No matter how loud I raised my voice, it didn’t react at all. When I suggested we replace it, Eric grew impatient: “Just make do with it. What’s the point of going through all that trouble?” Today, it malfunctioned again. I was locked in the room, and the AC remote was nowhere to be found. The sweltering heat left me dehydrated, and I couldn’t get through to Eric’s phone all afternoon. It wasn’t until evening that I heard his voice outside the door, along with my best friend, Chloe’s. As soon as they walked in, Chloe frowned at the heat: “Alexa, turn on the AC and set it to cool.” The Alexa that had ignored me all afternoon instantly responded: “Okay, adjusting to your usual 75 degrees.” Eric said, “This thing is always like this. It works when it wants to.” “Are you really going to be jealous of your friend over a voice assistant?” I didn’t say a word. I just contacted customer service for a repair. But the technician told me: “Miss, this voice assistant requires voiceprint registration to work.” “It can only store two profiles. You’ll have to delete one of them to register yours.” It turned out that in this house, my voice was the only one that went unheard. Looking at Chloe and Eric, who were bickering playfully, I canceled the repair request. They didn’t know that because I couldn’t submit my application materials this afternoon, the quota for staying at the local branch had filled up. In seven days, I would be transferred away from here. …… “Miss, which one do you want to delete?” Before I could even speak, Eric cut in: “No need to delete anything. You can go.” “But…” The technician glanced at me. Eric added: “Sorry you had to see that. My fiancée is throwing a tantrum.” “Taking it out on the door lock when she actually just forgot her keys.” “I apologize on her behalf.” The technician gave me a side-eye and took the cigarette Eric offered him. “Wow, your wife has quite the temper. Making me come all the way out here in the middle of summer.” “You shouldn’t spoil women like that. She messed with me this time; is she going to call the cops next time she throws a fit?” He muttered curses as he stepped into the elevator. Eric yanked me into the apartment. “Are you done making a scene? Let’s go.” I shook off his hand, that familiar suffocating feeling returning: “You think I’m making a scene over nothing?” “For three years, you two watched me talk to Alexa, and neither of you reminded me once.” “Is it fun watching me make a fool of myself?” Eric clicked his tongue impatiently: “Well, now you know, don’t you?” “When you were out of town for work, Chloe helped me run around to get the renovations done.” “She happened to be here when we were setting it up, so her voice got registered. By the time you got back, I completely forgot about it.” I shot back: “Then why didn’t you let him delete hers just now and register mine?” He lit a cigarette. He usually did this when he was annoyed. “Chloe is your best friend. If we delete hers, how is she supposed to feel?” “Besides, we agreed to leave the guest room for her in case she works late and needs a place to crash. She needs to use it.” I laughed out of sheer disbelief. “And I don’t?” Eric blew out a puff of smoke, giving me a sidelong glance. His tone was mocking: “Would you even know how to use it? You didn’t even know what a voiceprint was.” “You used to live in a basement. Why are you acting so high maintenance now?” I froze in place. My parents divorced when I was very young and started their own families. As the spare part in both households, I was forced to live in the storage basement of their houses. That was a nightmare that shadowed my entire adolescence. When Eric and I first got together, his eyes were full of nothing but heartache when I told him about it. He promised me that one day, he would buy me a big, beautiful penthouse where sunlight would reach every single corner. But now, the house was bought, yet there was still no place for me. As soon as he finished speaking, he pressed his lips together and irritatedly stubbed out the cigarette. “I didn’t mean it like that…” “I…” “Let’s break up.” Eric’s head snapped up in shock. “Over a voice assistant?!” I looked at him dead in the eye, enunciating every word: “Yes. Over a voice assistant.” The atmosphere instantly froze. Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened. “I’m sorry, Eric. It’s all my fault. Just delete my voice profile and put Mia’s in.” “Mia, you and Eric have been together for seven years. Don’t fight over this. I promise I’ll never show up in front of you guys again.” Eric didn’t look at me. He just comforted her in a low voice: “What are you talking about? As long as I’m here, there will always be a place for you in this house.” Chloe was my friend of ten years. In the beginning, she and Eric couldn’t stand each other. I was the one who mediated between them until they finally accepted one another. But I don’t know when their relationship started getting closer. I suppressed the bitter ache in my heart and went into the bedroom to pack my things. After living here for three years, everything I owned could fit into a single suitcase. Just like a temporary guest. Chloe seemed more like the owner of this house. By the time I finished packing, the living room was empty. “Mia, Eric is still fuming, I’ll help you talk him down.” “You know how hot-headed he gets. Don’t sink to his level. I had no idea about the voice assistant thing. I always thought everyone could…” Looking at the texts from Chloe on my phone, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Then I blocked her. How could she not know? I had complained to her about the voice assistant no less than three times, but every time, she changed the subject. She told me I was being too sensitive, that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. Looking back, they were just playing me for a fool. I found a hotel near my office. I had seven days before my transfer, and I needed to wrap up my projects before then. I didn’t have time to get tangled up in their drama. But to my surprise, Eric called me that night. I hesitated for a moment, but eventually answered. After all, we dated for seven years. Even if we broke up, I felt we deserved a somewhat dignified ending. The moment the call connected, Eric’s furious voice blasted through the speaker. “Mia, it’s fine if you want to pick a fight with me, but what the hell do you mean by blocking Chloe?” “Do you know she cried all afternoon and didn’t even eat dinner?” “In your eyes, is a ten-year friendship something you can just casually throw away and hurt people over?” I fell silent. So he knew Chloe and I had been friends for ten years. Which meant all their teasing, belittling, and lying to me could be easily brushed aside. But the moment I fought back, I was the one hurting them. I was the one who didn’t care about a decade-long friendship. Before I could even speak, Chloe’s sobbing voice came through the line. “Mia, please don’t block me. If you don’t like me, I just won’t come over anymore.” I hung up immediately and added Eric’s number to my blocked list. I didn’t want the friendship or the relationship anymore. The next morning, I arrived at work early, only to see Eric and Chloe standing by the entrance from afar. I ignored them and tried to walk inside, but Eric grabbed my hand: “Mia, we need to talk.” Chloe stood awkwardly by the door. “Eric, should I…?” She said that, but didn’t move an inch. It wasn’t until Eric said, “You head up first,” that she reluctantly left. I asked my colleague, who was standing in front of me, to go ahead. For a moment, we stood in silence. After a long while, Eric finally spoke: “Where are you staying since you moved out?” “A hotel.” “Which hotel? Give me the address and take me off your blocked list.” “Call me anytime if you need anything.” I didn’t say a word. He stared at me intensely, reaching out to gently touch the dark circles under my eyes: “Come home. Stop fighting. It’s not the same out here as it is at home, look how exhausted you look.” “I already replaced the voice assistant with a new one. It holds up to five profiles. Once you’re back, we’ll register your voice.” My breath hitched. It was always like this. Choosing a table for two at a restaurant, then asking the waiter to squeeze in a third chair for me. Every time we watched a movie, they would huddle together chatting through all the gore on screen while I sat alone, trembling with my eyes covered. Even for our planned couples’ trip, he booked the romantic suite under his and Chloe’s names. I had to buy a separate ticket and sit by myself in the corner. In this world of three, I was always the spare part. But this time, I didn’t want to compromise anymore. “There’s no need.” I tried to turn and leave, but Eric still refused to let me go: “Mia, what is your problem?” “I already had someone come install a new one, and I promised to register your voice. And you’re still not satisfied.” “What exactly do you want?” I froze, feeling a sudden wave of confusion myself. At first, I just wanted to replace a faulty voice assistant. Later, I wanted Eric and Chloe to keep their distance. Now I understood. From the very beginning, all I ever wanted was a partner’s exclusive, undivided devotion. Not the constantly crowded three-person life I was living. Eric was still pressing the issue. I lost my patience: “I’ll go home on one condition. Delete Chloe’s fingerprints and voiceprint.” “Not only that, but Chloe is never allowed in our house again.” Eric’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “That’s impossible.” I laughed. The last tiny sliver of hope in my heart completely shattered. “It’s fine if my voice isn’t in the system, but hers absolutely has to be?” Eric tried to defend himself, but I cut him off immediately: “Enough. I get it. There’s nothing left to say.” I walked straight past him into the elevator. He told me to come home, but that place had long ceased to be my home. Maybe it never was. Eric followed me inside, wanting to speak but holding back because of the other people in the elevator. He followed me all the way into my office. “Anything else?”

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Chapter 1 After being in a coma for three years due to a car crash, I woke up to find everyone treating me like an endangered species. They were terrified something would happen to me again, meticulously planning my schedule to ensure I was never alone. My little brother, Liam, was in charge of keeping me company during morning physical therapy to help me regain my strength. My best friend, Chloe, took the afternoon shift, passing the time with me by shopping or going to the movies. In the evening, my parents would pick me up and cook a massive feast to nourish me. And when it was time for bed, my boyfriend, Ethan, would come take me home. Snuggled in his arms before falling asleep, I giggled. “You guys don’t have to be so careful. I’m an adult. I won’t let anything happen to me again.” Ethan frowned, shaking his head seriously. “Maya, you mean the world to all of us. We can’t survive going through that kind of pain again.” My heart swelled. I felt completely enveloped in absolute bliss. That was, until I found a group chat on my best friend’s phone. A group chat that didn’t include me. The group name: [Operation: Protect Ethan’s Love] The newest message was from Chloe. “Maya and I are at the movie theater. You can take Harper home now, don’t worry.” Scrolling up, there was a message from my brother. “I took my sister to the park by the neighborhood. Ethan, you better not take Harper out for breakfast around here today.” Further up, from my parents. “Maya finished eating. Drop Harper off and then come pick Maya up.” I tapped on the profile picture for the contact named Harper. I froze in place, my blood running cold. The person who put me in a coma for three years… was now with Ethan. And the people I thought loved and protected me the most were all covering for them. …… The sounds around me were bustling and loud. Yet I felt like I had been sealed inside a soundproof box. It wasn’t until Chloe bumped my shoulder that I snapped out of it. “What’s wrong, Maya?” The movie had already started. The green light from the screen reflected on my face, hiding how deathly pale I was. I shook my head and handed her phone and purse back to her. “I’m going to the restroom.” A hand grabbed my wrist. Chloe looked slightly nervous. “Do you want me to go with you?” The bliss I used to feel was entirely replaced by a bitter ache. I forced a smile. “I’m just going to the restroom. Are you really that worried?” A flash of guilt crossed her eyes. She let out an awkward laugh and released my wrist. “Then hurry back.” I nodded, walked out of the theater, and immediately went downstairs to hail a cab. As I was getting out of the taxi, Ethan called. I didn’t answer. I opened my call log and scrolled through it. There was a missed call from Ethan almost every half hour. I used to tease him about being too tense. He would hug me tight, lingering fear in his voice. “Maya, I have to know you’re safe to have peace of mind.” The doctors said Ethan was sick. If something happened to me again, he might not mentally survive it. So I never missed a single one of his dozen daily calls. I honestly reported my location every time. Turns out, I was just making it incredibly convenient for him and Harper to be together without getting caught. The call went to voicemail, then instantly started ringing again. I answered it. Ethan sounded frantic. “Where are you, Maya?! Chloe said you went to the restroom and never came back. She can’t find you anywhere.” I blinked back the stinging tears in my eyes. “It was stuffy inside. I stepped out for some fresh air.” After a moment, Ethan’s voice came through, thick with relief and a hint of a sob. “Oh, Maya. Please don’t scare me like that again.” “Where are you? I’ll have Chloe go pick you up.” I stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the drawn curtains of a sixth-floor apartment. Through the earpiece, right as Ethan’s last syllable faded, I heard a muffled grunt and a faint, unmistakable gasp of pleasure. It struck my ear like a crack of thunder. The moment I hung up, I doubled over and started dry-heaving. I threw up until my stomach cramped. Just as I managed to stand up straight, I saw two silhouettes walking out of the apartment building’s stairwell. Harper. The girl who hit me with her car three years ago. Ethan had his arm wrapped intimately around her waist, gently pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maya’s going to be back soon. I’ll come see you tomorrow. I’m sorry for putting you through this, Harper.” She hugged him back. “It’s okay. Back then, I fell in love with you and got so jealous I made a stupid mistake and hit her with my car.” “You didn’t blame me, and her parents even signed a letter of forgiveness because I was so young.” “This is what I owe her. I don’t dare ask for anything more.” Every word stabbed into my heart like a dagger. My eyes widened. In an instant, every ounce of strength was drained from my body. So what happened three years ago wasn’t an accident. I lay in a hospital bed for three years, and the culprit received everyone’s forgiveness. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. Ethan reached out, tenderly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Let me take you back to…” Before he could finish, Chloe came sprinting toward them. “Ethan! Maya’s gone! I can’t find her anywhere!” Ethan’s expression drastically changed. Panic, terror, and residual trauma flooded his face. He shoved Harper aside, grabbed Chloe’s arm, and demanded viciously, “I gave you one job! Watch her! How could you screw that up?!” He looked like a demon. I lowered my eyes, turning and walking away before they could look in my direction. Chapter 2 I gave the taxi driver an address and dug up a number I hadn’t called in a very long time from my contacts. “Three years ago, you invited me to move to the East Coast and join your research team. Is that offer still on the table?” Getting a positive answer, I closed my eyes tightly. “No problem. But I need you to help me fake my own death.” The second I hung up, calls from Ethan and the others started flooding in. I ignored all of them. Messages rapidly popped up on my screen one after another. [Maya, where did you go?! Ethan is going crazy trying to find you!] My brother’s message popped up right under Chloe’s. It was a video. I tapped it, my fingers curling slightly. In the video, Ethan had a massive, fresh scrape down his arm. He was limping heavily as he walked. His clothes were covered in dirt and grime. He looked completely pathetic. [Maya, Ethan got hit by a car while looking for you. Mom and Dad almost fainted.] [Where are you?! Stop scaring us!] I took a deep breath. My fingers tightened their grip on the phone, then slowly relaxed. I tapped the screen and finally sent a location back. Then I turned off my phone and began climbing the stone steps, one by one. Two months ago, right after I woke up from my coma, Chloe showed me a video. In it, Ethan was climbing these exact same stone steps. Taking one step, then dropping to his knees. Over and over. He was an atheist. He never believed in gods or spirits. But during the three years I was in a coma… He prayed devoutly, using this method, begging for me to wake up. After I woke up, Ethan, who hadn’t left my side for a single second, disappeared for a full day and night. When he returned, he looked exhausted. I asked him where he went. His eyes were incredibly bright. “I went to fulfill my vow. To thank the heavens for giving my Maya back to me.” My eyelashes fluttered. Looking at the holes worn into the knees of his pants and his bruised, swollen forehead, tears instantly poured from my eyes. I threw my arms around him, my voice soft but incredibly resolute. “Ethan, let’s get married.” I was so completely engulfed in happiness back then. So much so that I completely ignored Ethan’s momentary, rigid stiffening when he heard the word “married.” It took me an hour to climb the hundreds of steps. The leg that had required surgery after the crash began to ache. I leaned on my knees, catching my breath. I arrived at the temple room where Ethan had lit an eternal candle. The moment I pushed the door open, my fingernails dug fiercely into my palms. Underneath the eternal candle that was supposed to be dedicated to the child Ethan and I lost… Was Harper’s name. Ethan’s familiar handwriting stabbed my eyes until they burned. Every breath of air felt like inhaling needles. The pain made me tremble uncontrollably. The car crash three years ago didn’t just put me in a coma for three years. It also killed the baby that had just begun to grow inside me. And now, the murderer had replaced my baby, receiving the blessings of the eternal candle. I raised a trembling hand, ready to smash the candle to the floor, when hurried footsteps echoed behind me. “Maya!” I stopped and looked back with bloodshot eyes. Ethan charged forward, throwing himself between me and the candle. “You can’t smash this.” I stared at him, my eyes stinging. “Why?” “The candle that used to be here belonged to your baby!” My own hoarse voice shocked even me. A flash of heartache crossed Ethan’s face. He opened his mouth, but seemed completely at a loss for words. Another voice spoke from behind me. “Don’t blame Ethan. It was my idea. Mine and your father’s.”

