My dad booked my high school entrance physical. While getting my blood drawn, I heard the nurse confirm: “Is this the sample for the bone marrow match?” I froze. That wasn’t on my physical form. And a match? A match for whom? She accidentally dropped the lab requisition form. As she bent to pick it up, a few lines of text stabbed into my eyes: Patient: Sophia Wu. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Guardian Signature: David Wu. I picked it up to confirm. It was definitely my dad, David Wu’s, handwriting. Who is Sophia Wu? Why is my dad her guardian? I immediately called my dad. “Dad, why does a school physical need a bone marrow match?” His voice paused, a hint of panic creeping in. “The hospital must have made a mistake, right? But it’s just a test, doing one or two extra won’t hurt.” I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the ward listed on the form. 1 Walking into the ward, I saw the girl lying in the bed. She was pale and frail. Her eyes and brows looked almost exactly like my dad’s. My heart sank. Clenching my fists, I walked over and asked: “Are you Sophia?” She was stunned, looking up at me. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind. I turned around. It was her mother. She looked to be in her thirties, young, dressed simply, with the air of a gentle wife and mother. She looked a bit flustered, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly. “You must be Sophia’s classmate?” Her voice was urgent and a bit shaky as she came up to pull me away. “She needs to rest. Come outside for a moment, I have something to tell you.” I didn’t refuse and followed her out of the ward. In the hallway, she visibly relaxed and hesitated before speaking: “You are…” I held up the requisition form and questioned her directly: “Why is my father’s signature on your daughter’s guardian line?” “Ma’am, what is your relationship with my father?” The hospital hallway was busy with people coming and going, some even recognizing her as they passed. She hadn’t expected me to lay my cards on the table so directly. Her expression grew even more nervous as she forced a smile to greet acquaintances. Then, with a strained smile, she explained to me: “That signature… my daughter is sick, and a charity organization is sponsoring her. The person in charge was there when we paid the fees, so he just signed it.” “My daughter has the same last name as me, Wu. It’s just a coincidence, don’t overthink it.” Her words were gentle, trying to avoid suspicion. But her gaze on me revealed a trace of malice and covetousness. I met her eyes directly. She looked guilty and subconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear. I saw the diamond ring on her hand clearly. It was familiar. It was a designer piece. And it was from my mom’s favorite designer. This reclusive designer had released a new collection recently, which the industry was buzzing about. It just happened to coincide with my parents’ wedding anniversary. I had secretly reminded my dad to snatch up this diamond ring for my mom as an anniversary gift. He agreed and asked me to keep it a secret, saying he planned to surprise Mom. But on the anniversary, what he brought out wasn’t the limited edition at all, but a common co-branded piece available in any store. Even the stones on it were cubic zirconia. My dad explained that he got the time wrong due to the time difference during an international meeting and missed it. He could only use the co-branded piece as a placeholder and would find someone to contact the designer for a custom piece later. Turns out, he didn’t miss it. He just gave it to another woman. And used a perfunctory gift to dismiss my mom. I gritted my teeth, suppressing the surging anger. Staring at Grace’s awkward expression, my smile didn’t reach my eyes: “Ma’am, your ring is beautiful. Is it the designer limited edition?” “My mom waited a long time but couldn’t buy it.” She probably didn’t expect a kid like me to recognize it. Her movements froze instantly, her face turning ugly. She hurriedly pulled her hair forward to cover the ring, stammering an excuse: “What designer edition… I don’t understand these things. My daughter bought it for me casually, it’s not worth much.” “I have to take care of my child, I’m leaving now.” “By the way, please don’t spread rumors about today, lest your family misunderstands.” With that, she turned in a panic and fled back to the ward. Watching her wretched escape, I sneered inwardly. Heh. A coward with no guts. Without looking back, I turned and left the hospital. Sitting in the car, I immediately contacted my grandfather’s assistant: “Help me check my dad’s recent unusual activities, especially his travel itinerary and financial transactions.” “Be quick, but be careful not to alert him.” “Save any evidence immediately.” 