At the Vanguard Group’s victory gala, my father, Graham Vance, stood on the stage, his expression grim as he made a public announcement. “By the decision of the board,” he began, his voice flat, as if discussing some trivial matter, “I am announcing the termination of Asher Ferguson’s role as Group Vice President. The position will be filled by Finn Vance.” He spoke without a shred of emotion, completely disregarding the years I had spent clawing my way up from an entry-level position to regional director, and finally to VP of the entire corporation. I crumpled the prepared victory speech in my hand and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “Dad, I just closed a 1.5-billion-dollar contract. I believe I’m entitled to a reason for my dismissal.” Graham’s gaze swept over me, as hard and cold as steel. “On the grounds that I built Vanguard Group with my own two hands. I can give it to whomever I please. If you make a scene, you can get out of my house.” I laughed. Fine. If he was so determined to play the usurper, then I had no reason to hold back. It was time the Vance family coughed up what they stole from the Fergusons and crawled back to the gutter they came from. 1 The banquet hall, filled with a thousand guests, fell silent. All eyes turned to Graham Vance, the chairman of Vanguard Group. The executives in the front row began to whisper. “Mr. Ferguson’s performance has always been exceptional. He’s been hands-on with every project for years. Why would the chairman suddenly fire him?” Someone nudged his colleague. “Isn’t it obvious? A mountain can’t have two tigers. The young master and his mother are the favored ones now.” Following their glances, the crowd’s attention shifted to Finn Vance, my father’s illegitimate son. Finally, their eyes settled on my father’s secretary, Isabelle Croft. She was only a few years older than me, but at this moment, standing beside Finn, she surveyed the room with the triumphant air of a queen who had just won her throne. I stared hard at Graham. “Dad, are you really kicking me out? Out of Vanguard and out of your life?” My father remained silent. Isabelle glided to his side, linking her arm with his. Her voice was a soft caress, but every word was a poisoned dart. “Asher, you shouldn’t see it that way. Finn carries the Vance name. The chairman can’t very well leave the company to someone with a different surname, can he?” She smiled sweetly. “If you object, you could always go through the official channels to change your name to Vance. Then, of course, you’d have a claim to Vanguard as well.” My fists clenched, fury blazing in my eyes as I glared at my father. “A different surname?” “Dad, what about the promise you made to my grandfather when you were on your knees before him?” “Vanguard Group was originally founded by my grandfather, Arthur Ferguson! What right do you have to hand it over to your bastard son?” Graham’s face twisted in a mask of rage. He ripped the microphone from its stand and hurled it at me. It struck my forehead with a sickening thud. “You insolent brat! I built this company into what it is today! I’ll give it to whoever I want! Even if Arthur Ferguson himself were standing here, he’d have no right to question me!” Warm blood trickled down my face, blurring my vision in a sea of red. Finn stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of our father. “Brother, what are you doing?” “There are so many people here! Can’t we discuss this at home? Do you have to air our dirty laundry in public?” He then turned to Graham, his expression earnest. “Dad, I don’t want the VP position. Please, give it back to my brother.” He looked back at me. “Brother, don’t fight with Dad over titles and money. Vanguard will be yours one day. I won’t fight you for a single penny.” A flicker of pride crossed my father’s face before he turned on me again. “See how sensible Finn is? And then look at you, shamelessly fighting your own brother over a job title in front of everyone.” “A vicious, selfish person like you… you inherited your grandfather’s cold blood. How could I ever trust you with this company?” A cold, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t have to. I’ll take back what belongs to the Ferguson family myself.” With that, I turned and walked off the stage, leaving the stunned silence behind me. 2 The year my mother died, I learned the meaning of biding my time, of swallowing humiliation for a future victory. While studying at business school, I started at the very bottom of the company, working my way up from a salesman. I forced a smile and called Isabelle, a woman barely older than me, my stepmother. At home, I played with the infant Finn, and as he grew, I let him ride on my back like a horse. I deferred to Isabelle in all matters, seeking her counsel and obeying her wishes. When she claimed her newfound spirituality forbade her from visiting cemeteries, I dutifully stayed away from my mother’s grave for ten long years. I gave them no reason to find fault with me, playing the part of a simple, loyal son. Thankfully, my father had a wandering eye, and Isabelle was too busy fending off other women to focus her full attention on me. To maintain her image as a gracious and tolerant wife, she never came after me directly. My father, in the prime of his career, was keen to avoid any scandal and treated the son of his late wife with a veneer of kindness. And so, step by step, I rose through the ranks. And with every promotion, I uncovered another layer of his corruption, another one of his dirty little secrets. As I reached the hotel lobby, I saw the grand digital display had already been changed. The words “Victory Gala” were gone, replaced with: “Congratulations to Mr. Finn Vance on his promotion to Vice President of Vanguard Group.” A truck was parked at the entrance, unloading a massive, ten-tiered cake in a clear display case. The deliverymen shouted, “Make way, make way! Special order from Chairman Vance himself! A ten-tiered cake for his son, to celebrate his new position as VP!” “I heard his son just graduated and already closed a 1.5-billion-dollar deal! What a prodigy!” I let out a bitter laugh. It all made sense now. The reason Graham had insisted I bring Finn along to every meeting for that project. From the very beginning, the deal was nothing more than a stepping stone for Finn’s career. No one cared that I had spent three months on it, working late into the night, revising the proposal seventeen times. Deep down, a part of me had still hoped for Graham’s approval. I hoped he would see that I was the one truly fit to lead the company. I wanted to reclaim my grandfather’s legacy peacefully, without a war between father and son. But he had finally, brutally, crushed that hope. The moment Finn graduated, Graham dropped the pretense. He started reassigning my projects to Finn, stripping me of my authority, and forcing me to hand over my clients. He expected me, the true Ferguson heir, to step aside for my illegitimate brother. I drove to my grandfather’s old estate, opened the safe, and began to organize the mountain of evidence I had been collecting for twenty years. After I sent everything to my lawyer, I checked the company’s group chat. It was flooded with celebratory messages and applause. Someone had posted a video: Graham and Finn, hand in hand, cutting the enormous cake, with Isabelle standing beside them, her hand resting proudly on Finn’s arm. A perfect family portrait. Graham addressed the camera, announcing his intention to hand the company over to Finn and asking everyone to support the “younger generation.” I turned off my phone, unable to stomach another sycophantic message. I was in the middle of a call with my lawyer, planning our next steps, when my fiancée, Sophia Lowell, called. “Asher, you liar! I just heard you were kicked out of the family! Our engagement is off! I’m not marrying a penniless nobody!” As her tirade continued, I learned that Graham had publicly disowned me and transferred all my company shares to Finn. And he had made one other major announcement: he was officially marrying Isabelle Croft. Sophia sent me a video clip. In it, Graham held Isabelle’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “Everything I have achieved today, I owe to one woman. She has supported me, encouraged me from the shadows. And tonight, I want to officially ask her to be my wife.” He dropped to one knee, slipping a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg onto her finger. Watching them embrace, a cold smile touched my lips. I wondered if Isabelle would have been so supportive if he were still shoveling manure back in the mountains where he came from. So be it. After twenty years, they were finally getting their happy ending. As his son, it was only right that I send them a wedding gift they would never forget. 3 A month later, Graham hosted a lavish wedding at Blackwood Manor, the most opulent venue in Ridgewater. Every powerful family, every influential figure in the city was there. The media scrambled to cover the story of their “epic true love.” It seemed everyone had forgotten Graham Vance’s history. They had forgotten the woman whose love he had used and whose life he had destroyed. It didn’t matter. I would make them remember. I would show them all what happens when a parasite forgets its host, and how a man who betrays his benefactors always pays the price. When I arrived at the wedding, I saw Finn. And on his arm was my fiancée, Sophia. Finn deliberately ran his fingers through Sophia’s hair, blowing a light, suggestive breath against her ear. “Brother, Sophia might be a few years older than me, but damn, she’s something else. You of all people should know that, right?” He let out a boisterous laugh, and his sycophantic friends joined in. “Looks like someone will have to watch from the sidelines from now on.” “Yeah, who does he think he is, challenging Mr. Vance? If he so much as looks at his future sister-in-law, Finn will have his eyes gouged out.” I looked directly at Sophia. We had shared so many beautiful moments. She had been my rock during my darkest times, always believing I would reclaim what was mine. I couldn’t believe she would do this to me. I refused to believe she was just another vapid, greedy socialite. She was my light in the darkness, the one good thing my grandfather had left me. Her gaze darted away. Before she could speak, Finn’s fist slammed into my face. “Where the hell do you think you’re looking, you bastard?” he snarled. “Let me make this clear: Sophia is my fiancée now. Her father has already formally dissolved your engagement and promised her to me.” The moment he threw the first punch, his friends swarmed me, their fists and feet raining down on me. “You’re a worthless piece of trash! How dare you disrespect our Mr. Vance!” “A toad lusting after a swan! Only our Mr. Vance is worthy of a woman like her!” I curled into a ball on the ground as they kicked me. Sophia’s sharp cries cut through the air as she tried to pull them off me. “Stop it! All of you, stop!” Finn grabbed her, holding her back. “Sophia, I’m doing this for his own good. Can you imagine the scandal if he starts lusting after his brother’s wife? He’d be run out of Ridgewater! Dad would probably break his legs!” Sophia stopped struggling. Her eyes grew cold. She nodded. “You’re right, Finn. We should make him give up all hope.” She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her gaze on me like chips of ice. “Asher, I could pretend to love you, to stay by your side. But in our world, family interests always come first. Finn is young, successful, and he’s the future. Of course, I’m choosing him as my husband.” “A union between the Vance and Lowell families is a win for everyone. If you were in my position, you’d make the same choice.” A triumphant grin spread across Finn’s face as he pulled her into a tight embrace. I stared at them, my mind reeling. “Sophia,” I stammered, “you said you believed in me…” “Enough, Asher,” she cut me off, her voice sharp. “Don’t drag this out. Have some dignity. They were just words. Don’t take them so seriously.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. So she was just another social climber after all. My love, my trust—all of it wasted. Slowly, I pushed myself up from the ground, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. My voice was numb. “Fine, Sophia Lowell. I hope you don’t live to regret this.” 4 The commotion drew my father over. Seeing my bruised and battered state, his face contorted in disgust. “Today is my wedding day. Did you have to come here and cause a scene, to make us a laughingstock in front of our guests?” “Is this all because Finn took your VP position? Fine. We’re expanding into the African market. You can go there and be the independent executive president. Are you satisfied now?” I spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered at him. The African market? A transparent excuse to banish me to some chaotic, undeveloped hellhole to rot. With me out of the way, he could enjoy my family’s fortune with his mistress and his bastard son without any complications. “Graham Vance, you want to get rid of me so you can take everything? Dream on!” “You secretly transferred Vanguard’s core assets to an offshore shell company, registered under Isabelle and Finn’s names, embezzling over 1.8 billion in the process.” “In February of 2021, you and the CFO of an American supplier colluded to import twenty thousand tons of substandard steel, inflating the price from two hundred dollars a ton to three hundred and sixty. That little scheme cost Vanguard over thirty million dollars in a kickback deal.” “And since 2018, you’ve evaded over a hundred million in taxes. Did you really think I was just keeping my head down and working all these years?” My words dropped into the silent hall like a bomb. The room exploded in a cacophony of gasps and whispers. “Vanguard is evading taxes? Is Asher really going to war with his own father?” “This is explosive! He must have been planning this for years! The power structure of Ridgewater is about to change.” Graham’s face went white. He trembled violently, leaning on Isabelle for support. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You’re lying!” “You’re just bitter that I gave the company to your brother, so you’re making up these vicious rumors!” “Rumors?” I pulled out my phone and displayed the evidence. “Offshore transaction records. Falsified tax documents. Collusive contracts.” “I started in this company as a teenager, Graham. I spent twenty years working my way up through every department—tax, sales, product development. I remember every single transaction.” “What do you think will happen when I forward all of this to the IRS and the FBI?” Graham froze, staring at me as if seeing his meek, pathetic elder son for the first time. He finally managed a weak, blustering roar. “You brat! I’ve run this company for years! The entire board is loyal to me! Your accusations are useless! We’ll simply say you forged the evidence!” I smiled faintly. “Is that so? Well, let’s find out.” “Graham, from the moment you drove my mother to her death and fired me from my own company, you should have remembered that I am Arthur Ferguson’s grandson. I will protect the Ferguson legacy, and I will personally send you to the underworld to beg for their forgiveness.” His hand lashed out, slapping me hard across the face. His eyes burned with hatred, fear, and a sliver of panic, but his words were still a threat. “Asher, if you dare to destroy Vanguard, I will destroy you.” I stood my ground, taking the blow. With that, the small debt I owed him for my birth was paid in full. “I’m not going to destroy Vanguard. I’m just restoring it to its rightful owner. Its real name is AethelFerguson Corp.” My father stood rooted to the spot. A hush fell over the thousand guests as they remembered my grandfather, Arthur Ferguson—a man known for his integrity and decisive leadership. They remembered that Vanguard had once been AethelFerguson, a company Graham had seized and renamed after my mother’s death, forcing her own son to live under the thumb of his mistress. Isabelle steadied my furious father, whispering something quickly in his ear. A smug, satisfied smile spread across his face. He patted her arm. “Isabelle, you truly are my better half. What more could a man ask for?” He walked over to me, gently touching my swollen cheek. “Asher, I was just angry. I didn’t mean to hit you. Does it hurt?” He leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “For all these years, Isabelle and I have treated you like our own son. We haven’t wronged you. Why must you push things to the point of mutual destruction?” “Isabelle has an idea. She said we can give you thirty percent of the company’s shares. In return, she, who has so diligently cared for your mother and grandfather’s ashes all these years, will get thirty percent. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” His voice dropped even lower. “You wouldn’t want their souls to be… disturbed, would you?” Isabelle sidled up, linking her arm with mine, her smile laced with venom. “Asher, you’ve always been a smart boy. That’s why I’ve always treated you as my own. You won’t disappoint me now, will you?” “The abbot of the Azure Mountain Monastery is an old friend of my father’s. A year ago, I entrusted your mother and grandfather’s ashes to him for safekeeping. If he were to become… displeased… and accidentally chant an evil spirit curse instead of a blessing, I wonder if they would suffer for all eternity in the afterlife.”