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Chapter 1 Arthur Vance only gave me a quota of five hours of free personal time each year. Eating a meal with me deducted forty minutes. Going back to visit my parents deducted two hours. Even our intimacy was timed from the very first second he kissed me. Arthur was the youngest senior partner at a top-tier white-shoe law firm. His private consultation fee was $6,000 an hour. I always thought he was just meticulously strict about his time. Until the firm’s annual gala, when Chloe Sterling—the junior associate he had personally mentored—suddenly smiled and asked: “Arthur, how much time does your wife have left this year?” Arthur glanced at his phone. “Seventeen minutes.” The entire table erupted in laughter. Chloe tilted her head up to look at him. “What about me?” Arthur affectionately ruffled her hair. “You don’t need to be timed.” “Shopping for dresses with you, getting late-night takeout, catching midnight premieres—when have I ever timed you?” I swallowed the roar of laughter from the crowd, silently guarding my final seventeen minutes. A month later, my father passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack. I used my last seventeen minutes to ask Arthur to stay with me while I signed my father’s cremation papers. But later, my emotions completely broke down. I grabbed the cuff of Arthur’s sleeve, begging him to stay for just ten more minutes. He didn’t push me away. I thought that in the face of my father’s death, he was finally willing to break his rule for me. The next day, his secretary sent me a bill for $1,000. That same afternoon, I pawned my wedding ring for $1,500. I used $1,000 to settle his invoice. With the remaining $500, I paid the deposit for an overseas legal translation institute. This time, I didn’t waste any more of his time. And I wasn’t going to waste any more of mine. …… Just after I transferred the $1,000, Arthur’s secretary quickly sent a receipt confirmation. Attached to the email was a document titled: Personal Time Usage Breakdown for the Current Year. January: Anniversary dinner, 90 minutes. He was 35 minutes late, took a 46-minute phone call from Chloe, and the time I actually spent speaking to him was only 9 minutes. Yet, a full 90 minutes was deducted from my quota. May: Hospitalized with a high fever. He stayed in my hospital room for 6 minutes. But that same night, he spent four hours in the ER with Chloe for a mild 99-degree fever. August: Intimacy, 21 minutes. After it ended, craving his body heat, I held onto him for two extra minutes. Those two minutes were logged as a separate line item. The original file name of the attachment hadn’t been fully scrubbed. Five-Hour Wife Annual Quota Summary. I stared at those words, my vision blurring. I finally realized that this was what the people at his firm called me behind my back. The Five-Hour Wife. The title I had earned from six years of marriage. It felt like something was blocking my throat. It took a long time before I could force the tears back down. In my inbox sat the enrollment confirmation from the institute in London. There were only twelve days left until orientation. I wiped the moisture from the corners of my eyes and returned to my hometown to handle my father’s affairs. While processing the burial paperwork, the staff member glanced at the family section. “Your husband didn’t come today?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My father’s old friend, Uncle Ray, quickly covered for me. “Arthur is a big-shot lawyer. He’s busy.” “Old Mitch always used to say we shouldn’t let family matters delay his son-in-law.” The room suddenly went quiet. Uncle Ray looked at my red eyes, hesitated for a long time, and finally spoke in a low voice: “Last winter, your dad heard Arthur’s stomach ulcers were acting up. He got up in the middle of the night to make him soup, and I drove him to the firm.” “He waited in the lobby for three hours. They didn’t even let him upstairs.” “When that Chloe girl came down, she asked if he was trying to eat into your five hours, and told him not to come make a mess without an appointment.” My fingernails instantly dug into my palms. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Uncle Ray looked away. “Your dad wouldn’t let me.” “He said your marriage was hard enough already. He didn’t want to humiliate you.” I lowered my head, tears crashing down onto my father’s memorial photo without warning. My father covered for me until the day he died. He didn’t know that I had lost my dignity in the Vance family a long time ago. I found the insulated thermos in the cupboard. Taped to the lid was a crooked note in my father’s handwriting. Arthur has a bad stomach. Drink less coffee. My phone screen lit up exactly at that moment. Chloe had just posted an Instagram story. In the photo, Arthur was carrying her shopping bags filled with limited-edition mystery boxes. His sleeves were rolled up, and his expression was relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “Arthur waited in line with me for two hours so I could finally get the collectible I wanted!” “Time should obviously be wasted on things that make you happy.” I stared at it for a long time, until the screen went completely dark. When I got home that night, the light in the study was on. Arthur had told me he had work to do. But as I walked past the door, I heard his deep, low laughter. “You made me wait in line for two hours and you’re still not satisfied?” “Fine, I’ll stay on the phone with you tonight.” “No, this time doesn’t count.” I froze outside the door, a sour ache blooming in my nose. I lowered my eyes and walked past the study. When Arthur saw me, his smile faded slightly. He quickly ended the call, followed me into the bedroom, and wrapped his arms around me from behind. As his familiar scent pressed down on me, my body dodged away before my mind could even process it. Arthur’s hands froze in mid-air. Chapter 2 He stayed silent for a moment before slowly adjusting his cuffs. “Your reaction today is a bit irrational.” “If you care that much about the $1,000, you could have just brought it up.” I gripped my father’s jacket tightly and didn’t look at him. Arthur’s tone remained steady. “I understand you are in a grieving period, which is why I didn’t push you away at the crematorium.” “But understanding your emotions does not mean the rules become invalid.” When he finished, much like resolving a simple legal dispute, he offered a settlement. “Next year, I’ll increase your quota by one hour.” “Tonight’s hug won’t be timed either. That should be sufficient.” My eyes burned. “There’s no need,” I replied softly. Arthur stared at me for a few seconds. The rare sliver of patience in his eyes slowly faded. “Refusing a solution and using silence to continuously express your dissatisfaction only makes communication meaningless.” “Leaving the firm back then was a choice based on your own personal desires.” “This marriage was an arrangement you actively accepted.” “To frame them now as sacrifices isn’t fair to me.” Every sentence was rigorous, clear, and perfectly bulletproof. He stood in the courtroom of our life, dismissing my six years point by point. Six years ago, I was a lawyer at the same firm. After I won three consecutive cases, Arthur called me into his office and asked if I wanted to maintain an exclusive physical relationship with him. “I don’t have the time to get to know a new woman from scratch.” “You’re familiar with my habits. You’re the most suitable.” I asked him what would happen to my job. He answered without a second of hesitation. “Quit.” “When I need you, I don’t want to have to wait for you to finish a trial.” I had loved him for so long that I ultimately gave up my budding career to stay by his side. I had a moment of clarity once and packed my bags to leave. Arthur chased me to the train station and grabbed my hand in the crowd. His voice was unusually gentle. “Don’t go. Come back with me.” “I’ll give you a marriage, and in the future, I’ll give you time.” I believed him. Now, that ring had been traded for ten minutes of his company. And the career he had personally severed was now entirely “my own choice.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. A new email from the institute. Please arrive on time for orientation in twelve days. Looking at that sentence, my tears finally fell. Six years ago, Arthur knew my train schedule, so he was able to drag me back. This time, I wouldn’t tell him my flight. My father couldn’t bear to take up his time even in death. My farewell wouldn’t take up his time, either. When I clicked “Confirm Enrollment,” Arthur was still standing at the bedroom door. He glanced at the screen. “That overseas institute again?” “Yes.” “You applied for that three years ago too.” His tone was flat, clearly not taking it seriously. “There are still many logistical hurdles between confirming enrollment and actually leaving. Let’s talk when you actually have everything in order.” He was absolutely certain I wouldn’t go through with it. And certain I couldn’t bear to leave him. As I put my phone away, Arthur’s gaze fell on my left hand. “Where is your wedding ring?” Only a faint, pale indentation remained on my ring finger. That ring was worth $68,000. Before the wedding, Arthur took me to a high-end jeweler. He only looked at one display case before pointing to the ring in the dead center. Choosing it took thirty-two seconds. Swiping the card took fourteen. Before the tea in the VIP lounge was even served, we were walking out of the store. At the time, I only remembered that he didn’t even ask the price when he paid, and I secretly rejoiced over it for a long time. Only later did I realize: he was willing to spend his money, but he wasn’t willing to spend a single extra minute on me. “I pawned it.” Arthur’s brow twitched. “Why?” “To pay that $1,000 bill.” He fell silent for two seconds, quickly recovering his composure. “If you needed money, you could have drawn from the secondary credit card.” He didn’t even ask if the ring could be redeemed. A knock sounded at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Chloe pushed the door open and walked in. “Arthur, why did you hang up on me just now?” Her tone was whiny and flirtatious as her hand naturally climbed up Arthur’s arm. The diamond bracelet on her wrist glinted blindingly under the light. Last Christmas, my father gave Arthur a $1,000 holiday check. Arthur turned around and gave it to Chloe, then spent four hours walking around the mall with her, covering the difference to buy that exact bracelet. For one of Chloe’s bracelets, he patiently shopped for an entire afternoon. Chloe noticed me looking and raised her wrist to jingle it. “Does Ellie recognize this?” “The holiday money your dad gave Arthur was put toward this bracelet.” She suddenly covered her mouth, as if just remembering my father had passed away. “Now that your dad is gone, does this count as one of his relics?” “You wouldn’t make me give it back, would you, Ellie?” Chapter 3 Arthur glanced at her. “Chloe, watch your phrasing.” His tone carried no weight. Chloe stuck her tongue out and casually picked up his water glass to take a sip. “I just didn’t want Ellie to misunderstand.” Arthur didn’t stop her. I looked at them, and suddenly wanted to ask one final question for the version of myself from the last six years. “Why?” Arthur looked up. “What?” “When you eat with me, go home with me, or take me to the hospital, you have to calculate the time.” “But when you help her pick out jewelry, watch movies, and get late-night food, you never count a second.” Arthur didn’t dodge the question. Like evaluating a case, he gave the clearest possible answer. “Chloe is a key associate the firm is heavily investing in.” “Her growth translates directly into billable hours and creates long-term revenue for the firm.” He paused, his eyes sweeping across my face. “You currently have no professional output.” “The time you spend waiting for me has no commercial value.” The final, faint thread tugging at my chest snapped in silence. I lowered my eyes, and even the sorrow faded away. Chloe leaned against his shoulder, reaching up to adjust his slightly messy collar. A gesture that used to keep me awake all night now provoked absolutely nothing in me. But Arthur looked at me. It seemed my calmness made him far more uncomfortable than an argument would have. He pulled out his tablet and forwarded me the personal time schedule for next year. “The five hours have been pre-allocated.” “Time has been reserved for your birthday, our anniversary, your physical exam, and two family dinners.” Chloe snatched the tablet right out of his hands. “I have a mock arbitration on Ellie’s birthday. Move the dinner to next week.” “The anniversary needs to be shortened too. I land that night, and Arthur has to come pick me up.” Holding the stylus, she casually circled and crossed out dates on my schedule. Arthur only offered a mild warning: “Don’t pack it too tight.” Chloe smiled and handed the mutilated calendar back to me. “Make sure you confirm it, Ellie.” “If you make any last-minute changes, it comes out of your own quota.” I looked at the unrecognizable schedule and pressed Decline. Arthur frowned slightly. “Why won’t you accept it?” “I won’t need it.” Chloe was still clinging to his arm. Arthur stared at me for a few seconds, but ultimately didn’t press the issue. That evening, Arthur’s mother called. She only had two sentences for me: “Your father is already cremated. Stop bringing your depressing energy around Arthur.” “Bring Chloe to the house tonight. She made the partner track shortlist, and the family is throwing her a celebration.” Arthur put his phone down and looked at me. “We’ll come back right after we eat. Family dinners do not count toward your five hours.” I nodded. As Chloe got into his passenger seat, she turned back and smiled at me. “Sorry you have to endure this, Ellie. Your father just died, and you still have to celebrate my promotion.” At the Vance family’s long dining table, Chloe sat right beside Arthur as always. Arthur’s mother poured her wine personally. “When you quit the firm back then, the associate slot opened up and went straight to Chloe.” “Looking at it now, that spot definitely didn’t go to waste.” Chloe raised her glass to me. “I really should thank Ellie.” “If she hadn’t left, I might not have gotten the chance to be personally mentored by Arthur.” Seeing my red eyes, Arthur cut in with a flat tone. “Associate slots rotate based on merit. They don’t belong to anyone.” “Chloe stayed because she created sufficient value.” His mother smiled and nodded. “A woman still needs her own career.” “Waiting around for a man all day, ending up having to beg your husband for a measly five hours—how pathetic is that?” The whole table laughed. I kept my head down and slowly drank my tea, which had long gone cold. When the dinner ended, a maid brought a cardboard box down from upstairs. Arthur’s mother casually pushed it toward me. “I had them clear out that nursery in your house.” “When Chloe and Arthur work late, she can organize files in there. It’s close to the study.” Arthur’s face darkened. “Who gave you permission to touch that room?” “A baby you couldn’t even keep—what’s the point of letting it take up a room?” His mother looked entirely indifferent. “You can’t let a living person’s career take a backseat to a baby that’s been dead for two years.” Chloe clung to Arthur’s arm. “Arthur, let’s just put it back.” “I’m sure Ellie can’t bear to give her baby’s room to me.” “There’s no need.” I picked up the box. “I won’t be needing it anymore either.” Arthur glanced at me, seemingly catching something in my tone. But Chloe had a cross-border arbitration call at 10:00 PM. In the end, all he said was: “Let’s go.”