2 When I got home, my mom was stewing soup in the kitchen. My dad was busy with business when he was young and ate irregularly, resulting in serious stomach problems. He had undergone two stomach resection surgeries. My mom felt sorry for him. Someone who never cooked, she went into the kitchen especially for him. Soups, porridges, medicinal meals… She managed to nurse his stomach back to 70-80% health. From what I can remember, it’s been almost ten years now. In two days, it will be my parents’ 20th wedding anniversary. Yet at this moment, I discovered my dad was cheating. Watching her busy back in the kitchen, the resentment in my heart turned into sadness, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. She was over forty, but she kept her figure well and her skin was tight. She looked about thirty. Only those hands, with slightly enlarged knuckles, calluses on the palms, and a few pale old scars on the back. She used to love getting manicures, but later stopped because it was inconvenient for cooking. I walked into the kitchen and hugged her gently from behind. She was startled, then laughed and teased me: “You’re back? You’re about to be a high schooler, why are you still acting like a baby?” “Go out quickly, it’s smoky in here, I’m busy.” Seeing I didn’t move, she sensed something was wrong. Turning around, she saw my tear-streaked face and immediately looked nervous. “Lily, why are you crying? Didn’t you go for a physical? Dad didn’t go with you? Let me ask…” She reached for her phone as she spoke. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head hard. “Don’t call him!” My mom froze, looking at me uneasily, waiting for me to speak. I closed my eyes tight, my throat tight: “My dad… he’s cheating.” “The woman’s name is Grace Wu. She used to be his secretary.” My movements were stiff, my fingers trembling slightly as I took out the tablet from my bag. The screen lit up, showing the information Uncle Feng, my grandfather’s assistant, had helped me investigate. The light from the screen illuminated Mom’s pale face. I scrolled through the pages, showing her item by item. “They got together not long after she joined the company. That was when… you just got pregnant with me.” “Less than half a year later, she resigned because she was pregnant. My dad bought a large flat in the Cloud Mansion near our house, and the owner is her.” “When you were suffering in late pregnancy, swollen all over and unable to sleep, my dad was over there making pregnancy meals for her; when you were fighting for your life during a difficult labor, he was massaging her and walking with her to relieve pain.” “When you were lying in the hospital bed after the C-section, he was accompanying that woman for her checkups, telling her to walk more so she wouldn’t have to suffer a C-section later.” “Mom, that illegitimate daughter is only six months younger than me. He cheated while you were pregnant.” I cried as I spoke, tears falling on the tablet screen, blooming into small wet marks. My mom stared blankly at the text and photos, her eyes gradually turning red and filling with tears. “How could he…” “Dating, marriage, twenty years. How could he…” I hugged her tight, took a deep breath, and continued. “Mom, do you remember the fire at our house when I was little?” She nodded, her voice even hoarser: “Of course I remember. I was on a business trip, your dad was working and taking care of you. He turned around and you set the curtains on fire… He risked his life to save you, terrified, guarding you in the hospital, saying if you were gone, he couldn’t live either.” “Later, when you got out of the ICU, he was so nervous, following you everywhere, often waking up at night to check on you, and constantly comforting me, saying it was all his fault… At that time, I thought he really loved you and cared about this family.” Speaking of this, her words revealed a trace of cold sarcasm. I continued to scroll the screen, my finger stopping on an investigation report. “What if I said that fire wasn’t an accident at all?” “He thought I was asleep and was in a hurry to see that mother and daughter. He threw an unextinguished cigarette butt into the trash can.” “The window wasn’t closed, the wind blew the curtain in, and it caught fire. He locked me in the room… I had no ability to save myself.” “And he didn’t save me. A neighbor found out and called the police. Firefighters broke down the door and carried me out to the hospital. He… rushed there later.” “I was only a few years old then, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness, so I couldn’t remember exactly what happened.” “Do you think he followed me everywhere during that time because he loved me? He was afraid I would suddenly remember and tell you the truth… He was afraid you would turn against him and he would lose the resources and connections from Grandpa’s side.” My eyes burned, unable to distinguish between grievance and anger. The happiness I thought I had turned out to be a meticulously arranged scam. Grievance piled up to the peak and turned into anger. I hated him. I hated him for lying to Mom, and even more for giving me this fake love like charity for so many years. What are we in his eyes? But seeing Mom’s state, only heartache remained. She was the one hurt the deepest. I wanted to say more, but my phone rang suddenly. It was the hospital. “Hello, is this student Lily Wu? There are some indicators in your physical report that need to be rechecked. Please ask your parent to bring you to the hospital for a detailed checkup as soon as possible.” I was stunned, trying to make my voice sound calm: “Okay, I know.” Just after hanging up, my mom’s and my phones vibrated almost simultaneously. Sent to me: 【Lily, the hospital called saying you need a recheck. Dad will go with you the day after tomorrow.】 Sent to Mom: 【Honey, the French designer you like is holding a private exhibition next week. A friend sent two invitation tickets for the afternoon after tomorrow. You go, relax a bit.】 The day after tomorrow, exactly when I go to the hospital for the recheck. He specifically sent Mom away, wanting to take me alone to… Mom and I looked at each other, neither speaking. I really wanted to know, what expression would he have when his conspiracy was exposed? 