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The day I nearly died in childbirth, Ian was cheating on me. For the entire month of my recovery, he gallivanted across the globe with her, indulging in a whirlwind of luxury shopping sprees. When he returned, he didn’t forget to hand me a divorce agreement. “Brielle doesn’t like being called a homewrecker, so I have to get a divorce.” “Just sign it. I made sure to wait until your recovery month was over. Consider it a courtesy.” “I don’t want the child anyway. You can keep her as a memento. Brielle will give me children of my own.” I didn’t say a word. I just took the pen and signed. Any hesitation, I feared, would delay my reunion with the man I truly loved by even a second. Three months later, I was paged with an emergency summons from the hospital, right in the middle of my own wedding. They said a female patient had ruptured her corpus luteum during a particularly… vigorous encounter. And because this patient had been juggling multiple partners, she had developed a host of severe complications, requiring my immediate attention in the ER. I pushed open the door to the operating room and took a look. What a coincidence. Lying on the surgical table was none other than my ex-husband’s new fiancée. 1 I glanced down at the patient’s chart. Brielle Sterling. Before my divorce from Ian, I’d heard him say that name a thousand times. He called her Bri-bri, his voice dripping with an affection he never showed me. I thought he had found some perfect, flawless true love. Turns out, it was just this. I thought back to the day I gave birth. It was a difficult delivery, and I was hemorrhaging badly. The doctors were frantically calling for my husband, but Ian’s phone was unreachable. The tabloids, however, had no trouble finding him. Photos of him and Brielle, wrapped in each other’s arms as they entered and exited a five-star hotel, were plastered everywhere. With the kind of power the Blackwood family wielded, he could have buried that story in an instant if he’d wanted to. The fact that he didn’t made it clear: he was done hiding her. He was ready to make her his wife. When I finally woke up, having cheated death, Ian was there. His face was a mask of impatience. “Sienna, why do you always have to make such a mess of things?” “You were a top student, you’re a doctor yourself. Did you really have to go through with having this baby?” “I don’t even like her. This whole idea of using a child to secure your position is pathetic.” “I’m busy. I don’t have time for your melodrama…” His phone rang, cutting him off. He answered without a hint of shame. “Bri-bri…” The voice on the other end was sharp. “Decky, is my birthday surprise ready yet?” “You said you were just going to check on that hag in the hospital. It’s been half an hour. Why aren’t you back?” “I heard she bled everywhere. Gross. You better hurry back before you get any of that on you.” Ian chuckled. “You’re the only one who really cares about me, Bri-bri. I’m on my way back.” “The gift is ready. I promise it’ll be a surprise that’ll keep you in bed all night…” He walked out as he spoke, not sparing me a second glance. It never even occurred to him to look in on our daughter. But I wasn’t heartbroken. After confirming that my baby was safe and healthy, a wave of relief washed over me. Finally, I could talk to Ian’s grandfather about the promise he’d made. I called him myself. “Grandfather, the baby is safe. Am I free to go now?” The old patriarch of the Blackwood family had sought me out when his company was on the brink of collapse. My birth chart, he claimed, was uniquely aligned to bring their family prosperity. As long as I produced an heir, the Blackwood fortune would be secure. I was already a medical intern. To me, it was utter nonsense. But the rich have always been slaves to their superstitions. When I refused, he had my younger brother, who was still in college, expelled. My parents called me, sobbing, telling me about a near-fatal car accident they had just survived. A near miss, they said. I had no choice but to agree. The truth was, I already had a boyfriend, Liam. We’d been together for ten years. He knew everything, and he was waiting for me. The old man sighed on the phone. “I’ve seen the news. There’s no point in forcing things. You can go.” “But you’re weak right now. I’ve arranged for a team of private nurses. Wait until your recovery month is over.” 2 Brielle’s screaming snapped me back to the present. I gave her a quick assessment. A severe laceration, accompanied by a nasty infection. Some of the local tissue was already showing signs of necrosis. The situation was worse than I’d thought. She was convulsing in pain, but that didn’t stop her from cursing. “Useless! All of you are useless! You can’t even handle a small injury like this? I could have this hospital shut down by tomorrow!” “And those damn men! Not a single good one among them! They get their fun and then leave me here to suffer! I’ll skin them alive when I get out of here!” I pulled on a pair of sterile gloves, my expression blank. “Ms. Sterling, the examination shows a severe tear with a multi-pathogen infection. We need to perform a surgical debridement immediately.” At the mention of surgery, she started screaming again, ignoring the pain. “Surgery? Who gave you permission to cut me open? I’m warning you, if you leave a single scar on my body, you’ll all pay!” “I have a custom-designed wedding gown to wear! I’m about to marry into the wealthiest family in the country! Can you afford to ruin that for me?” Her eyes bored into me. “Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to destroy me? My fiancé is the richest man in the city! One word from him, and you’ll all be fired!” “You should worry about that later,” I interrupted, my tone clinical. “If we don’t operate soon, the infection will spread. Forget about getting married; you could suffer permanent damage to your reproductive system, or even risk your life.” I was simply stating the facts. For a patient like this, sympathy was a waste of time. A nurse handed her the pre-op consent form. Brielle snatched it and ripped it to shreds. “Sign what? I’m not signing anything! You quacks are trying to kill me! I’m going to report you! I’ll have your licenses revoked!” she shrieked. Then, a sudden thought seemed to strike her. Her eyes filled with venom as she stared at me. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re qualified to operate on me? Get your director in here! Now! Or I’ll have my fiancé tear this whole hospital down!” If her condition weren’t so critical, I would have walked away. But my duty as a doctor held me there. I had no patience for her games. “Besides me, there’s likely no other doctor in this hospital who can perform this surgery. Where is your next of kin? We need a signature.” At the mention of family, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Family? I don’t need family. I make my own decisions.” “Just do the surgery! If you screw this up for me, you’ll all regret it!” “Hospital policy requires a signature from a family member,” I repeated calmly. “Or perhaps, your fiancé?” Brielle’s face twisted in a snarl. “You’d better keep your mouths shut. If a single word of this gets out, I’ll make sure you all disappear.” I raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. We saw situations like this all the time. I placed another consent form in front of her. “Think it over and decide quickly. Time is running out. After your surgery, I have a wedding to get back to…” My words were cut off by a man’s voice from behind me. “Wedding? Who are you marrying?” “We’ve been divorced for three months and you’re already getting married?!”

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My husband’s young secretary destroyed a painting I’d worked on for two years. As punishment, she became my personal maid for three days, cleaning my entire gallery. Anson, my husband, said nothing at first, acting like nothing happened. Three months later, his company went bankrupt and he was jailed. To pay off millions in debt, I took three jobs a day, working nonstop. For three years, I lived in constant fear, even being attacked by debt collectors. I even took a job spending a night in a haunted house for $100. One night, while waitressing, I overheard Anson—supposedly in prison—throwing a lavish birthday party for his secretary. A friend asked, “Aren’t you worried? You’re spending millions on Jenny, while your wife risks her life in a haunted house for $100?” Anson smirked. “This is payback for Seraphina making Jenny a maid. These three years are her punishment. Once it’s over, I’ll make a comeback, and she’ll still be my wife, Mrs. Blackwood.” I froze in the cold wind, numb. So, this hell… it was all a game, a punishment you planned. Fine. If that’s how you want to play… I’ll return the favor, double. 1 A bone-deep chill consumed me, but I was frozen in place, forced to listen to the voice of Anson’s friend, Mark. “Anson, she’s still your wife. She was an heiress, raised with a silver spoon. Isn’t this a bit too harsh?” “I saw Seraphina the other day,” Mark continued. “She looked like a ghost. Skin and bones. I think she’s at her breaking point.” Anson’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “We agreed on three years. Not a day less.” “Besides, there’s only a month left. She’s made it this far, what’s a few more weeks?” Mark hesitated. “But she came to me a while back, begging to borrow just a few hundred dollars.” “The proud Seraphina Frost, heiress to the Frost fortune… I’ve never seen her so broken.” Anson’s tone sharpened. “You didn’t give her anything, did you?” “Of course not! You made it clear, anyone who helps her is no friend of yours. I wouldn’t dare.” Through another puff of smoke, Anson let out a self-satisfied laugh. “Smart man.” “Seraphina has always been a spoiled, arrogant brat. Jenny just accidentally smudged her painting, and she reacted like a tyrant, forcing her into servitude for three days.” “A personality flaw like that needed to be corrected. And you see? Three years of hardship did the trick, didn’t it?” His voice was thick with pride, as if he were a master sculptor who had chiseled me into a perfect, submissive wife. Mark sighed, letting the rest of his words die on his tongue. He didn’t tell Anson the whole story. He didn’t mention that I had knelt before him that day. That I had even begun to unbutton my blouse. “Just five hundred dollars,” I had pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please.” “Anson is sick in prison. He needs money for medical care. I’m just five hundred short.” The men in the room had exchanged glances, then burst into roaring laughter. “Is this the same Seraphina Frost we knew?” “The high and mighty heiress who wouldn’t touch a pair of shoes under a thousand dollars, now selling her body for five hundred?” I absorbed their ridicule in silence, my face a blank mask. What expression was I supposed to wear? Pride? Dignity? Reality had trampled those things into dust long ago. “Just name your price,” I whispered, choking back a sob. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” Their laughter grew louder, more vicious. Finally, a man who had been quiet the whole time, sitting on the sofa wreathed in smoke, spoke up. “Just go.” “You could kneel here and bang your head on the floor a hundred times, and we still wouldn’t help you.” Because Anson had given them explicit instructions beforehand. A punishment was a punishment. For three years, they were to show no mercy, offer no help. That was the only way to properly avenge his precious secretary, Jenny. So how did I get that five hundred dollars in the end? I went to a clinic and sold my plasma. When I took the money to the prison, they told me Anson had already been released for medical treatment. I frantically found one of his friends, pressing the cash into his hands. “Please, you have to get this to Anson,” I begged, nearly falling to my knees. “He can’t get any sicker.” At that very moment, Anson was at Disneyland with Jenny, snapping photos and laughing. He took the five hundred dollars I’d bled for, crumpled it like a receipt, and tossed it at a park employee. “Don’t know where this came from,” he’d said with a sneer. “That dirty money is bad luck.” Just like my heart. Trampled under his feet without a second thought. 2 Now, here he was, using a priceless antique vase worth millions as a mere decoration for Jenny’s birthday party. Every detail was meticulously planned, extravagantly perfect. But I couldn’t watch anymore. A primal urge to storm in, to claw at his face, surged through me. I wanted to scream in his face, to demand why he had lied to me for three years. Was it all because I made Jenny play maid for three days? I wanted to rip open my clothes and show him every scar, every bruise, every mark of the suffering I’d endured for him. But in the end, I did nothing. I simply watched Anson, the man who was supposed to be released from prison in three days, standing there in a bespoke suit that cost more than I’d earned in three years. He looked like a king, pulling his little princess, Jenny, into his arms and whispering “Happy Birthday” with a doting smile. Then, my face devoid of all emotion, I turned and walked back to my basement apartment. It was a damp, lightless hole, my home for the past three years. The bathroom was right by the door, and the walls were a creeping canvas of black mold that pulsed with the sour stench of decay. I remember when I first moved in, the smell alone made me vomit daily. For the first twenty-five years of my life, I was Seraphina Frost, the pampered heiress who had never known a day of hardship. I was also an internationally acclaimed artist, my shelves heavy with awards. At the peak of my fame, Anson Blackwood, the heir to the Blackwood empire, proposed. After we married, he treated me like a queen. Effortlessly, I had become the woman every other woman envied. The media called me “The Woman Who Has It All.” Until Anson hired a timid, sweet-looking secretary named Jenny. She was the daughter of our housekeeper, yet she seemed determined to compete with me in every way. If her clothes weren’t as luxurious as mine, she’d sneer that I was just a spoiled trophy wife. If her accomplishments paled in comparison to mine, she’d whisper behind my back that I owed everything to my father or my husband. She even schemed her way into becoming Anson’s secretary, filling his head with lies about me—how I bullied her mother, how I destroyed her clothes, how I forced her to kneel and act like a servant. I believed the truth would speak for itself, so I never paid her any mind. But then came the day I finally completed the painting I had poured two years of my life into. I stepped out for just a moment to get it framed, and when I returned, the canvas was drenched in black ink. Jenny stood there, holding the empty ink bottle, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Took you two whole years, didn’t it?” she gloated. “Let’s see you show off in front of Anson now that this is gone.” Rage, white-hot and absolute, consumed me. I slapped her across the face, the sound echoing in the studio. “You love spreading rumors about me making you a maid, don’t you?” I seethed. “Fine. For the next three days, you’ll be a real maid. You’re going to scrub my entire gallery until it shines.” At that exact moment, the door flew open. Anson stormed in, his brow furrowed, and immediately pulled Jenny behind him. “Seraphina, can’t you for once control your damn temper?” “Jenny has been trying so hard. So she doesn’t come from money, is that any reason for you to constantly pick on her?” My chest heaved, struggling for air. “Anson, you don’t understand, she’s the one who—” Before I could finish, Jenny buried her face in Anson’s chest, her voice a pathetic whimper. “It’s all my fault, Anson! I was just trying to help Sera tidy her studio, and I accidentally spilled the ink. She got so mad… she said she’d sell me to the streets, that my mother was trash who gave birth to trash!” “I can’t take it anymore,” she sobbed. “I can take the insults, but why did she have to attack my mother?” Her performance was flawless, a heartbreaking picture of victimhood. Anson didn’t ask a single question, didn’t bother to investigate. He just believed her. His gaze on me turned to ice. “Seraphina, what have you become? I’m so disappointed in you.” I was beyond furious. Even with Anson pleading on her behalf, I stood my ground. Jenny served her three days as a maid. When it was over, Anson acted like nothing had happened. He just sighed softly. “Sera, your temper… when are you going to learn to control it? It was just a painting.” “Alright, you’ve let off your steam. Let’s just put this behind us.” I was naive enough to believe him. I thought it was really over. A few days later, news broke that Anson’s company had collapsed. Soon after, he was imprisoned, leaving me to deal with the mountain of debt. At first, I wasn’t scared. If the Blackwoods were bankrupt, I still had my parents. I called them immediately, but their numbers were disconnected. Panic set in. I rushed back to my family home, only to be told by our butler that upon hearing about Anson’s troubles, my parents had rushed to return home, but were caught in a landslide on the way. Both were presumed dead. Overnight, my world fell apart. With no husband or parents to rely on, I sold off my properties and moved into the damp basement. I lived in constant terror of the debt collectors. They found me, of course. A group of them stormed my apartment, armed with bats and pipes. They broke two of my ribs. They shattered my right wrist. I could never hold a paintbrush again. It took me three years to accept my fate. To give up on everything I was, just to survive. But now, I find out it was all a lie. With his “punishment,” Anson had peeled away every layer of my being, remolding me into someone else entirely. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Anson. “Sera, I’m getting out in three days. Don’t forget to pick me up.” 3 My fingers tightened around the phone, a dull ache spreading through my chest. Even now, Anson was still playing his part. He was at that very moment standing at Jenny’s birthday party, holding her, celebrating with a huge cake and lavish decorations, yet he was still feeding me lies, treating me like a fool. I stared at the words until they blurred, then blinked away the tears until they came back into focus. I typed back a simple reply: “Okay. I’ll be there in three days.” Three days later, I didn’t expose his charade. I went to the prison gates to pick him up. From a distance, I saw him shuffling out, dressed in ragged clothes. He was faking the look of a man who’d been broken by poverty, even sporting a fake, gruesome scar on his cheek, courtesy of some clever makeup. When he saw me, he limped forward, his face a mask of overwrought emotion. “Sera!” He threw his arms around me, his voice thick with fake tears. “I spent my time in there repenting, Sera. They said my behavior was excellent, so they let me out early.” “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.” He sounded so sincere, so deeply remorseful, as if he had truly suffered behind bars for three years. But I gently pushed him away. “It’s good that you’re out.” Anson froze, sensing my detachment. Then, his eyes fell on my hand, and he grabbed my wrist. “Sera, what happened to your wrist?” His alarm seemed genuine, which I found almost comical. What are you pretending for, Anson? It was your men, the ones you sent disguised as debt collectors, who did this to me. Why act innocent now? A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Perhaps I was just too tired to confront the mountain of lies. “It’s nothing. I fell.” I pulled my hand back. “The doctor said it’ll heal with time.” Anson let out a visible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.” He took my hand again, his expression softening as he laced his fingers through mine. “It’s your right wrist, too. If it were serious, it would affect your painting. You’d be crying your eyes out.” His tone was deliberately gentle, a mockery of the way he used to dote on me. Each word was a needle in my heart. I once had a gift. My art was my life. International awards, critical acclaim… everyone said I had a brilliant future. But for him, to get him out of that prison he was never in, I took on risky medical trials for cash. I let his thugs beat me. I let them shatter the bones in my wrist. Now, I couldn’t even hold a brush. And it was all for a game. A “punishment” he had designed. How utterly laughable. The entire ride home, I was silent. Anson, sensing my mood, chattered nervously, feeding me a long, rambling story. It was obvious he’d rehearsed it, lines pulled from the internet about prison life, all to make his three-year vacation sound believable. I listened with half an ear. When he finally paused for breath, I asked quietly, “Anson.” “Have I ever done anything wrong?” He flinched, his eyes instantly turning red-rimmed as he looked at me. “Sera, what’s wrong? Why would you ask that?” I suddenly remembered my last “visit” to the prison. I had saved up for weeks to buy meat, a luxury for me, and cooked his favorite dish to bring to him. I remembered how he’d wrinkled his nose and refused to eat it. Of course he did. He probably thought the meat was cheap and disgusting. I thought he was suffering, wasting away in a cell. In reality, he was globe-trotting with his little secretary, dining on gourmet food and imported delicacies. How could he possibly eat the scraps I brought him? That prison visit was just another scene in his play, a performance that cost him a hundred and twenty dollars to stage. I felt like the world’s biggest fool, a plaything they had been amusing themselves with for three years. Seeing my tears, Anson panicked, fumbling to wipe them away. “Sera, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?” I looked him straight in the eye. “If someone hurt me, what would you do?” “Would you still keep your promise? The one where you swore you’d protect me with your life?” He grabbed a tissue, dabbing clumsily at my cheeks, his movements frantic. He answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Anything, Sera. I’d do anything for you. Just say the word.” I held his gaze, searching those sincere-looking eyes. “Really?” “I want you to kill Jenny.” Anson’s head snapped up, his face a mask of shock. “What did you say?” A flicker of panic crossed his features. “Are you misunderstanding something?” He was so terrified I’d discovered his secret that his whole body tensed. “After the company went bankrupt, Jenny resigned and moved abroad. I haven’t had any contact with her.” “Did she come back and bother you while I was away? If she did, I swear I’ll make her pay!” I reached out and touched his arm, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I’m just kidding.” “Killing someone is illegal.” “You just got out of prison. I wouldn’t want you to go back in, would I?” I added softly. “I was just teasing.” I turned away, busying myself with something in my purse so he wouldn’t see the expression on my face. He thought it was just a joke. He relaxed, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Sera, I’m so sorry.” “You’ve suffered so much these past three years.” I didn’t look back at him, but a cold thought echoed in my mind. Don’t worry. Your real punishment is just beginning.