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Chapter 1 After saving up for five years with Declan, we finally went to look at condos. My best friend, Sloane, tagged along. “This master bedroom needs a walk-in closet. Can we tear down this wall?” She pointed at the floor plan I had spent six months researching, asking Declan. “I’ll have a contractor come look at it tomorrow. You can remodel it however you want,” he replied. The two of them chatted about everything from the sun exposure to the floor tiles, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the bathtub. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, unable to get a single word in. When it came time to sign the paperwork, he seemed to suddenly remember I was there. “Let’s put this deed in Sloane’s name for now. She’s out here all alone, we can write it off as a company housing perk.” “The company’s cash flow is a little tight right now, so you’ll just have to rent for another two years, Quinn.” But five years ago, I also moved far away from my hometown to help him build his startup from scratch. Squeezed into a cramped studio apartment with no AC, he had sworn to me: “When the company takes off, the very first thing I’ll do is buy you a home.” Now the company had taken off, and the first thing he did was buy a home for someone else. I stared at the two signatures side-by-side on the contract. There was no place for me. Since he had already mapped out a future that didn’t include me, I decided I wouldn’t wait around anymore. I opened my apartment portal app and clicked “Confirm” on my lease termination. …… When we walked outside, there were only two seats left on the golf cart taking us back to the sales center. Declan naturally grabbed Sloane’s hand and helped her onto the cart. “Quinn, you can just walk over. We need to go finalize the keys. Sloane’s wearing heels, it’s hard for her to walk.” He remembered that Sloane was wearing two-inch heels. But he forgot that I had pulled all-nighters for his project, triggering my old back injury. Standing for too long sent shooting pain down my spine. I stopped expecting him to remember. I turned around and walked toward the exit. “I’m not going.” He didn’t care. He yelled at my back, “Good, then go to the leasing office and renew your apartment. Today is the last day.” There would be no renewal. The termination confirmation had already hit my inbox, and I had signed it without hesitation. When I got home, the first thing I saw on Instagram was Sloane’s new post. She was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, making a heart shape with her hands: “Finally have a home in this city.” I had studied that exact condo for over half a year. I had pulled countless all-nighters drafting the interior design blueprints. Just last week, I had called my mom, practically vibrating with excitement. “Mom, next month I’ll finally be able to show you our new home.” Her voice had choked up. “Okay, your dad and I can’t wait. That Declan kid finally grew a conscience.” But now, the name on the dotted line belonged to someone else. I liked Sloane’s post and left a comment: “So jealous. The company perks are amazing.” Then I started packing my things. In my tiny three-hundred-square-foot apartment, I had pitifully few belongings. It couldn’t even fill a single suitcase. My clothes were all clearance rack finds. My makeup was drugstore brand. Every penny I saved went straight into our joint savings account. I saved for five years. I saved enough for a luxury waterfront condo, only for him to hand it over to Sloane. When Declan came home, his face was dark with fury. “What the hell did you mean by that comment? Our colleagues, your parents—everyone can see it. What are they supposed to think?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “When you took our five years of house savings to buy her a condo under the guise of a ‘company perk,’ did you care what anyone thought?” His brows knitted together in annoyance. “Sloane is your best friend. She came to the company to help me out, shouldn’t I take care of her? Could you try being a little more understanding, like she is?” The resentment that had been blocking my chest for five years suddenly surged up. Five years ago, my mom had cried, begging me. “He doesn’t even have a place to live! What kind of future can he give you?” My dad had locked away my birth certificate. “If he doesn’t have a house, don’t even think about a wedding!” I didn’t listen. I quit the stable city planning job I had worked so hard to get. With a one-way ticket and a single suitcase, I traveled a thousand miles to be with him. Back then, he was hustling so hard for projects he literally drank himself into stomach ulcers. His favorite line was: “When the company takes off, the very first thing I’ll do is buy you a home. When we take that deed back to your parents, they’ll have to accept me.” But five years passed. The company was successful, the money was there, the house was bought… but the person living in it wasn’t me. “I should learn from her?” My voice was entirely devoid of emotion. “Isn’t it obvious?” he raised his voice. “It’s just a condo. Besides, it’s an easy tax write-off…” Watching him so casually compare me to her, I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. “The company is at a critical stage for funding right now, and I come home just to listen to your nonsense…” “Then don’t listen.” He froze for a second, then grabbed his car keys. “I don’t have the energy to fight with you. Calm down and think about how you’re acting!” The door slammed shut. It was always like this. Ever since Sloane arrived, he became blind to my grievances. He always thought I was throwing a tantrum, picking fights out of nowhere. Then he would just walk away, leaving me alone to swallow the pain. But this time, I wasn’t going to comfort myself. I opened my airline app. Five years ago, I bought a one-way ticket to get here. Now, I was buying a one-way ticket back. Chapter 2 The next day, I went to the office. It was my last project. I had been leading it for half a year, drawing hundreds of blueprints. I wasn’t going to leave it unfinished. In the boardroom, Declan pushed Sloane to the front of the room. “The fact that the last project launched ahead of schedule is all thanks to Sloane pulling several all-nighters. She deserves the most credit.” Then his gaze swept over to me, his tone turning cold. “Certain people need to step up their efficiency as the Chief Architect. Don’t make the rookies clean up your messes.” My blueprints. My proposals. I was the one who sorted through every single detail last night and sent it to the project team. I was the one who pulled three all-nighters in a row. Yet I was the one being publicly humiliated. After the meeting, he treated the entire team to lunch at a high-end sushi restaurant. “Sloane loves sashimi. Make sure we get the scampi and sea urchin,” he instructed the waiter. Then, he casually pushed a menu toward me, pointing at the cheapest bento box. “Quinn, you get this. We’re saving up for a house, we need to be frugal wherever we can.” He remembered exactly what Sloane loved to eat. But he forgot that I was deadly allergic to shellfish. I couldn’t touch a single thing on that table full of sashimi. And yet, he still had the nerve to tell me to save money for a house. I never could have imagined it would turn out this way. Half a year ago, when Sloane was unemployed and desperate, I was the one who brought her to Declan. “Her degree fits the role, and she’s a hard worker. Let’s help her out.” But ever since she arrived, I became the ‘unreasonable’ one. When we both worked overtime until dawn, he would tell Sloane to expense an Uber home. Then he would look at me still at my desk and frown. “Why are you still here? Do you think the company’s electricity is free?” If Sloane casually mentioned she wanted strawberry cake, he would drive five miles out of his way to buy it. When I had a fever and asked him to bring home some Tylenol, he said we had generic cold medicine at home and it worked the same. He always said Sloane was so understanding. But her “understanding” was built on the foundation of my all-nighters, my blueprints, and the money I saved—stepping over my constant compromises. After lunch, he tried to pull me toward the new condo. “Come on, let’s go check it out. We need to discuss how to decorate it.” I pulled my arm free. “I’m not going.” Sloane smiled and hooked her arm through mine. “Quinn, come with us! I need your expert advice.” Declan sounded exasperated. “Are you seriously still mad? It’s just a condo. Don’t be so petty.” As he spoke, he opened the passenger door, naturally waiting for Sloane to slide in. It wasn’t until I got into the backseat that I realized. I didn’t even know when it happened, but the passenger seat had become Sloane’s. Since she arrived six months ago, I had never sat in the front of Declan’s car again. He drove out of his way to pick her up every single day. He claimed she lived too far, even though it was only a twenty-minute bus ride. Meanwhile, I lived on the south side. Taking the bus and transferring to the subway took me two hours. He never offered to pick me up once. Sloane said she wanted to tear down the entire layout of the master bedroom, living room, and study. Declan agreed without blinking an eye. He probably forgot that I had drafted a thick stack of blueprints for this exact condo. Every single page calculated the structural integrity, the flow of the space, and the natural lighting. Now, with a wave of his hand, he was scrapping it all. But then again, this condo had nothing to do with me anymore. Sloane was flipping through my blueprints. “Quinn’s design is really nice, but the style is a bit too cold. I want something warmer.” “Then just draw up a new version, tailor it to Sloane’s preferences,” Declan said to me, acting as if it was my unquestionable duty. “You’re the professional, you can alter it quickly. Three days should be enough, right?” I snatched my blueprints out of her hands. “I designed these for my own home. When did I ever say you could use them?” His face filled with disapproval. “You’re not going to use them anyway. What, are you hoping the blueprints will magically hatch into a house?” I didn’t answer. I just stared out the window. The sunlight was blindingly white, hurting my eyes. Chapter 3 Sloane spoke up softly, “It’s fine, Quinn. I’ll just look at other designs online. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just design it myself. I know you’re super busy…” “You just started in this industry, how could you?” Declan cut her off immediately. “Work is exhausting enough. Designing your own place is too much stress.” The heartache in his voice was so natural. So natural that he completely forgot I was leading a massive project I had been grinding on for six months. I was just as busy. I was just as exhausted. But I was expected to carve out time to redesign a home that was supposed to be mine, for someone else. “Put your current project on hold,” Declan looked at me. “Focus on finishing Sloane’s design first.” “The Phase 1 deliverables are due next week.” “You’re efficient. Three days to draft the new prints, and you can spend the rest of the time overseeing her renovations. You’ll have plenty of time.” He said it so casually, as if my time was a bottomless pit. “I can’t put it on hold,” my voice went cold. “That project is mine.” Declan let out a laugh. “Yours? The only reason this project got this far is because of the resources the company provided. You really think drawing a few lines on a screen is what holds a project together?” Sloane tugged at his sleeve. “Please don’t fight with Quinn because of me. Why don’t I just…” “Stay out of this,” he covered her hand with his. “Quinn, if you feel like the pressure is too much, just say so. I can easily swap someone else in to take over the project. You don’t have to force yourself to carry it.” He said it with such ease. The project I had poured my literal blood, sweat, and tears into. To him, it was a trivial matter. Anyone could do it. “Declan, there’s something I need to make perfectly clear to you.” I stared right at him. “First, I am the Chief Architect of this company. I have been the lead on this project from day one. You do not have the right to unilaterally replace me.” “Second,” I paused. “I’ve decided to break up with you. So, you have absolutely no right to demand I hand over my blueprints for someone else’s condo.” He froze for a second, then burst out laughing. A laugh laced with blatant mockery. “Break up? Quinn, are you joking? Over a condo?” He leaned forward. “You just renewed your lease and paid six months’ rent upfront. How much money do you even have left in your pocket? With the balance in your bank account, how many days can you survive out there?” “I didn’t renew my lease.” He clearly didn’t believe me. “I’m warning you, stop throwing this tantrum. If we actually break up, you won’t even be able to afford the dump you’re living in now. Apologize to me when we get home, and I’ll pretend I never heard you say that.” Sloane stood to the side, completely silent. I turned and started walking away. My phone suddenly rang. It was an unknown number. “Ms. Quinn, we received an anonymous tip that your Certified Principal Architect licensing materials were falsified. Effective immediately, your license is suspended pending a full investigation. You are barred from all architectural work.” I snapped my head back. Declan was looking at me calmly, as if he had been waiting for me to turn around. “You did this?” my voice trembled slightly. He didn’t deny it. His tone even carried a hint of patronizing comfort. “Just a little lesson to help you cool off. If you ever mention breaking up again, the consequences won’t be this simple.” He walked up to me and stopped. “Quinn, I want you to understand something. The company got to where it is today because of team effort, not just you. You might think highly of yourself, but the company… doesn’t strictly need you.” In that moment, it felt like all the background noise faded into absolute silence. Five years ago, when he said, “I have nothing but you,” his eyes were shining. Back then, I was full of reckless courage, genuinely believing that if we just pushed through the hard times, we would have everything. Now, we did have everything. But he had forgotten exactly how this company survived to see today.

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Everyone in Manhattan’s elite circles knew the Stanton daughters were highly fertile. My oldest sister had twins, my second sister had triplets, and even my distant cousin popped out three chubby boys within three years of marriage. I, Stella Stanton, was the sole outlier. Married to Arthur Sterling, CEO of the Sterling Group, for seven whole years, my stomach remained perfectly flat. Finally, Arthur’s mother couldn’t take it anymore. After humiliating me hundreds of times, she forced Arthur to divorce me. My father, disgusted that I had shamed the Stanton name, packed me up the very next day and shipped me off to a “new money” real estate mogul. Chapter 1 When I was shoved into that black Rolls-Royce, my makeup was completely ruined from crying. The man I was sent to, rumor had it, was uncultured—a thug who made his fortune flipping real estate. The old-money elites of New York all looked down on him. But when we first met, the vibe he gave off was different from the rumors. There was no trace of a wedding in his mansion. No ribbons, no flowers, and even the bedsheets were a cold, dark grey. Wearing a black dress shirt, he stood at the bedroom door, glanced at me, and tossed a black Amex card onto the nightstand. “This is my supplementary card. I’ll transfer money into it every month. Keep track of your expenses.” “I have a son and a daughter. They both attend an elite prep school.” “Just treat them like they’re your own.” He paused, seeming reluctant to say the next part, but he said it anyway. “Since you can’t have kids anyway.” “Just consider them an insurance policy for your old age.” With that, he turned and left without looking back. I gripped the black card so hard my knuckles turned white, tears welling up again. “Can’t have kids.” I had heard those words for seven long years. I never thought that after finally crawling out of the living hell of the Sterling family, I would still carry that label on my back. That night, he didn’t come back until 2:00 AM. He didn’t waste time. He took a quick shower and got into bed. Through a night of silent, rough intimacy, I bit the pillow and endured it until dawn. When I woke up the next day, he was already gone. My body was covered in bruises, and I broke down crying again. I had just put on my robe when the nanny walked in holding two children. She smiled flatteringly, telling me these were the mister’s son and daughter. The two kids looked at me timidly, desperately trying to hide behind her. I looked at them with dead, empty eyes. After all, during those seven years in the Sterling house, whenever guests brought their children over, Mother Sterling would summon me to the parlor. “Useless trash. Go touch the kids for some luck. You’ve been married for so long and can’t even pop out a single baby.” “A hen’s backside is more useful than you.” Every word she spoke was like a knife twisting in my chest. Especially when the other wealthy wives chimed in with their escalating laughter. I felt like I was being stripped naked and publicly executed. The worst part was always after the guests left. Mother Sterling would have me dragged to her room. She’d force someone to hold me down while they poured disgusting, bizarre holistic remedies down my throat. Raw fermented animal liver, murky herbal sludges, things I couldn’t even name. I threw up every single time. There were times the maids literally tore the corners of my mouth forcing it open. But whenever I dragged my weak body back to our bedroom, Arthur would just look at me with disgust. “Did you fight with my mother again? Can’t you just obey her for once?” “She’s doing this for your own good, so you can give us a child sooner.” Because of that, countless times, I would wake up in the middle of the night, crying alone in the dark. Why must people have children? For a very long time, I was utterly repulsed by the idea of kids. Seeing my cold expression, the nanny introduced the children briefly and then hurried them out. I didn’t care. Every day, I hid in the bedroom, either reading books or scrolling on my phone. As for the man, he didn’t bother me either. He left before sunrise and came back long after I was asleep. Every night, he would do his business mechanically and then go to sleep. Even though we had been married for half a year, I didn’t even know his name. The only thing I noticed was that when he tossed me around in bed, the pain gradually faded. Occasionally, my body would even subconsciously respond to him. Chapter 2 But in the sixth month of our marriage, my period was two weeks late. If this had happened in the past, I would have gone crazy with joy. Now, I remained completely calm, acting like nothing happened. After all, during my seven years with Arthur, my period had been late several times. Every time, I thought I was pregnant and joyfully told Arthur. But after he called the private doctor to examine me… The doctor would push up his glasses. “Mrs. Sterling, this isn’t a pregnancy. It’s just a delayed cycle caused by severe stress and a cold constitution.” After the doctor left, Arthur would coldly lecture me. “Stop doing these embarrassing things in the future.” My mother-in-law was even worse. At breakfast the next morning, she threw a cup of hot coffee in my face. “Embarrassing piece of trash. You know you’re barren, yet you still make a scene calling the doctor over.” “Do you have any idea that you’ve made the Sterling family the laughingstock of Manhattan?” Thinking about this made my chest ache again. So this time, I didn’t even call a doctor. I ate breakfast as usual and sat by the window reading. But at noon, the nanny in charge of the kids suddenly burst into my room. “Ma’am, the young master’s driver just called. He said the young master got into a fight and made another kid’s mouth bleed!” I barely lifted an eyelid. “Then go to the company and find your boss.” The nanny turned pale with panic. “I can’t, ma’am! Mr. Hayes told me this morning he was flying overseas for a project for a week. He said not to wait up for him.” I was a bit puzzled. Have I ever waited up for him? Still, I put my phone away and followed the nanny out. When we arrived at the international prep school, my heart started to ache again. This was the most exclusive private school in the city. I was the daughter of the Stanton family, and Arthur was the sole heir to the Sterlings. We grew up studying here together. Here, we had rescued a kitten that fell into the fountain. Whenever I was punished and made to stand in the hall, Arthur always stood right beside me. When we were young, he swore that when we grew up, he would give me the grandest wedding in the world. He kept that promise. But after marriage, simply because I couldn’t have children… The man who once had eyes only for me treated me like absolute garbage. Tears almost fell, but the nanny rushed me inside, and I forced them back. Walking through