3 On the day of the recheck, I arrived at the hospital with my dad. While waiting for a red light, he picked up his phone and sent a voice message to my mom. “Honey, did you get to the art center? Is parking convenient there?” He was testing the waters. Soon, Mom replied. “Arrived, queuing to enter. Parking was a bit far, walked a bit.” She also attached a photo. A photo of her and a friend at the art center. My dad clicked to enlarge it, then followed up: “Heard ‘Morning Mist’ is on display this time, did you see it? Remember you like that painter very much.” A few minutes later, Mom sent a photo of the interior of the exhibition hall. “Saw it, more shocking than in the album. A bit crowded, talk later.” My dad seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He turned his head and gave me an impeccable smile: “Your mom can finally relax a bit.” Hypocrite. I pulled the corner of my mouth, the smile not reaching my eyes. At the hospital, he dutifully played the role of a good father. Recheck, examination, inquiry… He even carefully covered my eyes when blood was drawn. If I hadn’t discovered his affair and another daughter… I would probably rely on this tenderness and nestle in his arms like before. The process went quickly. After getting the blood draw receipt, he glanced at his watch, his tone natural. “Lily, wait here for a moment, don’t run around. Dad needs to use the restroom, back in a jiffy.” “Okay.” I lowered my eyes and answered softly. The direction he went was the hematology ward. After a while, I got up and quietly followed. The ward door was slightly ajar. I stood outside, looking through the crack. My dad was sitting by the bed, feeding Sophia medicine. The girl leaned on him with full dependence, crying. “Dad, I’m scared…” “Will I die? I don’t want to leave you and Mom…” My dad gently wiped away her tears, his tone very gentle. “Silly child, what nonsense.” “Dad found you the best doctors in the country and used the best medicine. Look, isn’t Dad always here with you? Our Sophia is the bravest, you’ll definitely get through this.” Grace also leaned over, stroking her daughter’s cheek: “Sophia, don’t be afraid, Mom and Dad are here. Your dad pushed aside so much work for you, running to the hospital every day, contacting this expert and that professor… Did you forget last time you suddenly had a fever in the middle of the night? Your dad was at a meeting abroad, took a red-eye flight back immediately after getting the call, and guarded you for two days and nights without closing his eyes. With Dad here, there’s nothing to fear.” The family of three was happy and harmonious. I stood outside like a clown. I remembered when I was eight, acute pneumonia, high fever almost 104 degrees, coughing my lungs out. Mom rushed me to the hospital, her hands shaking with panic. Called him, again and again, finally he only replied with a text: “With an important client, can’t leave, sorry for the trouble.” That whole night, it was Mom holding me alone in the emergency infusion room until dawn. Later I learned, that night, Sophia made a fuss not letting him go out. The so-called “important client” was accompanying them. My fingernails dug deep into my palm, but I felt no pain. Suddenly someone put an arm around my shoulder. It was Mom. She signaled me with her eyes that it was okay. At this time, the attending physician smiled and spoke: “Mr. Wu, Mrs. Wu, don’t worry. Although little Sophia’s indicators have fluctuated a bit recently, they are generally controllable. With the support of dedicated parents like you, the child’s good mentality is crucial for treatment. Our expert group has repeatedly deliberated the bone marrow transplant plan, and now we can operate as soon as the donor is ready.” “As long as it can save Sophia, anything is worth it.” My dad looked at Sophia, his voice firm. As long as it can save Sophia. What about me? Me, treated as a “donor.” Are my wishes, my health, worth considering? My heart ached numbly. My dad turned to the doctor, his tone steady. “I’ve already settled things with the donor. The relevant procedures can be completed today.” “Please take care of the surgery and arrange it as soon as possible.” Next to him, an elderly expert nodded in agreement: “Mr. Wu is truly resolute and cares so much about the child’s affairs.” “Rest assured, the operating room is ready. Once the donor finishes the final pre-op checks and preparations, we can proceed.” “With a father like you who has abundant social resources and is hands-on, the child is truly blessed.” The head nurse beside him also lamented: “Yes, Mr. Wu comes almost every day, we all see it. It’s rare to find a man who is successful in his career yet so family-oriented and responsible.” Another doctor added: “I heard Mr. Wu not only runs around for his daughter’s illness but also initiated a special relief fund in his own name to help families in similar difficulties. This benevolence is even more worthy of our admiration.” The ward was full of compliments and praise. Elevating him into a perfect father and philanthropist. Applause erupted as the words fell. The atmosphere was enthusiastic. Mom took my hand and pushed the door open, her voice cold and hard: “David Wu, is the recheck you mentioned just tricking my daughter here to be a donor for your bastard?”