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While waiting for my prenatal scan, a girl bumped into me, sending me to the floor. A faint but clear red stain spread across my pants. Sharp pain shot through my stomach. I reached for my phone to call the police, but the girl, trembling like a frightened rabbit, begged, “Please, don’t call the police.” I stared at her, voice icy. “If something happens to my baby, who will take responsibility?” She hesitated, then said, “My boyfriend is a famous obstetrician here. He’ll take care of you. Let me call him.” The call connected immediately. From afar, I heard a man’s panicked, scolding voice. “I told you to use the family lane, but you refused. Don’t you know you’re fragile? The first trimester is critical.” “You can be mad at me, but not about our baby, okay? I’m coming now. Don’t cry. I’m here.” When the man in the white coat rushed toward us, full of worry, I realized—he was my own husband. The same one who had banned me from the family lane, calling it “causing trouble.” 1 The moment Marcus appeared, the pain in my stomach seemed to intensify, a dense, searing ache that brought tears to my eyes. Through a watery haze, I watched the man who had given me a tender good-morning kiss just hours ago. Now, his eyes saw no one but the girl on the floor, Laura. “Are you scared? Are you feeling sick? I told you to use the family access lane, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you see,” Marcus said, his tone sharp but his voice trembling with a thick undercurrent of worry. The hand he used to wipe away Laura’s tears was white-knuckled with tension. Laura looked up at him, her voice a soft whisper. “I didn’t want to cause you any trouble.” Marcus’s jaw clenched. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to rely on me, Laura. I fought to get to this position so that you could depend on me, so that I would be the first person you think of when you’re scared.” “I want to solve all your problems, you understand?” His words sucked the air from my lungs. I couldn’t even find the strength to prop myself up. Amid the gasps of the onlookers, my body went limp, and I slumped to the floor. I had heard Marcus say those things before, but they had been the exact opposite of what he was saying now. Early in my pregnancy, it was a high-risk situation. I was spotting every day, and getting an appointment with a good obstetrician was nearly impossible. One evening, I tried to coax Marcus, who had just gotten home. “I remember that senior doctors and professors have special access for their families. Honey, the check-ups are so exhausting. Could you apply for a spot for me?” At the time, Marcus had paused, his hands still on his scarf. He looked at me, his face a blank mask. “Vivienne, please, don’t make my life harder than it already is.” My hand, resting on his arm, froze. I looked up at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend how the loving husband I knew could say something so cruel. “I’m a senior consultant, yes,” he continued, “but if I make an exception for you, do you have any idea what the other patients, the ones you’re cutting in front of, will say? What my overworked colleagues will whisper behind my back?” “I’m up for a major promotion next year. Your casual request for ‘special treatment’ creates huge problems for me. I’m already exhausted from dealing with work and hospital politics.” “Vivienne, you used to be so understanding. How has being pregnant made you so selfish?” It felt like a physical blow to my heart. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, my voice dry. “I was just so scared something would happen to the baby we’ve waited so long for.” Marcus and I had been married for five years. We’d gone through countless medications, endless tests, and finally conceived through IVF. After all that struggle, to finally have our baby, only to see blood every day… a deep, gnawing fear had taken root inside me. Now, Marcus’s words had made it bloom into full-blown terror. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I could barely see his face. He was still talking. “I’m an obstetrician, Vivienne. I know better than anyone if there’s a problem with the baby. Don’t be so dramatic.” It was only when he noticed how pale I’d become that he sighed, his voice softening into a placating tone. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to our child. Don’t you trust me? There, there, don’t cry.” So I swallowed my hurt. For every check-up, I obediently waited in line for two hours. I never even asked Marcus to come with me, afraid I would be a distraction from his important work. And this was my reward. To see him practically begging another woman to be a “trouble” to him. The family access he refused to get for me… he had been saving it for someone else all along. The man still fussing over Laura finally turned, his expression impatient. But the moment he saw the blood pooling beneath me, his pupils contracted. He reached out for me by pure reflex. With the last of my strength, I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed. Then, my head lolled to the side, and the world went dark. Through the fog, I could hear Marcus’s frantic voice. “Vivienne, hold on! I’m going to save you, I promise.” “Massive hemorrhaging, high-risk miscarriage! Prep an operating room, now!” A nurse spoke up hesitantly. “Dr. Reid, you have that national medical conference to present at soon…” Marcus cut her off. “No one else can save this baby. I have to do the surgery myself. I’ll take full responsibility for missing the lecture.” My hands clenched together unconsciously. Tears streamed from my closed eyes, but a small part of me felt a sliver of relief. I let go, surrendering to the blackness. Thank God. Marcus still cared about our baby. With him here, I wouldn’t lose our little life. I don’t know how much time passed. My eyelids fluttered open. I was still in the operating room, the surgical light blinding me. 2 I’ve always had a low tolerance for anesthesia. Marcus knew this; he would never have let me wake up mid-procedure. A sharp, slicing pain radiated from my lower abdomen. A terrible premonition washed over me. I forced myself to sit up, my eyes falling on a stranger’s face. He was making the first incision on my belly. My world narrowed to a single point of terror. “Who are you?” I shrieked. “Why aren’t you Marcus? Where is he?” “Marcus said he would save my baby! He was going to skip his lecture to operate on me! Why is it you? You’re in the wrong room, right?” The other doctor, a Dr. Peterson, was startled by my sudden awakening. “Ms. Scott,” he said, recovering quickly, “your condition is critical. If we don’t operate now, we might not be able to save your uterus.” “Right before you were brought in, a patient named Laura collapsed from shock. Dr. Reid is with her, stabilizing her pregnancy.” “Dr. Reid said her appointment was scheduled before yours. Even though you’re his wife, he can’t break the rules. But he’s been very responsible,” Dr. Peterson added quickly. “He specifically asked me to handle your surgery. I’m the only one here who can guarantee we save your uterus.” But I didn’t want my uterus. I wanted my baby. I could still feel a faint, fluttering heartbeat inside me. My baby hadn’t even had a chance to see the world. He had fought so hard to grow this big. I hadn’t even had the chance to call him by his nickname, Kicker. I couldn’t just let him die. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the doctor away. Clutching my bleeding abdomen, I ignored the searing pain and stumbled off the operating table. I staggered through the hallway, screaming Marcus’s name. “Marcus, come out! I’m begging you, save our baby! You promised you would protect him!” “Marcus, I’m not angry anymore! If you just save our baby, I’ll pretend today never happened! We waited so long for him! Last night, he kicked your hand, don’t you remember?” “Please, don’t be so cruel! I’m begging you, save him!” Staff and patients stared at me, whispering amongst themselves. “Is that woman crazy? Dr. Reid is in the middle of surgery.” “I think that’s his wife. But even so, she can’t just demand he abandon another patient to save her. So selfish.” I didn’t care about their scornful words. I just kept crying his name, a desperate, wounded sound. The bleeding, which had never really stopped, now flowed freely down my legs, leaving a gruesome trail of red in my wake. Dr. Peterson caught up to me, trying to support my swaying body. “Are you trying to kill yourself? It’s just a baby! You and Dr. Reid can have another one later!” I shoved him away with a stubborn fury. As long as there was a sliver of hope for my baby, I wouldn’t give up. Finally, I found him. He was in another operating room. He was focused, his expression grim as he worked. A spark of hope ignited in me. I pressed myself against the viewing window. “Marcus! Our baby is still alive! He’s still alive! Please, just this once, make an exception for me!” “I can’t lose him, Marcus. I really can’t.” When my hands grew too weak, I resorted to banging my head against the glass, praying he would see me. Marcus’s steady hand trembled. He slowly looked up, and his eyes met mine. I saw his body stiffen. I didn’t care. I poured all my remaining energy into my plea, begging him to choose me, just this once. But then, Laura, on the operating table, moaned and frowned in discomfort. Marcus’s gaze immediately snapped back to her. I saw the mask move as he spoke. A nurse came out and, without a word, injected a syringe into my arm. The last of my strength drained away, and I collapsed to the floor. The nurse spoke to Dr. Peterson, who was still standing behind me. “Dr. Reid said she has a low tolerance for anesthesia, so you need to increase the dosage. He said if the baby can’t be saved, it can’t be saved. Just make sure you save the uterus.” “His procedure is at a critical stage. If you can’t control your patient and she disturbs him again, he’ll make sure you fail your next performance review.” 3 The operating room doors swung shut again. My eyes were wide open, tears streaming silently down my face as I was pushed back inside, utterly defeated. I was conscious enough to feel the scalpel slice open my belly. I felt them remove the child, the one who was part of my own flesh and blood, from my womb. I saw them toss his tiny, silent body into a waste bin. My eyes followed that bin until it was wheeled away, disappearing from my sight forever. A wave of dizziness washed over me. The pain in my abdomen spread to my heart, a crushing agony that made it impossible to breathe. The stitching was quick. Dr. Peterson wiped the sweat from his brow. “We saved the uterus.” “Ms. Scott, don’t blame Dr. Reid. For him, the patient’s needs always come first.” “Besides, he’s never pulled strings at the hospital before, never asked for a VIP room. This time, he was very firm about getting one for his family. He does care about you. As his wife, you need to support his work.” Dr. Peterson chattered on, defending Marcus. I stared at the white light on the ceiling, my hands pressing down on my now-flat stomach in a gesture of self-punishment. A cold laugh escaped my lips. “So I should thank him?” Dr. Peterson fell silent and pushed open the door to a VIP room. “You should get some rest. Dr. Reid will be here to see you soon…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I turned my head and looked into the room. Marcus was there, cradling a sleeping Laura in his arms, gently wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I know you’re a light sleeper,” he murmured. “I specifically requested this room for you. Don’t worry about anything else. I’m here. Our baby is going to be born healthy and strong.” Noticing the movement at the door, Marcus looked up and saw my ashen face. His lips tightened into a thin line. Dr. Peterson quickly pulled my gurney back, stammering an apology to Marcus. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid. I heard you requested a room for family, so I brought Ms. Scott here…” Even then, Marcus carefully settled Laura back onto the bed before he came out to face me. He even had the presence of mind to gently close the door, so she wouldn’t be disturbed. He rubbed his temples and dismissed Dr. Peterson. Then, he finally met my gaze. “Vivienne, Laura just had a major scare. She needs quiet to rest and keep the baby safe. I’ve already lost one child today. I can’t lose another.” “I know I’ve wronged you in this… Vivienne, the most important thing now is for you to recover…” SLAP! I struck him across the face with all my might. The extreme grief had paradoxically calmed me, freezing my emotions into a shard of ice. “How did you two meet?” Marcus turned his head to the side, closing his eyes for a moment before answering. “She was my student. Laura is a good girl. She knows we’re married, and she didn’t want me to hurt you by divorcing you. She was willing to be with me without any official status.” “When she found out you were pregnant, she kept telling me to go home and take care of you. She wouldn’t even let me accompany her to her own check-ups. I gave her the family access pass to make it up to her, but she never even used it.” “Laura has already been through enough. Take your anger out on me. She has nothing to do with this.” “Hahahaha.” I started laughing, a wild, broken sound that brought fresh tears to my eyes. So he had already considered divorcing me. The only reason my marriage was still intact was thanks to Laura’s “pity.” The way Marcus defended her, so openly and without shame, was another sharp, twisting knife in my already bleeding heart. I lunged at him like a wild animal, scratching and clawing. “Marcus, you bastard! I hope you rot in hell! You’re going to pay for what you did to my Kicker!” Marcus stepped forward, clamping a hand over my mouth. Then, he actually injected me with a sedative. “Vivienne, I will make this up to you. But the hospital can’t know about this. I’m up for promotion, remember?” “The hospital is short on beds. I’ve already requested one VIP room, I can’t break the rules and ask for another. Please, for my sake, just put up with a temporary bed in the hallway.” 4 “Don’t worry,” he added, his voice a low murmur. “I’ll come check on you constantly.” My body went limp on the gurney. I watched, helpless, as Marcus pushed me to a solitary, temporary bed at the end of the corridor. Passersby stared, pointing and whispering. “That’s the crazy woman from before. Screaming like she owns the place.” “Dr. Reid has the patience of a saint. He isn’t even angry, he’s taking care of her himself.” Despair washed over me, a tidal wave that drowned out everything else. The tears wouldn’t stop. Just as Marcus finished settling me in, the hospital director came rushing over. “Professor Reid, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! The officials from the national health board heard you missed the lecture to save a patient. They were incredibly impressed! They’ve agreed to wait for you to finish your surgery before you present.” “It’s going to be live-streamed nationwide. Never mind these patients, you need to come with me right now.” The man who had just promised to care for me dropped my hand without a second thought and hurried away. I dug my nails into my palm, using the sharp pain to claw back a sliver of strength. Leaning against the wall, I staggered after them. The lecture was clearly a major event. Several top figures in the medical community, faces I recognized from television, sat in the front row, looking at Marcus with approval. Marcus gave a solemn bow and spoke into the microphone, his image projected onto the live-stream feed. “My sincerest apologies. An emergency surgery delayed my presentation. But I have no regrets. A doctor’s duty is, first and foremost, to his patients.” A wave of applause and murmurs of praise filled the hall. “A true physician’s heart,” someone whispered. Marcus pushed his glasses up, hiding the smug smile that touched his lips, before clicking open his presentation. “The topic of my lecture today is the promotion of the extraperitoneal cesarean section.” But the image that appeared on the giant screen was not a medical diagram. It was a photo of him and Laura, naked in bed together. The color drained from Marcus’s face. I stood in the back, in the shadows, holding up my phone, which was playing a recording. My voice, amplified, rang through the hall. “Excuse me, Dr. Reid, but is your ‘physician’s heart’ reserved only for your mistress, Laura?”