the familiar corridors, before I even reached the classrooms, I saw Arthur standing in the administration building. I hadn’t seen him in six months. He was still tall and striking. His brow carried none of the sorrow of losing me; instead, he looked more radiant and confident than ever. Unlike me. Since being divorced and sent away, I had cried almost every single day. I was so haggard I didn’t even dare look in the mirror. Just as I stopped in my tracks… A woman wearing Chanel couture and Christian Louboutin heels walked into the building, supported by an assistant. I knew her. She was the school board director’s granddaughter, Vanessa. When we were kids, Arthur and I used to play with her. As soon as she got close, she threw herself at Arthur. “Arthur, I missed you so much.” Arthur’s usually stern expression instantly melted into gentleness. He caught her easily and affectionately ruffled her hair. “Careful. You’re grown up now, why are you still so clumsy?” The scene pierced my eyes. The teacher leading me subtly pointed them out. “That’s our school board director’s daughter. She’s marrying Mr. Sterling next month.” “They’re very much in love, so it’s natural they’re a bit affectionate.” I gripped my phone tightly. Getting married? So fast. But then again, Arthur probably couldn’t wait to get rid of me. When I signed the divorce papers, even though his eyes were red… Because I knew him so well, I could see the unconcealed relief in his eyes. I forced myself to look away. Since I was divorced from Arthur, we had nothing to do with each other anymore. Whoever he married was none of my business. Even though I told myself that, my chest still felt like it was being pierced by needles. Thankfully, the teacher quickly brought me to the main building. As soon as I arrived, I saw the stepson I had only seen a handful of times in six months. His face was bruised purple, and his mouth was bleeding. Next to him stood an arrogant, sneering little boy. I recognized that kid too. It was Hunter—the son of Arthur’s sister, the one who loved going back to the Sterling house to stir up trouble. Every time that boy visited, Mother Sterling would lock me in the estate’s unheated wine cellar for hours as punishment. That was one of the reasons I finally gave up and agreed to the divorce. As soon as I stopped walking, the homeroom teacher walked out holding a wooden ruler. He yelled at my stepson. “Come here. Explain why you started a fight.” My stepson, Leo, had red, teary eyes. “He cursed at me first.” “He said my mom is a barren hen who can’t lay eggs. He said my dad is a trash collector, and my mom is just garbage his uncle threw away and my dad picked up.” “I couldn’t hold back, so I…” The teacher cut him off. “Enough! I can tell you’re lying right away.” “Hitting people is wrong. If I don’t teach you a lesson today, who knows what kind of delinquent you’ll become.” “Hold out your hand.” Leo bit his lip fiercely. “I won’t! He cursed at me first—” Before he could finish, the teacher raised the ruler and slammed it down hard on the back of Leo’s hand. I didn’t have any deep feelings for this boy named Leo. I only came here to go through the motions. But in that moment, this teacher was crossing a massive line. I yelled at them. “Excuse me, teacher! You hit him without even asking for the full story. What, do you think he doesn’t have parents to defend him?!” Chapter 3 Everyone turned to look at me. The first one to react was my stepson, Leo. The moment he saw me, he lunged forward. “Mom! Hunter hit me!” Saying that, he wrapped his arms tightly around my legs. My legs trembled a bit. This was the first time a child had ever hugged me. It was also the first time I realized that a child’s hands could be so small and so soft. I didn’t shake him off. I glared sharply at the homeroom teacher. “You said my son was making excuses, yet you hit him without even investigating. What kind of teacher does that make you?” The teacher ground his teeth in anger. “What does an ignorant woman like you know?” As soon as he said that, Hunter, standing next to the teacher, sneered. “Teacher, she’s not a real woman. She’s just a barren hen our family kicked out.” “She was married to my uncle for seven years and couldn’t pop out a single egg. She’s a piece of trash the Sterlings threw away!” I clenched my fists. Look at this. This was the Sterling family. Even a child felt entitled to humiliate me with such vile words. I didn’t respond to Hunter. I crouched down and whispered to Leo. “Can you beat him in a fight?” Leo froze for a second, then nodded. “Then go over there and beat him up right now.” “If you start losing, I’ll have the nanny behind me help you.” Leo’s eyes instantly lit up with wild joy. I gave him a light smack on the rear. “Go.” Leo shot forward like a rocket, charging straight at Hunter. I had seen Leo practicing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu at home before. He was only six, but he was incredibly strong. So when I saw he was getting bullied by a spoiled brat like Hunter, I had thought it was strange. But getting hit didn’t matter. As long as he hit back. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Hunter was pinned to the ground by Leo, wailing and crying for his life. The teacher panicked and rushed forward in a rage. “You little punk! You dare hit the Sterling heir? I’ll kill you!” He raised the heavy ruler, aiming right for Leo’s back. I looked at the nanny and roared. “What are you standing there for?! Pull that teacher off and slap his face!” The nanny looked at me in terror. “But…” I cut her off sharply. “If you don’t do it right now, pack your bags and get out of my house tonight!” Backed into a corner, the nanny rolled up her sleeves and charged at the teacher. She violently grabbed his hair and yanked him to the floor. “How dare you bully my young master!” She sat on top of the teacher and slapped him across the face three times in rapid succession. Smack! Smack! Smack! The hallway descended into total chaos. Hunter was pinned on the floor by Leo, screaming. The teacher was pinned on the floor by the nanny, also screaming. I watched the scene unfold. A mocking smirk crept onto my lips. A barren hen who couldn’t lay an egg for seven years? Fine, I’ll show you exactly how vicious this hen can be. While I was enjoying the view, a freezing voice came from behind me. “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?!” Hearing Arthur’s voice, my grip on my phone tightened again. But I didn’t turn around. I coldly ordered the nanny and Leo: “Keep hitting them. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the blame.” Arthur finally recognized me. He walked over in disbelief and grabbed my wrist. “Stella? What are you doing here?” His grip hurt my wrist. I backhanded him right across the face. Then I quickly took two steps back and yelled at him. “Arthur, keep your hands to yourself. What the hell do you think you’re doing grabbing me?” Arthur was stunned by the slap, staring at me in total shock. But a second later, his nephew Hunter started bawling. “Uncle Arthur! Uncle Arthur, save me!” Arthur glared at me with resentment and rushed over to Hunter. He grabbed Leo by the collar and yanked him off. Leo was smart. The moment his feet touched the ground, he ran straight to me and hid behind my back. The nanny quickly ran over to our side too. Arthur looked at Hunter’s bruised and swollen face, frowning deeply as he yelled at me. “Stella, you know Hunter has a weak constitution, and you still let your kid beat him up?!” “What happened to you?” “You don’t look like a proper lady at all anymore!” That phrase again. It reminded me of those seven years of marriage. Whenever I complained to him that his sister purposely provoked his mother about my infertility, causing me to be locked in the cold cellar… Arthur would make that exact face of disgust. “Stella, what happened to you? You’re always nagging and complaining. You don’t act like a proper lady at all.” Then, he would toss his phone on the couch and impatiently lock himself in his study. In the past, every time I watched his retreating back, I would cry in silence. But now, I just smirked in mockery. “I don’t give a damn if Hunter has a weak constitution.” “Let me tell you right now, if your nephew ever lays a finger on my stepson again, I will have my stepson beat him half to death.” “And watch your nephew’s mouth. If he ever spreads rumors about me again, I won’t hesitate to have my brother visit the Sterling Group and ask if your whole family is just a bunch of trash-talking gossips.” I thought Arthur would explode in anger. After all, during our seven-year marriage, because I felt guilty about not having kids, I never dared talk back to him once. But to my surprise, after hearing my words, his eyes filled with pain. “You… you got married? You actually got married?!” I paused for a second. I didn’t expect Arthur to not know I had remarried. But thinking about it, it made sense. When we divorced, he was probably sick to death of me. After I left the Sterling estate, he definitely didn’t want to hear a single piece of news about me. I just smirked. “What, you can get married, but I can’t?” With that, I pulled Leo forward. “Go get your sister. We’re dropping out of this school.” Then I looked at the homeroom teacher, who was holding his bleeding mouth in shock. “Congratulations. After today, no school in this city will ever hire you again.” “I’ll have my brother send a memo to every board of education blacklisting you.” The teacher forgot all about the pain in his mouth. “I… I… I…” I just looked at him with disdain. “Let this be a lesson. It’s not just the Sterling kids who are precious. My Hayes kids are precious, too.” Finally, I looked at Arthur, whose face was pale and stunned. “Arthur, from now on, if you see me, walk the other way. Otherwise, I’ll beat you up every time I see you.” “If you ever dare touch me again, I’ll chop your hand off.” With that, I turned and walked away without giving him another glance. After seven years of marriage, we had finally become strangers.

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On the day I retired, I had exactly $450,000 sitting safely in my bank account. It was the nest egg my late husband, Arthur, and I had scraped together over a lifetime. It included my severance package, Arthur’s life insurance payout, and the profit from selling our old starter home in the suburbs. Logically speaking, this money was more than enough to guarantee me a peaceful retirement. But I made a deliberate choice not to tell my son and daughter-in-law the truth. I just casually brushed it off: “I’ve spent most of it over the years. I only have about $30,000 left. I’m saving it for medical emergencies and my old age.” Just one sentence. And I watched with my own eyes as the smile on my daughter-in-law’s face vanished, piece by piece. Three months later, she moved my dinner plate away from the table, pointed at the front door, and said, “Mom, since you don’t have any money to contribute, stop freeloading in our new house and dragging us down. Your old townhouse is still empty, isn’t it? You can pack your things and move there tonight.” My name is Evelyn Carter. I am sixty-two years old, a retired accountant for a textile manufacturing company. I’ve spent my entire life crunching numbers perfectly, but when it came to family, my calculations were almost fatally flawed. When Arthur was still alive, he used to say that money shouldn’t just be viewed as currency. “Some money is the foundation of your survival,” he’d tell me. “And some money is a magic mirror that reveals people’s true colors.” I used to tease him for being so cynical. But after he passed away, I finally realized that the random musings of a living husband often become life-saving warnings once he’s gone. Arthur has been gone for three years. For the past three years, I’ve lived with my son, David, and his family in Oakridge Estates. That sprawling, four-bedroom house? I paid the $120,000 down payment. When they were short on cash for the renovations, I covered the extra $30,000. Later, when my daughter-in-law, Sarah, had her baby, I was the one who stayed with her postpartum, cooking her meals and helping her recover. When the baby was weaned, I became the full-time nanny. The young couple rushed out early for work every morning, so I had their coffee and breakfast waiting. They came home late, so I had dinner hot on the stove. Sometimes my back ached so badly in the middle of the night that I couldn’t stand straight, but I’d still drag myself out of bed at 6:00 AM to make oatmeal for my little grandson, Leo. It’s not that I never felt resentful. But I always reasoned with myself: my son is busy, young people are under a lot of stress, and if I just chip in a little more, the household will run smoother. It wasn’t until I officially retired and my severance finally hit my account that I seriously asked myself for the first time: Should I really lay all my cards on the table for them? The seed of doubt was planted in the community park. That day, I ran into an old coworker, Martha Davis. She was sitting on a park bench wiping away tears. She told me her son and daughter-in-law had coaxed her into transferring her house-sale money to them, claiming they’d invest it in a high-yield mutual fund. Instead, the money was funneled into her daughter-in-law’s brother’s auto repair shop—a business that went completely bankrupt. Now, whenever she brought up the money, her son would hide, and her daughter-in-law would turn hostile. Martha grabbed my hand and said, “Evelyn, whether your kids truly love you or not… you only find out when money gets involved.” My heart skipped a beat. That evening at dinner, Sarah was cutting up some chicken for Leo when she suddenly smiled and asked, “Mom, your retirement paperwork is all finalized, right? Didn’t the company give you a pretty big severance package?” My hand, holding the soup ladle, paused. David looked up at me but didn’t say a word. I forced a smile. “They gave me a little something, but we’ve had a lot of expenses over the years, and Arthur’s medical bills took a huge chunk out of our savings. After tying up all the loose ends, I’ve only got about $30,000 left. I’m keeping it for a rainy day.” Sarah’s fork stopped in mid-air. “Only $30,000?” “Yes.” The smile faded from her face. “I was thinking that since Leo is starting at that private academy next year, tuition is going to be really tight. I figured if you had some extra cash on hand, you could help out so David wouldn’t have to work so hard.” I looked down at my soup. “I can’t touch that $30,000. At my age, who knows when a medical emergency might come knocking at my door.” The table went dead silent for a few seconds. Sarah dropped the piece of chicken onto her own plate and gave a soft, “Oh.” That oh wasn’t loud. But I heard the implication loud and clear. From that day on, the wind in our household quietly shifted direction. 02 The first thing to change was Sarah’s mouth. Before, she would always call me “Mom” in this sweet, affectionate tone, and she’d buy me a silk scarf on Mother’s Day to keep me happy. Then, she started saying, “Evelyn, did you wash Leo’s water bottle?” Then it was, “Evelyn, the kitchen counters are greasy, wipe them down while you’re in there.” Eventually, she even dropped my name entirely. “Did you mop the floors?” “Are the clothes folded?” “You’re home all day, why can’t you even walk down to the porch to grab the Amazon packages?” She didn’t necessarily raise her voice, but there were knives hidden in the cracks of her words. And David? He grew increasingly silent. Sometimes I deliberately looked at him, and he would either bury his head in his food or stare at his phone, claiming his work group chat was busy. One day, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. When Sarah took Leo down to the playground, I asked him, “David, does your wife have a problem with me lately?” David rubbed his temples. “Mom, Sarah is just under a lot of stress. Her mom was in the hospital, her brother wants to open a business, there’s just a lot going on. Don’t take it personally.” I let out a dry laugh. “Her mom being in the hospital has absolutely nothing to do with me.” David opened his mouth, but all he managed to say was, “Just bear with it.” Bear with it. That was the phrase I had heard the most in my life. When I was young, I bore with my in-laws because I didn’t want to make things hard for Arthur. In my middle age, I bore with a toxic boss because I was afraid of losing my job. Now that I’m old, I have to bear with my daughter-in-law’s dirty looks while living in a house I paid for. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Through the thin walls, I could hear Sarah on the phone in the living room. She was keeping her voice down, but my door wasn’t shut tight, and a draft carried her words right to me. “Mom, calm down, I’m testing the waters right now.” “She’s tight-lipped. Keeps insisting she only has thirty grand.” “If she really had half a million dollars, you think she wouldn’t hide it?” “Whatever. That old townhouse is still in her name. We have to get our hands on it eventually, otherwise she’s just going to leave it to someone else.” My hand trembled, and my reading glasses clattered to the floor. The living room went silent for a second. “Who’s there?” Sarah asked. I coughed loudly and slowly bent down to pick up my glasses. She didn’t speak again. But the paper-thin illusion of our happy family was officially torn to shreds. First thing the next morning, I went to the bank. I split my $450,000 into three separate accounts. I put $300,000 into a high-yield Certificate of Deposit. I transferred $120,000 into an old joint account Arthur and I had opened years ago. I left the remaining $30,000 in my everyday checking account. After the paperwork was done, I specifically had the teller change the SMS alert number to a cheap, prepaid flip phone I had bought on the way there. Stepping out of the bank, I stood by the entrance for a long time. The wind bit at my face. For the first time, I truly felt that with Arthur gone, I was nothing but an outsider in my own family. 03 Things completely blew up over a business venture. Two years ago, David had bought a new Tesla for about $40,000, and he was still making payments on it. Sarah’s brother, Kevin, was in his early thirties with no steady job. One day he wanted to be a Twitch streamer, the next day he wanted to run an Airbnb, and the day after that he wanted to co-own a bakery. He talked a big game about his “projects,” but he didn’t have a dime to his name. That Sunday, I was out on the balcony hanging laundry when Sarah slapped a commercial real estate flyer onto the table in front of me. “Mom, Kevin found a great storefront, but he’s short $25,000 for the lease transfer fee. We’re all family here, and you still have that $30,000, right? Just lend it to him to tide him over. He’ll pay you back as soon as the shop is up and running.” I continued clipping the clothes to the rack without turning around. “I told you, that $30,000 is my emergency medical fund.” “He’s my blood brother, he’s not a stranger.” “When I’m lying in a hospital bed, the billing department isn’t going to give me a discount just because he’s your brother.” Sarah’s face instantly darkened. “Mom, that is an incredibly ugly thing to say.” I turned around and looked her in the eye. “Ugly words now are better than an ugly lawsuit later. I’m not lending him the money.” She stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. “Fine. Don’t lend it. When Leo starts private school and we’re drowning in mortgage payments, don’t blame us if we can’t afford to take care of you.” It wasn’t a subtle hint anymore. It was an outright threat. That afternoon, she didn’t call me for lunch. When I came out of my room, the plates were cleared from the table, and there wasn’t a single scrap of food left in the pots. Leo ran over to me clutching a toy car and whispered, “Grandma, Mommy said you weren’t hungry.” My chest felt tight, but I crouched down and patted his head. “Grandma knows how to make her own sandwich, sweetie.” When David got home that evening, I thought Sarah would at least dial it back a little. Instead, she started crying the second he walked through the door. “I just asked on behalf of my brother, and your mom treated me like some kind of con artist trying to steal her money!” “I married into this family all those years ago, I serve the old and raise the young, and I don’t even get an ounce of basic respect!” David sat on the edge of the sofa, looking completely exhausted. He glanced at me, like he wanted to say something. But in the end, he just whispered to me, “Mom, please, just watch your tone next time.” In that moment, my heart turned to absolute ice. So in this house, whoever cries first is automatically in the right. I didn’t argue. I just went back to my room and locked the door. In the middle of the night, I heard David smoking on the balcony. He rarely smoked. Through the crack in the curtains, I saw him standing alone in the dark. His back was hunched, and he looked like he had aged ten years. But I was so furiously angry at the time that I only felt disgust for him. His wife sheds a few tears, and his own mother gets shoved to the back of the line. I had raised a completely useless son.