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I was filling a water bottle for my hospitalized grandfather when a middle-aged man kicked a urinal in front of me and barked: “Go dump this. Then get some warm water and sponge bath my mother.” I didn’t move. The man grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “Pretending you didn’t hear me? Is this the attitude you nurses have now?” “Believe it or not, I’ll file a complaint! Call your head nurse over!” “Hurry up! Or you can kiss your paycheck goodbye!” I exploded on the spot: “Are you insane? Did you pay me to be your nurse?” My grandfather had a sudden stroke and was hospitalized. Since I was on winter break from college, I stayed by his side to take care of him. “Hey! You, nurse! Come feed my mom!” The uncle in the bed next to us suddenly ordered me around. Before I could explain, he started yelling on his phone, sounding stressed about work. I saw the old lady in the bed looking pitiful, so I decided to help out since I had a moment. “Hey! Feed her less at a time! What if she chokes?” “Can’t you see she doesn’t want anymore? Wipe her mouth, hurry!” “You damn nurse, zero hygiene! Can’t you wash the used towel?” The uncle shouted while shoving me hard. He used too much force, and I almost fell off the stool. My anger flared instantly. “If you’re so picky, do it yourself! You just stand there flapping your gums? I’m not a nurse!” I threw the towel in his face. Arguing in front of Grandpa wasn’t good for his condition, so I grabbed the water bottle to cool off outside. The uncle rushed in front of me, shoving a urinal into my hands without a word. “Go dump this. Then get a bucket of warm water and sponge bath my mother.” I instinctively stepped back, nearly dropping the urinal. “Are you disabled or stupid? Outsourcing your filial duties?” “How dare you talk to me like that, you lowly nurse? If my mom weren’t in the hospital, I’d beat you to death today!” He interrupted me impatiently. “Hurry up, my mom is waiting! Keep stalling and I’ll complain and dock your pay!” I was almost amused by his sheer unreasonableness. “If you keep blocking me, I’m calling the cops for sexual harassment!” I tried to sidestep him. He scoffed as if he heard a joke: “Oho, I wondered why you’d take care of an old man. Turns out it’s for dirty money!” He grabbed me, shoving the urinal into my arms. “Last warning. Go dump it! Or I’ll let everyone know you’re a mistress!” This was my new limited-edition hoodie! I knocked it away in disgust. But because I swung too hard, it splashed all over me. The pungent smell hit me, making me gag. “Are you sick? I said I’m not a nurse! Pay for my clothes!” “You dare curse at me?” His voice rose sharply. “We pay you nurses to take care of patients, don’t we?” “Who do you think you are? Talking to me like that?” “How many old men have you scammed? I’ll get their kids to deal with you!” Spittle flew onto my face; his fat hand almost poked my nose. I was about to vomit my breakfast. Just as I planned to seek help from a doctor, he played the victim first. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the hallway, yelling. “Everyone come look! This young nurse targets old men just for money and status!” Several patients and families poked their heads out. His voice went higher, gripping my hand tightly. The Head Nurse rushed over: “What’s going on? Who’s shouting?” The uncle pointed at me immediately: “Head Nurse, this employee is outrageous!” “Refuses to work and threatens to call the cops on me!” The Head Nurse looked at me, frowning within seconds. A look of disgust, thinking I was an unruly worker clashing with a patient’s family. She glared at me: “Which agency are you from? Where’s your badge?” “I’m not a nurse! I’m a family member!” I didn’t know how many times I’d repeated that. “Bullshit! You think saying you’re not a nurse absolves you of responsibility?” “If you aren’t a nurse, would you serve that old man? Would you feed my mom?” The uncle spat as he pointed. Then he turned to threaten the Head Nurse. “If you don’t give me an explanation today, I’ll make your hospital famous!” He pulled out his phone, aiming it at us. The Head Nurse panicked, apologizing to him humbly. Her look at me grew fiercer as she grabbed my clothes. She shoved me hard; I almost fell to my knees. “Young, no degree, so you become a nurse, but you can’t even behave. I’ve seen plenty of girls like you!” “Last chance. Apologize now! If you don’t fix this, no hospital will ever hire you!” The uncle chimed in smugly: “Hear that? Even the Head Nurse ordered you!” The onlookers got excited. “Is the bar for nurses this low now? No background checks?” “Damn, hundreds a day for a nurse, and she acts like this?” “Expose her online! Don’t let her work anywhere!” … I was exploding with rage at this inexplicable siege. “Are you all sick? I said I am not a nurse!” I was almost desperate. But my roar only brought a moment of silence. The uncle actually smashed the urinal onto my head! Residual liquid dripped down my hair. “Still stubborn!” I was stunned by this sudden malice. My head buzzed; I couldn’t think of a counterattack. He put his hands on his hips and cursed again: “Keep pretending! I’ve seen nurses like you, lazy and slick!” “Let me tell you, if I’m not satisfied today, I’ll stand here and shout until everyone knows your work attitude!” People chattered, advising him. The Head Nurse kept pressuring me. But the noise faded from my ears. Just as I wanted to hit someone, a familiar figure walked over, supported by a nurse. “Grandpa!” I swallowed all my emotions instantly and went to help. But Grandpa slapped