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It was New Year’s Eve, and I was setting off fireworks with my sister when my husband’s young apprentice suddenly called. “Alice, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.” Her voice was choked with panic. “We were lighting fireworks, your sister and I, and I… I accidentally shoved a lit firework into her hand instead of the lighter.” “Half her face is mangled, she’s screaming… I swear, I didn’t mean to! Please don’t be mad!” “I know Grayson will forgive me, but I… I need you to forgive me, too.” I glanced at my own sister, Rosie, who was grinning beside me, perfectly fine. I listened to the agonized screams on the other end of the line and my voice grew sharp with urgency. “Why are you asking for my forgiveness now? Get her to a hospital! That’s not my sister—” Before I could finish, her wails intensified. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me! What am I supposed to do?” Then, through the phone, a familiar, fragile voice whimpered, “It hurts… my face hurts so much… Sister, save me… save…” A chill shot through my entire body. “Are you insane? That’s Poppy! She’s the apple of Grayson’s eye!” The apprentice, Felicity, only cried harder. “Just say you forgive me, and I’ll take her to the hospital.” “Poppy has severe autism! She would never go out with you. And besides, she calls you by your name, not ‘sister’! You can’t fool me!” The gut-wrenching screams continued in the background, but now Felicity’s voice took on a resentful edge. “Actually, Alice, I’m doing you a favor.” My mind went blank. “A favor? What are you talking about?” Her tone turned triumphant. “Your sister comes prancing into the office, all dolled up, asking for Grayson. It’s obvious she wants to seduce her own brother-in-law. You must be thrilled that a little tramp like her is disfigured now, right?” My mouth opened, but no sound came out. There was a reason Poppy called me ‘sister’. I have a degree in special education, and she was the very first student I ever taught after my internship. She adored me, more than her own brother, which is why she called me ‘sister’ and referred to Grayson by his first name. And the reason she was so beautifully dressed tonight? It was my idea. I told her New Year’s Eve was the most important night of the year, a time to dress your best to see the people you love. My voice trembled as I begged, “I forgive you. I forgive you right now. Just get her to the hospital, please! Now!” “Grayson will lose his mind when he finds out. He’ll kill you.” Grayson, a top forensic pathologist, had a warm smile that masked a cold heart. Yet he doted on his only apprentice, endlessly patient with her blunders, always protecting her. But none of that could ever compare to the fierce, protective love he had for his autistic sister. After my plea, however, the line went silent. I screamed Felicity’s name over and over, simultaneously bolting from my apartment complex and flagging down a cab, shouting the address of the old family estate. Just then, Felicity’s voice returned, laced with a chilling calm. “You know, Alice? I’ve changed my mind.” “Even if you forgive me, I can’t take her to the hospital.” My eyes widened in disbelief, my body shaking uncontrollably. I urged the driver to go faster, faster, my question a useless whisper into the phone. “Why?” Felicity held the phone closer to Poppy. The girl was too weak to even scream in pain anymore, just murmuring deliriously for her brother, for her sister. The sound was a knife in my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I roared, “Why?” Felicity’s voice dripped with venom. “My mentor is so good to me, but I’ve never seen you this frantic for him. It just proves how important this little bitch is to him! Why would I ever save such a huge obstacle?” I never imagined that my desperate attempt to save Poppy would be the very thing that condemned her. I’d always known Felicity was in love with Grayson. It takes two to tango, and while Grayson never fully accepted her advances, he never rejected them either. He just grew gentler with her day by day. He would always chide me for being petty. “Felicity is just a young woman trying to make it in the big city alone, Alice. You don’t need to be so jealous.” “She’s just my apprentice. I’m not some kind of monster who’d have inappropriate feelings for his own student!” But his last apprentice had been mercilessly kicked out of the studio for a single, minor mistake. Felicity, on the other hand, once used special effects to make a prank video with a cadaver, and all she got from Grayson was a fond “You’re so mischievous.” After a while, I stopped fighting it. I just wanted to live a quiet life with Poppy and my sister. But this time, I had to fight. I hung up and immediately dialed Grayson. As the seconds ticked by, I prayed, Pick up, Grayson, please, pick up! The call was ruthlessly declined. I tried again, and again, refusing to give up. I had just arrived at the gates of the family estate when he finally answered. “Do you have any idea that I’m working?” he snapped. “If I mess this up because you distracted me, are you going to take responsibility?” He had always been like this. With his prestigious family background and reputation as a genius pathologist, he’d always looked down on me, a simple teacher. For the first time, I screamed back at him. “Is your work more important than Poppy? Do you have any idea what Felicity’s done? She took Poppy and burned her with a firework!” “She’s holding her hostage right now, refusing to take her to a hospital!” Grayson’s immediate reaction was denial. “That’s impossible. Felicity isn’t that kind of person!” “I did ask Felicity to go to the estate for the holiday, but Poppy is at the care facility. Her condition has been a bit unstable lately…” His voice suddenly dropped, turning to ice. “Alice, you better pray you’re not lying. If I find out you made this up out of jealousy, that you cursed my sister… I will make you regret it.” Before he could say more, I let out a hollow laugh and ended the call. I burst into the old manor, only to find the grand courtyard empty save for spatters of blood and the trampled grass that marked a desperate struggle. Poppy wasn’t here. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. The enormous villa was devoid of servants. Only Felicity was there, lounging in one of my silk robes, swirling a glass of red wine as if she were the true mistress of the house. “Where is she? Where have you hidden Poppy?” Felicity examined her fingernails with a smirk. “So the little bitch’s name is Poppy. How ugly.” Rage exploded in my chest. I snatched a nearby vase and hurled it at her. “I asked you where she is! Give her back to me!” She dodged it gracefully, a mocking smile playing on her lips. I ignored her, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Poppy! Where are you? It’s me, sister is here! Don’t be afraid!” I shouted until my throat was raw, and then I heard it, a faint, rhythmic thudding. I looked over in disbelief. It was coming from the direction of the main bathroom. Fighting to control the tremors racking my body, I sprinted towards the sound and threw open the door. The sight that met my eyes made my vision swim with red. The little girl Grayson and I had cherished and protected was covered in blood, bound tightly with thick rope that twisted her body into an unnatural shape. And her head… her head was shoved humiliatingly into the toilet bowl. My vision turned red. I lunged forward, my fingers fumbling as I frantically untied the knots. My voice was a choked, trembling whisper. “Don’t be afraid, Poppy. Sister’s here.” She managed a faint whimper, her eyes fluttering open to look at me for a single moment before she passed out. That one glance sent a wave of agony through my chest. Her face was a raw, unrecognizable mask of blood and ruined flesh. Her right eye… it wasn’t an eye anymore. Shaking, I gathered her into my arms, ready to run. But a sweet, questioning voice stopped me. “Strange. Did I say you could take the little bitch?” Before I could react, a vicious kick landed on my lower back. I bit back a cry of pain, curling my body to shield Poppy as I fell. I turned my head and saw that the once-empty living room was now filled with the familiar faces of the household staff. I stared at them in horror. “I am the mistress of this house! What do you think you’re doing?” My gaze locked on the head butler. “This is Poppy in my arms! She’s badly hurt, I have to get her to a hospital!” The butler didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he bowed respectfully to Felicity. “Miss Felicity, Mr. Blackwood gave explicit orders. You are in charge here at the estate, and we are to ensure no one gives you any trouble.” My attempt to shuffle toward the door with Poppy in my arms was seen. A security guard stepped forward without hesitation and stomped down hard on my ankle. An involuntary scream of pure agony ripped from my throat. Pain shot through me, and I gasped through trembling lips, “This is Poppy…” The butler squinted, his expression doubtful. The bloody figure in my arms, dressed so differently from the withdrawn girl he was used to, didn’t register. Felicity chimed in at the perfect moment. “That’s her sister. She tried to throw a firework in my face, but it backfired on her. I was so angry, I refused to let her get treatment. Uncle,” she said, turning to the butler, “Grayson won’t be mad at me, will he?” The butler’s face instantly softened. “Of course not, Miss. A woman like that deserves what she gets!” “Besides,” he added, “if Mr. Blackwood knew someone tried to harm you, the consequences would be far worse than this.” My heart sank like a stone. Of course. My sister’s name was Rosie. It didn’t sound exactly like Poppy, but in the heat of the moment, to a man who barely knew his master’s sister, it was close enough. Felicity’s smile widened. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Tie that bitch up. I want her to know what it feels like to have fireworks exploding on her skin.” I was close to despair, my voice raw as I screamed, “You wouldn’t dare!” Just then, a phone rang. The butler answered respectfully. “It’s Mr. Blackwood.” My heart leaped into my throat. A wave of relief washed over me. He must have realized Poppy was missing. Thank god, we were saved! The call was put on speaker, and Grayson’s cold voice filled the hall. “Alice might be heading to the estate shortly. Don’t let her bully Felicity.” “If you have to, teach her a lesson. She’s been getting completely out of hand lately, even cursing Poppy, who’s safe and sound at the care facility!” A strangled gasp escaped my lips. “How is that possible?” The butler hung up, his last restraint gone. “Tie them both up and drag them outside!” I fought desperately to protect Poppy, but it was useless. We were bound tightly and thrown onto the lawn outside the villa. Felicity was like a child with a cruel new toy, her laughter echoing in the cold night air. She lit a firecracker, waiting until the fuse burned short before flinging it at us. The terror of the impending pain made me flinch, but I couldn’t move. Poppy’s body couldn’t take any more. I threw myself over her, shielding her with my own body. The searing agony of the explosion and the flames biting into my skin ripped a scream from my throat. But Felicity wasn’t satisfied. “Pull them apart!” she ordered. “I don’t want to hurt my mentor’s wife! Just teach this little slut who tried to seduce her brother-in-law a lesson!” I don’t know where the strength came from, but I slammed myself into the guards, standing over Poppy like a protective mother hen. It was no use. They pried my fingers away, even tearing the fabric of Poppy’s clothes from my teeth. Poppy was left alone, lying on the vast, empty lawn like a broken doll. My despair was so absolute I could barely make a sound. Just as a lighter flickered near another fuse, the doorbell rang through the night. “Police! We received a report of an illegal assault taking place at this address.” Thank God, they were here! I opened my mouth and shrieked, “Help! Help, there’s been a murder! Please—” I only managed one sentence before a hand clamped down hard over my mouth and nose. The world started to spin as darkness crept into the edges of my vision. In a daze, I thought I was hallucinating. I thought I heard Grayson’s voice. “I apologize, officers. My wife has been under a great deal of stress lately. Her mental state isn’t… stable. She’s been imagining that people are trying to hurt her.” “I’m so sorry for the trouble.” A sympathetic voice replied, “Not at all, Mr. Blackwood. It must be difficult for you. We’ll be on our way.” No! It wasn’t a hallucination. My eyes flew open. I thrashed wildly, but only muffled grunts escaped my throat. The gate opened, and Grayson strode in alone. His eyes fell upon the scene on the lawn—Poppy’s still form, my own disheveled state—and his pupils constricted. Tears burst from my eyes as I pleaded with him silently. Grayson, save Poppy! She’s dying, she’s really dying! But in the next second, he walked straight to Felicity, his voice soft, a hint of a smile in it. “Feel better now?”

