Ava, are you out of your mind?” he roared, his face contorted with fury. “Have you forgotten every shred of decency I ever taught you?” I stood there, stunned for a moment, the ghost of a semi-truck’s horn still ringing in my ears. It took me a second to realize it had worked. I was back. I was reborn. The mistress, Veronica, clung to his arm, her voice a syrupy whisper. “Richard, darling, don’t be so hard on her. She just lost her mother. It’s only natural she’s upset.” My father’s anger melted into concern for her. He wrapped an arm around Veronica, his glare fixed on me. “You will apologize to your Aunt Veronica this instant!” Tears welled in Veronica’s eyes as she waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, it’s not necessary. I know a girl like Ava looks down on someone like me. Please, don’t fight because of me. I’ll just go.” She turned, making a show of grabbing her suitcase to leave. That was the cue for her daughter, Jessica. She burst into tears. “Mommy, didn’t you say we gave up our apartment? Does that mean we’re homeless again?” That did it. Any hesitation my father had vanished. His expression hardened. He pointed to the master bedroom, my mother’s bedroom. “You’re not going anywhere. From now on, Veronica, you are the lady of this house.” Then he pointed at me. “And you, Ava, will go to your room and stay there until you’ve learned some respect!” The mother and daughter kept their heads down, their shoulders shaking with silent sobs, but I could see the triumphant glint in their eyes. The conniving bitch. She was the one who had an affair with a married man. She was the one moving in before the flowers on my mother’s grave had even started to wilt. And she had the audacity to play the victim. My hand instinctively clenched, ready to grab another glass. But I caught sight of my father’s face, flushed with a dangerous rage. In my last life, my pride couldn’t handle him yelling at me. I’d run out with nothing, leaving all my designer clothes and jewelry for Jessica to claim as her own. And what did it get me? Dead on the asphalt for a three-dollar delivery fee. Not this time. I would not make the same mistake twice. I relaxed my fist and dug my nails into my thigh, hard. The sting brought tears to my eyes. “Dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Are you getting rid of me?” My father, who had been seconds from exploding, blinked. His anger softened slightly. “What are you talking about? You’re my only daughter. How could I ever get rid of you?” I pouted, pointing a finger at Jessica. “Then what about her? Is she here to be your new daughter? Is she going to live in our house?” “She’s Veronica’s daughter,” he said automatically. “If it bothers you, she can call me Mr. Blackwood.” At the thought of their new luxurious life slipping away, Veronica and Jessica’s faces tightened. Jessica put on her most pitiful expression. “Mr. Blackwood, does… does your daughter not like me?” Veronica jumped in immediately. “Richard, perhaps this is too much for you. If Ava really doesn’t want us here, we won’t force it.” Her voice dropped to a devoted murmur. “As long as I can be with you, anywhere is home.” My father melted, completely captivated by her declaration of love. He took a deep breath. “Ava, from now on, Veronica is your mother. And Jessica is your sister. You will treat them with respect.” My fists clenched again, my nails digging into my palms. My real mother’s memorial flowers were still fresh. How dare he? “Dad, it hasn’t even been two months since Mom… You two were married for so long. She loved you so much. Is this woman in such a hurry?” The mention of my mother brought a flicker of guilt to his eyes. He finally relented. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Veronica, perhaps you and Jessica could stay at the downtown apartment for a few days?” Veronica’s eyes shot daggers at me. Then, she pressed a hand to her injured forehead, her voice suddenly weak. “Richard, you know I’ll do whatever you think is best…” She didn’t even finish the sentence before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. Jessica shrieked in terror. “Mom! What’s wrong? Mom, don’t scare me, you know your health is fragile!” My father, ever the hero, swept Veronica into his arms, yelling, “Doctor! Somebody get the doctor!” I sat on the sofa and watched the drama unfold with a cold smile. So, she’d found a way to stay. Fine. I had plenty of ways to kick her out again. 2 “The family doctor says your little stunt gave Veronica a concussion. Now go up there and apologize properly!” Upstairs, Veronica was propped up in bed, a pristine white bandage wrapped around her head, already playing the peacemaker. “Richard, don’t blame the child. I’m sure she didn’t mean it, did you, Ava?” She looked at me, her eyes full of a sweet, venomous challenge. The old me would have exploded. But the new me was better at this game than she was. I let my own eyes well up with tears. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I was just so upset, I threw a glass. I never imagined Aunt Veronica would lunge right into its path!” My father was so taken aback by the absurdity of my apology that his anger fizzled out into a short laugh. He patted my head. “I’ve spoiled this one rotten. Veronica, don’t you mind her.” Veronica’s face darkened for a split second before she forced another radiant smile. It was fine. As long as they were in the house, she was confident she could win him over completely. Later that evening, when it was time to choose rooms, Jessica’s eyes immediately fell on my suite on the second floor. It was the largest bedroom besides the master, with the best light, a walk-in closet, and an en-suite bathroom. Veronica was quick to feign humility. “Jessica, that’s Ava’s room. You couldn’t possibly.” Turning to my father, she added, “Richard, Jessica isn’t used to such large spaces. The first-floor guest room is more than enough. We don’t want to be any trouble.” Jessica’s face crumpled, tears threatening to spill over. I saw my father’s resolve begin to waver. I stepped in. “Dad, I think Aunt Veronica is right. What if Jessica has nightmares in a room that big? Besides, our guest room is lovely. Once it’s fixed up, it’ll feel just like home for my new little sister.” The tight line of my father’s brow relaxed. “You’re right. I didn’t consider that. If you’re not comfortable, you can stay in the guest room for now.” The smile on Veronica’s face finally cracked. But mine was just beginning to bloom. Back in my room, I pulled up the feed from the micro-camera I’d installed in the guest room earlier. Jessica was in the middle of a full-blown tantrum. “Mom! You promised I’d be a princess here! Why does she still get to walk all over me?” Veronica’s face was a stony mask. “What do you know? This is called strategy. She’s just a spoiled brat. You think she stands a chance against me? Your ‘Uncle’ Richard doesn’t have a son. Just wait until I’m pregnant with his heir. We’ll see how smug little Ava is then.” With that, Veronica swept out of the room, on her way to bring my father a cup of tea in his study. And I had already dosed the entire kettle. 3 To my absolute shock, three months later, Veronica was pregnant. The news hit me like a physical blow. I frantically messaged the online seller who’d sold me the drug. What the hell happened? The reply came from a flamboyant, theatrical voice over the encrypted chat. “Darling, that’s simply impossible! This isn’t your garden-variety sterilization drug. A man who takes this for an extended period doesn’t just become sterile, he becomes…” The rest of the message made me laugh. And it confirmed one thing with absolute certainty. There was no way my father could get anyone pregnant. So whose baby was it? My father, however, was ecstatic. A son, in his old age! He was over the moon. He immediately had the master suite redecorated to Veronica’s tastes and insisted that Jessica move into my room. “Veronica says Jessica is scared to sleep alone. She can keep you company.” Veronica caressed her still-flat stomach, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Ava, you don’t mind, do you?” I smiled back, just as sweetly. “Of course not. Once you have my new baby brother, we’ll finally be a real family.” My father beamed, seeing us getting along so well. He declared we were all going out for a celebratory dinner. When I went back to my room, I found Jessica standing in front of my full-length mirror, teetering in a pair of my burgundy stilettos. She saw me and grinned. “These are gorgeous. You don’t mind if I borrow them, do you, sis?” They were the last gift my mother ever gave me, for my eighteenth birthday. I’d never even worn them myself. My patience snapped. “Take them off. Now.” Jessica scoffed. “So, the nice girl act is over now that Daddy’s not around?” With a vicious smirk, she kicked her foot back, slamming the delicate heel into the mirror. The stiletto snapped with a sickening crack as the glass spiderwebbed and shattered. I froze. A moment later, hurried footsteps pounded up the stairs. Veronica appeared in the doorway, clinging to my father’s arm. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes reddened. “Jessica, darling! Your leg, it’s bleeding! Are you hurt?” Jessica clutched her calf, where a shard of glass had nicked her, and started sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Ava! I shouldn’t have touched your shoes! Please, don’t blame Mom for this!” The broken shoe lay amidst the shards of glass, painting a perfect picture: me, in a fit of rage, smashing the shoe against the mirror. My father’s brow furrowed, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Ava. And here I was, thinking you’d finally grown up. You’re all sweetness to our faces, and this is what you do behind our backs.” I opened my mouth to explain. “It was her, she…” “Enough!” he boomed. “You always have an excuse! The truth is you can’t stand to see this family happy!” I fell silent. He pulled out his phone and made a call, then gestured to my closet. “Pack your things. You’re an adult now. You can live on your own.” His voice was cold, final. “I’ve arranged an apartment for you. Don’t come back unless you’re invited. Veronica needs a peaceful environment for her pregnancy.” I nodded slowly. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m taking one thing with me.” With that, I shoved Jessica aside, grabbed the shoe from her other foot, and wrenched it off. She shrieked as her hand pressed down on the broken glass, glaring at me with pure hatred. I didn’t even look at her. I just wiped the shoe clean with a look of disgust. “You win,” I said to them. “You got me out of the house.” My father started to lecture me again, but I looked him straight in the eye, my voice thick with emotion. “This was the last gift Mom ever gave me. I’m not letting them have it.” He froze. I walked past them without another word and went downstairs. The driver was already waiting. I got in the car and closed my eyes. It didn’t matter. I had already sold or replaced everything valuable in the house with fakes. My last life taught me one thing: the only thing you can truly count on is cash. As for Veronica and her daughter? Their time would come. The apartment my father arranged was near my school—an elite prep school where tuition was more important than grades. The next day, I walked onto campus and saw Jessica, holding court in the middle of a circle of fawning students. She was wearing my clothes and carrying one of my swapped-out fake designer bags. “Well, well, look what we have here,” one of the girls sneered. “If it isn’t the former princess of the Blackwood family. Kicked out of your own house and you still show your face here?” The group erupted in laughter. Jessica glided over to me, wrapping her arm around mine in a show of false intimacy. “Ava, don’t listen to them. Even after my baby brother is born, you’ll always be a Blackwood.” I pulled my arm away. “We? Is your last name Blackwood now?” Her expression faltered. “Ava,” she said, her voice dripping with hurt, “are you still mad at me? It wasn’t my fault that Uncle Richard asked you to leave.” A few of the fair-weather friends chimed in. “Don’t apologize to her, Jessica. She’s just a stuck-up snob!” “Yeah, acting so high and mighty. Let’s see how she acts when she’s cut out of the will.” I said nothing, just stared down at my textbook. I’d seen the worst of human nature in my last life. Their petty taunts were nothing to me. Jessica basked in their sycophantic praise, announcing loudly, “Well, when my baby brother has his one-month celebration, you’re all invited!” I gripped my pen, a cold smile touching my lips. Good, I thought. I hope every single one of them is there to watch the show. Ten months flew by. The day of my “brother’s” party arrived. My father called me personally, ordering me to come home. “Alright, that’s enough sulking. He’s your brother. What will people think if his own sister doesn’t show up?” I agreed instantly. I grabbed the file from my desk and slipped it into my backpack. When I arrived in my plain school uniform, my father, who was greeting guests, frowned in disapproval. “Ava, for heaven’s sake, don’t you have any sense of occasion? You couldn’t find a single decent dress to wear?” My gaze drifted to Jessica, who was preening in a couture gown. I tilted my chin towards her. “Weren’t all my clothes given to the new young lady of the house?” My father fell silent, instead beckoning an assistant to take me to get changed. Just then, Veronica approached, holding the baby. “Ava, you’re here! Would you like to hold your little brother?” Before I could even react, she was thrusting the baby into my arms. I reached out, but it was too late. I wasn’t ready. The swaddled infant slipped through my grasp and fell to the polished marble floor. A piercing, agonized wail echoed through the grand hall. I stared at her in disbelief. The woman was truly ruthless, willing to use her own son as a pawn in her sick game. Every eye in the room turned to us. Veronica let out a heart-wrenching cry. “Ava! I know you don’t like him, but how could you drop him on purpose!” My father’s face went black with rage. He didn’t wait for an explanation. His hand flew through the air and a sharp, stinging slap landed across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, my skin burning. It took a moment to register what had just happened. My father had hit me. For the first time in my entire life. An unspeakable mix of betrayal and fury exploded in my chest. He clutched his heart, his voice a disappointed roar. “I was a fool to ever trust you. You ungrateful monster, how could you harm your own brother!” Veronica was sobbing, cradling the crying infant. “He’s just a baby! How can you hate him this much? Are you that afraid he’ll take your inheritance?” The atmosphere in the room shifted. I could feel their stares: mocking, disdainful, morbidly curious. “That Blackwood girl is more vicious than she looks. Dropping a newborn like that!” My father was trembling with rage. “Do you think I’m a doddering old fool? I’m telling you right now, you won’t see a single penny of my fortune!” A collective gasp went through the crowd. I saw the undisguised joy in Veronica and Jessica’s eyes. It was happening. The entire Blackwood fortune would soon be theirs. I touched my stinging cheek and let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. But I didn’t break down. I didn’t scream or cry. I simply reached into my bag and pulled out the paternity test. “Dad, maybe you should look at this gift before you make any final decisions.”

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1 It was our second anniversary. I saw the note on my boss Alexander’s phone, and my world tilted on its axis. It was a checklist, a brutal list of requirements for his perfect girlfriend: Under 28. Fluent in five languages. Stanford graduate. C-cup… There were twenty-five items in total. Not a single one of them described me. In that moment, our secret, two-year affair finally made a twisted kind of sense. I tried to console myself, telling myself no one could possibly meet every single one of his ridiculously demanding criteria. Then came the new hire interviews. I sat beside him as he picked up one woman’s resume, his head nodding in approval again and again. When my eyes caught a glimpse of her qualifications, a cold certainty washed over me. My time with Alexander was over. The interview was almost unnervingly smooth. Alexander asked the woman, Isabella, question after question, a mix of professional and deeply personal. “What are your hobbies?” “What’s your favorite food?” With every answer she gave, the stern, unsmiling lines of his face softened into something I’d never seen before. I knew why. Every single one of her answers ticked a box on his list. My heart sank, stone by stone, into a pit of despair. In the two years we’d been together, he’d never shown this much interest in me. He never cared what movies I liked or what I did with my free time. Outside of the bedroom, we were practically strangers. Alexander’s final question was the one that shattered what was left of my hope. “Do you have a boyfriend right now?” “No,” she answered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. The way his lips curved into a smile and the look that passed between them was a silent, sealed contract. After the interviews, Alexander placed her resume on my desk. “Notify her that she’s hired.” I stared down at the smiling face in the photo. Isabella Knight. Even the dimples at the corners of her mouth were exactly what he wanted. Two days later, I was escorting her to HR to finalize her paperwork when the department head handed me a form. “Sarah, perfect timing. Could you sign this for me?” I stared at the document, sure I’d misheard. “A department transfer request?” The HR manager’s eyes were full of pity. “You didn’t know? Mr. Knight has appointed Isabella as his new executive assistant. He asked me to transfer you to the marketing department.” A wave of desolation washed over me. I had poured five years of my life into this company, clawing my way up from intern to his assistant. Every promotion was paid for with the red flags on my annual health reports. Three years ago, when he transferred to this city, I followed him without a second thought. And now, with a single word, he was casting me aside for a woman he’d just met. The marketing department was a notorious dead end—all the grunt work, none of the glory. It wasn’t a transfer; it was a demotion. This wasn’t the first time he’d treated me like I was disposable. For two years, he’d stood me up at restaurants, leaving me to wait alone until closing time. He’d completely forgotten the vacations I’d so excitedly planned. The truth was simple. He just didn’t care. Once that reality settled in my bones, I signed the transfer papers without hesitation. Then, on the spot, I wrote out my resignation and handed it in. With that done, I stepped outside and called my mom. “Mom, I think I’m going to come home and find a job there.” “No, I’m not upset,” I lied, forcing a cheerful tone. “I heard about your surgery. This way, I can be there to take care of you.” The resignation process would take a month, which was perfect. It was the end of the year, and I could collect my bonus from the last major project. I packed my desk, moved my things to marketing, and waited until the office emptied out. Then, with a calm I didn’t feel, I walked to Alexander’s office. Through the glass wall, I saw a new, smaller desk had been set up next to his. Isabella was still there, working. And Alexander, the man who famously kept everyone at arm’s length, was leaning over her, his body close to hers, patiently explaining something on her screen. I had tried for years to break down that invisible wall between us. I’d even asked if I could move my desk into his office. His rejection was always swift and cold: “Sarah, I need my personal space.” I thought seeing this would break me. But now, having let go, all I felt was a profound sense of relief. He noticed me and raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. After dismissing Isabella, his expression hardened with impatience. “This transfer is a chance for you to gain more experience. Don’t be…” I cut him off. “Let’s break up.” He paused, then let out a short, derisive laugh. “Break up? Sarah, when did I ever say you were my girlfriend? From head to toe, you don’t meet a single one of my standards.” I stared at him, speechless. His eyes held their usual arrogance. “Since you brought it up, let me make it official. As of today, our… arrangement is officially terminated.” His words were a slap in the face, sharp and stinging. I wanted to cry, but a laugh escaped my lips instead—a bitter, hollow sound for my wasted youth, for my own pathetic cheapness. He was right. He had never called me his girlfriend. I was the one who stupidly assumed that one night changed everything. It was at the company’s annual gala. He’d had too much to drink. I took him back to his hotel room, and he asked me to stay. He never knew that I’d been secretly in love with him for years, since my very first day at the company. What followed was a night of passion I’d only dreamed of. The next morning, he woke up, saw me tangled in his sheets, and froze for a moment. Then, without another word, he dressed and said, “We’ll be in touch,” and left. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have mistaken those four empty words for “I love you”? All the times he’d been dismissive, all the times he’d treated me with indifference—I had told myself he was just a cold person by nature. But the real answer had been there all along. I wasn’t good enough. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out in the cold night air. 2 From that day on, I avoided Alexander like the plague. If we had work that needed to be discussed, I asked my colleagues to handle it. We passed in the hallway several times; I saw his throat bob as if he wanted to say something, but I looked straight through him and kept walking. About two weeks later, the office gossip exploded. “Oh my god, did you guys see? Alex and Isabella made it official!” “They even have matching profile pictures! That was fast.” “Damn, that girl works quick. A few weeks on the job and she’s already brought the Ice King down from his pedestal.” I opened my social media feed. Alexander’s profile, usually as sterile as a corporate brochure, now had a pinned video at the top—a highlight reel of their new relationship. In the two weeks since we’d ended things, he had already taken her to meet his parents. I liked the post along with everyone else, then quickly closed the app. I went to book my ticket home and realized my ID was still at his apartment. I had no choice but to send him a text. He replied almost instantly. “I’m out of town on business. Go get it yourself. The code is 991006.” Followed by another message. “And don’t contact me after work hours again. I have a girlfriend now. It’s inappropriate.” I recognized the numbers. It was Isabella’s birthday. After work, I rushed to his place. The toiletries I’d left in his bathroom were gone. The living room rug and even the tissue box on the coffee table were now a garish shade of pink. A strange, floral scent filled the air. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I started searching for my ID. Before I knew what was happening, two police officers slammed me to the ground. “We received a call about a break-in. You’re coming with us.” No matter how much I explained, they were convinced I was a burglar. My hands trembled as I tried to call Alexander. The call connected for a second, then was cut off. I tried again. It wouldn’t go through. He had blocked my number. There was no one to vouch for me. I was arrested on suspicion of breaking and entering. I spent two days and two nights in a dark holding cell, under constant interrogation, without a wink of sleep. On the third night, Alexander finally showed up, with Isabella on his arm. She blinked her big, innocent eyes. “Oh, Sarah, I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t know it was you! I saw a blurry figure on the security camera and I panicked and called the police.” She looked from me to him. “But… why were you in Alex’s apartment?” The silence was thick and suffocating. Alexander broke it. “I asked her to grab a file for me.” Isabella clutched her chest dramatically and laughed. “Oh, you scared me! For a second, I thought there was something between you two.” He shook his head, his tone firm. “Never. You don’t have to worry about that. You know my standards. She’s not my type.” I stared at them, saying nothing. While Alexander was speaking to the officers, Isabella casually lifted her sleeve, revealing a fresh tattoo on her arm: A & I. “Like it, Sarah? Alex and I got them together a few days ago. He said he wanted something permanent to mark our love. I never knew he was such a romantic.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. So, the serious, unsmiling Alexander could be sweet and romantic. Just not for me. The look on my face seemed to please her. She leaned in, her voice a triumphant whisper. “This was just a little warning. Stay away from him. Take your things and get lost.” She pulled my ID out of her pocket and shoved it into mine. She’d known all along. I walked out of the police station and watched them get into his car, their bodies pressed close together. A light drizzle was falling, and a puddle had formed at the bottom of the steps. As the car pulled away, its tires sent a wave of dirty water splashing all over me. The taxi driver who pulled up took one look at my drenched, pathetic state and sped off. In the car’s rearview mirror, I saw Alexander’s dark, unreadable eyes watching me. Back at work, news of my arrest had somehow leaked. My colleagues looked at me differently now, their gazes filled with suspicion and pity. I let my eyes drift over their familiar, yet alien, faces, finally landing on Isabella. I didn’t miss the smug triumph in her eyes. I took a deep breath and didn’t bother to explain. All I had to do was get my bonus, and I would be gone. I counted down the days. Finally, the night of the company’s anniversary gala arrived. I had just walked into the ballroom when I saw Alexander in a sharp tuxedo. He started to walk toward me, but Isabella intercepted him, linking her arm through his and pulling him toward the stage. They were a stunning couple, and the spotlight immediately found them. The final event of the night was the announcement of the project awards. My heart hammered against my ribs. Alexander stood at the podium, reading the list of names. When he got to my project, the big screen lit up. But instead of my name, I saw hers. Isabella Knight. The world went silent. My mind was a complete blank. Alexander’s gaze flickered in my direction, as if gauging my reaction. I stared at him in disbelief. The second he stepped off the stage, I pushed through the crowd and confronted him, my voice shaking with a rage I could no longer contain. “What the hell was that, Alexander?” He knew exactly what I meant. He led me out into the hallway. “You’ll have other opportunities here, Sarah. Isabella is new. She needs a big win like this to establish herself.” He tried to sound reasonable. “And don’t worry, I’ve already found a better opportunity for you as compensation.” My voice rose. “But I completed that project! Do you have any idea how hard I worked? And you just erase all of it with a single sentence, for her?” Tears I couldn’t control streamed down my face. For that project, for that bonus, I had pulled all-nighters for weeks. I had forced myself through client dinners, drinking with them despite a severe alcohol allergy that nearly landed me in the hospital. He knew. He knew all of it. And Isabella? All she did was sign her name on the final report after I was gone. He loosened his tie, his voice sharp with irritation. “Sarah, let’s be clear. I am your boss. I decide who gets credit for that project.” He was right, but I couldn’t let it go. My mother was waiting for that money for her surgery. I swallowed my pride, my voice breaking into a sob. “Please. I’m begging you. I won’t ask for anything ever again. But I need that bonus money. It’s for my mom’s medical bills…” He cut me off, his voice turning to ice. “I should have known. You’d even stoop to making up lies about your mother to guilt-trip me for money. What’s the matter? Bitter that you didn’t get a payday after sleeping with me for two years? You should take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself if you ever even came close to meeting my standards.” Our raised voices drew Isabella over. She looked at me, her face a mask of concern, and grabbed my arm. “Sarah, are you fighting with Alex over the project? Please, don’t. It’s okay, I don’t need it. I’m new here, I’m used to being overlooked.” Her saccharine, manipulative words made my blood boil. I yanked my arm away from her. But before I could even apply any force, she stumbled backward with a shriek, letting the wine glass in her hand crash to the floor. “Alex,” she sobbed, tears instantly filling her eyes. He rushed to her side, and when he looked back at me, his eyes were full of venom. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “You are unbelievable, Sarah. She was defending you, and you assault her?” he snarled. “Apologize to her. Right now.” I wrenched my arm free and screamed at him, my voice raw. “I did nothing wrong! Why should I apologize?” The fire in his eyes blazed hotter. The next second, a loud smack echoed in the hall. The force of his slap sent me stumbling backward. My hand shot out to break my fall and landed directly on the shards of broken glass. Pain, sharp and immediate, shot up my arm as blood bloomed on my palm. Alexander froze, his hand still in the air, his eyes wide with shock. He reached out as if to help me up. “It hurts,” Isabella whimpered. His attention snapped back to her. He swept her up into his arms and turned away without a backward glance. I lay on the floor, humiliated and bleeding, and watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, a triumphant smirk on her face. I couldn’t stay there a second longer. I wiped my tears, deleted his number, blocked him on everything, and changed my ticket for the earliest train home. Alexander Knight. We were done. Forever.