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I spent five days hospitalized with severe gastroenteritis, and Chloe didn’t visit me once. That’s when I knew: it was time for a divorce. That night, I slid the drafted divorce papers across the desk to her. She looked up from her laptop, her gaze trying to pierce right through me. “The day before yesterday, I missed our dinner because I had to help Ethan fix his data model. You know he’s a new hire, his foundation is weak, and since we went to the same college, I’m the only one he can turn to.” “Yesterday, he left his tie in my car. I went to return it to him, and that’s why I missed our anniversary dinner.” “Today, there was a massive error in his spreadsheet. He had three hours before the deadline. He’s my team member, I couldn’t just leave him hanging.” “I know you’ve always had an issue with him. I can give you my phone, or even pull the office security footage to prove there’s nothing going on between us.” “As for you being hospitalized with gastroenteritis, I saw your text. But the company group chats were blowing up, and I just forgot to reply in the moment. The damage is done, and I’ve explained everything clearly. But if you still want a divorce, I will cooperate.” I looked at her, completely numb. Over the past few days, she had done so much for Ethan. She, someone who normally kept a strict schedule, had stayed up for three days straight just for him. But she “forgot” to stop by the hospital to check on her husband lying in a hospital bed. I nodded. “Let’s just get the divorce.” 1 I waited at the county clerk’s office until the staff went home. Chloe never showed up. She finally got home at 11:00 PM. Seeing me sitting on the couch, she didn’t say a word and walked straight to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. “I called you thirteen times,” I said. “You didn’t answer.” She paused mid-sip, pulled out her phone, and looked at it with a blank expression. “My phone was off during meetings today. I never turned it back on. What’s up?” Her tone was so incredibly flat, like she was commenting on the weather. I knew it. She had forgotten our appointment again. She was always so forgetful. Over our seven years of marriage, this had happened countless times. Small things, like asking her to turn off the AC before leaving the house, or asking her to pick up takeout on her way home. Big things, like when my dad was critically ill. His dying wish was to see his family one last time. I begged her to take just one day off. Just one day to fly back and see him. She promised she would. But my dad passed away, and she still hadn’t arrived. I only found out later. That day was Ethan’s first time leading a project pitch, and he was nervous. She promised him she would be in the room to back him up. That was the very first time I realized how little weight I carried in Chloe’s heart. The realization was like a plastic toy knife dragging hard across my chest—it stung, but it didn’t hit bone. I pulled myself out of my memories and kindly explained. “We were supposed to go to the courthouse today to file the papers.” “Tomorrow is the weekend, so I made a new appointment for Monday morning.” Chloe kept her eyes glued to her lit-up phone screen. She didn’t look at me. “Fine. See you at the courthouse on Monday.” I nodded. Monday. Chloe and I signed the divorce papers. After the mandatory 30-day waiting period, we would just need to make one more trip to finalize the decree. After signing her name, Chloe kept her head down, her fingers flying across her phone keyboard, replying to someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A contact with a generic male avatar had sent her a string of crying emojis. We walked out of the courthouse doors. “I have things to do at the office,” Chloe said. “I’m not going to drop you…” I nodded and pointed at the Uber pulling up. “My ride is here. You go do your thing.” The Uber parked right next to her car. I opened the door and got in. I didn’t look back at Chloe standing outside. Chapter 2 2 I told my best friend, Marcus, about the divorce. I asked him to keep an eye out for any decent apartments. My hometown was in the Midwest, over a thousand miles away from Seattle. I had sold my old house back there to pay for my dad’s medical bills. The house Chloe and I lived in was mostly paid for by her, and the deed was entirely in her name. Since we were getting divorced, I had to move out. I had nowhere to go. Marcus quickly found three solid apartment options for me. Just as we were about to jump on a FaceTime call to do a virtual tour, I got a text from Chloe. [Thai basil chicken and coconut soup.] [Come over early. I have a meeting at 1:30 PM.] I stared at the two messages, then calmly swiped to delete them. Chloe worked in a high-stress corporate environment. She never ate on time, and her diet was garbage. After she collapsed and was hospitalized for severe stomach ulcers, I started obsessively researching stomach-friendly recipes online. From that day on, I cooked and delivered lunch to her office every single day. Whatever I made, she ate. She almost never complained. I kept this up for three years, and her stomach issues never flared up again. But six months ago, she suddenly started requesting specific dishes. I thought she was just getting bored of the bland, stomach-soothing meals, so I started putting extra effort into tweaking the recipes. Until that one time. I saw the texts between her and Ethan on her phone. [Ethan: Hey, what’s Oliver making for lunch today?] [Ethan: Ugh, steamed veggies again? I hate steamed food.] [Ethan: Tell Oliver to stop making steamed stuff next time. I want something pan-fried.] [Ethan: Oliver is such a good house-husband. I can’t cook to save my life. You’re so lucky to have him.] Chloe replied: [You’re different from him. Don’t sell yourself short.] [One is a shark in the corporate world, the other is a stay-at-home husband. There’s no comparison.] [A person can’t be completely useless. Staying at home, this is all he’s good for.] Seeing those messages broke my heart. So I asked Chloe about it directly. She was surprised I looked at her messages, but she wasn’t mad. She just answered me calmly and casually. “Oh. Ethan has a sensitive stomach, so he can’t eat takeout all the time. The food you make is perfect for him, and it’s healthy. It’s a win-win.” Her flippant tone felt like a sledgehammer smashing my warm, beating heart to pieces. I was sweating in the kitchen, constantly studying recipes in my free time. My carefully prepared meals, all my hard work and devotion… It all just became a joke to comfort another man’s ego. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have a job. I was a freelance translator. The foreign language dictionaries I used every day were sitting right there on the bookshelf. She just never cared enough to notice. After finalizing an apartment I liked, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. Marcus told me that when I moved back, he was going to make me buy him an expensive dinner. I happily agreed. When Chloe called, I was dozing off on the couch. “Oliver, did you not see my texts?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to wake up. “I saw them. What’s wrong?” The woman on the other end suddenly went silent. A moment later, I heard her say, “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” “You can order DoorDash.” “Didn’t you always hate it when I ate takeout?” Her tone sounded genuinely confused. I sighed, feeling a wave of exhaustion. “Cooking for you wasn’t a legal obligation. I did it because I cared about your health. It was voluntary.” “But Chloe… we signed divorce papers a week ago.” Chapter 3 3 After Chloe hung up, I went back to my room and slept until it was dark. The moment I walked out of my bedroom, I saw Ethan supporting Chloe as they walked through the front door. Her pant leg was torn. She must have fallen. Ethan followed behind her, his eyes red, urgently nagging her. “Chloe, slow down! Your leg is still hurt!” The second he saw me, Ethan immediately started whining. “Oliver, you need to talk some sense into Chloe! We had a client dinner today, and the client wanted me to take a shot with him, but Chloe absolutely refused to let me drink. When we were leaving, the client bumped into her on purpose and she fell down the stairs and scraped her leg!” “It’s just one shot, it’s not like I can’t handle my liquor! Why did she have to play the hero?” Ethan told me to “talk some sense” into her, but the smirk on his face was glaringly obvious. His fake outrage was painfully theatrical. So I didn’t say a single word. I just nodded and turned back to my room. Having lived in this house for five years, there was a lot I needed to pack. From the living room, Ethan’s laughter echoed intermittently. A while later, someone knocked on the door. I got up and opened it. Chloe was leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Where’s the first aid kit?” She pulled up her pant leg, revealing a bloody scrape. I glanced at it, then looked back up, genuinely confused. “The first aid kit? Didn’t you give it to Ethan?” Three months ago, Ethan bought an e-bike, claiming it would make commuting easier. He crashed it on his very first day. Chloe got the call and immediately abandoned my birthday dinner to go find him. Later that week, I burned my hand while cooking. I couldn’t find the first aid kit, so I called Chloe. Ethan answered her phone. “The first aid kit?” “Hey Oliver! Yeah, I crashed my bike, so Chloe brought the first aid kit to my place. Can you just tough it out for a bit? I’ll have her bring it back to you tonight.” Chloe’s usually stoic face finally showed a crack of emotion. She clearly remembered now. “I forgot.” I smiled and nodded in agreement. “You really do have a terrible memory.” The day Ethan answered that phone call, I was furious. When Chloe got home, I confronted her. I asked her why she was giving our household items to other people. She didn’t even look me in the eye. Her gaze remained locked on her laptop screen as she typed. “It’s just a first aid kit.” “It sits in the house all year and no one ever touches it. I gave it to him, so what?” But that first aid kit… I checked the expiration dates on the medicines every single month and restocked them. Every single item inside was carefully curated by me. It was a symbol of my dedication to protecting this household. And she gave it away like it was nothing. Just like every meal I poured my heart into making—with a wave of her hand, it became someone else’s lunch. “You can order bandages on UberEats,” I reminded her. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to packing.” I closed the door, completely ignoring the people outside. Chloe stared blankly at the tightly shut door. For some reason, her chest suddenly felt a little hollow. Chapter 4 4 The days passed one by one. I shipped the things I had packed back to my hometown, box by box. This house, where I had lived for five years, slowly began to empty out. It felt like peeling away the physical vessel of all my memories, piece by piece. I thought the remaining days would pass by quietly. But suddenly, Chloe changed. She started acting like a devoted partner. Someone who used to be obsessed with working overtime was suddenly clocking out precisely at 5:00 PM every day. A person who never cared about my needs started buying me breakfast and bringing home late-night snacks. Confused, I asked her what she was trying to do. Chloe, rarely ever caught off guard, hesitated for a long time before answering. “My mom called. She wants us to come over for a family dinner.” I hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. I got along well with Chloe’s parents; they had always treated me like a son. Since we were getting divorced, it was only right to see them one last time. It was raining heavily on the day we went to the restaurant. Her parents had already ordered the food. More than half the dishes on the table were my favorites. Chloe’s mom used the serving chopsticks to place a piece of braised pork into my bowl. Smiling brightly, she chatted about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law just had her second baby. Then, the conversation abruptly pivoted to Chloe and me. “When are you two going to think about having a baby?” “You should do it while your dad and I still have the energy to help you babysit!” In the past, I probably would have smiled warmly and said we weren’t in a rush. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I just kept my head down and ate the piece of pork. The table went dead silent for ten agonizing seconds. Her parents exchanged confused looks. Chloe grabbed my hand, her tone absolute. “Soon.” Her parents immediately beamed. I pulled my hand out of hers. Chloe was too focused on her phone to notice. After dinner, Chloe’s mom pulled me aside to chat. Chloe’s phone rang several times, but she didn’t answer. Her mom finally nudged her. “It’s so loud! Can’t you see I’m talking to Oliver?” Chloe glanced at me. “It’s work. I need to take this.” By the time the table was cleared, Chloe still hadn’t returned. I called her. She didn’t answer. Her parents called her. Still no answer. Staring out at the torrential downpour, my mind drifted back to a day exactly like this. I was walking past Chloe’s office building when a massive thunderstorm broke out. I couldn’t get an Uber to accept my ride. I waited until Chloe got off work and called her. The moment the call connected, I saw her familiar car parked just down the street. I saw Chloe in the driver’s seat, and Ethan in the passenger seat. Chloe asked me what was up. I told her it was pouring rain and asked if she could swing by and pick me up since I was close by. She replied: “Just keep trying to get an Uber. I have to work late tonight.” Right as she said that, the boy next to her reached out, offering her a potato chip. Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, she turned her head to decline, but eventually gave in and ate it. She lied so flawlessly, so naturally, that I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong car. I spent dozens of sleepless nights replaying that moment in my head. Later, I finally understood. She didn’t love me, so she didn’t care. Just like how she didn’t like potato chips, but she wouldn’t reject one when Ethan held it to her lips. Just like how she didn’t like potato chips, but if the noodles I cooked for her got cold and soggy, she wouldn’t even take a single bite. The rain finally stopped. I hailed a cab and dropped her parents off at their house. In the middle of the night, I heard the front door open. Chloe was back. She was on the phone, her voice carrying through the apartment. Through the wall, I heard her let out an exasperated sigh and say the name: Ethan. When I woke up, I had over a dozen missed calls from Ethan. There were also unread text messages from him. [Oliver! Chloe and I have strictly professional boundaries! Please tell her not to transfer me to another department!] [She said you misunderstood and want a divorce. I swear I didn’t do anything on purpose! I’ll keep my distance from now on, just please don’t let her fire me!] I stared at the messages, completely baffled. I didn’t reply and placed my phone face-down on the nightstand. I was packing the last few items of clothing left in the guest room when Chloe pushed the door open, sounding frantic. “Oliver, what did you say to Ethan?!” “He said he was going to explain everything to you, and now he’s gone! I can’t reach him at all!” “What did you do to him?!” Her chest heaved violently. She stared at me, unblinking. Chloe was always so reserved and composed. She rarely ever showed extreme emotion. Yet all her outward panic was for another man. I opened my text thread with Ethan and shoved the screen in her face. “I don’t know what happened between you two last night, or why I’m being dragged into it.” “When he sent these texts, I was asleep. And frankly, I don’t feel obligated to reply to him.” Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, she instantly answered. The panic on her face turned to joy, then back to panic. “Come back first! We’ll talk about the rest later!” “Do you want your parents to keep leeching off you forever? Come back!” “Then just come stay here!” “It’s a three-bedroom apartment. It’s just me and Oliver.” As she said that, she glanced at me and turned on the speakerphone, holding it out to me. Ethan’s sobbing voice echoed loudly in the room. “Oliver… I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to intrude…” “I canceled my lease because I was going to move back to my hometown. But Chloe wants me to stay, and I can’t find an apartment on such short notice. Can I stay with you guys for a little while?” “I swear I’ll move out the second I find a place. Please.” Meeting Chloe’s heavily suggestive gaze, my fingertips felt a little cold, but I also had the urge to laugh. “It’s fine. You’re welcome to stay.” On the other end of the line, Ethan cheered in excitement. Chloe gave Ethan some careful instructions. “Wait for me at the airport. I’m heading there now.” She hung up the phone and looked at me. “I’m going to pick Ethan up. Tidy up the guest bedroom for him while I’m gone.” I reminded her. “Can Ethan take an Uber? There’s somewhere we need to go together today.” Chloe frowned. “I already promised him. I can’t just go back on my word.” “It’s only a three-hour round trip. Whatever you need to do, it can wait until I get back.” “Okay.” “I’m leaving.” She rushed out the door. She completely failed to notice the small duffel bag sitting next to me. I waited for Chloe for three hours. She didn’t come back. I checked my phone and saw a post Ethan made on Facebook ten minutes ago. [I was so sad today, but my boss is taking me to an auto show!! What guy can say no to cars? I definitely can’t! ~] I liked the post. I stood up. Grabbed the duffel bag holding my last set of clothes. And walked out of the house I had lived in for five years. After walking out of the courthouse, I texted Chloe a photo of the final divorce decree and headed straight to the airport. Seven hours later, I landed in my hometown. I climbed into my friend’s car, who had been waiting for me. As I listened to him ramble on about how much the city architecture had changed, I turned on my phone. Notifications flooded my screen like a tsunami.