my hand away in disgust. “Who are you? Daring to bully my granddaughter? I’ll beat you to death!” I was dumbfounded. The crowd erupted in louder whispers. Seeing Grandpa angry and treating me like a stranger… It hurt more than being wronged by these people! “Grandpa, it’s me, Ava! Your granddaughter!” “Before your stroke, you said you’d buy me candy!” “Look, this is the peace charm you got for me!” I wiped the filth off my hands and pulled out a charm. Years ago, I was seriously ill. Grandpa kowtowed up the temple steps to get this for me. But seeing the charm, Grandpa became even more agitated. He snatched it away, glaring at me. “You dare steal my granddaughter’s things!” “I knew you weren’t a good person! Always hovering around me!” “Speak! Where did you hide my granddaughter?” Grandpa couldn’t hold on anymore. Medical staff rushed him back to the ward. “Family, please follow quickly!” I panicked and tried to follow, but the uncle grabbed me. His face was full of petty triumph. “I told you, a woman like you just wants to climb the ladder!” “If you don’t want me to tell his family, serve my mom well!” The crowd pointed at me. Disgust written in everyone’s eyes: “Shameless.” I clenched my fists, trembling uncontrollably. Grandpa was old and often confused these years. Plus the brain stroke, it made sense he didn’t recognize me. But his condition was serious; I had to be there! I gathered my strength and slammed into the uncle. “I’ll settle with you later!” I bolted toward Grandpa’s room. My foot caught, and I went flying. My knee smashed onto the tiles; pain silenced me. The uncle held his head high like a victor. “Without a lesson, you think you’re lawless?” “Running back to bully the old man? No way!” Cheers erupted. Some even praised the uncle for his bravery and rectifying morals. I felt like a monkey in a zoo, utterly wretched. Unbearable. I pulled out my phone to call the police. “The surveillance is here. None of you are getting away!” The Head Nurse panicked at the mention of police. She lunged for my phone. “Which agency are you from? I’m firing you on behalf of the hospital now!” “Right! Hospitals save lives, we should kill this unhealthy trend!” The uncle’s approval fueled the Head Nurse. She called security, claiming I was causing a medical disturbance! Before I could argue, two guards grabbed my arms. Struggling caused a wardrobe malfunction. Phones went up. The uncle laughed maniacally, pointing at me. “Sell yourself often? Showing skin so fast?” “Why not go to a club? Maybe a boss will pick you up, save you from cleaning old men’s shit.” Disgusting laughter filled my ears. Blood surged; anger peaked. A nurse shouted nearby. “Where is the family for Bed 316? Sign this now!” That was my Grandpa! I screamed for the guards to let go. The Head Nurse was unmoved. The uncle grinned evilly at me. “Hey, name a price. Guaranteed more than nursing!” I bit down hard on his fat hand. He screamed like a pig. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Guards intervened; I broke free. Say I’m causing a disturbance? Then watch me disturb! I kicked the Head Nurse. Before anyone reacted, I grabbed her hair and slapped her face repeatedly. “A Head Nurse, treating a patient’s family like this?” She screamed piercingly. Not satisfied, I grabbed a urinal from a passerby and dumped it on her head. Gasps everywhere. “You… you’re crazy! Security!” But I held onto her hair tight. The madness in my eyes kept the guards at bay. The uncle tried to prove himself. “See? Hiring such a disaster! Patient safety can’t be guaranteed!” “Your hospital must take responsibility! I want compensation!” Brainless people were incited by him. I laughed. Taking advantage of the chaos for profit. I attacked the Head Nurse because I couldn’t beat the uncle physically. And I knew she was in the wrong; the hospital wouldn’t pursue it. This way, I could maintain my lawsuit against the uncle! I kicked over the trash cart. Instantly, foul trash scattered everywhere. People dodged; someone called the police. “There’s a crazy woman in the hospital…” I smirked. Finally, someone did something useful. Just then, Grandpa’s doctor spotted me and ran over. “Ava! Your grandpa needs emergency surgery! Why are you making a scene? Come sign!” He grabbed my wrist. The Head Nurse was confused: “Dr. Chen, what are you doing? She’s a crazy nurse!” “Yeah! Everyone saw her go mad!” The uncle chimed in. Dr. Chen frowned: “What nurse? Ava is the direct family member of Bed 316!” The Head Nurse’s eyes darted. “They said she was a nurse! How is she family now?” Dr. Chen held up the chart and signature forms: “Many old staff know her.” “The patient’s children are busy; this granddaughter has been taking care of him since admission!” He glanced at the paling Head Nurse. “You’re new to this ward, not knowing family is understandable.” “But listening to one side without verification and fanning the flames is serious negligence!” The Head Nurse stammered, sweating. Dr. Chen tried to take me away. The uncle blocked us, neck stiff, voice shrill: “Great! I see now! Acting so real! Even faking records?” “People do anything for money these days!” “Tricked the old man into revealing his assets, huh?” He filmed us. “Signing? Probably tricking him into signing a transfer agreement!” “Doctor, you defend her so much, are you in on it? Seeing she’s young and pretty…” “Shut up!” Dr. Chen rarely got angry. He stepped forward, his tall frame imposing. “This is emergency time! Every second counts for a