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The moment I found out I was the real heiress, I ran to the Ashwood estate to claim my birthright. But after eighteen years, there was already another girl living my life—a “fake” heiress, coddled and adored. My mother’s expression was a mask of indifference. “Rosalind has been with us since she was a baby,” she said, her voice cool. “She’s as good as our own. To avoid gossip, we’ll tell everyone you’re our adopted daughter.” My father added, “You should learn from your sister. Don’t embarrass the family.” And my younger brother, Tristan, shielded the fake heiress with his own body. “I only have one sister,” he snarled, “and it’s not some stray they dragged in off the street.” Blood is thicker than water, they say. And they were right. Rosalind may not have been my mother’s biological daughter, but she was my father’s. The man who had married into this family and its fortune. 1 The Ashwoods were less than thrilled about my return. On the day I came home, my father didn’t even show his face. He was “away on business.” My so-called brother Tristan glared at me with pure hatred, physically blocking my view of Rosalind as if I were some kind of predator. “Not every piece of trash that shows up at our door gets to call themselves family,” he spat. “She’s my only sister.” My mother’s gaze flickered between me and Rosalind, her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she pulled the teary-eyed Rosalind into her arms, murmuring soft comforts. “Don’t you worry, darling. You will always be my daughter. We would never send you back to a place like that.” Then she turned to me. Her eyes scanned my sun-bleached, straw-like hair and my rough, calloused hands. She tried to hide her disgust, but failed. “From now on, you two are sisters. Sparrow, you will learn from Rosalind. And try not to wander off.” She added, as an afterthought, “As for that woman who raised you, I’ll give her a sum of money to ensure she disappears.” That’s right. My own mother planned to pass me off as an adopted charity case. Because she was ashamed of me. I was an embarrassment, a blemish on their perfect family portrait. I couldn’t bring her the prestige that Rosalind did—the girl who was accepted into a top university at eighteen, who was cultured, poised, played the violin, and was engaged to a man from a family as powerful as the Ashwoods. And me? I was a high school dropout, sallow-skinned and scrawny, with no talents to speak of and no knowledge of their glittering world. By any measure, Rosalind was the daughter she deserved. And after raising her for over a decade, of course, there was a bond. I understood it, intellectually. But it didn’t stop the knot of pain from tightening in my chest. That pain sharpened into anger when Rosalind deliberately knocked my phone out of my hand, sending it shattering across the marble floor. I’d had that phone for almost eight years. It held everything. Messages from the few kind souls who had shown me compassion, their words a lifeline in a world that had offered me nothing but cold indifference. On so many nights when I thought I couldn’t go on, I would reread those messages, drawing strength from them, piece by broken piece. Now, all of that was gone. My fists clenched, my knuckles white. I stared at Rosalind, a fire blazing in my eyes. “Oh, sorry, sister,” she said with a lazy smile, her apology dripping with insincerity. “My hand slipped.” I knelt in silence, gathering the glittering shards of the screen, trying to piece them back together as if I could somehow restore what was lost. It was hopeless. “That’s enough,” my mother’s voice cut through the air. “Don’t be so dramatic. Your sister didn’t do it on purpose.” I saw Rosalind’s triumphant smirk, Tristan’s mocking sneer, and the undisguised annoyance on my mother’s face. In that instant, I knew exactly what I had to do. I looked up. “I’m not angry,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Does that mean she’s going to buy me a better one?” My mother was taken aback, her face hardening. “Don’t make a scene over something so trivial. I have an old one you can use.” I said nothing, just held her gaze. “Fine,” she snapped, pulling a card from her wallet. “Take this and go buy yourself a new one. Are you happy now?” I snatched the card from her hand before she could change her mind. Seeing me fall further from our mother’s favor, Rosalind’s smile widened. She feigned concern. “I noticed you didn’t bring many clothes, Sparrow. Why don’t I pick out a few things I’ve never worn and send them over?” “Or,” she added magnanimously, “you can just choose something from my closet yourself. Tomorrow, we’ll take you shopping for new things.” My mother’s gaze softened as she looked at Rosalind, patting her hand approvingly. “You’re so thoughtful, darling. Just give her a few of your old things. She wouldn’t know what to choose anyway. We wouldn’t want her to ruin your good clothes.” They stood there, a perfect picture of motherly love and filial piety. It was sickening. I stood up. “Where’s your room, sister? I’ll go pick something out now.” 2 Seeing the displeased looks on all their faces, my mood finally began to lift. Rosalind watched with a pained expression as I selected several brand-new dresses, the price tags still attached. I could practically feel her resentment radiating across the room. “That’s enough,” my mother cut in. “Two is plenty. Besides, your sister’s clothes won’t even fit you properly.” Rosalind forced a smile. “It’s alright, Mother. Whatever makes my sister happy. She’s suffered so much all these years. She can have all of it, for all I care.” My eyes lit up. “Really?” “Sparrow, is that any way for a younger sister to behave?” my mother chided. “You just take and take! Have you no sense of humility?” I remained silent. If I’d spent my life being humble, I would have starved to death years ago. When I was little, I’d scavenged for leftovers outside of restaurants just to have a full stomach. When I started school, the woman who raised me refused to buy me so much as a pencil or a notebook. When the teacher asked her about it, she swore she’d given me the money. I tried to argue, but she just called me a liar and beat me for it. My teacher often took pity on me, buying me supplies with her own money. But the moment I got home, my foster mother would snatch them away and give them to someone else. After a while, I think the teacher just assumed I was making excuses to avoid doing my work. I’d be punished for incomplete assignments, forced to stand in the corner. So, I learned to survive. I’d rummage through the school trash cans, collecting discarded pages from other students’ notebooks and binding them together. Pencils were even easier; I could always find stubs the length of a thumb or ballpoint pens with a little ink left. A handful of those would last me a while. Even my clothes were hand-me-downs from the neighbors. I grew up terrified of poverty. Even when I started earning my own money, I could never bring myself to spend it on myself. So when she practically offered her entire wardrobe on a silver platter, you bet I was going to take a few things. Besides, she owed me. My mother couldn’t stand to see her precious daughter upset for a second. “Don’t worry, darling,” she cooed. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the designer come to the house with his lookbooks. We’ll have some gowns custom-made just for you. It’s been a month since we had anything new made, anyway.” A genuine smile finally returned to Rosalind’s face. I poked my head between them. “Wow, really? That’s great! I don’t have anything to wear.” “Didn’t you just take a pile of clothes from your sister?” my mother asked, her voice laced with irritation. “But you’re the one who said her clothes wouldn’t fit me right,” I replied innocently. “And I’ve never, ever had a custom-made dress before…” My mother fell silent, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. “Fine,” she sighed. “The designer can make something for you as well.” Rosalind shot me a look that could kill. But this was just the beginning. Did she really think I was fighting over clothes? I was fighting for what the Ashwoods owed me. I could live without their affection, but I wouldn’t be short-changed on what was rightfully mine. Every luxury I had missed out on for eighteen years—they were going to pay it all back. 3 I carried the dresses to the room they had assigned me. It was on the ground floor, a converted storage closet next to the turn of the staircase. The space was completely empty, clearly cleared out in a hurry. “You’ll have to make do with this for now, sister,” Rosalind said with a saccharine smile. “We haven’t had time to prepare your real room yet.” I stared at the cramped space, making no move to enter. Her lips curved into a smirk. “What’s wrong? Do you have a problem with Father’s arrangements?” she asked, knowing the answer. Before I could respond, she continued, her voice a low, mocking drawl. “He was being thoughtful, you know. He said you grew up in a hovel, so a big room would probably just make you anxious. He picked this one out for you himself before he left on his trip.” “So,” she purred, “are you going to reject his ‘thoughtful’ gesture?” I ignored her completely, my gaze fixed on my mother standing just behind her. I asked, with genuine sincerity, “Are we really that poor? We can’t even spare a decent guest room?” “Back at my foster mother’s house, I had to sleep in the bathroom,” I continued, “but at least when they had guests, they got to stay in a proper bedroom.” “You know what? Maybe I should just find a hotel. I wouldn’t want to put you all out.” With that, I turned and headed for the front door, luggage in hand. I knew they wouldn’t let me leave. The Ashwood family couldn’t afford that kind of scandal. Just as I predicted, my mother’s face turned ashen with rage. Forgetting all about her afternoon nap, she snapped at me and pointed vaguely towards the second floor, assigning me a guest room. It wasn’t as large as Rosalind’s suite, but it was fully furnished and comfortable. I moved in, completely satisfied. At dinner, Rosalind pulled the same trick. Standing by the lavishly set dining table, she gasped dramatically. “Oh, dear! We forgot to set a place for my sister!” The fake heiress couldn’t hide her glee. “So sorry, Sparrow. You arrived in such a hurry, we didn’t have time to prepare a seat for you. Why don’t you… eat in the kitchen with the staff?” My mother acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing, letting Rosalind’s cruel suggestion hang in the air. My eyes darted to the head of the table, where my father’s chair sat empty. Without a word, I walked over, sat down, and started eating. My mother picked at her food for a few minutes before rising. As she left, she tossed a parting shot over her shoulder. “I’ll be gone for a few days. You two try to get along.” “Of course, Mother!” Rosalind chirped happily. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to entertain my sister.” She lingered on the word “entertain,” her eyes gleaming with malice. My mother either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She just gave a noncommittal hum and left. I didn’t care either. What followed was all-out war. They put cockroaches in my bedroom; I answered with mice. They poured water on my bed; I got the garden hose and started a water fight. They locked me in the house; I shattered a window and screamed at the top of my lungs about a break-in. My mother, forced to cut her vacation short, returned to a scene of utter chaos. For the first time, she directed her anger at her precious darlings. “There’s a limit to your games!” she seethed. “She may have been raised like a savage, but you two were raised by me!” Rosalind and Tristan bowed their heads in mock apology. My mother didn’t even spare me a glance. “Now that you’re in the Ashwood house, you will follow its rules,” she said coldly. “Leave your gutter habits behind.” I rolled my eyes and pretended I hadn’t heard. After they realized I wasn’t an easy target, Rosalind backed off for a few days. Of course, that meant my mother and brother simply ignored my existence, treating me like a ghost in their own home. 4 My father returned for Rosalind’s birthday. He gave me a brief, formal greeting, telling me to see the butler if I needed anything. Without missing a beat, I pulled a long, folded list from my pocket. “I don’t really know what to ask for,” I said sweetly, “but you’ve given my sister such a wonderful life. So, I just made a copy of everything in her room. This should be enough to start. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.” My father’s eye twitched as he scanned the impossibly long list. “There’s no need to get everything at once. Your sister’s things were accumulated over many years.” I immediately dropped my gaze, my voice filled with a carefully crafted disappointment. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been away from you all these years, I wouldn’t have to put you in such a difficult position.” The party guests nearby overheard, their interest piqued. “You know,” one of them whispered, “this adopted girl has the exact same eyes as Mrs. Ashwood.” “I heard she’s a dropout, didn’t even finish middle school. Amazing that the Ashwoods would take in an orphan like her.” “Well, she’s landed on her feet. The Ashwood’s real daughter has that wonderful fiancé from the Harrington family. With the Ashwood name behind her, even this orphan will be able to marry well and live a comfortable life.” My mother shot me a warning glance before clearing her throat. “We saw the poor child and our hearts went out to her,” she announced to the listening ears. “And it turned out her birthday is the same day as our Rosalind’s. It felt like fate. We treat her just like our own.” The crowd murmured in approval, praising my mother for her benevolence. 5 Listening to them call me an “orphan” who “got lucky,” I could see my mother’s smile tightening at the edges. Despite their praise, the words clearly bothered her. After all, I was her flesh and blood. Their whispers stirred a faint ember of guilt within her. Her tone softened slightly when she spoke to me again. “Alright, then. We’ll furnish your room to the same standard as Rosalind’s.” She then looked at me, a hint of regret in her eyes. “You arrived so suddenly. If we’d had more time, I would have prepared all this for you already.” “You are both my daughters,” she declared, her voice ringing with performative sincerity. “I would never favor one over the other. Whatever Rosalind has, you shall have as well.” This declaration, of course, earned her another round of applause. She beamed, gliding through the party with renewed elegance, exchanging pleasantries with her guests. Rosalind remained by her side, the picture of grace. But in a moment when no one was watching, she shot me a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. You may be the biological daughter, her eyes screamed, but I’m the one who stands by her side. I couldn’t have cared less. This was the first real birthday I’d ever had, and I was determined to enjoy it. I piled my plate high with cake, as if trying to make up for every birthday I’d ever missed. As I was taking a massive bite, Rosalind’s voice dripped with condescension from behind me. “You really have never seen anything nice, have you? I’m so tired of this cake. Here, you can have my piece too.” I took it without hesitation. “Thanks, sister. If you don’t want your presents either, I’ll take them. After all, they should have been mine to begin with.” “Hmph. Mother was right. You have no class,” she sneered, turning on her high heels and storming away. She never did say whether I could have the presents. Oh well. I’d just have to go ask my parents for more things. 6 The moment the new jewelry, handbags, and accessories arrived, I sold more than half of them. Watching the millions deposit into my bank account, my spirits soared with the balance. With money in my pocket, I laid low for a while. I paid off old debts and hired someone to do a little digging for me. It wasn’t top-secret information, but it was just what I needed to secure another windfall. I could barely contain my grin. The universe really did have a sense of justice. After all the bitterness, the sweetness was overwhelming. My grandfather had left me a hundred-million-dollar inheritance. According to his will, his company would go to my brother, but his three hundred million in cash was to be divided equally among his three blood relatives: my mother, my brother, and me. Could there be any better news? Though the Ashwoods had taken me in, they kept me on a tight leash financially, claiming they were afraid I’d “spend it recklessly.” I had to justify buying a new pair of socks. Meanwhile, Rosalind’s allowance over the years had run into the millions. Now, I was twenty. With this kind of money, I could finally move out. I could buy whatever I wanted without having to answer to anyone. A lifetime of scraping by had taught me one thing: the only thing that truly matters is the money in your own hands. That’s why I didn’t care about Rosalind’s taunts or Tristan’s hostility. I could even tolerate my parents’ blatant favoritism. As long as the money kept coming, everything was fine. And now, with a golden opportunity like this right in front of me, how could I not seize it? For the first time in my life, I thought birthdays were wonderful. There was cake, presents, and a massive inheritance. I immediately went to my parents to discuss it. My mother looked troubled. “Before we knew the truth, I promised Rosalind that money would be her dowry when she marries into the Harrington family.” “The Harringtons are a very important family,” she continued, her tone final. “A good marriage for your sister will benefit you in the long run. I’ve already made the decision. The money is hers.” “Don’t worry,” she added, as if offering a grand concession. “You are my real daughter, and I won’t neglect you. When you get married, I’ll give you a dowry of five million dollars. How does that sound?” She looked at me as if she were the most generous mother in the world. From the sidelines, Rosalind added with the air of a victor, “And I’ll add another three million, sister. As a little something from me.” “You’re too kind, Rosie,” my dear brother Tristan sneered, looking down his nose at me. “She’s just a country bumpkin. Give her a few thousand and she’ll be thrilled. What would she even do with that much money?” My father adopted a paternal, concerned expression. “A girl like Sparrow will just marry some nobody. That much money would only attract predators. It would be safer if we held onto it for her. We can give it to her when she truly needs it.” He looked at me. “Sparrow, what do you think?”

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1 The Pain of a Replacement On what was supposed to be our second anniversary, Sienna married someone else behind my back. The groom was my uncle, Greyson—the one who had vanished two years ago. When I demanded to know why, she looked at me with a face full of pity and said, “Your uncle has ALS. Marrying me is his last wish.” “He doesn’t have long,” she added softly. “Just… let him have this.” It was only then that I understood. For the past two years, I had been nothing but his substitute. Sienna’s first love, the one she could never have, had returned. The moment he reappeared, her affection swerved back to him without a moment’s hesitation. And me? I was just a convenient option, easily discarded. Later, just as Sienna wished, I disappeared from her life. But then, ignoring her husband’s worsening condition, she came back, begging me to love her one more time. … The wedding candy in my hand felt like a wad of cotton choking the air from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. When reality finally crashed back in, I grabbed the arm of the nurse who had just handed me the small, ribboned box. “Who did you say is getting married?” The young nurse turned back, her face beaming. “Dr. Jiang! The groom’s name is Greyson Thorne. I heard it was love at first sight. I can’t believe they got married so quickly!” She bustled off to share the news with others, leaving me frozen in a cloud of cheerful gossip. I couldn’t hear a thing. Those two names—Sienna and Greyson—struck me like a bolt of lightning, rooting me to the spot. Sienna was the woman I had been secretly dating for two years. Greyson was my bastard of an uncle who had been missing for the last two. I never imagined their names would ever appear together, let alone linked by the word marriage. I don’t know how I made it home. The coffee table was covered with the gifts I had so carefully chosen. A cake, a bouquet of her favorite flowers, and the designer necklace she’d been wanting for months. Today was our anniversary. I was going to propose tonight. But before I even got home, I heard the news at the hospital. Staring at the symbols of my devotion, a pain like a thousand tiny cuts sliced through my heart, leaving me breathless. I’d called Sienna dozens of times since I found out. Every call went to voicemail. Finally, as dusk settled over the city, she answered. She used to hate it when I called her repeatedly, but this time her voice was bright, bubbling with excitement. “What’s up? You’ve called so many times.” So happy. Was it because she was getting married? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I forced my voice to remain steady. “Sienna, what are you doing?” There was a pause. She sensed the shift in my tone. Because she was older, I usually called her by a pet name, never her full name unless something was wrong. After a few seconds of silence, she answered, her voice cool and composed. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m at work, of course.” “And do you know what today is?” The lie, so casual and clean over the phone, made my hand clench around my phone. A sob caught in my throat, but I forced it down. “What day is it? I’ve been so busy, I must have forgotten.” Her tone relaxed, as if she assumed I was just being clingy and pouty because she wasn’t home yet. Her attitude was the final blow. My heart turned to ice. “Sienna, do you remember that today is our second anniversary?” “Of course, of course, I remember. But I told you, I’m busy at work. Is that why you’ve been calling so much…?” Her voice held a note of smug certainty, as if she’d figured me out. But I cut her off, closing my eyes against a wave of despair. “So, even though you remembered, you still chose today to marry someone else? And not just anyone—Greyson!” “You found out already?” There was a flicker of disbelief in her voice, but she quickly regained her composure. “I’ll explain everything when I get home.” “No need. I can explain it to Kian myself.” A smooth, gentle voice drifted through the receiver. I recognized it instantly. Greyson. The sound of his voice brought back a flood of memories of everything he’d done, and my head began to pound with rage. “Kian, it’s me. It’s your uncle.” “Go to hell. You’re no uncle of mine.” The words exploded out of me, raw and unfiltered. “Wasn’t it enough that you killed Grandpa two years ago? Now you’ve come back to ruin my life too?” Silence. Then, I heard Greyson’s voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, Kian. I never meant for any of this to happen.” “I’m sick,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s ALS.” The words hit me like a physical blow. A diagnosis of ALS was a death sentence. But just as quickly, my suspicion returned. My uncle was a pathological liar. How could I know if this was just another one of his games? “I’ve reached the end of my life,” he continued, his voice heavy with pathos. “I’m alone, abandoned by everyone. And then I realized… Sienna was still waiting for me. She was the one woman I always wanted to marry. For my sake, since I’m dying… please, don’t blame her.” I wanted to laugh. “Did I cause you to be abandoned? You killed Grandpa with your bullshit, and then you just disappeared. Now you come back, steal my girlfriend, and act like you’re the victim? Isn’t this all your own damn fault?” “I’m sorry, Kian. I was wrong. I deserve this…” His voice was a perfect symphony of weakness and remorse, laced with just the right amount of tears. It was enough to make Sienna’s heart break. She snatched the phone from him. “Kian!” she yelled, her voice sharp with fury. “He’s a sick man! How can you say things like that to him? Don’t you see he’s already broken?” I nodded slowly to myself on the other end of the line. Greyson was broken. And what about me? The man who had stood by her side for two years? What the hell was I? My gaze fell on the table in front of me. The perfect cake, the vibrant flowers—all testaments to how much I cherished our relationship. And for what? For her to run straight into the arms of her first love, marrying him in secret on a day I was off work, while I was at home like a fool, planning a surprise. If I hadn’t decided to stop by the hospital to see her today, how much longer would she have kept me in the dark? Fine. It’s over. “Sienna,” I said, my voice hollow. “Congratulations on your wedding. We’re done.” 2 The Truth is a Thunderbolt I hung up and collapsed onto the sofa, but my heart refused to be still. Sienna was three years older than me. When I started my internship at the hospital two years ago, she was my supervising physician. The first time she saw me, her eyes filled with tears. At the time, she’d blamed it on the dry hospital air. Now I finally understood. It wasn’t the air. It was because she was seeing Greyson’s ghost in my face. A tear traced a path down my cheek as I remembered the afternoon she’d told me it was love at first sight. “Kian, you have beautiful eyes. I think I’m falling for you. Will you go out with me?” Her words had stunned me. No girl had ever been so bold, so direct. Especially not my mentor. Without thinking, I turned and ran. A few steps later, guilt hit me. I walked back and apologized. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jiang. You just… caught me off guard.” Sienna had smiled and said she’d been too forward. Then she added, out of nowhere, “You’re very different from him.” All those little details I’d ignored came flooding back, and her reasons for pursuing me became painfully clear. All this time, I’d been a fool, a placeholder. Her passionate pursuit, her gentle affection—it was all because I had a face that looked like his. And yet, despite it all, she’d still had the nerve to have her wedding candy delivered to me. While I was at home, naively planning our anniversary. She was the one who chased me, but in the end, I was the one who fell in love, and I was the one who got hurt. Hours passed. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing me in its cold light. I forced myself to get up. I gathered everything on the table—the cake, the flowers, the necklace, and the ring I was going to propose with—and threw it all into the dumpster downstairs. Afterward, I wandered the streets with no destination in mind. They say the lonelier you are, the more you seek out crowds. I found myself on a street lined with bars. Staring at the wall of liquor bottles, only one thought crossed my mind: drink until I forget. Under the dim lights, I downed glass after glass. A flush crept up my face, and the emotions I’d been suppressing finally broke free, spilling out as tears. As I reached for my thirteenth drink, a slender hand intercepted mine, plucking the glass from the bar. I looked up, my vision blurry. The figure in front of me swayed. I couldn’t make out her face. “Kian? What are you doing, drinking like this?” Her voice was soft, like a distant breeze. I stared at her for a long time, but my head was still spinning. “Who are you? Do I know you?” I mumbled, trying to grab the glass back, but she moved it out of my reach. Annoyed, I slid off the barstool, determined to reclaim my drink. “You’re already wasted, and you want more?” There was an edge to her voice. I didn’t understand why she cared how much I drank. I squinted, trying to focus on her face. A spark of recognition flashed in my mind. Helena. Two years ago, before Sienna and I got together, my father had forced me to go on a date with her. It was after that disastrous setup that I realized I had feelings for Sienna and finally accepted her confession. I never thought I’d run into Helena like this. My pathetic pride kicked in. The last thing I wanted was for my former blind date to see me in such a miserable state. I tried to leave, but the world was spinning too fast. Helena grabbed my shoulder to steady me. I stumbled, losing my balance, and fell backward. As I landed on a soft couch, the room tilted violently. The only thing that came into focus was Helena’s beautiful, bewitching face, leaning closer. “What’s wrong? Did your true love break up with you?” Her voice echoed in the fog of my mind. The alcohol was at its peak. Helena’s cool fingertips traced a line along my jaw, and I flinched, turning my head away. But she cupped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Since your true love doesn’t want you,” she purred, a wicked smile playing on her lips, “why not give this arrangement a try?” Under the hazy, intimate lighting, her smile was intoxicating. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the pheromones, but I was mesmerized. Sienna had betrayed me so completely. Why shouldn’t I be bold and try something new? Before I could answer, Helena’s lips were on mine. My eyes shot open. I meant to push her away, but she only deepened the kiss. What happened next felt inevitable. We spent the night in a suite above the bar. When I woke up the next morning, Helena was gone. I checked my phone and saw a flood of messages and missed calls from Sienna. My head was already throbbing from the hangover, and her long-winded essays made it even worse. In them, she poured out her feelings for Greyson. 【I just feel sorry for him now. He has this incurable disease, he doesn’t have much time left. But you’re different, Kian. What I feel for you is love. Real love. You have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just marrying him to be with him at the end, but you’re the one I truly love.】

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“The CEO of Harrison Group Exposed for Cheating!” The trending hashtag had barely lasted a day before I posted my clarification. “There is no third party in my relationship with Mr. Harrison. All these years, my feelings have been a foolish delusion, entirely unrequited.” My voice was flat, devoid of any hint of coercion or reluctance. “Out of jealousy, I fabricated the lie that he was having an affair with his secretary and cheating on me. I apologize to Ms. Monroe.” The internet exploded: “This morning we felt sorry for you and believed your lies! This afternoon, you contradict yourself! Go to hell, you pathetic wretch!” “You think we’re idiots, don’t you? If you’re a psychopath, get help!” An endless stream of curses flooded my phone, and my hand trembled slightly. “Are you satisfied?” Liam Harrison smiled. “You’ve finally learned your lesson. It would have been so much easier if you’d done this sooner.” “As a reward, I might even make time to accompany you to your next prenatal check-up.” “But tomorrow, I have to take Sarah Monroe to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. She’s been in a bad mood lately and needs a change of scenery. So, we’ll reschedule your appointment. You’ll just have to wait.” I ended the video call. The nurse behind me reminded me that the procedure was ready. I had waited ten years for him. I had waited long enough. 