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During a zombie-clearing mission, I was infected with the virus while protecting my squad. My girlfriend, Luna, the team captain, cited the need to “avoid any appearance of favoritism” and gave the only antidote to another squad member who’d been infected after sneaking out. Her eyes were red as she promised me, “Jax, trust me. I will find another antidote for you within the three-day incubation period.” I nodded, fighting back the fire searing through my veins. The next day, she actually returned with another dose. But just a second before the needle was to enter my arm, Cole, a team member who had never once set foot outside the camp, suddenly frowned. “Luna, my head… it hurts so much. I’m so scared… What if I’m infected?” In front of everyone, Luna didn’t hesitate. She handed the antidote to Cole. “Cole is one of my people. If something happens to him, it’s my failure as a captain.” “Jax, you’re my second-in-command, and you’re my boyfriend. I have to remain impartial.” I saw the flicker of triumph in Cole’s eyes and the unyielding set of Luna’s jaw, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Impartial? Fine. She would soon learn that without me, she was nothing. 1. When Luna handed the antidote to Cole, she didn’t even glance at me. “Cole, you take this first.” Her voice was as casual as if she were handing him a bottle of water. Cole took the vial, a smugness he couldn’t hide flashing in his eyes. Luna then passed me a small bottle of cloudy, transparent liquid. She avoided my gaze. “A suppressant. It’ll buy you some more time.” That cheap suppressant was useless for an infection as advanced as mine. My voice was calm. “You know this won’t work on me.” Luna’s eyes darted away, her brow furrowing. “Jax, don’t be difficult. Cole’s constitution is weak. If he’s really infected…” I cut her off with a cold laugh. “He hasn’t been on a single mission since he joined the team, and he doesn’t have a scratch on him. How could he possibly be infected?” Luna’s voice rose. “That’s just what you can see on the surface!” “You know the virus has a three-day incubation period! As captain, I am responsible for every single member of this team!” “You’re my boyfriend, and you’re the vice-captain. If I give the antidote to you instead of him, what will the others think of me? How am I supposed to lead this team? I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism!” The same excuse again. The grey, vein-like patterns on my right arm were slowly creeping toward my shoulder, the burning sensation under my skin growing more intense by the second. I stared at her, took a deep breath. “So, my life is less important than your reputation? And you think you can just fob me off with a useless suppressant?” Luna’s expression faltered. “What are you saying? I promise you, I’ll go to the West District research lab tomorrow. I will bring back an antidote!” “Can’t you just trust me one more time?” Before the apocalypse, back at the military academy, Luna and I were the perfect partners. She commanded, I charged. She made the plans, I executed the details. Everyone said we were made for each other. On graduation day, she stood on the training grounds and told me: “Jax, for the rest of your life, you can trust me completely.” When the world ended, I helped her build this survivor squad, willingly taking the backseat. I gave her all the credit and took all the risks. In three years, this team grew from seven people to over forty. She became the revered Captain Luna. And what did I get for it? Endless excuses about favoritism, endless promises of “next time.” If my powers hadn’t vanished when the virus took hold, making me nothing but zombie food outside these walls, I would never have pinned my hopes on her finding a cure for me. A deep weariness settled over me. “This isn’t the first time you’ve made a promise.” She grabbed my hand, her eyes pleading. “This time is for real!” “Just like every mission before, when you trusted me with your back. Jax, trust me one last time.” I looked at the hand that had once held mine tight through hails of gunfire and heard myself say: “Fine. One last time.” Luna let out a breath of relief. “Go back and rest. I’ll arrange the personnel and route for tomorrow. Everything will be okay.” I turned and walked away without looking back. The moment I was out the door, I heard Cole’s hushed voice. “Luna, he was so scary just now. Do you think he’s already…” Luna’s voice was soothing. “Don’t be afraid. He’s fine for now.” Back in the quarantine room, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The fire in my right arm was intensifying. This was the second day of my infection. According to the typical progression, I should be starting to show signs of muscle stiffening and sensory decay. But I wasn’t. Apart from the heat and occasional stabbing pains, my mind was unnaturally clear. Stranger still, I could feel something inside me beginning to awaken. From the distant ruins, the roars of zombies echoed, one after another. This wasn’t the sound of a small pack. Without my powers reinforcing the camp’s outer defenses, they wouldn’t hold for long. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Tomorrow is the third day. Luna, this is the last chance I’m giving you. 2. Just as dawn broke, I stormed out of the quarantine room. The gray veins had already crawled halfway across my shoulder. Overnight, the stench of rot in the air seemed to have grown thicker. I could feel the zombies on the perimeter closing in. Without my combat strength, it was only a matter of time before the camp fell. The door to Luna’s room was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. And froze. Luna was curled up on the simple cot, and Cole was lying beside her, both of them under the same blanket. Cole’s hand was resting on Luna’s waist. She was nestled against his chest, sleeping soundly. My mind went blank for three seconds. Then it exploded. “Luna!” I roared her name, lunging into the room, yanking Cole up by his collar, and smashing my fist into his face. Cole screamed and tumbled off the bed, blood gushing from his nose. Luna jolted awake. Seeing the scene before her, her face went white. “Jax! What are you doing?!” I pointed a trembling finger at Cole. “What am I doing?” “You’re asking me what the hell I’m doing?! Luna, look at what you’re doing!” Cole scrambled up, clutching his face and hiding behind Luna. “I… I just… I suddenly had infection symptoms last night. I was scared, so I came to talk to the captain about the antidote…” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “And you needed to do that in the same bed? While holding my girlfriend?” Luna stepped in front of Cole, her eyes filled with a flash of panic, but mostly, with anger. “Jax, that’s enough! Cole really was showing early signs of infection last night. Is it wrong for me, as his captain, to look after a team member?” “We didn’t do anything!” I stared at her disheveled collar. “Luna, do you take me for an idiot?” Her voice suddenly shot up. “Look at yourself! You’re suspicious, impulsive, violent! Do you even remember that you’re the vice-captain?!” I was stunned. I remembered a time before the fall, in the academy’s infirmary. I had a 102-degree fever from an old injury flared up by intense training. Luna skipped a whole afternoon of classes to sit by my bed, changing the cloth on my forehead, feeding me water, and eventually falling asleep with her head on the edge of my mattress. When she woke up, she’d said: “Jax, if you dare die before I do, I’ll chase you to hell and beat you back to life.” Back then, her eyes held concern, a genuine fear of losing me. And now? She looked at me, and her eyes were ice. “Today’s mission is critical. I don’t have time to argue with you. Cole, get ready to move out.” Cole nodded immediately, wiping the blood from his nose as he walked out. As he passed me, he shot me a look of pure provocation. I grabbed Luna’s wrist. “You’re taking him?” Luna wrenched her arm free. “He knows the terrain in the West District.” “Jax, looking at you now, how can I possibly trust you with the team?” “You wait here in the camp. I’ll bring the antidote back.” She gathered her gear and left without a backward glance. I stood there in the empty room, staring at the cot, at the blanket that still held the warmth of two bodies. The power inside me surged violently. The gray veins instantly spread across my chest. My skin felt like it was about to split open, the burning sensation threatening to consume me. But I held it back. I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that blood dripped between my fingers. Luna, you chose him again. Then this is where we end. I staggered back to my room, leaning against the wall and gasping for air. I was certain now. This infection was not normal. The sound of an engine starting up came from outside. I went to the window and saw three modified off-road vehicles drive out of the camp gate. Luna was in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle. Cole was sitting in the back, right behind her. He leaned forward, saying something to her, and Luna smiled. A relaxed, unguarded smile. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a very long time. The convoy disappeared beyond the ruins. I closed my eyes. Luna, if you’re not back by sunset today, you will regret the choice you made. 3. I waited through the burning pain until nightfall. I heard people whispering, saying they’d seen signs of an unusually large zombie horde on the move. And all I could do was watch, and wait, and hope Luna would return with the antidote. The sun dipped below the horizon. The camp flickered to life with a few scattered emergency lights. Finally, the roar of engines echoed from the distance. Three vehicles. Not one was missing. My heart hammered against my ribs. She was back. I scrambled downstairs and ran to the center of the camp. The car doors opened. Luna was the first one out, followed by the others. Cole was the last. My eyes were glued to their hands. Luna’s were empty. Cole’s were empty. The team started unloading a few supply crates, but there was no sign of an antidote case. My breath caught in my throat. “Where is it? The antidote?” My voice was a raw, hoarse whisper. The camp fell silent. Luna’s gaze flickered, then she looked away. “The antidote… We… we found it.” My heart leaped. She bit her lip. “But on the way back, we ran into a horde. Cole was scratched while he was protecting the supply truck.” “It was an emergency. I had to give the antidote to him first.” I looked at Cole. He immediately held up his bandaged hand, his expression full of guilt. “Vice-captain, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to happen…” “Which hand?” I asked. Cole froze. “Wha-what?” I took a step closer. “How deep is the wound? How much did it bleed?” “Have you shown any signs of infection?” Cole’s eyes darted nervously to Luna. Luna stepped between us. “Jax! He’s already injured. Why are you interrogating him like this?” I tore open my collar, revealing the gray veins that now covered my chest. “Luna, look at me. At best, I have until midnight.” “And your ‘injured’ team member, Cole, is speaking with a strong voice and clear eyes. You call that infected?” A few of the other team members looked down. One of them, Rico, muttered under his breath, “Actually, Cole could have easily dodged it…” “Rico!” Luna snapped, cutting him off. But it was too late. I understood everything. Cole did it on purpose. And Luna had given the antidote to him. In front of the whole team, she had chosen Cole. Again. “Luna,” I said softly, “for him, you’ve abandoned me. Again.” Her face went pale. “I didn’t abandon you! I just…” I laughed, the sound hollow, the exhaustion in my voice overriding the anger. “You just had to be responsible for every team member? You had to avoid showing favoritism?” “Or is it just that you stopped loving me a long time ago?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Cole grabbed her arm, his voice on the verge of tears. “Luna, does the vice-captain not believe me? I really was infected, look…” He made a show of trying to unwrap his bandage. Luna stopped him. “Don’t!” Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with disappointment. “Jax, you’re disappointing me. Cole is part of this team. He was hurt. Is it wrong for me to save him?” “Do I have to let him die just to make you happy?” “You’re right. You did the right thing. A captain should be fair and just.” Luna stared at me, stunned. I watched her shield Cole, saw the triumphant smirk Cole shot me from behind her, and saw the pity and avoidance in the eyes of the others. The power inside me began to surge. But I held on. I spoke again, my voice flat and dead. “So, now that this ‘team member’ is about to turn, how does the captain plan to take responsibility for me?” The silence was deafening. Everyone’s eyes were on Luna. Her face paled and flushed, and finally, she gritted her teeth. “I’ll keep looking. There’s another lab in the North District…” “There’s no time,” I cut her off. She fell silent. Cole spoke up, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Luna, he’s too dangerous like this. What if he suddenly turns…” Luna’s body went rigid. I looked into her eyes, the eyes that had once been filled with so much love for me, and now saw only conflict and hesitation. The power inside me slammed against its cage. This time, I could barely contain it. 4. “Jax.” Luna finally spoke, her voice strained. She straightened her spine. “You’re the vice-captain. You know the rules.” “An infected person must leave the camp before they turn, or… be dealt with personally by the captain.” Dealt with personally. The words were spoken so lightly, yet they plunged into my heart like four knives. The team members around us grew restless. Some looked away, unable to watch. Some took a silent step back. A few had their hands on their weapons. Cole pressed closer to Luna, whispering, “Luna, you have to think of the whole team… The way he is now, what if he really does turn all of a sudden…” “Shut up,” I snarled at him. Cole flinched and ducked further behind Luna. She took a deep breath. “I’m giving you a choice. One, leave now.” “Two,” her hand moved to the dagger at her hip, “I’ll help you.” Help me die. I looked at the hand gripping the dagger, the same hand that had held mine as we walked through the academy’s tree-lined paths, the hand that had clung to mine on the first night of the apocalypse, refusing to let go. Now, it wanted to end my life. The power inside me churned madly. The gray veins crawled across the left side of my face. I took a deep breath. The pain kept me ruthlessly focused. “I choose one. I’ll leave.” My voice was so calm it surprised even me. Luna visibly relaxed. But Cole spoke up again, louder this time. “Luna, we can’t just let him go! His gear, his supplies—they belong to the team! What if he gets taken by zombies with all that equipment…” Luna frowned. “Cole! That’s enough!” Cole raised his voice. “I’m just speaking the truth!” “He’s not the vice-captain anymore, he’s an infected! Why should team resources be wasted on an infected?” A few of the others exchanged glances. Some nodded, some shook their heads. Just then, a short, piercing scream cut through the night from the camp’s perimeter. Everyone whipped their heads toward the sound in alarm. Luna immediately sent a few members to investigate. Then, she looked at me, her expression a tangle of emotions. She struggled to speak. “Jax, your gear… you have to leave it behind.” I laughed. I laughed until tears pricked my eyes. I nodded. “Fine. It’s all yours.” I started to strip off my gear. The tactical vest, the combat knife, the backpack, the food, the water. With each item, I threw it onto the ground. The clatter of metal was jarring in the silence. Luna turned her head, unable to watch. Cole’s eyes, however, lit up, staring at the pile of equipment like a starving wolf eyeing a piece of meat. When I was done, I was left with nothing but the simple combat fatigues on my back. “Is that enough?” I asked. Luna’s lips trembled. She couldn’t speak. Cole eagerly cut in. “Yes, that’s enough! Luna, hurry, make him leave!” Luna finally looked at me, something flickering in her eyes. “Jax, I’m sorry, but I had to…” “Don’t say it,” I interrupted. “As of today, we’re even.” “Luna, you’d better figure out how to hold this camp together, and protect your people, without me!” Her body jolted. I didn’t look at her, or anyone else, again. I turned and walked towards the camp gate. The gray veins now covered half my face. The power inside was a raging storm, threatening to tear me apart. Every step felt like walking on knives, but I walked straight, and I didn’t look back. Behind me, I heard Cole’s excited voice. “Luna, we can redistribute all this gear…” Followed by Luna’s choked command: “Shut up!” I walked out of the camp and into a section of ruins I had scouted days ago, a place that was relatively safe. The power inside me finally broke free, exploding outward. An agony unlike anything I had ever known shot through every inch of my body, as if my bones were being shattered and reformed. I collapsed to the ground, curling into a ball. The gray patterns writhed beneath my skin, which cracked, bled, scabbed over, and split open again in a horrifying cycle. The roars of zombies grew closer. But I couldn’t move. My consciousness was fading, my body was on fire. Luna, Cole, I thought, I’ll be waiting for the day you come begging. And then, I was consumed by darkness.