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Chapter 1 In my third month of pregnancy, I took a part-time job at a local bar. That very same night, I bumped into my husband and his buddies hanging out in a VIP booth. Carter Sterling leaned back against the plush leather sofa, raising his hand to light a cigarette. “Is a five-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly allowance too little for a wife?” His best friend nearly jumped off the couch in shock. “Five hundred grand is too little? Your wife must blow through cash like crazy.” “Are you sure she’s not keeping a sugar boy on the side?” The booth instantly fell dead silent. Carter’s expression turned grim. “Last night she said she was strapped for cash, so I wired her another hundred and fifty grand.” “But this morning she asked for a divorce. She told me if I couldn’t afford to provide for her, I should let her go.” Standing outside the door, I trembled with absolute rage. Looking down at my slightly rounded stomach, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I shoved the door open and stormed in. Before he could even process what was happening, I slapped him hard across the face. “Tell me the truth. How many wives do you actually have?” His eyes were bloodshot. He practically gritted his teeth as he spoke, “Only you…” I froze. “Then why do I only get one hundred and fifty dollars a month?” After my period was late for a whole month, I had gritted my teeth and bought the cheapest pregnancy test at the pharmacy. When I saw the two pink lines, my vision went completely dark. I quickly took a picture and sent it to my best friend, Mia. “What do I do, Mia? I’m pregnant, and I’m at the brokest point of my entire life.” She replied instantly. “Carter is a dog. It’s bad enough he doesn’t give you any money, but he gives you something nobody wants.” After cursing Carter out, she turned her wrath on me. “Didn’t you have your own birth control? Are you an idiot? Why didn’t you use it?” Even through the screen, I could feel her fury. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to use it. It was because I couldn’t afford to buy any… With the $150 deposited into my account every month, I barely had enough to eat. Buying birth control wasn’t even on my radar. And as fate would have it, Carter had always dreamed of having a kid. When I didn’t buy any protection, he was thrilled. I never expected to get knocked up on the first try. The loud growling of my stomach pulled me back to reality. Holding the thirty dollars Mia had lent me, I went downstairs to buy a loaf of bread and a carton of milk that were about to expire. For no other reason than they were half-price. I leaned against the wall, taking a bite of dry bread and chasing it with a sip of milk. Suddenly, I felt entirely ridiculous. I was the dignified wife of the Sterling Group’s CEO, living in a fifteen-million-dollar penthouse, yet I was so broke I had to stake out the grocery store for discounted food. Swallowing the last bite of bread, I finally called Carter. Unsurprisingly, his secretary, Bella Vance, answered the phone. She was Carter’s executive assistant and also the one in charge of distributing my living expenses. “Mrs. Sterling, if I recall correctly, your allowance for this month has already been transferred.” I forced myself to stay calm, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m pregnant. Please send a little more this month.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a scoff of pure disdain. “Last time you claimed you had low blood sugar, and I made an exception and transferred an extra twenty dollars. Now you’ve made up a lie about being pregnant?” “Mr. Sterling’s money doesn’t grow on trees. I suggest you learn some self-control.” Before I could even explain, she hung up. When we first got married, Carter had promised to provide for me, telling me to relax and enjoy the life of a wealthy socialite. But $150 a month was simply not enough to survive. Later, I tried to get a part-time job at a local coffee shop to earn some pocket money. When Carter found out, he bought the entire franchise. “Do I look like a man strapped for cash? Why the hell is my wife working a minimum wage job?” He wasn’t strapped for cash, but he still didn’t give me a single dime more. I thought back to Mia’s question: “Are you going to keep the baby?” To be honest, I didn’t know. Maybe once Carter found out, for the sake of his child, he would finally give me a little more money. I made an appointment at the hospital. The doctor said the baby was over two months along and developing normally. Chapter 2 The only issue was that I was severely malnourished. I hesitated for a long time before finally asking. “Excuse me, how much does an abortion procedure cost?” The doctor looked up in surprise. “An abortion? You’re a married woman of a good age—does your husband agree to this?” I lowered my head, unsure of how to answer. He sighed, his tone filled with pity. “The total cost will be around fifteen hundred dollars.” I glanced at my phone. After putting the ultrasound fee on my credit card, I only had a fifty-dollar credit limit left. Leaving the hospital, I took my ultrasound results and went straight to the Sterling Group headquarters. I wanted to ask him face-to-face. After all, if I was going to keep the baby, the prenatal vitamins, follow-up exams, and hospital registration would be a massive expense. Outside the CEO’s office, Bella stepped in my way. “Mr. Sterling is in a meeting. Do you have business here, Mrs. Sterling?” I gripped the ultrasound printout, my tone practically begging. “I really am pregnant. If I’m going to keep the baby, I need money…” Bella glanced at the paper quickly, then batted it right back at me. “You really don’t give up, do you, Mrs. Sterling? You even forged a fake ultrasound.” “What’s next? Are you going to fake a miscarriage next month just to demand a medical payout?” Hearing the commotion, several employees from the executive suite turned their heads. “No way. Doesn’t Mr. Sterling give his wife a massive allowance every month? Why is she faking a pregnancy for cash?” “She really treats the CEO like a walking ATM.” With every whisper, my head sank lower. Bella stepped around me and pressed the ‘Down’ button on the elevator. “Mrs. Sterling, please do not disrupt our work environment. Please leave.” I shoved the ultrasound back into my purse and took the elevator down amidst the humiliating gossip. Walking through the ground-floor lobby, I heard Bella on the phone, aggressively scolding the front desk. “Never let a debt-collecting beggar like her into the building again!” Hearing that, I could only quicken my pace and flee the company. I touched my flat stomach, murmuring to myself, “Baby, what is Mommy supposed to do?” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the Hermès bag on my shoulder. An idea struck me. I practically ran to the nearest luxury consignment boutique. Seeing how desperate and frantic I was, the store owner knew I needed cash immediately. He only offered me twelve thousand dollars. This was the birthday gift Carter had given me this year. It was a nationwide limited edition—something money usually couldn’t even buy. But I had no choice. I sold the bag. Having lived in poverty for so long, the moment the funds hit my account, I finally felt a sense of security. That night, the headline “Sterling Group CEO’s Wife Pawns Second-Hand Designer Bags” shot to the top of Twitter. The article featured a clear photo of me handing the bag over to the boutique owner. The comments were wild—some said I was spending recklessly and selling bags to pay off debts, while others speculated our marriage was crumbling and I was liquidating assets to run away. Very quickly, Carter called me. His voice was suppressed with rage. “Are you really that desperate for money that you’d sell the birthday gift I gave you?” “No wonder Secretary Vance said you came to the office with a fake ultrasound to demand a payout.” I wanted to explain. But he didn’t give me a single chance to speak. “If you need money, you can just tell Secretary Vance. Why would you weave such a pathetic lie?” His voice was laced with exhaustion, sounding profoundly disappointed. The words I had prepared died in my throat. All I could say was, “I understand.” I hung up the phone. I hadn’t even decided if I was keeping the baby yet. Suddenly, a notification popped up. The $12,000 I just got from the bag, along with the money Mia had lent me, was completely transferred out of my account. Bella sent me a text message: “Mr. Sterling said you spend recklessly without any restraint. This money has been transferred out, and I will be keeping it in a secure account on your behalf.” The very next day, every valuable item in the penthouse was moved out. The genuine leather sofas, the smart appliances, even the potted plants on the balcony—everything was stripped bare. Chapter 3 Bella stood at the doorway, holding a clipboard and logging every single item the movers carried out. “Check everything carefully. Don’t miss a thing. Otherwise, Mr. Sterling won’t even know his house was emptied and sold off.” I stood awkwardly to the side, possessing absolutely no authority to stop her. Once they left, I looked at the empty, echoing penthouse and let out a bitter laugh. A year ago, when I first moved in here, Carter had personally picked out and bought all of this for me. At the time, he had just rescued me from the clutches of my gambling-addict father. He had said, “From now on, you are my woman. You will never have to live in fear over money again.” His vow was sincere and passionate, and so I believed him. But now, I had no idea if I had chosen the wrong path. A local notification popped up on my phone. It was a late-night part-time gig at a bar, paying sixty dollars a shift. If I worked quietly for a month, I would have enough for the abortion. When I went for the interview, the bar manager saw my earnest attitude and hired me on the spot, telling me to start in three days. Walking out of the bar, I pulled out my phone to text Mia. Before I could even finish typing, a violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the pavement. When I woke up, I was already in the hospital. A young nurse noticed I was awake and began injecting something into my IV bag. “You’re suffering from long-term, severe malnutrition. This is a nutrient drip.” “This is my first time seeing a pregnant woman actually pass out from starvation. Where is your husband? This is incredibly irresponsible.” I gripped the edge of the blanket, my tone flat. “I don’t have a husband.” Hearing that, a look of deep sympathy crossed her eyes. “The baby is innocent. You can’t keep torturing yourself like this.” I nodded. I used to think that having a child meant I would, at the very least, be allowed to eat a full meal. But on the day I was discharged, I called Carter three times in a row. Every single call was declined. Left with no choice, I borrowed money from Mia to pay the hospital bill. She transferred the money without a second thought. “You literally passed out, and Carter still ignores you and the baby?! Is he not afraid of being struck by lightning?” “I’m going to go tear him apart.” I quickly stopped her. “Mia, please. Let me handle this myself.” “I’ve made up my mind about the baby. I’ll contact him tonight.” To my surprise, when I got home, Carter was there. He was wearing an apron, carrying a dish out of the kitchen. Seeing me return, he didn’t look particularly thrilled. “Why is there absolutely no food in this house? Is this how you usually live?” Before he could finish, the heavy smell of cooking oil assaulted my senses. I sprinted to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the sink. Carter frowned and followed me in. “What’s wrong? You look awful.” He handed me a glass of water. “When did you get so fragile?” I took the glass, rinsed my mouth, and finally felt a little better. “Give me some money.” The air froze for a few seconds before Carter let out a dark scoff. “So after all this drama, you’re just asking for money?” “Those three phone calls today—were they just for money, too?” I leaned against the wall to support myself. “Yes.” Carter looked at me, his eyes terrifyingly cold. “You really never change, do you? You’ll do absolutely anything for cash.” He grabbed his coat and stormed toward the front door. Before stepping out, he paused. “I’ll have Secretary Vance transfer it to you.” Then, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. I don’t know how much time passed before I finally dragged myself to the dining table. On the table was a plate of glazed ribs—my absolute favorite dish. But looking at it now, it only made my stomach churn with nausea. Early the next morning, I received a text from Bella. “Mrs. Sterling, human greed is like a snake trying to swallow an elephant. Your endless, uncontrolled demands will only make Mr. Sterling despise you more.” Chapter 4 “Mr. Sterling said that if you ask for money again, your living expenses for next month will be cut in half.” Immediately following the text was a transfer notification for thirty dollars. I stared at the transaction record for a long, long time before finally clicking ‘Accept’. At least my breakfast was secured. But this marriage—where I couldn’t even secure a full stomach through begging—was suffocating me to death. After agonizing over it for a long time, I finally sent Carter a text. “Since you can’t afford to provide for me, let’s get a divorce.” That evening, I arrived at the bar for my part-time shift as scheduled. After changing into a black and red uniform, I sat in the breakroom, eating a cheap hot dog I had bought on the way. The manager held his phone, glancing between the screen and my face. “You know, you look exactly like the wife of the Sterling Group’s CEO. Are you sure you don’t have some ulterior motive being here?” I waved my hand and took a bite of my hot dog. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m no billionaire’s wife.” He looked me up and down and let out a sigh of relief. “Make sense. No matter what happens, a billionaire’s wife wouldn’t sink to looking like you.” “Hurry up and finish eating. Get to work.” It was my first day on the job, and I was pretty clumsy. The shift leader was walking me through my daily tasks, but there were too many customers tonight, and he was overwhelmed. “Sydney, take this bottle of liquor to VIP Room 8. Don’t make the guests wait.” I took the bottle, feeling incredibly anxious as I checked the room numbers one by one. Every now and then, a drunk customer would try to hit on me. At the very end of the hallway, I finally found VIP Room 8. Just as I was about to push the door open, I saw a figure I recognized instantly sitting on the leather sofa. Carter. It looked like he had been drinking heavily. A man who usually held his liquor incredibly well now had a flush on his cheeks. Right now, he was only wearing a black dress shirt, the top two buttons undone. He leaned lazily against the sofa, raising a hand to light a cigarette. “Is a five-hundred-thousand-dollar monthly allowance too little for a wife?” The friend sitting next to him snapped his head up. “I didn’t mishear that, did I? Half a million a month isn’t enough for your wife?” I recognized this man. It was Carter’s childhood best friend, Mason Brooks. I had met him a few times. Carter exhaled a ring of smoke and gave a flat “yeah.” “I originally thought that because she was abused by her gambling addict father growing up, she wouldn’t spend recklessly even if she had money.” “But Secretary Vance says she blows through her allowance every month, frequently visits luxury nightclubs, and never stops shopping for a single day.” Mason practically jumped off the sofa in shock. “Bro, is your wife keeping a sugar boy on the side? I never expected someone who looks so quiet and innocent to be playing the field so hard in private.” Carter finally turned his head to look at him. He narrowed his eyes and crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “These past few days, she’s been getting more and more out of hand. She even claimed she was pregnant, demanding Secretary Vance wire her money constantly.” “Last night she put on a pathetic act, crying about being broke. I had no choice but to have someone wire her another hundred and fifty grand.” He paused and downed the liquor in his glass in one gulp. “But this morning, she texted me saying if I couldn’t afford her, I shouldn’t keep her. She even asked for a divorce.” Standing outside the door, I absorbed every single word. If I hadn’t opened my own banking app and stared at the $150 deposits I received every month, I almost would have believed him. If it wasn’t me receiving the money, then it was someone else. Trembling with absolute rage and unable to suppress it a second longer, I violently shoved the door open. When Carter saw me, he completely froze. “Sydney? What are you doing here?” Mason’s face drained of color as he instinctively stepped in front of Carter. “Sydney, please, calm down.”