1 After I left home, the first place I went was a small, secluded clinic. Ten years ago, Liam Harrison knelt before my mother’s hospital bed here, swearing: “I will love Evelyn forever. I will never let her suffer a moment of injustice.” Ten years later, I had an abortion in that very same clinic. Behind the clinic, under an old willow tree, was a rusty iron box we had buried together. We had promised to open it in ten years. The box was corroded, but the papers inside were surprisingly intact. The first question was written in Liam Harrison’s flamboyant handwriting: 【Dear Evelyn, my future Mrs. Harrison, how have you spent your past ten years with him?】 I looked at the intimate endearment on the paper, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. 【Did you buy rings?】 Yes. A small diamond ring. I wore it on my ring finger for ten years, cherishing it. Even though it was less than a tenth the size of the one on Sarah Monroe’s hand. 【How’s the company? Did we get married?】 The company had indeed grown larger and larger, but so had the number of women around him. Every time I brought up marriage, Liam Harrison avoided the topic. We had been entangled for ten years without a marriage certificate, without a wedding. 【Do you have a baby?】 We did have a child once. But he was stillborn, covered in bruises, never having the chance to cry. Now I was pregnant again. Because Sarah Monroe wanted a child to “play with.” Liam Harrison said she was a career woman and couldn’t sacrifice her figure or time. The next question was mine. 【Over the past ten years, Mr. Harrison, what do you consider the most important thing in our relationship?】 What would Liam Harrison say? Trust, probably. After all, he always used to say, impatiently: “Evelyn, can’t you trust me more? Hannah, my assistant, and I are completely innocent.” “Sarah’s incredibly capable at work. Don’t always look at her with such suspicion. It’s not easy for a woman to get where she is today.” I had tried to convince myself that it was just professional contact. But their eyes didn’t lie. Their actions even less so. I remember the morning he attended his first board meeting as CEO. I woke up early to iron his shirt and chose a sapphire blue tie. I meticulously tied it for him. Just then, Sarah burst in, oblivious. Her gaze lingered on my hands for a second, then she held up a different tie, smiling. “Liam, this is a very formal occasion today. I suggest this dark patterned tie; it looks much more dignified.” Liam Harrison didn’t hesitate. He simply untied the knot I had just finished. The blue tie slipped to the floor. He took the one Sarah offered and, without a glance, tied it skillfully in front of the mirror. In the reflection, he saw my stunned expression. When he turned, he patted my shoulder. “Don’t misunderstand. Sarah has been by my side for a long time. She understands the dress code for these occasions better than you do.” I lowered my head, staring at the abandoned tie in my palm. I didn’t think I had misunderstood anything. 2 After the abortion. The second place I went was the ocean. Over ten years, I had mentioned countless times that I wanted a wedding by the sea. I lay on the yacht bed, enduring waves of delayed, dull pain. Sarah called. She sounded triumphant: “Liam’s luggage for his Iceland trip today, could you pack it for me? I’ll come by to pick it up later.” She paused, then chuckled softly. “But you don’t need to pack any underwear. I bought him new ones. He really likes the size and style.” A sudden, sharp cramp seized my lower abdomen. I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. In the past, every time Sarah subtly provoked me like this, I would lose control. I’d call Liam Harrison in a hysterical rage, or storm into HR demanding they fire her. Just last week, Sarah had feigned concern: “Evelyn, they say a woman’s body changes after childbirth, becomes… looser. Liam is probably afraid of that, which is why he’s reluctant for me to have a baby. He’s just making you do the hard work instead.” I had immediately trashed her office. The commotion drew countless media outlets, eager for a scoop. After that, the scandal between Liam Harrison and his secretary was out in the open. Rumors spread like wildfire. It was a critical time for his company’s IPO, and the blow was devastating. He was known in the business world for his ruthlessness and vindictiveness. He ordered me to quickly issue a public statement clearing Sarah’s name. “If you cause any more trouble, I’ll take the child the moment it’s born. You’ll never see it again.” Between us, he still leaned more towards Sarah. On the bedside table, a painting of sunflowers rested. It was my mother’s, the only thing I had taken from home. My mother had left me many things, but over the years, to pay off debts, only this one painting remained. On countless sleepless nights, looking at that painting brought me immense comfort. I reached for it. The painting clattered to the floor. Something fell out from behind it. Ignoring the pain, I froze. Inside were some photos of a young Liam Harrison. He was only seventeen when my mother brought him to the city. In the photos, the boy wore a faded old T-shirt, his back straight, his eyes innocent yet sharp. Back then, his back didn’t bear those grotesque scars. My mother fully funded his university education. After graduation, he naturally joined Thorne Industries. He was smart and hardworking, and his future was bright. Until my father, a lifelong philanderer, died suddenly, collapsing amidst a bed of peonies. His illegitimate children, previously unseen, bared their claws, tearing savagely at the family fortune. I was caught completely off guard. All that was left for me was a shell of a company with only ten employees, and a mountain of soul-crushing debt. My mother, suffering a heart attack, also collapsed. Without money, we couldn’t afford a proper hospital. We found this small clinic, where she barely clung to life with basic medication. Liam Harrison appeared by my side. I cursed him, tried to drive him away, but he wouldn’t leave. Creditors were everywhere. We hid, living in constant fear. Sometimes, when there was no escape, cornered in an alley, he would immediately shield me tightly in his arms, covering my eyes with his broad hands. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t look.” Those scars were all from that time. 3 After two grueling years, all debts were repaid. The company finally began to show some promise. I tentatively suggested, “We should get married.” He paused, then smiled and ruffled my hair. “What’s the rush? It’s not the right time yet. Wait a little longer. I’ll save up to get you the most dazzling engagement ring, and we’ll have a spectacular wedding. I’ll marry you in style.” He leaned down and kissed me, reassuring me. “Don’t worry. You’ll always be my wife. Where would I go?” After that, his social engagements visibly increased. A new secretary also appeared by his side. Sarah began to infiltrate every corner of Liam Harrison’s life. By the time I realized something was wrong, it was already too late. I fought with him countless times. I gave him two choices: either fire Sarah or marry me. He remained silent, choosing neither. The disappointment within me grew. The first time I was pregnant, we were in the midst of our most intense cold war. Morning sickness plagued me day and night, my legs swelled horribly, and I’d wake up in agonizing pain from cramps. He rarely came home. I endured it all alone. He knew I loved the ocean. He habitually booked a five-day, five-night luxury cruise for my birthday. But on the deck, I saw Sarah, laughing brightly. On the second day of the trip, the cruise ship unexpectedly sank. A panicked crowd surged towards the lifeboats. I clutched my heavy belly, distraught and helpless. He had paid a high price for two lifeboat spots and, after securing them, immediately reached out to help me. But Sarah rushed out, crying and pushing me away. “Liam, she’s pregnant! The rescue workers will prioritize putting her on the other lifeboat! What about me…?” Liam Harrison hesitated. The crowd pushed and shoved violently. Something fell from above, and I slipped. The sea swallowed me whole. “Evelyn!” When I woke, excruciating pain radiated from my lower body. The doctor told me the baby was gone. It was a boy. I only saw him for a moment before tears streamed down my face—his eyes and brows were so much like Liam Harrison’s. Halfway through the cruise, I staggered out of bed. I opened the small urn I had brought from home. “Baby,” I whispered to the churning waves, “Mama is so sorry.” “Mama will leave you here, alright?” My vision blurred with tears. I scattered his ashes over the ocean. 4 After losing the baby, I became increasingly silent. Whether he spoke kindly or erupted in a rage, I barely bothered to lift my eyelids at Liam Harrison. He couldn’t take it anymore. He fell to his knees by my bed, his eyes red, and roared, “What do you want me to do to make you forgive me? Tell me!” After that, he came home almost every day, forcing me to share the bed. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t respond either. I became pregnant again. Looking at the prenatal report, a flicker of hope stirred within me. I longed for this child to come back to me. Liam Harrison finally promised he would cut ties with Sarah. He started coming home regularly, sometimes bringing a bouquet of lilies to help me sleep. At night, he would wrap his arms around my increasingly heavy waist from behind. Perhaps the arrival of this child could truly change something. Not long after, I found a pair of silk stockings that weren’t mine in Liam Harrison’s suit pocket. They still carried Sarah’s warmth, like a slap across my face. Distraught, I went to the company. Through the glass, I saw Sarah, the woman Liam Harrison claimed to have fired long ago. Her office was directly across from his, and on her desk sat a large bouquet of lilies. She saw me, unsurprised, even raising her left hand to flash the ring on her ring finger in a defiant gesture. I grabbed everything within reach, smashing it furiously towards that infuriating scene! Liam Harrison rushed out, his face ashen. In a fit of rage, he raised his hand and slapped me hard. “Who let you in? This is a company! If you want to make a scene, go home!” I clutched my face, looking at his disgusted expression. How had we come to this? After the scandal broke, the stock price plummeted, and the board of directors was in chaos. Liam Harrison ordered me to immediately clear Sarah’s name. “Issue a statement saying everything was your deranged delusion! Otherwise—” his threatening gaze slid to my swollen belly. This was my only lifeline. He was satisfied with the instant paleness of my face. “I want to see your clarification statement before I leave the country.” “Sarah hasn’t been feeling well lately. I’m taking her to Iceland to relax. She’s always loved the Northern Lights there.”