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I eloped with my boyfriend of several years, Daniel, keeping the entire affair a secret from my parents. When they eventually found out, their fury was absolute; they disowned me, cutting all ties. Then came the day I gave birth. Daniel was away on a crucial business trip, and his mother, Barbara, flat-out refused to sign the C-section consent form, leaving me alone in the hospital. After I brought our newborn daughter home, Daniel’s family tried to force me out, penniless. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play, I’d make damned sure they were the ones left with nothing. 1 “The baby’s heartbeat is irregular. We need to perform a C-section immediately.” I lay on the delivery bed, barely registering the doctor’s words over the searing pain. Beside me, Daniel’s mother, Barbara, looked frantic. “No, you can’t cut her open!” she shrieked. “My daughter-in-law still needs to have a second child!” The doctor, a woman with weary eyes, patiently explained, “A C-section won’t prevent her from having more children.” Barbara’s voice instantly rose to an ear-splitting yell. “What if it’s a girl? We still want another one! It’s so much easier to raise two kids close in age, and everyone knows naturally born babies are much smarter than C-section babies!” The doctor’s patience visibly thinned. Her brows furrowed. “Ma’am, if you don’t sign this consent form now, both the mother and the baby will be in danger.” The rhythmic beeping of the monitor grew more frantic, a desperate plea from my child. I struggled to lift my head from the bed, the effort a monumental task. “Doctor, I’ll sign it myself. Do the C-section now.” The doctor extended the form towards me, but before I could reach it, Barbara slapped it right out of my hand. “You can’t cut! I see you’re just being dramatic and afraid of a little pain! Women have been giving birth naturally for centuries, why are you so delicate?” No sooner had the words left her lips than the doctor’s voice boomed, cutting through the tense air. “Ma’am, this isn’t about grandsons or granddaughters right now. If you keep delaying, you might not have any grandchild to hold!” Ever since Barbara had learned that I might be carrying a girl, she hadn’t stopped harping on about having a second child immediately after this one, all under the guise of “raising them together.” In reality, it was her thinly veiled obsession with having a grandson. My heart turned to ice. Clenching my jaw against another wave of pain, I managed to tell the doctor, “I want the C-section. I’m the mother, and I make the decisions for my body and my baby!” The doctor gently pushed Barbara aside, pressing a pen into my hand. “Quickly, we don’t have much time!” Amidst Barbara’s furious shouts, I was wheeled into the operating room. An hour later, my daughter was placed gently in my arms. The nurse took her out to find Barbara, but returned just a few minutes later, her expression apologetic. “Evelyn, your mother-in-law has left the hospital.” I couldn’t believe it. Barbara had actually abandoned me in the hospital right after I gave birth. The nurse asked if I had any other family members to contact. I shook my head weakly. Daniel was on a crucial business trip. Even if something went seriously wrong, he wouldn’t be able to make it back in time. Suddenly, my phone on the bedside table vibrated. Seeing the caller ID, my nose stung, and tears welled up. I pressed the answer button, and my mother, Catherine’s, anxious voice filled the room. “Evelyn, where are you? I heard you were pregnant! When’s the baby due? How could you be so cruel, just cut us off completely, not even a single call?” I sniffled, trying to compose myself, but it was too late. My mother’s voice immediately turned panicked. “Evelyn, are you crying? Tell me, what’s wrong?” When I’d left home, they’d told me I had to live with my choices, and I’d stubbornly vowed to prove I’d found happiness. What did this situation even count as? Suddenly, a video call from Daniel popped up. I quickly hung up on my mother and answered. Daniel’s face on the screen looked displeased. “Evelyn, Mom said you were scared of the pain and insisted on a C-section. Didn’t you always say you wanted to try for a natural birth for our baby?” 2 I couldn’t believe he was saying this. He, who had always indulged and spoiled me, was now speaking to me with such a dismissive tone, right after I’d given birth. I stared at my own pale, fragile face reflected on the phone screen and took a deep, shaky breath. “Daniel, do you actually think your mother was right?” He hesitated at my direct question, then quickly reverted to his usual placating manner. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, my tone was wrong. Of course, Mom wasn’t completely right, but she’s older, she has experience, she just thought she knew what was best for you and the baby.” A bitter laugh bubbled up in my chest. Best for me and the baby? I was about to retort when Daniel cut me off again. “Evelyn, call Mom, apologize, and I’ll ask her to come to the hospital and bring you home.” I snorted. “Daniel, I’ve done nothing wrong, why would I apologize? And if your family doesn’t want this baby, then I’ll take her and leave.” I hung up, the words a raw wound in the air. The surgical incision in my belly throbbed, a sharp, searing pain, and I lay back on the bed, feeling as if every ounce of strength had been drained from me. Looking at my daughter, sleeping peacefully beside me, I made a silent, firm decision. After a few days in the hospital, I took my baby and went home. I pushed open the front door to find several elderly women playing mahjong in the living room. One cackled, “Barbara, you’ve got real nerve! These young ones are so delicate nowadays, you have to put them in their place, or they’ll walk all over you!” Barbara’s shrill, grating voice cut through the air. “Hmph, I just want her to know who runs this house! Pong! Mahjong!” Another old woman pointed at me, standing in the doorway. “Look, your daughter-in-law’s back.” All eyes turned to me. Martha, the nanny I’d hired, followed me in, cradling my daughter. I told her to take the baby straight to the nursery. Barbara stood up, pointing an accusing finger at me. “What’s the meaning of this? I’m still alive and kicking, and you’re already bringing strangers into my house to care for the baby?” A woman beside her chimed in, “Where I’m from, you only hire a nanny if the mother-in-law is dead! Barbara, it sounds like your daughter-in-law is practically wishing you gone!” I walked slowly towards Barbara, my voice clear and steady. “Mother, you said you didn’t want to care for the baby, so I hired someone. Is there something wrong with that?” Barbara’s face reddened, humiliated in front of her friends. She slammed a mahjong tile onto the table. “Is my son’s money just growing on trees? In our day, every mother raised her own children! But you, you’re too precious. If you hadn’t been so afraid of pain, you’d be up and about, working by now!” The other women, eager for more drama, egged her on. “That’s right, young lady, you need to change that attitude. If you’d married into any other family, you wouldn’t have it so good. It’s only because Barbara has such a good temper!” “You should be grateful, dear. You’re married now, stop acting like a princess!” “Exactly. These girls from out of town just don’t know their place.” The old women jabbered on, their words a venomous chorus. Barbara looked at me, her tone dismissive. “You send that nanny away. We don’t need a nanny in this house.” Was she seriously implying that I, a woman recovering from major surgery, should manage postpartum care and childcare all by myself? I glanced at the row of gossiping old women and let out a cold laugh. “Mother, with Martha here, you can finally go back to your hometown and rest for a while.” Just as I finished speaking, the front door burst open, and Daniel’s sister, Sarah, walked in. Barbara, seizing her cue, dramatically collapsed onto the floor, wailing. “Oh, why me? Why do I have such an ungrateful daughter-in-law? She’s barely given birth and she’s already trying to kick me out!” Sarah rushed over to me, her face contorted in displeasure. “Sister-in-law, what is the meaning of this? My mother traveled all this way from her hometown to help you, and this is how you treat her?” What a performance! A classic case of the thief crying thief. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Mother herself said she didn’t want to take care of the baby, so I suggested she go back to her hometown to rest.” 3 Sarah looked at Barbara, who shook her head vigorously, playing the victim perfectly. “Sister-in-law,” Sarah sneered at me, “when you insisted on marrying my brother, I thought you were a decent, quiet girl. I never expected you’d try to bully my mother like this!” No sooner had she spoken than Barbara on the floor started groaning about her aching back, loudly bemoaning how she had worked herself to the bone only to raise such a “white-eyed wolf” of a daughter-in-law. Sarah immediately pulled out her phone and called Daniel. “Brother, your wonderful wife is trying to kick Mom out of your house! Is this how a wife should act? Or have you married a wife and completely forgotten about your mother?” Coupled with Barbara’s agonizing cries, Daniel’s furious voice roared from the other end of the phone. “I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll make sure you and Mom get the apology you deserve!” Barbara instantly stopped crying, and Sarah glared at me triumphantly. I couldn’t waste any more breath on their theatrics. I turned to go to the room, intending to take my daughter to the other apartment my grandmother had left me. But Sarah grabbed my arm, yanking me back. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor, a searing pain shooting through my abdomen. Martha, the nanny, came out of the nursery after settling the baby and gasped at the sight. She rushed to help me up. “What happened? You just had a C-section! You need three months to recover! Lying on the cold floor like this, you’ll suffer from postpartum illness!” Barbara, still on the floor but now in a less dramatic pose, mumbled, “So delicate. Who hasn’t given birth? It’s not a big deal.” Martha helped me to my feet. I whispered to her, “Pack our things. We’re leaving.” By the time Martha emerged with my daughter, Daniel’s family and their friends were all comfortably settled on the sofa, watching TV as if nothing had happened. Before I could even reach the door, Sarah lunged forward, trying to snatch the baby from Martha’s arms. “You want to leave? Fine, no one’s stopping you! But the baby stays! This is my brother’s child, you’re not taking her anywhere!” Martha instinctively shielded the baby, looking at me with worried eyes. I glanced at the group of women in the living room. A physical confrontation wouldn’t work. I instructed Martha to take the baby back to the room. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “We’ll wait until Daniel gets back tomorrow. We’ll get a divorce, and then we’ll leave.” At my words, Barbara shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Evelyn! Are you seeing someone else? You must be! Is that why you’re so desperate for a divorce? Maybe the baby isn’t even Daniel’s!” As Barbara finished, the other women in the room cast disgusted glances my way. Her voice grew even louder. “I knew these women from out of town couldn’t be trusted! Who knows what kind of past she has, how many men she’s been with! Oh, my poor son!” Sarah, never one to be outdone, joined her mother, spewing venomous insults at me. I retreated to the bedroom and locked the door. I pulled up the home security camera footage, clipped the last few minutes of their performance, and sent the video to Daniel. I wanted to see how he’d handle this. The next day, Daniel returned, his face a thundercloud. He walked into the bedroom where I was eating. “Evelyn, my love, I promise I’ll have a serious talk with Mom about all this. But you need to cut her some slack too; she’s getting old, after all.” I put down my chopsticks and pointed towards our sleeping daughter. “Daniel, your mother is obsessed with having a son. Now she’s going around telling everyone I’m having an affair. You’ve seen the video yourself.” Daniel’s face flushed with embarrassment. He tried to pull me into a hug. “Honey, I’ll talk to Mom. It’s just that you hiring a nanny made her lose face.” Ignoring the fresh pain in my incision, I glared at him. “Daniel, I never knew you were such a mama’s boy!” Suddenly, Barbara burst into the room and slapped me across the face. “You watch your mouth! Who are you calling a mama’s boy?!” Her speed caught me off guard. I clutched my burning cheek, my teeth clenched. “Daniel, we’re getting a divorce.” He looked at me calmly. “Evelyn, you just gave birth; your hormones are all over the place. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

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1 Ian fastened my seatbelt for me, a gesture so familiar, so natural, it felt like muscle memory. He’d just wrapped up a major merger negotiation, a weariness still etched around his eyes, yet he’d remembered to pick me up from work, even though I was working late. “Evie,” he said, his voice soft, handing me a warm paper bag. “Your favorite roasted chestnuts. Just bought them.” Warmth spread from my fingertips to my heart. I peeled one open, thinking this was just another ordinary moment of happiness. Then, he spoke, his tone unnervingly calm. “Oh, right. That day last week, your birthday. I told you I had a last-minute business dinner, but I actually took the new intern to the hospital.” I turned to look at him. A hint of weariness, almost helplessness, crossed his face. “She… she accidentally got pregnant with my child. She’s so young, she was terrified. I figured you, being the most understanding, would get it, right? When a man’s out and about, these things happen.” … I started to tremble. He reached over, casually adjusting the car’s AC up a degree. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” He paused at a red light, turning to look at me. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Evie,” his voice remained oddly flat. “Don’t be like this. The girl is young, just out of college. She’s all alone here, and she was crying her eyes out that day. What was I supposed to do, just ignore her?” The light turned green. He pressed the accelerator. “Just think of it as… me doing a good deed.” I whipped my head around to stare at him. A good deed. “Is that the point? The point isn’t that you cheated and you’re only telling me now?” “Why would I tell you?” He shot me a strange look. “To upset you? What could you change even if you knew? It’s already happened.” He said it with such an air of righteous indignation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. He parked the car, but didn’t immediately unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to face me. “Evie,” he said, his gaze steady. “When a man’s out and about, these things happen. I’m practically the last one among my friends to have an affair. I know what I’m doing. Flings are just flings; I always come home. Don’t worry, you’re different from the other women.” He reached out, as if to ruffle my hair, just like he used to. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, and his face visibly darkened. He withdrew his hand, letting out a small, mirthless laugh. “Alright, take your time. Anyway, I’ve broken it off completely with that girl. If you can’t handle this, then in the future, I’ll try my best to keep you from knowing.” He finished, grabbed the bag of chestnuts, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. The chestnut in my hand had been crushed, sticking to my palm in a messy pulp. I suddenly remembered that winter in my junior year. I had a terrible cold and a fever. My roommate called him, and he was in class. Half an hour later, he appeared downstairs at my dorm, covered in snow. I bundled up in my down jacket and went down. His hair and shoulders were white with snow, his nose bright red from the cold. “Roasted chestnuts,” he sniffled, smiling. “My Evie eats something sweet, and her sickness will go away faster.” His hands were like ice blocks, but he peeled the chestnuts for me first. I ate and cried simultaneously. He asked why I was crying, promising that one day, when we were rich, he’d buy them for me every single day. Later, we did get rich. He no longer had to brave a snowstorm to cross half the city. “Still not coming up? The chestnuts will get cold and won’t taste good.” My phone buzzed. He had showered and was now in his pajamas, watching financial news on the sofa. The bag of chestnuts sat on the coffee table, open, completely cold. “Wash your hands and come eat.” He didn’t look up. His suit jacket was carelessly tossed over the console in the entryway. A tube of lipstick peeked out of the pocket. Last month, when he’d gone to a nearby town for a project, he’d brought me back specialty pastries. Ian’s voice drifted from the living room. “Evie, what are you doing?” I looked at him. When had he become so rotten? “Alright,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I’ve handled everything cleanly. Go wash your hands; the chestnuts really are cold now.” He turned and walked back to the living room, resuming his news program. A week ago, while he was at the hospital with another woman, I was at home, waiting for him to return so we could eat the birthday cake I’d made. The cake eventually went stale. He’d told me he was in a bad mood because the project hadn’t gone through, and I’d comforted him, saying it was alright. 2 I crouched in the entryway, trying to throw up, but nothing came. Just dry retching, one after another. Ian finally turned off the TV. He walked over and stood in front of me, wearing the matching slippers I’d bought us last year. “Are you being dramatic?” he asked. I looked up, my vision blurred, unable to make out his face. “When did it start?” I asked. “What?” “You and her,” I choked out, my voice raw and desperate, like any woman discovering her partner’s infidelity. “When did you two get together?” He frowned slightly. “Does it matter?” “Yes, it matters.” I used the cabinet to pull myself up, my legs weak. “Tell me, Ian. Just tell me when.” He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “This spring, I guess. The company hired interns, and she was assigned to my department.” Over half a year. “How many?” I asked again. His face darkened. “Evie, what are you trying to say?” “I’m asking you how many others there have been!” I suddenly screamed, my voice echoing in the empty living room. “How many more? Who else? Tell me everything, right now!” He looked at me as if I were insane, then he let out a laugh, full of weary resignation. “Do you have to be like this? I told you, it’s all been handled. She’s been sent away, I gave her money. What more do you want? Do you expect me to spend my entire life only with you?