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After the wall collapsed at my sister’s college acceptance party, crushing fifteen people to death, my mother made a “Debt Book.” From then on, whenever anyone in town needed help, she pushed me to the front of the line. When old Mrs. Henderson fell into the river, my mother shoved me in, even though I didn’t know how to swim. “This is what we owe the Hendersons. Your sister’s health is too fragile. You go save her.” Choking on water until I coughed up blood, I finally managed to drag the old woman to the shore. But my mother just stood on the riverbank, gripping her Debt Book, writing: “Today, Mia saved Mrs. Henderson, paying back the Henderson family one life. Fourteen families remaining.” When Mr. Miller’s son needed a kidney transplant, she dragged me to get tested as a match. When Mr. Peterson’s daughter needed a spot at the prestigious magnet school, my mother gave her my admission slot. I cried. I threw tantrums. But my mother just wrote in her Debt Book: “Today, Mia threw a tantrum and triggered her sister’s depression. We owe the town another debt.” After that, I never dared to throw a tantrum again. I paid off debts, family by family. Until I came home for Thanksgiving break, and the Wilsons’ young grandson fell into a dried-up well. The opening was too narrow for the firefighters to fit through. My mother grabbed me the moment I walked back from the bus stop. 1 On the day of my sister’s college acceptance party, the old barn suddenly collapsed. Fifteen locals rushed in to save her, only to die in a secondary collapse. My mother made a Debt Book. She said my sister’s life was bought with fifteen others, and she couldn’t take any more emotional distress. But the debt our family owed had to be paid by someone. From then on, whenever anyone in town needed help, she pushed me to the front of the line. When old Mrs. Henderson fell into the river, my mother shoved me in, even though I didn’t know how to swim. “This is what we owe the Hendersons. Your sister’s health is too fragile. You go save her.” Choking on water until I coughed up blood, I finally managed to drag the old woman to the shore. But my mother just stood on the riverbank, gripping her Debt Book, writing: “Today, Mia saved Mrs. Henderson, paying back the Henderson family one life. Fourteen families remaining.” When Mr. Miller’s son needed a kidney transplant, she dragged me to get tested as a match. When Mr. Peterson’s daughter needed a spot at the prestigious magnet school, my mother gave her my admission slot. I cried. I threw tantrums. But my mother just wrote in her Debt Book: “Today, Mia threw a tantrum and triggered her sister’s depression. We owe the town another debt.” After that, I never dared to throw a tantrum again. I paid off debts, family by family. Until I came home for Thanksgiving break, and the Wilsons’ young grandson fell into a dried-up well. The opening was too narrow for the firefighters to fit through. My mother grabbed me the moment I walked back from the bus stop. “Let my Mia go down. She owes the Wilsons.” The firefighter stared at me, frowning. “Is this kid healthy? Does she have claustrophobia or anything like that?” “She’s perfectly healthy! Not a single thing wrong with her!” But Mom, I just donated a kidney. And I have severe claustrophobia. Mom, do I have to die before the debt is finally paid off? … By the time my mother shoved me to the edge of the well, my legs had already turned to jelly. The opening looked like a pitch-black, gaping mouth, wind whistling up from the darkness. Just one glance, and my ears filled with the sound of collapsing bricks and screaming from my sister’s party. The firefighter looked at my deathly pale face and asked again: “Sweetheart, how old are you really? Are you afraid of the dark?” My mother pinched my arm hard, smiling naturally. “She’s sixteen. She’s just shaking because she’s so excited to save someone.” Mr. Peterson, the man who took my magnet school admission, quickly chimed in. “Mia has loved helping people since she was little! She’s sharp, she can definitely do it!” The surrounding crowd urged anxiously. “Hurry up! Little Toby is down there!” “He’s the Wilsons’ only grandchild!” The firefighter ignored them, crouching down in front of me. “Mia, look at me. If you’re scared, tell me. Rescue work can’t be forced.” My lips trembled for a long time before I managed to squeeze out: “Sir, I’m only in seventh grade…” Before I could finish, my mother clamped her hands onto my shoulders and shoved me toward the opening. The darkness rushed up to swallow me, and I screamed. The firefighter immediately yanked me back, shielding me behind him. “She’s your daughter, not a piece of rescue equipment!” My mother didn’t look at him. She slowly pulled out her Debt Book. Before she even opened it, the scratching sound of a pen on paper echoed in my ears. Only one thought remained in my head: I owe another debt. For every extra point of debt I owed, my mother took something away from me. Last year, it was my winter coat. The year before, it was the school field trip. She said my sister bore the psychological weight of fifteen lives, so me skipping a field trip or being a little cold was nothing to complain about. The scariest part wasn’t the punishment. It was that every time she made an entry, the entire town would remind me: Mia, you haven’t paid off your debt yet. Even the kids at school gave me a nickname. They called me “The Debt Girl.” “I’ll go!” I pulled away from the firefighter and frantically started strapping on the safety harness. “I’m not scared! I’ll go down right now!” The firefighter grabbed my hands. “We’re already looking for someone the right size, you don’t have to—” My mother opened the book and read calmly: “Today, Mia pretended to be a coward, stalling a rescue and disappointing the entire town. Add one point of debt.” The area instantly went quiet. The way the surrounding adults looked at me… it was like I wasn’t a thirteen-year-old kid, but the person who pushed Toby down the well. Crying, I begged the firefighter: “Sir, please let me go down. Just this once.” As long as I saved Toby, the debt would be reduced by one point. Then maybe I could go to the city high school with my sister. Maybe I could even go to an amusement park just once. The rope lowered slowly. The narrow walls of the well pressed in on both sides. With every inch I descended, my breathing grew shorter. Someone above shouted: “The rope is shaking too much! Pull her back up first!” My mother instantly screamed in protest. “She said she’s not scared! This is what she owes the Wilsons, don’t delay the rescue!” I suddenly remembered when my sister was fifteen. Some local thugs used the town’s ‘debt’ to trick her into crawling into a wild dog den behind the hills. My mother abandoned her market stall and ran all the way there, not stopping even when her legs were slashed by thorns. My sister cried, “Mom, I owe them.” But my mother hugged her tight, repeating over and over: “You don’t owe them. You don’t owe anyone anything.” That day, she carried my sister on her back for five miles through the hills. Now, she knew perfectly well that I was terrified, yet she blamed the firefighter for caring too much. The monitoring equipment started beeping rapidly. The firefighter roared into the well: “She’s lacking oxygen! Pull her up immediately!” But my mother said: “Mia is tough to kill. She’ll be fine.” I closed my eyes. So that’s what “tough to kill” meant. It meant nobody cared even when you were hurting. Just as my consciousness started to fade, a crying voice echoed from the bottom of the well. “Mia? Is that you?” 2 The flashlight beam swept across, and I saw five-year-old Toby huddled at the bottom. His forehead was scraped and bleeding, but he was fiercely protecting half a mooncake against his chest. Seeing me, he sniffled and held the mooncake up. “Mia, it’s red bean paste. It’s for you.” I stared blankly at that half a mooncake. My sister ate red bean paste every year. My dad said since she went through such a traumatic shock, it was okay for her to be a picky eater. I only ever got the cheap, mixed-nut ones, because my mother said as long as I wasn’t starving, I had no right to complain. “You keep it, Toby. I’m going to take you up.” The moment I reached for him, the rope jerked violently. I slammed hard against the wall of the well, the pain leaving me breathless for several seconds. My mother’s voice floated down from above. “Send Toby up first. Mia can wait for the next trip.” The firefighter objected immediately. “She can’t hold on much longer! Both kids need to be extracted together!” “It’s too narrow down there. She can barely turn around, how is she supposed to secure the harness to him by herself?” My mother’s tone was absolute. “She’s tough. She didn’t die when she fell in the river or when she got electrocuted. What’s one more minute going to do?” The locals chimed in. “Save Toby first, he’s so little.” “Mia’s a good kid, she can handle it.” I gritted my teeth, inching my body all the way to the bottom. I unclipped my own safety harness and started strapping it onto Toby. I couldn’t get the buckle to align. My mother was losing patience. “Mia, are you stalling on purpose?! How long does it take to buckle a rope?!” “Mom, I’m not…” The more panicked I got, the worse my hands shook. After several tries, the safety carabiner finally locked. I checked it thoroughly to make sure it wouldn’t slip, then yelled up: “It’s secure!” “Give Toby the flashlight too, he’s afraid of the dark.” I instinctively hugged the light tighter. “Mom, I’m scared too. Can’t you just wait and pull us both up together?” “How old are you, fighting over something like this? Stop playing the victim. Toby won’t be comfortable dangling in the air, give it to him!” The firefighter, suppressing his anger, said: “It only takes one minute to pull him up. We have floodlights up here. Leave the flashlight with Mia.” My mother didn’t answer. But the sound of pages turning in the Debt Book reached my ears. “I’ll give it to him! Mom, I’m giving it to him, please don’t write anything!” I frantically strapped the flashlight onto Toby. The rope tightened, pulling my only source of light higher and higher. Toby kept looking down at me, crying: “I want Mia to come up too!” Soon, the bottom of the well was pitch black. I pressed myself against the dirt wall, curling into a ball, repeating to myself over and over: Just one minute. Just one minute. I started thinking about the little nightlight in my school dorm that stayed on all night, and the comic books my desk-mate lent me. As long as I got out of this, I promised myself I would study so hard. When I grew up and made money, I would convert all these debts into cash and pay everyone back, so my mother wouldn’t be put in a difficult position ever again. I even decided I wouldn’t tell my dad I got hurt when I got home, so my sister wouldn’t hear and have a panic attack. I was always thinking of them like this. “Mom, can I come up now?” No answer. I asked softly again: “Mom, can you save a piece of red bean mooncake for me today?” Toby’s crying finally reached the top, and the safety rope began to lower back down. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, my mother suddenly spoke. “Mia, Toby dropped his toy car at the bottom of the well.” “That was the car he picked during his one-year-old selection ceremony. Find it first, then come up.” I crawled in the mud, my hands sinking into the freezing, wet sludge. Once. Nothing. Twice. Still nothing. My chest felt tighter and tighter. I barely had the strength left to hold myself up. “Mom, I can’t find it…” “It’s a tiny space, how can you not find it?” her tone was flat. “Look carefully. Don’t come up until you find it.” Staring up at the moon, which now looked the size of a coin, I finally understood. To my mother, Toby’s toy mattered more than bringing me home. 3 The firefighter completely lost it. “What kind of toy is more important than a child’s life?! Pull her up now!” My mother raised her voice too. “That belongs to the Wilsons! She owes them two lives! What’s wrong with asking her to find a missing item for them?” “She’s thirteen years old! She doesn’t owe anyone anything!” The argument echoed down into the well layer by layer. I covered my ears, shrinking into the darkness, whispering: “Don’t fight, I’m looking, I’ll find it…” But no one heard me. I had no choice but to keep searching. The freezing muddy water covered my wrists, mixed with rocks and dead branches. A sharp pain suddenly pierced my palm. I flinched back, losing my balance, and my forehead smashed against the wall of the well. My vision flashed white. “Mom…” I tried my hardest to look up. “I’m hurt, I’m so scared…” It was quiet above for a second. I thought she would finally let me come back. But the next second, my mother said harshly: “Mia, if you fake this one more time, I’ll leave you down there for the whole holiday!” “I’m not faking!” I desperately tried to stand up, trying to get closer to the opening, but my legs had no strength left, and I kept slipping back down. Finally, the safety rope dropped down. I lunged for it like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline. But the moment my fingertips brushed the carabiner, the rope violently jerked upward, disappearing out of the well. Immediately after, the firefighter roared in furious disbelief. “You cut the rope?!” “That’s your own daughter down there! Is she really worth less than a toy car?!” My mother replied coldly: “If I don’t force her this once, she’ll never learn to take responsibility.” Looking up, I completely froze. The rope didn’t snap. My mother personally cut it to stop me from coming up. In the past, every time something bad happened, I always told myself my mother was just anxious, she was just worried about my sister. But just now, she clearly heard the firefighter say I couldn’t hold on. She clearly saw the monitor alarms going off. She knew everything. She just still chose to cut the rope. This time, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Toby suddenly sniffled and said: “The toy car didn’t fall down… it’s at my house…” The entire area instantly fell dead silent. The firefighter asked slowly, pronouncing every word: “So the thing you made her look for was never even in the well?” My mother was silent for a few seconds, then grew even angrier. “Mia! Why didn’t you just say you couldn’t find it?! You were stalling on purpose just to humiliate me in front of the whole town!” I opened my mouth, but I could no longer make a sound. The firefighter yelled frantically: “Mia! If you can hear me, answer me!” I really wanted to answer. But it felt like a boulder was crushing my chest, and my vision was growing darker and darker. Hearing no response, my mother’s tone grew increasingly disappointed. “You were screaming just fine a minute ago, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment? When did you learn to use playing sick to threaten people?” The firefighter roared: “She’s not playing sick! The monitor shows she’s unresponsive!” “Mia! Is the panic button I put in your pocket still there? Press it! Just press it once!” I struggled to reach my pocket. The device slipped out and fell into the mud. I couldn’t grip it no matter how hard I tried. Above me, I heard my mother trying to kick everyone out. “Today is about our family disciplining our child. Please leave town immediately. Whatever happens has absolutely nothing to do with you.” “Whoever helps me kick them out, I’ll record a debt point in favor of the whole town.” The locals started closing in on them. The firefighter was blocked, but he was still screaming my name at the top of his lungs. Listening to him yell my name, tears suddenly poured down my face. So even a total stranger who had only met me once knew I would be terrified. But my mother didn’t. As my hand fell limply into the mud, it happened to land right on the panic button. The piercing sound of the alarm finally blared from the bottom of the well.