life!” “It’s not your place to dictate with filthy speculation!” The uncle stepped back, intimidated. But under the public gaze, especially seeing doubting looks, his vanity flared. “You… who are you scaring! It’s just your word! No proof, why believe you?” “I’ve seen plenty of little girls scamming lonely old men, colluding with unethical doctors!” “If we don’t clear this up, who knows if you’re trying to kill him to destroy evidence!” “See, she’s scared speechless!” “You…” I shook with rage. Grandpa was dying, and this scumbag was spewing filth. But I knew the priority wasn’t fighting him. I took a deep breath, forcing calm. “You say I’m scamming my grandpa? Colluding with Dr. Chen?” “Aren’t you? Why the rush to sign? Why does the doctor protect you?” The uncle held his head high. I laughed suddenly: “Fine! Since you insist I’m a scammer. Let’s bet.” I raised my voice so everyone could hear: “If I prove I’m the direct family of Bed 316, you take legal responsibility for everything today!” He was startled by my look but scoffed: “Betting? What if you can’t?” “Then you name the condition.” He rolled his eyes, thinking he couldn’t lose. “Deal! Everyone heard it!” He shouted. “If you prove you’re his granddaughter, I… I’ll kneel and kowtow to apologize!” “If not, humph, enjoy prison!” “And you!” He pointed at Dr. Chen. “You’re going down too!” I ignored him. Grabbed the file from Dr. Chen and signed. “How’s Grandpa?” “Sudden stimulation caused a heart attack, needs rescue.” My heart tightened. What stimulation? Must be this bastard yelling in the hall, upsetting Grandpa! I wanted to kill him. The uncle smirked: “Hey, signed already, don’t think about slipping away!” I stared him down, adrenaline pumping. Opened my photo album. Photos of me and Grandpa from childhood to now! The latest one taken yesterday in the ward. “Do these prove our relationship?” I showed the screen. He leaned in, still stubborn: “Anyone can Photoshop! Technology is advanced!” I sneered, opening the family group chat. Hundreds of messages about Grandpa’s condition between me and my parents! Onlookers shifted. “Eh? Seems she really is the granddaughter…” The uncle’s face turned green then white. He wouldn’t admit fault. Still shouting to cover his guilt. “Chat groups prove nothing! Maybe you scammed his kids too!” “Wait for the police to verify! Scammers are sophisticated now!” I was about to show other proof. “Ava!” A familiar shout. My parents! Dad rushed over: “How’s Grandpa? Why the emergency room again?” Mom saw my filth. “Ava? Who did this to you? Mom will get them!” “Mom!” Seeing them, my tough shell cracked. I choked up. I pointed at the uncle: “Him! Called me a scammer, a nurse, said I’m after Grandpa’s money!” “Blocked Dr. Chen from saving Grandpa!” Dad rolled up his sleeves without a word, roaring at the uncle: “Bastard! You dare bully my daughter?” He charged, fist aiming for the uncle’s face. The uncle retreated in terror. “Who… who are you? Hitting people? Police! Assault!” He yelled for police but watched my dad in fear. “We’re the parents of the child you bullied!” “The one being saved inside is her biological grandfather!” Mom hugged me tighter. “I wouldn’t know my own daughter? Need you to slander her?” “Exactly!”

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At this company, no one has spoken a word to me in three months. I enter the break room; they leave. I get in the elevator; they wait for the next one. Around my desk, there is a three-meter dead zone where no one dares to step. My desk was moved to the storage room. My neighbors are the office printer, a broom, and a stack of calendars from last year. Today is the Annual Gala. I woke up at 5 AM. Not because I was nervous, but because I was excited. I’ve been waiting three months for today. 1 The gala invitations were sent out yesterday. A company-wide blast to 128 employees. I counted. 127 emails were sent. None for me. I didn’t ask why. I learned three months ago that asking only invites humiliation. At 8:30 AM, I arrived at the office on time. The time clock flashed: Sarah Miller, 08:27. The light in the storage room has been broken for two weeks. I filed three maintenance requests. No one came. I turned on my phone flashlight to find my desk. It was covered in a layer of dust. It’s not that no one cleans; it’s that the cleaning lady stops at the door. “No need to sweep Sarah’s room,” I heard her tell another cleaner. “Nobody goes in there anyway.” I pulled out a wet wipe and cleaned it myself. At 8:45 AM, I heard the office outside buzzing with life. “Chloe, what are you wearing to the gala?” “I haven’t decided. Brenda said red is lucky, so I bought a red dress.” “Brenda treats you so well.” “Of course, I’m her mentee.” The laughter faded down the hall. I opened my laptop and started working. Yes, you heard that right. I’ve been isolated for three months, but I still work every day. Not because I’m a saint, but because I have a mission. At 9:00 AM sharp, a new email popped up. From: HR Manager, Mr. Lee. Subject: Gala Seating Arrangement. “Sarah, due to limited seating, you are not required to attend this year’s gala. You may watch the livestream if needed.” I stared at the email for thirty seconds. Then, I smiled. I hit reply and typed three words: “Noted, thank you.” Send. At 2:00 PM, I ate takeout alone in the storage room. Spicy shredded potatoes and rice, $12 total. The cafeteria lunch is $15, but I don’t go there anymore. Three months ago, I walked into the cafeteria with my tray, and an entire table of eight people stood up and walked away. All of them. I stood there holding my tray while the whole cafeteria stared. Someone laughed out loud. That was the last time I went to the cafeteria. I finished my food and threw the box in the trash. Then I opened a folder on my desktop. Folder Name: 2024 Work Log. Inside were 387 files. Every meeting minute, every email screenshot, every recording of client calls. Including the one from three months ago—the $5 million deal. I looked at those files and took a deep breath. Tonight is the night. 