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Ten years after I left the real world, the System found me again. It said that the original female protagonist, who had been sent to the past, failed to save my husband and child, and now all the major villains had gone rogue. It told me to go back and clean up the mess. Before I could answer, I saw the live comments. [Is this the “White Moonlight” big sis? She doesn’t look like much.] [Even Little Sis, so bright and kind, pouring her heart out, couldn’t warm the hearts of that villainous father and son. Clearly, some evil is just born in their bones, unworthy of redemption.] [Bad seed, bad crop. What kind of respectable person could raise such an obnoxious brat?] [Birds of a feather, flock together. The villainous father and son, along with this White Moonlight sis and her whole family, should all hold hands and drop dead, okay?] 1 Ten years ago, when I died from complications during childbirth, my body had already given up. To make it easier for me to re-engage with the story, the System gave me a new identity: Luke Asher’s homeroom teacher. I dutifully worked for a few days, but I never once saw Luke Asher in class. An older, more experienced teacher advised me: “That child, it’s best to just leave him alone. His family is powerful and influential; he’s beyond the scope of us working stiffs.” I subtly inquired about Luke Asher’s situation. “A typical problem child. Bad-tempered, rude, never speaks, always scowling. His grades are terrible, and he bullies other students. Previous teachers tried to discipline him, but his family made one phone call and the teacher was immediately fired. With such unreasonable parents, there’s nothing we teachers can do.” I fell silent. Seven years. I never thought Mark Asher would raise our child like this. I flipped through the student files left by the previous homeroom teacher. I found Mark Asher’s number and dialed it. After a long wait, a distinguished yet indifferent voice answered. “Who is this?” My heart fluttered. I took a deep breath, trying to sound as calm as possible: “Mr. Asher, hello. I’m Luke Asher’s new homeroom teacher. Luke hasn’t been to school for several days. Is there any particular reason?” Mark Asher’s voice remained flat. “Luke Asher hasn’t gone to school? He’s probably just in a bad mood again. Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to contact me for such trivial matters in the future.” With that, he hung up without giving me time to react. I stared blankly at the dial tone. An inexplicable anger flared in my chest. Such a permissive, hands-off attitude. No wonder Luke Asher had developed so many issues. 2 After work, I went directly to Luke Asher’s home, under the guise of a home visit. As soon as I entered the living room, I heard the intense sounds of a video game battle, accompanied by angry curses. “Idiot teammate, put a hotdog on your phone, even a dog would play better than you. You brain-dead moron, you play like garbage.” The childish voice, coupled with vulgar profanity, was extremely jarring. [That little bastard is so ill-mannered, such a foul mouth at such a young age.] [Seeing this kind of brat just makes me want to whip him with a belt. Born of a mother, raised by no one.] A pang of pain shot through my heart. I walked up to Luke Asher, not rushing to interrupt his game. Instead, I waited until he finished a round before speaking. “Luke Asher, I’m your new homeroom teacher. My name is Yu, you can call me Miss Yu.” My gaze lingered greedily on his young face. Luke Asher’s facial contours were somewhat like mine, soft and smooth. His features, however, were a miniature version of Mark Asher’s. Sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, a prominent nose. He clearly looked like a charming, adorable child. Yet, there was an undeniable streak of aggression in his eyes. Upon hearing that I was his new homeroom teacher, a flicker of impatience crossed Luke Asher’s face. “Homeroom teacher, what are you doing at my house? Didn’t anyone tell you not to bother me?” He puffed out his chest. “My dad donates five to six million to the school every year. Your salary comes from him, so what right do you have to tell me what to do?” [So young and already knows how to bully others with power. No wonder he’ll grow up to be a degenerate, indulging in all sorts of vices.] [In the ending, this little brat breaks the law and gets locked up for ten years. Serves him right.] Hmph. “First, my salary is paid by the government. Your dad’s donations have nothing to do with me. And—” I reached out, unexpectedly taking Luke Asher’s phone. I glanced at his game rank. Gold. I couldn’t help but click my tongue. Skipping school for Gold rank? Pathetic. He should at least get to Challenger first! “Give me back my phone!” Luke Asher stood on tiptoes, trying to snatch his phone back. He looked so huffy, wanting to grab it but too short to reach. Adorably exasperating. I couldn’t resist pinching the baby fat on Luke Asher’s cheek. He quickly snatched his phone back, glaring at me. “My old nanny said that interest is the best teacher. The most important thing in education is happiness. My family is so rich, I can confidently do anything I want.” Luke Asher’s former nanny was the female protagonist of this book. By rights, she should have, with her sunny disposition, warmed the hearts of the Asher father and son, and redeemed them. But clearly, she had failed. Luke Asher had become this spoiled and willful. I lazily pulled out my own phone. “Want to play a solo game?” Luke Asher didn’t react for a moment, surprised. “Huh? With me? You play games, teacher?” He looked so dumbfounded, quite cute. “Yep.” I opened the game. 3 In just one hour, Luke Asher was utterly obliterated by me thirty times. By the end, his eyes were red, his mouth downturned. He looked like he was desperately trying not to cry. “Still want to play?” I yawned. “I’m not playing with you anymore.” Luke Asher turned his head away, sulking. “You’re an adult, bullying a kid like me, what kind of skill is that? I’m never playing with you again!” “Really?” I said calmly, “Type ‘1’ if you want me to carry you to Challenger. Guaranteed carry.” Luke Asher immediately turned his head, looking at me with starry eyes. “…” I couldn’t help but be amused by him. “Just one thing. I have a really foul mouth. When I play games, I love to curse. Like what you were just saying, tsk.” I stared at Luke Asher, impassively repeating his earlier words: “Idiot teammate, put a hotdog on your phone, even a dog would play better than you. You brain-dead moron, you play like garbage.” Luke Asher’s face instantly flushed crimson. I smiled. “Doesn’t feel good to be cursed at, does it?” Luke Asher lowered his head, stammering, “I… I know. I’m sorry, Miss Yu. I won’t curse casually anymore.” Teachable. It seemed this child wasn’t as bad as the live comments claimed. I patted his head with satisfaction. Luke Asher looked up, a little puzzled. “Oh, right, Miss Yu. Weren’t you here to convince me to go to school?” Why had we suddenly started playing games? “Hm? Did I say that?” I blinked at Luke Asher. “But since you brought it up yourself, it means you know not going to school is wrong. In that case, pack your things and come to class tomorrow.” With that, I got up and left without a second thought. Before leaving, I waved at him. “See you tomorrow. I’ll carry you to Challenger then.” 4 The next day, I indeed saw Luke Asher in class. He sat in the back corner of the classroom, coldly scowling out the window, not interacting with anyone. During break, students chatted and played. He scoffed dismissively. Turning his head, he ignored everyone. Little rascal, quite proud. After I finished the lesson, I handed out a short pop quiz. I wanted to test the students’ understanding of the material. The moment he received the quiz, Luke Asher’s brows furrowed. His small face crinkled up. After glancing at it a few more times, perhaps out of spite, Luke Asher crumpled the quiz paper into a ball and threw it into his desk. Then he slumped onto the desk and began to nap. However, the restless twitching of his fingertips revealed… Luke Asher wasn’t actually asleep. [This little idiot probably can’t even understand the questions.] [He’s scored 0 so many times. Hilarious, getting 0 in third grade. Seriously, underdeveloped cerebellum, completely undeveloped brain.] [Both bad and stupid, a pure waste.] As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, Luke Asher rushed out of the classroom without looking back. “Luke Asher.” I called out to him. “Don’t leave yet, I need to talk to you.” Luke Asher’s body stiffened, and he reluctantly walked over. The other children bolted out of the classroom like arrows. A few even made faces as they passed him. “Luke Asher is being kept behind again~” His expression grew increasingly sour. His hands clenched into tight fists, glaring angrily at them. [Whoa, hyperactive aggression kicking in? Wants to hit someone again?] [What kind of look is that from the little brat, it’s really annoying to see.] I gave those grimacing students a cold glance. “If you don’t want to go home, stay and clean. I asked Luke Asher to stay because I need his help. Not to scold him.” Children’s malice is straightforward and sharp. From observing him all day, I had already noticed that Luke Asher wasn’t very popular in class. He didn’t initiate conversations with anyone. Other students also kept their distance from him. Although these classmates hadn’t been overtly malicious, a child’s heart is the most sensitive. They can pick up on the most subtle mockery and ridicule. I didn’t want them to deepen their negative impression of Luke Asher, nor did I want Luke Asher to feel sad because of it. So, it was necessary to clarify. The students listened, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Miss Yu, we didn’t mean it.” Luke Asher’s lips almost curved upwards, but catching my gaze, he quickly turned his head away dismissively, putting on a cool facade. …Childish. After everyone had left, Luke Asher hesitantly approached me. He spoke curtly, “What do you need me for?” I pulled out my phone. “Our promise to get you to Challenger, did you forget?” Luke Asher looked up at me, surprised. “You kept me back for this?” “Why else?” I naturally opened the game. “Less dawdling.” After two or three games, Luke Asher was distracted. His already poor gaming skills worsened, feeding the opposing team kills in every match. Seeing that the game was unplayable, I pouted. “What’s going on? You’re in such bad form today?” Luke Asher lowered his head dejectedly, instinctively twisting the hem of his shirt. His voice was low: “I thought you kept me back to ask me why I handed in a blank quiz…” “Oh, right. So why did you hand in a blank quiz?” Luke Asher’s face turned crimson. He turned his head away in embarrassment. “I… I couldn’t do it. I don’t recognize any of those concepts…” His round eyes misted over. “Miss Yu, do you also think I’m especially stupid?” Luke Asher sniffled. “My old nanny used to say, being stupid isn’t scary. As long as you work hard, even a slow bird can fly first. But I’ve worked so hard, and I still always come in last in tests…” I couldn’t help but retort: “What have you worked hard on? Working hard at ranked games? I looked at your old attendance records; you only came to school once or twice a semester. With that kind of diligence, who else would be last? For you to be last, that’s exactly what should happen. If you could still be at the top like that, then you’d be a reincarnated prodigy.” Luke Asher’s face flushed bright red. After a while, he hesitantly asked: “So, so that means I’m not stupid, right? I just don’t try hard enough to study. If I really put my mind to it, I’d definitely be better than all of them.” “No, I didn’t say that either,” I interrupted gently. “Given your current study habits, I can’t tell anything. Maybe you really are stupid, or maybe you’re a hidden genius. But whether you’re stupid or a genius, if you’re my student, you need to attend class properly. From today on, you’ll stay two extra hours after school every day. I’ll tutor you from scratch. By the next pop quiz, I hope you won’t hand in a blank paper.” Luke Asher clenched his fists and nodded. “Understood, Miss Yu.” [How come White Moonlight sis seems to be teaching really well? She’s not putting the student down, nor is she just blindly praising him, but being realistic.] [Of course, this is her own son, how could she not care? But the little villain’s nature is like mud, he’ll never be able to stand on his own two feet. Just wait and see.]

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