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Don’t all men do this?” he continued, his tone suggesting that infidelity was common knowledge everyone should accept. “Business dinners, playing along, it’s all normal. You’re going to be my wife; can’t you be more understanding? Look at Mrs. Kensington, her husband has three mistresses, and she still goes shopping and plays cards like nothing’s wrong.” My ears buzzed. Mrs. Kensington, always smiling at parties, always praising how wonderful her husband was to her. “I’m not like her. We shouldn’t be like that,” I said. “How are we different?” Ian took a step closer, looking down at me. “Evie, I’ve been with you for seven years. Seven years. Have I ever neglected you? The house is in your name, you drive the car, you can spend money however you want. I’ve just had a few affairs; why are you making such a big deal out of it?” He reached out to touch my face. I recoiled, and his hand stopped mid-air. “Fine,” he retracted his hand, nodding. “You think about it.” He turned and went into the bedroom. I stood in the living room, staring at that closed door, suddenly remembering so many years ago. We had just graduated, broke, renting a tiny, rundown studio apartment. The day we moved in, he mysteriously pulled a potted plant from behind his back. “A lemon tree,” he’d said. “When it bears fruit, we’ll have a real home.” He’d knelt on the floor, using a key to engrave our initials into the bottom of the pot. He’d said, “Evie, you’ll be the boss of our home.” That lemon tree eventually did bear fruit. He’d said when it produced a few more, he’d pick them for me to make honey water. Later, we bought this house, and the tree came with us. I walked to the balcony. The lemon tree’s leaves were mostly yellow, some already withered, curling at the edges and falling off. When had it started to wither? I noticed his work tablet on the coffee table. He usually never brought it home. On a sudden impulse, I picked it up and opened it. The screen saver was a girl’s sleeping face. Young, fair-skinned, long eyelashes, hair fanned out on a pillow—it was our bedroom pillow. I checked the timestamp: three months ago, when I was on a business trip to Seattle. The night before I left, he’d held me, saying he’d miss me, asking me to come back soon. The day I left, he drove me to the airport, kissed me at security, and said, “Call me when you land.” When I arrived in Seattle, I called to check in, but he didn’t answer. Later, he texted that he was in a meeting. It turned out that night, he was in our bed, holding another girl. 3 The bedroom door suddenly opened. Ian walked out and saw the tablet in my hand. His face instantly changed. “How many is this one?” I asked. He didn’t speak, heading to the kitchen for water. I followed him. “Ian, say something!” He finished his water, then turned to face me. “Evie, do you have to do this?” “Do what?” My voice trembled. “I’m asking you a question! Are you deaf?” After a long silence, he sighed. “Evie, the young girl was a bit naive. I told you I’d try my best to keep things from you in the future.” I looked at him, at this man I’d loved for seven years, and suddenly he felt like a complete stranger. “You said you’d only ever love me,” I said. “You said when the lemon tree bore fruit, we’d get married. You said…” “Evie, I’m tired,” he cut me off. “If you want to break up, fine. If you want to continue, fine. I don’t care. But remember this: the world is just like this, not as clean as you imagine. Even if you were with someone else, it would be the same.” He let go of me and pulled a keyring from his pocket. “See?” He dangled the keys. “I still keep the most important things. Evie, you’re still different to me.” I stared at that key. The year we graduated, when he couldn’t find a job, he’d gotten drunk, held me, and cried. “Evie, I only have you,” he’d wept like a child. “What would I do without you?” That old brass key belonged to the tiny, run-down studio apartment he’d saved up for ages to rent. When he gave me the key, he’d said, “This will be our foundation.” Different? Different how? Was I just more qualified than the other women to be his respectable cover? I snatched the key and hurled it at him. “Ian, you’re disgusting!” “Are you done with your tantrum?” He took a step forward, glaring down at me. “What do you think you even have left now? You quit your job, you lost your friends, you’ve spent every day revolving around me! Without me, could you even survive?” He pressed me back, my spine hitting the cold entryway wall. “How I live is none of your concern!” “If I don’t care for you, who will?” He raised a hand and gripped my chin, his fingers digging in. “Evie, settle down. Mrs. Chen will still be your title. Keep this up, and you’ll lose everything!” I struggled violently, pushing him away. “I don’t want it!” He probably hadn’t expected me to use such force. He stumbled, instinctively pushing me back. I was standing at the edge of the entryway steps; my foot missed, and I toppled backward. I saw Ian’s horrified face, his hand reaching out but failing to grasp me. Seconds later, excruciating pain exploded in my lower abdomen, as if a hand was violently twisting inside me. I curled into a ball, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes. Ian rushed over. “Evie?!” “It hurts…” Blood. Warm, thick blood streamed down my legs, staining the pale floor. “I… I’ll call an ambulance!” He fumbled for his phone, fumbling several times before unlocking it. The doctor removed her mask. “Approximately eight weeks pregnant, miscarried. Is the family here?” “How…” Ian stood by the bed, his lips moving. “How did she get pregnant now?” The doctor gave him a look, but said nothing. Ian turned to me, his expression complex, a fleeting moment of panic quickly replaced by irritation. “Evie, I’m upset about the baby too, but it’s done. What more do you want from me?” I lay on the hospital bed, my abdomen still throbbing faintly, my heart utterly numb.

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1 For five years, I had been a war correspondent, tirelessly searching for Charlie’s remains. Now, by sheer accident, I crashed his wedding. My comrades-in-arms, who had once scoured battlefields with me, froze, their faces rigid with shock. “Evie, please don’t be upset. Charlie’s faked death was necessary. Sarah’s identity is too sensitive to leave unprotected.” Behind them stood Sarah, shielded by the men who had once searched with me. She was wanted by the Alliance for leaking secrets—and Charlie’s childhood sweetheart. I wasn’t upset. My voice was calm as I said, “So to protect a traitor, Captain Davies chose to die with her.” In the silence, Charlie finally spoke, his voice raspy. “Sarah’s had it hard. You should understand why I did it.” “Understand?” I repeated, a laugh rising. “That you made me search for five years? That you all acted for me? Or that—” “You’re getting married.” Charlie stiffened. Sarah sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving in five days. This is my last wish.” I opened my mouth, but no words came. “Enough! You’ve waited five years!” Charlie snapped. “Can’t you wait five more?” I smiled. He was right. Five days was enough time to write a report that would shake the world. … My laughter echoed through the wedding venue, jarringly out of place. Even the music had stopped. Charlie’s brow was deeply furrowed. He walked slowly towards me, lowering his voice. “Don’t look at me like that. I thought about telling you, but you talk to too many people. I was afraid of leaking Sarah’s whereabouts.” I lowered my gaze to the wedding ring on his left ring finger. It was blindingly bright. Too many people. He knew all along. After his “death,” the whispers had never ceased. Everyone said he and Sarah came from old, established families, and their joint “accidental deaths” surely hid a secret. But I refused to believe it. Not just because his squad members had mourned with me, tirelessly sifting through bullet-riddled battlefields for five long years. But because I had witnessed his unwavering impartiality firsthand. To him, the mission was everything. When I had a high fever during my pregnancy, he received a call on the way to the hospital and left. When he returned, the baby was gone due to delayed medical attention. I had cried hysterically, and he had simply frowned, explaining, “Emergency missions can’t wait. As for the baby, we can have another.” When his enemies kidnapped me, he was on the front lines and hung up on the abductors. They tortured me for half a month before tossing my barely alive body by the roadside. When he rushed back from the front, I was just recovering from emergency surgery. He simply held me, promising I would never face such danger again. After his “death,” his enemies and the accusations had descended upon me. So I had applied to be a war correspondent. I searched for his “remains” in conflict zones, and with each report, I defended his honor. Now, he said he was afraid of leaking Sarah’s whereabouts. To protect her, Charlie had abandoned a decade of loyalty, abandoned his principles, and abandoned me. I smiled, a wry, helpless gesture, and slowly shook my head. When I looked up again, I noticed everyone was watching me warily, including Charlie. “Five days,” Charlie took a step closer, his voice so low only I could hear it. “I’ll get Sarah out safely in five days, then I’ll come back. This wedding… it’s just her wish. Don’t take it seriously.” He was too close. I immediately stepped back, instinctively picking up a wine glass from a nearby table. Almost instantly, everyone rushed to shield Sarah. Charlie grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it hurt. “What are you doing? Calm down! Don’t hurt Sarah!” Sarah started to sob again. “If Evie’s angry, she can just splash me. I was selfish, wanting a wedding with friends before I leave.” Their eyes filled with even more pity for her, and their gazes at me sharpened. “Sarah saved Captain Davies’s life. He’s just repaying a debt.” “It’s just a small wish. Evie, don’t be so pushy.” “Sarah has suffered enough. Just because she accidentally sent a few lines of text, she’s labeled a traitor. But Captain Davies clearly won that battle.” I listened silently. The “few lines of text” they spoke of were the real-time coordinates of my father’s and brother’s unit. My father and brother had died in the ambush caused by that leak. And their “Captain Davies won” was a victory delayed by half a month because of that leak. That was the fifteen days I spent in a dark warehouse, with eight broken ribs and shattered kneecaps. I smiled faintly and drained the red wine in my glass. Those painful memories seemed to slide down my throat with the last drops. As everyone watched, stunned, I set down the empty glass, my voice calm. “I drink this last toast to you all. Farewell.” I turned to leave, but Charlie abruptly seized my wrist. His brows were tightly knitted, his voice forced out through gritted teeth. “You came all this way just to toast us? Was it truly an ‘accident’ you came in?” The moment his words landed, the eyes of everyone in the room pierced me like needles. “Evie… you wouldn’t… wouldn’t expose me, would you?” Sarah’s voice trembled. Almost simultaneously, several figures silently blocked the exits of the banquet hall. Charlie looked at me, took a deep breath, and held out his hand. “Your phone.” I smiled faintly and handed it over. The screen still showed an old photo of us from years ago. His movements stiffened for a moment, then he quickly scrolled through it… finding nothing, of course. I tried to leave again. But someone whispered, their voice laced with suppressed resentment, “Wasn’t Evie the one who reported Sarah for leaking information?” “Sarah saved Captain Davies’s life. Shouldn’t we be more careful with Evie?” “We can’t let Evie’s jealousy ruin Captain Davies’s five-year plan!” “Sarah has suffered so much because of Evie, hiding for all these years.” Listening to their words, I suddenly burst out laughing. I finally understood another reason Charlie had kept it from me, beyond just protecting Sarah. He also hated me. Hated me for reporting Sarah, even though every word of that report was a bloody, undeniable truth. And I, too, hated. For five years, I had hated Sarah. Now, there was one more. “Still not convinced?” I looked at Charlie, and under everyone’s watchful eyes, I emptied all my pockets. Then, I unzipped my jacket and tossed it onto the floor. Beneath, I wore only a black camisole. I raised my hand, my fingertips touching the strap— “Enough!” Charlie abruptly turned his face away, his voice hoarse. “Just go.” This time, no one stopped me. I picked up my jacket and walked out without looking back. Back home, I accessed my other phone, the screen now displaying a photo of my father and brother. This was a completely different system. In my five years as a war correspondent, I was no longer the helpless victim I had been when kidnapped. No, my presence at that wedding tonight was no accident. Three days ago, I had received a text message—a wedding invitation. The sender was Sarah, who had supposedly “died” five years ago. My heart had constricted the moment I saw the wedding venue. But there was no time for pain; other things surged forth. The graves of my father and brother, the searing pain of my shattered kneecaps, and the kidnapper’s mocking words: “Looks like Charlie doesn’t care about you that much, does he?” I dragged the photos and audio clips from tonight onto my computer, one by one. A report capable of igniting global outrage slowly took shape. Until the sound of the door lock turning. I quickly closed my laptop. Charlie pushed the door open, reeking of alcohol. “You still resent me, don’t you?” He stumbled towards me, reaching out to touch my face, but I turned away, avoiding his hand. He collapsed onto the rug at my feet, looking up at me, his eyes red. “Don’t resent me. Sarah saved my life. On the training ground, someone’s gun misfired, and she pushed me away. I couldn’t not repay that debt.” I listened in silence, suddenly remembering many years ago. I had secretly gone to see my brother. Charlie and my brother were so similar in build that in a moment of crisis, I had instinctively lunged towards him. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had mistaken him for someone else. The bullet scar on my chest throbbed faintly. “You’re the only one in my heart,” he grabbed my wrist. “She’ll be gone soon. We can go back to how things were…” “Charlie,” I cut him off, handing him the documents I had already prepared. “Sign this.” “What is it? What do you want to buy? Sign… I’ll sign anything.” He mumbled, barely looking, and scrawled his name. After signing, he seemed to run out of strength, falling into a deep sleep. I pulled out the divorce papers and walked out. 2 After handing the divorce papers to my lawyer, I went to the cemetery. Not long after I left the gravesite, an SUV suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me, and I was pulled inside. Charlie was beside me. The smell of alcohol was gone, replaced by a terrifying, grim expression. “I really did trust you too much. You hate Sarah that much? Enough to have her kidnapped?!” I froze. He gripped my arm, his teeth clenched. “Don’t pretend! The moment I woke up, you were gone! Even if you didn’t arrange the kidnapping, you must have leaked her whereabouts!” The other men in the car spoke with complex tones. “Sarah’s been living under the radar all these years. Aside from us, no one knows where she is.” “You were the only one at the wedding last night, and this morning she was in trouble.” My chest felt like it had been ripped open, cold wind howling through the void. All these years, I had dodged fire with them, scoured fields of corpses with them, and yet, I was still not trusted. The car sped relentlessly towards a deserted factory. I was shoved inside. Sarah was tied up, her face streaked with tears and dust. The kidnappers saw Charlie and scoffed. “You came fast. Looks like this woman really is your precious darling.” “Last time, we got the wrong person. You didn’t show up for half a month of torment. This time, you’re here in less than half an hour.” Charlie’s body stiffened. He forced himself to yell at the kidnappers, his voice rough. “You’ve got the wrong person! This is my wife! That one is irrelevant! Let her go!” I turned to look at him, disbelief washing over me. The kidnappers were also stunned. “You think I’m stupid…” “Look closely!” Charlie sharply interrupted, roughly grabbing my left hand and holding it up. At the same time, I saw the plain band on his hand. It was a perfect match for the ring I’d worn for years, now almost embedded in my skin. He was wearing it again. To exchange me for Sarah? “This is a wedding ring!” Charlie shouted. “I’m exchanging my wife for her!” The kidnappers exchanged glances, seemingly hesitant. But I spoke, each word distinct: “I. will. not. be. exchanged.” “It’s not up to you!” Charlie suddenly grabbed my finger, pulling forcefully at the ring! The ring was deeply embedded in my flesh. The friction caused a tearing pain. The bones in my finger made a sickening “click.” Blood instantly gushed from my finger. He threw the blood-stained ring at the kidnappers. “Check it! Release her!” The kidnappers picked up the ring, examined it, then suspiciously scrutinized both me and Sarah. Sarah cried out, “Brother Kidnapper! Don’t hurt Evie! I’ll go in her place! I’d be happy to do something for Charlie and Evie!” Hearing this, Charlie’s eyes grew even more anxious and pained. He looked at me, almost gritting his teeth. “Evie! They were coming for you anyway! Sarah is innocent!” Coming for me? I suddenly wanted to laugh out loud. So in his mind, I deserved to be kidnapped, deserved to be tortured, while Sarah was always, perpetually innocent. But before I could speak, a sharp pain shot through the back of my neck, and the world plunged into darkness.