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At the Top Ten Outstanding Undergraduates award ceremony, I had just stepped onto the podium when the giant projector screen suddenly went black. A second later, dozens of explicit, damning text message screenshots popped up on the screen. The audience of two thousand students and faculty erupted into a massive uproar. The sender was me. The recipient was Liam Sterling, the brilliant, undisputed golden boy of the Finance Department, sitting right in the front row. The screenshots were filled with my texts: [Out of cash, Venmo me $1,000.] [I’m crashing at your apartment tonight, leave the door unlocked.] [If you don’t give me money, I’ll harass you every day until your reputation is ruined.] The sorority president grabbed a microphone, stormed the stage, and pointed at me with righteous fury: “Everyone, look closely! Harper isn’t some innocent straight-A student. She is a gold digger who has been shamelessly harassing and extorting Liam for money!” “A toxic, shameless parasite like her doesn’t deserve to stand on this stage and accept an award!” Countless eyes stabbed into me like knives, filled with absolute disgust. The university administrators’ faces turned pale with fury. The sorority president glared at me triumphantly. Chapter 1 At the Top Ten Outstanding Undergraduates award ceremony, I had just stepped onto the podium when the giant projector screen suddenly went black. A second later, dozens of explicit, damning text message screenshots popped up on the screen. The audience of two thousand students and faculty erupted into a massive uproar. The sender was me. The recipient was Liam Sterling, the brilliant, undisputed golden boy of the Finance Department, sitting right in the front row. The screenshots were filled with my texts: [Out of cash, Venmo me $1,000.] [I’m crashing at your apartment tonight, leave the door unlocked.] [If you don’t give me money, I’ll harass you every day until your reputation is ruined.] Chloe Vance, the campus queen bee, grabbed a microphone, stormed the stage, and pointed at me with righteous fury: “Everyone, look closely! Harper isn’t some innocent straight-A student. She is a gold digger who has been shamelessly harassing and extorting Liam for money!” “A toxic, shameless parasite like her doesn’t deserve to stand on this stage and accept an award!” Countless eyes stabbed into me like knives. The administrators looked furious. Chloe glared at me triumphantly. “Harper, Liam might be too polite to call the cops, but today you are going to publicly confess your disgusting, predatory behavior!” I stared at those “extortion” texts on the screen and rubbed my temples in sheer exhaustion. Wait a minute. Liam Sterling is my biological uncle. My grandma had him incredibly late in life. I was just shaking my own uncle down for my allowance and crashing at his place for free food. How did that make me a shameless sugar baby? …… Liam Sterling is my biological uncle. Nobody at school knew this. It wasn’t that I was intentionally hiding it. It was because on my very first day of college, Liam cornered me outside the library and laid down three strict rules with a totally deadpan face. “Don’t call me Uncle on campus.” “Don’t tell anyone we’re related.” “Why?” “I’m a junior. If you walk around calling me Uncle, what does that make me sound like?” “Like a senior citizen.” “Go tell your grandmother she should have had me twenty years later.” He turned to leave. I yelled after him. “What am I supposed to do when I run out of food money?!” Without even looking back, he tossed a sleek black debit card over his shoulder. “Text me. Let me know when it’s empty.” From then on, we acted like total strangers on campus. He was the absolute ceiling of the Finance Department. He swept the national merit scholarships every year, was ridiculously handsome, and was basically worshipped as the campus god. I was a freshman in the Journalism program, as painfully average as a plain bagel in the dining hall. No one would ever associate the two of us. Until Chloe Vance fell hard for Liam. I don’t know how she managed to get her hands on my text thread with him. Most likely, she found someone to snoop through his phone when he had to surrender it during the Finance Department’s locked-in Case Competition Week. She found out that Liam transferred money to me every month. She found out I went to his luxury apartment every other day. She found out I used his credit card to buy three cases of oat milk at the grocery store. But she didn’t find out how we were related. And she didn’t care. A freshman girl frequently going to the campus golden boy’s apartment and spending his money—that was all the evidence she needed to brand me. The award ceremony was abruptly canceled. The university administrators called me into the office. My academic advisor, Mr. Davis, sat to the side looking like he had just swallowed a box of chalk. “Harper, explain these text messages.” I said, “That is a completely normal conversation between family members.” “Family members?” Mr. Davis frowned. “You are not listed anywhere on Liam’s emergency contact or family info.” “He’s my…” “Are you going to try and claim he’s your boyfriend?” Chloe Vance had slipped into the office at some point. She sat down, her eyes perfectly rimmed with fake, sympathetic tears. “Mr. Davis, she’s been telling people she has a ‘special relationship’ with Liam for weeks. We all tried to warn her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen.” Mr. Davis looked at her, then back at me. “Harper, Chloe is the Vice President of the Student Government. She has no reason to frame you.” “Go back to your dorm and write a formal statement explaining your actions.” “Your award eligibility is officially frozen.” I opened my mouth. I wanted to say that she was the only one who had a reason to frame me. But Chloe had already kindly pulled the office door open for me. She stepped aside and whispered: “I’m not targeting you, underclassman.” “I just think some things need to be brought into the light.” She was a sophomore. She sounded as polite as a court subpoena. When I walked out of the office, my phone was already blowing up. The top trending post on the campus Reddit page: [SHOCKING! Top Student Harper Exposed as a Gold Digger Harassing Liam Sterling! Texts Inside!] The top-voted comment: [No wonder she’s always wearing such nice clothes in the dining hall. Now we know how she pays for them.] I looked down at the oversized coat I was wearing. It was a coat Liam threw at me because he claimed it was the wrong size. He said it made him look fat. A guy who is 6’2″ with 10% body fat told me it made him look fat. When my grandmother gave birth to him, she must have accidentally left his brain in the delivery room. I pulled out my phone and texted Liam. [Uncle, emergency. Your crazy fangirl just blasted our texts on the projector screen.] The message bounced back with a red exclamation mark. Message Not Delivered. His phone was confiscated for Competition Week. He had basically vanished off the face of the earth. Great. My biological uncle is MIA. His niece is socially executed. This family is falling apart. Chapter 2 Early the next morning, someone taped a piece of printer paper to my dorm room door. [Please have some self-respect and stay away from Liam Sterling. Stop embarrassing the Journalism Department.] It was signed: “All the Women of the Journalism Department.” I ripped the paper off the door and flipped it over. The back was blank. Perfect. I needed scratch paper for calculus anyway. During my morning lecture, I sat in the very back row of the auditorium. Every single student in front of me collectively moved three rows forward. Like I was emitting lethal radiation. Mia, one of Chloe’s loyal sidekicks, specifically walked all the way to the back to place an iced matcha latte on my desk. “Chloe said to buy you a drink.” “Don’t need it.” “She also said,” Mia lowered her voice. “If you post a public apology on the campus forum today, she’ll help you suppress the trending posts.” “Apologize for what?” “Admit that your behavior toward Liam was highly inappropriate.” “What exactly is inappropriate about my perfectly normal interpersonal relationships?” Mia sighed. “Those texts are out there. The whole school saw them.” “No one is going to believe anything you say now.” “You might as well just bow your head and take the out.” I slid the matcha latte back toward her. “I’ll bow my head.” “Right after she gives me my Top Ten Student award back.” Mia took the drink and left. At noon, I went to the dining hall. The card reader beeped: Insufficient Funds. Liam’s debit card had been confiscated by Chloe as “evidence” and handed over to the Student Government. And my own personal bank account had exactly $47 left. There were nineteen days left in the month. That averaged out to about $2.40 a day. I grabbed a bowl of plain white rice and sat in a corner. My roommate, Zoey, slid half her chicken teriyaki onto my plate. She assumed I had blown through my allowance and couldn’t afford food. To be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong. “Eat mine.” “I’m good, I’m on a diet.” “You weigh 100 pounds. What are you dieting for?” “I’m trying to lose enough weight so the wind blows me away and I never have to deal with this school again.” That afternoon, I marched into the Student Government office to get my card back. Chloe was sitting at a desk, organizing files. She looked up at me, her expression perfectly blank. “I can’t give you the card right now.” “That is my living expense money.” “This card is under the name Liam Sterling.” She held the black card up. “Until he personally confirms it, we cannot hand it over to you.” “You have no legal right to confiscate it either.” Chloe calmly dropped the card into her drawer and locked it. “This is to protect Liam’s financial assets.” “What if you really are extorting him?” She said it so smoothly, her tone as steady as if she were reading from a textbook. Like she was the true victim. And I was the dangerous predator that needed to be contained. I reached out and grabbed the handle of the drawer. Chloe instantly slammed her hand down hard over mine. “Harper, are you going to rob me?” “There are three Student Government officers right outside that door.” “If you get physical with me, your expulsion papers will be drafted by tomorrow.” I pulled my hand back. Her acrylic nails had left a long, red scratch across the back of my hand. “Liam finishes his competition and gets back to campus the day after tomorrow.” “You can confront him face-to-face then.” “If he says this card was actually meant for you, I’ll return it without a second thought.” She smiled warmly and opened the office door for me. “But if he doesn’t…” “I will personally recommend that all your academic honors and scholarship eligibilities be permanently revoked.” I walked out of the office and stared at the stinging red scratch on my hand. When she slammed her hand down on mine, the three male officers outside saw the whole thing. None of them thought anything was wrong. Because in their eyes, I was a gold digger. A gold digger getting scratched was just poetic justice. I scrolled through my phone contacts. My parents were on a business trip in Europe, a twelve-hour time difference. My grandmother didn’t know how to use a smartphone. Liam was still entirely unreachable. A new post went up on the forum. [DEEP DIVE on Gold Digger Harper: Using Upperclassman’s Card for Luxury Goods, Spotted Sneaking Out of His Penthouse.] Attached was a photo of me from last weekend, wearing that oversized coat Liam didn’t want, walking out of his luxury apartment building. The camera angle was deliberate, the lighting dim. It genuinely looked like a shady sugar baby doing a midnight walk of shame. The top comment read: [If the school doesn’t expel trash like this, our university’s reputation is going to be ruined.] I locked my phone. Just last month, my grandma called Liam and explicitly told him to take good care of me. He had agreed instantly. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll treat her like my own daughter.” Well, your daughter can’t afford lunch, her bank card was stolen, and her reputation is shredded to pieces. Thanks for taking such good care of me, Uncle. Chapter 3 Friday rolled around. Every Friday at noon, the university hosted a “Student Voice” open mic in the main quad. Anyone could sign up to speak on the soapbox. I planned to use the opportunity to grab the mic and explain the whole situation. But when I got to my morning lecture, there was an envelope sitting on my desk. It was an official document with the university’s red letterhead. [Notice Regarding the Revocation of Harper’s Award Eligibility.] Reason: Involved in severe moral controversy. Following a report from the Student Government, all honors and scholarship eligibilities are indefinitely suspended. It was dated yesterday. Chloe’s efficiency was faster than Uber Eats. From reporting me to issuing an official punishment, it took less than twenty-four hours. I took the document straight to Advisor Davis. He was eating a bagel at his desk. “Harper, this incident blew up way too fast.” “The department is just trying to do some damage control with the optics.” “Once Liam comes back and clears things up, I’ll help you get it reinstated.” “He doesn’t get back until tomorrow, and I’m already officially punished today.” “The protocol is perfectly sound.” “Is it standard protocol for the Student Government to confiscate my bank card without authorization?” Mr. Davis’s hand paused halfway to his mouth. “That… you’ll have to negotiate that with the Student Government.” When it comes to public outrage, “protocol” is just playdough. Whoever screams the loudest gets to mold it. At noon, I went to the quad to sign up. But Chloe had already tampered with the “Student Voice” clipboard. My name was violently crossed out with a black Sharpie. Next to it was a note: This student is currently under moral investigation and is unfit for public speaking. I stood at the edge of the quad and watched Chloe step up to the microphone to deliver the keynote speech. “We must bravely say no to inappropriate harassment.” “Everyone has the fundamental right to refuse unwanted advances.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. People threw disgusted glances in my direction, whispering to each other. Chloe noticed me. She smiled gracefully into the microphone. “Of course, we should always give those who make mistakes a chance to reform.” “I sincerely hope a certain someone takes this time to truly reflect on her actions.” Her eyes locked dead onto me. Two thousand people followed her gaze, all staring right at me. I stood in the bright sunlight, but it felt like I was standing on a public scaffold. Zoey grabbed my sleeve, trying to pull me away. “Don’t stand here. She’s doing this on purpose.” I shook off her hand. “Take a picture for me.” “Of what?” “The sign-up sheet on the table. The one where my name is crossed out.” Zoey snapped the picture and AirDropped it to me. I saved the photo and marched straight to the Dean of Students’ office. The secretary there told me that revoking an award eligibility required a formal vote by the Faculty Disciplinary Board. And the board had absolutely not convened yesterday. Which meant the official university letter I received was completely rogue and procedurally invalid. But the secretary quickly added an addendum. “The department said they’re holding an emergency retroactive meeting on Monday to officially finalize the decision.” “The meeting is on Monday, but the official punishment letter was issued yesterday?” “It’s a preliminary notice pending procedural fulfillment. It’s a special circumstance.” Special circumstance. Translated into plain English: Execute the punishment now, forge the paperwork later. When I walked out of the Dean’s office, Mia appeared out of nowhere. She handed me a freshly printed apology letter. “Chloe said, as long as you post this on the forum today, she’ll pull strings to get your punishment revoked.” I took the paper and skimmed it. It was an 800-word essay. The highlight reel read: “I admit to systematically harassing Liam Sterling through inappropriate means, causing severe distress to his personal and academic life.” “I have deeply realized the severity of my mistakes.” I folded the paper neatly and shoved it into my pocket. Mia let out a sigh of relief. “So, you’re posting it tonight?” “No.” “Then why did you take it?” “As a souvenir.” “Chloe had someone stay up all night writing this…” “The prose is excellent.” I paused. “But I will not admit to a single word of something I never did.” Mia’s face instantly dropped. She pulled out her phone and furiously typed a message. Ten seconds later, Chloe’s reply popped up on her screen. I saw it plain as day. [Then don’t blame me. Tomorrow, when Liam gets back, I’ll make him tell the whole school to her face that he doesn’t even know her.] I stared at that line of text for three seconds. Doesn’t know me? If he actually dares to say he doesn’t know me tomorrow. I will call Grandma on speakerphone. Let’s see what happens first: his social execution, or Grandma’s flying sandal making contact with his skull.

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