2 Three months ago, I wasn’t alone. Back then, my desk was by the window, next to Chloe. Chloe was Brenda’s girl, but she was decent to me. “Sarah, lunch together?” “Sure, where to?” “Cafeteria. They have sweet and sour ribs today.” Back then, I thought I was lucky. I had only been at the company for a year and was already in Brenda’s sales team. Brenda was the Sales Manager, an eight-year veteran with top-tier connections. I learned a lot from her. How to drink with clients, how to make pretty PowerPoint decks, how to perform in front of leadership. But there was one thing she didn’t teach me. The unwritten rules of the workplace. On a Monday three months ago, I got a call. “Hello, is this Sarah Miller?” “Yes, this is she. May I ask who’s calling?” “I’m the assistant to CEO Mr. Zhang of Apex Group. Mr. Zhang would like to meet you tomorrow to discuss a partnership.” Apex Group. I almost dropped my phone. Apex was the whale our company had been chasing for two years. Brenda had made no less than twenty trips in two years and hadn’t even met Mr. Zhang. How could I, a rookie, possibly… “Are you sure you’re looking for me?” “Mr. Zhang said he enjoyed chatting with you at the industry forum last month and wants to continue the conversation.” I remembered. A month ago, I was sent to work the registration desk at a forum. Fetching coffee, signing people in—grunt work. During a break, I sat in a corner checking my phone. A middle-aged man sat next to me. He asked for my thoughts on the industry. I thought he was just a regular employee from another company, so I chatted casually. I had no idea he was the CEO of Apex. “Um… I need to report this to my manager.” “Manager Brenda, right? We know her,” the assistant paused. “Mr. Zhang’s intention is to discuss this partnership only with you. If your company has an issue with that, we can forget it.” Only with me. After hanging up, my hands were shaking. I knew what this meant. It meant the client Brenda couldn’t land in two years might be landed by me, the rookie. It also meant— I was about to steal Brenda’s client. I sat at my desk and thought about it all afternoon. Finally, I went to Brenda. “Brenda, I need to report something.” I told her everything about the call. Brenda listened, silent for a few seconds. Then she smiled. “Sarah, this is great news! You have talent, the client recognizes you. That’s your capability.” “But Brenda, you’ve been chasing this client for two years…” “If I didn’t get him in two years, it means we weren’t meant to be.” She patted my shoulder. “Go get him. If you land the deal, it’s yours.” “Really?” “Of course. We’re a team. Your success is our success.” I was so moved. That night, I worked until 11 PM preparing materials. The next day, I met Mr. Zhang. The third day, I got the letter of intent. The seventh day, the contract was signed. $5 Million. The biggest deal of the year. The day I signed it, I was nearly crying with excitement. I texted Brenda: Brenda, signed it!!! Brenda replied: Great. Just one word. I didn’t think much of it. Until a week later, at the sales summary meeting. On the projector, the cover slide read: Apex Group $5M Project Review. Presenter: Brenda. I sat in the audience, stunned. Brenda stood on stage, radiating confidence. “This project… we chased it for two years. We faced countless rejections, cold shoulders…” I listened as she described the proposals I wrote, the all-nighters I pulled, the meetings I attended. My name was not on the slides. “Finally, I want to thank the team for their hard work, especially Chloe, who followed up the whole way. Massive credit to her.” Chloe stood up and bowed. Applause filled the room. I sat in the corner, motionless. After the meeting, I found Brenda. “Brenda, about the project…” “What’s wrong?” She was packing her laptop. “Why wasn’t my name on the presentation?” Brenda stopped and looked at me. “Sarah,” she smiled, “you’ve only been here a year. You’re young. Just because you signed the paper doesn’t mean the credit is yours.” “What do you mean?” “Clients are company resources. Projects are team efforts. Did you think you did this all by yourself? Without the company platform, you are nothing.” I stood there, speechless. “Alright, don’t overthink it. You have a long road ahead. You need to learn to share if you want to go far.” Brenda packed her bag and left. Leaving me alone in the conference room. That was the first time I learned what “workplace rules” really meant. 