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My Uncle Randall had no children of his own, and his will had long stipulated that I would inherit his millions. But after Uncle Randall’s funeral, when I returned to his villa, a stranger burst in, claiming to be Uncle Randall’s rightful heir, demanding I leave. “All of Mr. Randall Bennett’s property is mine. Please leave immediately!” I didn’t believe him for a second, thinking he was delusional, but then he produced a will. I stared at two identical documents and immediately called my lawyer, Mr. Davison. After a thorough comparison, Mr. Davison looked at me, shaking his head with regret. “Mr. Ryan, your will is no longer valid.” My mind exploded. Before I could fully process it, Liam Stone had already settled onto the sofa, expertly locating the cigar Uncle Randall kept hidden beneath the cushions. With practiced ease, he lit it. I fixed my gaze on the man’s unfamiliar yet eerily familiar profile, wreathed in smoke, and asked, my voice laced with disbelief, “Who exactly are you?” 1 Ever since my Uncle Randall was diagnosed with lung cancer, doctors strictly forbade him from smoking, and all the cigars in the house had been confiscated. This hiding spot was known only to Uncle Randall and me. How could this guy know about it? The man opposite me showed no emotion, simply pointing to the name on the will. “Can’t you read? My name is Liam Stone, and I am the legal heir to Mr. Randall Bennett’s estate. Now, may I ask you to leave?” “Impossible!” My voice cracked. “This will of yours must be a forgery. I demand the lawyer authenticate it!” Mr. Davison checked again, his expression solemn, and nodded. “This will is authentic and valid. Mr. Liam Stone is indeed the legal heir.” My face froze, and I shook my head in disbelief. “How can this be real? I’m Uncle Randall’s closest relative. How could he give his inheritance to a stranger like you?” Liam Stone looked at me, a playful smile on his face. “Well, you’ll have to ask your Uncle Randall why he gave his millions to me, a stranger, instead of to you, his nephew whom he raised like his own son.” I stiffened abruptly, clutching the will tightly. Cold sweat dripped onto it, blurring the name “Ryan Bennett,” the original heir. My Uncle Randall had never married, treating me, his nephew who lost both parents in childhood, as his own. I grew up by Uncle Randall’s side. He sent me to the most exclusive schools, provided me with the most privileged life. Before I even graduated from college, he brought me into the company to learn the business, teaching me everything he knew about managing it. He defied my Great-Uncle Robert’s vehement objections, leaving all his property to me, his nephew, not a penny to his own brother’s son. Because of this, Uncle Randall and Great-Uncle Robert had fallen out. My Uncle Randall loved me so deeply; there was no way he would give his inheritance to someone I’d never met. Something was definitely wrong here. I slowly calmed down and looked at the lawyer. “I request the video of the will signing.” For a will to be notarized, at least two notaries, a lawyer, a financial advisor, and a doctor are required to be present. This ensures the testator was of sound mind, acted voluntarily, and that the will’s contents truly reflected their wishes. My Uncle Randall must have been coerced. I stared at Liam Stone, trying to find a trace of panic on his face. But he remained composed and produced the will’s video. I watched the video without blinking, from beginning to end. My Uncle Randall was clearly lucid. He even pressed so hard when writing his name that he tore the paper. My head spun. How could this be? There had to be a trick, definitely a trick! I suddenly grabbed Mr. Davison’s collar, glaring at him fiercely. “You tampered with the video, didn’t you? Your name is Davison, and his is Stone? Are you two in cahoots, conspiring to steal my Uncle Randall’s inheritance?” Mr. Davison’s expression changed, but he still spoke politely. “Mr. Ryan, I understand your feelings, but this was Mr. Randall Bennett’s own decision. If you have any doubts, I suggest you report it to the police or pursue legal action. Physical force won’t solve anything.” I released him and immediately called the police. When the officers arrived, they examined the video, confirming it was the original, with no cuts or AI manipulation. Furthermore, their investigation showed that Mr. Davison and Liam Stone had no family connection. They had never even met before today. I was utterly bewildered. What had gone wrong? My Uncle Randall had made a will just a month before his death, so how could he suddenly change his mind? The officer looked at my unwilling face, saying in a half-educating, half-mocking tone, “Young man, look for reasons within yourself. You must have been unfilial. Even if it were your own father, if he wasn’t satisfied with you, it’s his right to give his inheritance to whomever he chooses.” A rift suddenly tore open in my mind. Father? I turned sharply to Liam Stone, a terrifying idea blooming wildly in my head. 2 I was forcibly evicted from the villa I had lived in for over two decades. Before I left, when no one was looking, I snatched the leftover cigar Liam Stone had been smoking. Outside, I immediately rushed to the hospital, taking Uncle Randall’s stored blood sample to a DNA testing center. The wait for the results was excruciating. Uncle Randall had always led a clean life. Despite his vast wealth, he never indulged in lavish excesses. Apart from necessary business engagements, his life was more ascetic than a monk’s. I racked my brain, but I couldn’t fathom him having a secret child. But if not, how else could I explain him changing his will to favor Liam Stone? After a long wait, the results finally came. The moment I saw them, my entire body froze. The words “Exclusion of biological parent-child relationship” pierced my heart like sharp daggers. My Uncle Randall had truly given his life’s hard-earned millions to a complete stranger with no blood ties? I couldn’t understand it. I truly couldn’t. Did Liam Stone have something on him? But the police investigation had said Liam Stone was just an ordinary employee at a mediocre company. What leverage could he possibly have over my Uncle Randall? Unless, they had that kind of relationship? Considering my uncle’s disinterest in women, it didn’t seem entirely impossible. I almost collapsed from the thought. My mind was a chaotic mess. Was I just going to watch the millions, which were almost within my grasp, pass to someone else? Allow my Uncle Randall’s life’s work to be unjustly taken by another? After a long stunned silence, I picked up the phone and called a private investigator I knew. “I need you to investigate a man named Liam Stone. Go back three generations, from birth to now. Everyone he’s met, his bank statements, every single detail. As comprehensive as possible, and as fast as possible.” I hung up and checked into a five-star hotel. As I swiped my card, the “card frozen” notification echoed jarringly in the empty lobby. It hit me then. My cards were all supplementary cards linked to Uncle Randall’s account. Now that the property was Liam Stone’s, he would surely have stopped my cards immediately. I had no choice but to return to the small, old apartment my grandmother had left for my mother. My wallet held only a few remaining bills. Not only could they not cover next semester’s tuition, but they couldn’t even guarantee my immediate sustenance. I sat in the meticulously clean apartment, a wave of sadness washing over me. Uncle Randall and my mother were twins. When I was two, a car accident tragically took both my parents’ lives. They had been very close siblings. Uncle Randall could never bring himself to sell this apartment and often came to clean it himself. He said it held my mother’s presence. He even remained unmarried to care for me, raising me like both a father and a mother. He was so good to me, so why would he give his inheritance to someone else? I couldn’t let it go. I watched the will video again and again, feeling as if something was missing. My hand paused, and my pupils suddenly constricted. I knew! My Great-Uncle George, the witness, was missing from the video! Great-Uncle George was the most respected elder on my mother’s side. At the time, Uncle Randall had explicitly stated that only Great-Uncle George’s presence and witness would make it valid. I quickly found the video of Uncle Randall’s first will, the one that left everything to me. Great-Uncle George was clearly in it. I jumped up, thrilled, eager to expose Liam Stone’s true identity. I quickly returned to the villa. After forcing the gate open, I started to stride in, but Jenkins, the butler, blocked my way. “Young Master Ryan, this is no longer your home. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll call the police.” Seeing Jenkins, who usually greeted me warmly, now so cold, my heart sank. I explained, “I need to see Liam Stone about something. Let me in.” “Our master has already gone to bed. If it’s important, come back tomorrow.” I checked the time. It was only a little past eight in the evening. Young people’s nightlife hadn’t even started, and he was already asleep? He had the same senior citizen’s routine as my Uncle Randall. I waited by the gate all night. The next morning, around seven, Liam Stone drove out of the villa in Uncle Randall’s Maybach. I stopped him. “Liam Stone, I can prove you’re not the rightful heir. You need to come with me to see my Great-Uncle George right now!” Liam Stone looked at me with a half-smile and surprisingly agreed. “Alright, I’d like to see what proof you have that I’m not the rightful heir.” 3 When we arrived at Great-Uncle George’s house, I anxiously asked, “Great-Uncle, do you know my Uncle Randall gave his inheritance to this man? Your presence isn’t in the video of him making this will. Tell me, it’s forged, isn’t it? He forced my Uncle Randall to do this, right?” Great-Uncle George looked at me, surprised. “Of course, I know. Your Uncle Randall told me. I was supposed to be there to witness, but I had a car accident on the way. My leg is broken. But I recorded a video testimony before my surgery. Didn’t they show you?” Only then did I notice the bandage wrapped around Great-Uncle George’s leg. Great-Uncle George found the video and showed it to me. It was brief but clearly stated the authenticity of the revised will. I was completely dumbfounded. My gaze darted back and forth between Great-Uncle George and Liam Stone. Could Great-Uncle George have been bribed by Liam Stone? I blurted out almost without thinking, “Great-Uncle, did he pay you off? How much did he give you? How can you do this to my Uncle Randall? How can you face my deceased parents?” Great-Uncle George’s face darkened, and his tone lost its gentle warmth. “Ryan, what nonsense are you spouting? Liam and I met for the first time today! I’m an old man, what would I do with all that money? This was all your Uncle Randall’s own wish!” “No! My Uncle Randall wouldn’t abandon me!” I turned and grabbed Liam Stone’s collar, glaring at him fiercely. “Who exactly are you? Why would my Uncle Randall willingly give you his inheritance? Tell me, what did you use to threaten a dead man, forcing him to leave his estate to you?” Liam Stone’s usually calm face finally showed a crack. “Enough!” He forcefully pried my hands away. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re Randall Bennett’s nephew, I would have called the police on you for harassment and stalking. If you don’t stop, I won’t be so polite!” Great-Uncle George also tried to reason with me. “Ryan, Great-Uncle knows it’s hard for you to accept this. Your Uncle Randall must have had his reasons. You’re still young, your future achievements might not be any less than your Uncle Randall’s. Why carry on like this?” “Why carry on like this?” I looked at him incredulously. “It’s not a hundred thousand or a million, it’s millions! It’s my Uncle Randall’s life’s work! Didn’t you ever wonder why he suddenly changed his mind right before he died? What leverage does Liam Stone have over all of you?” Great-Uncle George’s face completely hardened. “Wonder what? Ryan, your Uncle Randall has passed away. I hope you respect the deceased’s wishes!” Liam Stone scoffed. “All you’re trying to say is that your uncle and I had some unspeakable relationship, aren’t you? Ryan Bennett, he was your own uncle. How can you slander him like that?” My face flushed instantly, a feeling of being exposed and humiliated washing over me. The surrounding servants and the family doctor looked at me with thinly veiled contempt. “All talk, but he’s just bitter he got cut out. He’s so desperate for money he’s slandering his own uncle as a pervert, how shameless!” “I’d say his Uncle Randall must have seen what a ingrate he was, that’s why he didn’t give him the property. Doesn’t he have any self-awareness?” “Mr. Bennett raised him for twenty years, like his own father, and now that he’s dead, he’s slandering him. What a disappointment to Mr. Bennett.” “Pah! Greedy, disloyal, despicable brat, get out, don’t contaminate our home!” A servant with a broom began to sweep aggressively at my feet, pushing me towards the door. An overwhelming wave of injustice and humiliation surged through me. My eyes red, I scanned the room and choked out, “I’m not doing this for the inheritance! I just want to understand why my Uncle Randall did this! Was he in some kind of trouble? Was it my fault? Were these twenty years of father-son affection all a lie?” “Even if the final truth is that it was my uncle’s own wish, I will accept it wholeheartedly. I just don’t want to live in such confusion, feeling helpless!” Tears streamed down my face. Great-Uncle George limped over to me, sighing helplessly. “Ryan, don’t overthink it. If your Uncle Randall didn’t love you, why would he have set up a large trust fund for you?” 4 I froze, remembering Uncle Randall’s words to me on his deathbed. “Ryan, Uncle set up a huge trust fund for you. Don’t touch it unless absolutely necessary. The password, only the heir knows…” At the time, I was too distraught to truly grasp the meaning of his words. I had only thought Uncle Randall was leaving me a safety net in case my company operations failed. Now, thinking back, Uncle Randall had made preparations. My gaze sharpened, piercing Liam Stone, and my voice held a desperate resolve. “Liam Stone, one last time, come with me to the bank. Prove to me that you are truly the heir!” He gazed at me with a complex expression for a long moment, then let out a soft huff. “Alright, I’ll go with you. But, if it’s confirmed that I am the legal heir, then you, Ryan Bennett, from this day forward, are forbidden from appearing before me again!” I nodded without hesitation. “Agreed!” We arrived at the bank and met with the trust department manager. The manager carefully took out a safe deposit box, explaining, “This box contains the trust fund documents Mr. Randall Bennett purchased for Mr. Ryan Bennett, as well as a trust fund card. The withdrawal PIN and the safe deposit box password are known only to the heir.” He politely gestured to Liam Stone. “Please, Mr. Stone.” Liam Stone walked to the safe deposit box, turned his head to glance left, then right, ensuring no one was behind him. He extended his left hand, curled his pinky finger, and pressed his index finger on the number pad. The lock emitted a series of beeps, and everyone’s heart tightened with the increasingly rapid sounds. My palms were soaked with sweat, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest. I silently chanted, Incorrect password, incorrect password. I couldn’t be wrong. Uncle Randall must have had an untold difficulty. This Liam Stone must be a fake heir. Uncle Randall loved me. Soon, the truth would be revealed. The impostor would be caught. Uncle Randall, your life’s work, I can help you protect it… As the last digit was pressed, the air seemed to solidify. Everyone held their breath, afraid to miss the most crucial part. Beep. The safe deposit box door clicked open. My entire body’s blood instantly congealed, and my ears buzzed. Around me, flattering whispers like, “Mr. Stone is indeed the heir,” and “Mr. Stone, please remember us,” drifted intermittently into my ears. And I, like a joke, was being pointed at and mocked. “Gone mad with greed, the law has already certified Mr. Stone as the legal heir, but he refuses to believe it. Now he’s been thoroughly humiliated, hasn’t he?” “He must have done something wicked. His parents were taken by fate, his own uncle disowned him, it’s karma!” “He just doesn’t have the fortune. Why is he fighting? Accept your fate!” I stood rooted to the spot, trembling uncontrollably. Why was this happening? How could this be? Great-Uncle George testifying for a man he’d never met, Uncle Randall signing with such determination, entrusting the most secret password to him. All the evidence pointed to Liam Stone being the legal heir. Who was Liam Stone? No! Something was definitely missing. My mind was a chaotic jumble. Just then, the private investigator sent Liam Stone’s background report. I clicked it open, then abruptly looked up, my gaze fixed on Liam Stone. “Liam Stone, I know who you are!”

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