3 I understood. But I didn’t swallow it. The day after Brenda’s lecture, I did something “against the rules.” I sent an email to the Big Boss, the CEO. Subject: Supplementary Information Regarding Apex Group Project. The content was simple. Attached were chat logs with Mr. Zhang, meeting minutes, and the signature page of the contract. Evidence of one fact: I landed this deal alone. As soon as I hit send, I knew I was done for. Not because the CEO wouldn’t see it—later I learned he did see it, but chose to ignore it. But because Brenda found out about the email. I don’t know who told her. Maybe the CEO’s secretary, maybe IT. But on the third day, my desk was moved. “There’s an empty spot in the storage room. You can sit there,” the admin said expressionlessly. “We’re reorganizing the office layout.” I didn’t say a word. I picked up my laptop and moved to the storage room. From that day on, no one spoke to me. No meeting invites. No CCs on weekly reports. People in the break room turned around when they saw me. I became invisible. No, worse than invisible. I was a plague. “Did you hear? Sarah tried to go over Brenda’s head and got caught.” “Serves her right. Ungrateful.” “Brenda treated her so well, mentored her, and she stabbed her in the back.” “People like that deserve to be shunned.” I heard these whispers in the bathroom, by the water cooler, near the elevator. Countless times. I didn’t explain. What was the point? In their eyes, Brenda was the veteran, the mentor, the good leader who bought them drinks. Who was I? A rookie, a rule-breaker, an “ungrateful” snake. Three months ago, I cried once in the storage room. Just once. After that, I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and created a new folder. 2024 Work Log. From that day on, I recorded everything. Every email, every meeting I was excluded from, every detail of the ostracization. Including what Brenda did later. Like reassigning my other clients to different people. Like telling leadership I “lacked capability and couldn’t keep up.” Like ensuring I wasn’t even nominated for Employee of the Year. I kept it all. Not for revenge. But to give myself an answer. I was going to let everyone know who signed the $5 million deal. Who put my desk in the storage room. And what the people isolating me were so afraid of. Today is the Annual Gala. I’ve waited three months for this. I don’t have an invitation, but I have something else. I have Mr. Zhang’s personal number. Last week, I called him. “Mr. Zhang, I need a favor.” “What is it?” “Can you come to our Annual Gala?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “I can,” Mr. Zhang said. “Actually, I have a few words I’d like to say myself.” I hung up and smiled. Three months. I finally made it to this day. 4 You might ask, why didn’t I just quit? I asked myself that too. Three months ago, I almost did. It was the first week in the storage room. Friday evening, I packed up to go home. I walked to the elevator. The doors opened. Seven or eight colleagues from Sales were inside. They saw me. No one spoke. I walked in and pressed ‘1’. The elevator descended. 12… 11… 10… Silence. I stood in the corner, staring at the numbers. 9… 8… 7… Someone whispered something. The others laughed. I didn’t know what the joke was, but I knew it was me. 6… 5… 4… Chloe’s voice suddenly rang out. “Where are we eating tonight?” “Brenda booked the usual spot. She said it’s a celebration dinner for the team.” “That $5 million deal is enough to brag about for a year.” “Totally. All thanks to Brenda.” 3… 2… “Hey, I heard that deal was originally…” someone lowered their voice. “Shh—” another cut her off. 1st Floor. Doors opened. They poured out. No one looked back. I stood there, frozen. The doors closed again. I didn’t press a button. I just stood there. The elevator started going up. 1… 2… 3… I leaned against the metal wall, and finally, I broke. Tears fell one by one. Not from sadness. From hate. Hating myself. Why am I hiding in a corner when I signed the $5 million deal? Why am I treated like a criminal when I did nothing wrong? Why am I being isolated while they steal my credit? Top floor. Doors opened. Empty. I stood there, wiped my tears. Then I pressed ‘1’. That night, I went home and wrote a resignation letter. I didn’t send it. I saved it in drafts and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling all night. Resign? Then what? Go to another company? Will the next company not have a Brenda? Will there be no credit-stealing bosses, cliquey colleagues, or unfair rules? If I leave, what will they say? “See? Sarah couldn’t handle it. She quit.” “Serves her right. She didn’t know the rules.” “Who would dare cross Brenda now?” They would turn me into a joke. A failed, pathetic, self-inflicted joke. And that $5 million deal would forever be “Brenda’s achievement.” No. I refuse to leave with that label. I will let everyone know the truth. Even if I only get one chance, I will speak up. The next day, I deleted the resignation letter. And I began to prepare. For three months, I waited for one opportunity. The Annual Gala was that opportunity. 5 The Annual Gala is the company’s biggest event. Every department performs, awards are given, all the big bosses attend. And there’s one special segment—Project of the Year. The $5 million Apex deal was a lock for the award. And the person accepting it would obviously be Brenda. I had a plan. I didn’t need to accept the award. I just needed the truth to be seen. In early December, I started compiling materials. Chat logs, emails, recordings. I organized them into a PDF. 32 pages. Illustrated, annotated, undeniable evidence. Title: The Real Story of the Apex Group Project. Page 1: My first call with Mr. Zhang, dated October 12th. Last Page: The contract signature page. Under “Company Representative,” there was only one name—Sarah Miller. I saved this PDF in three places. Laptop, phone, email drafts. Then, I called Mr. Zhang. “Mr. Zhang, just confirming about the gala.” “Don’t worry. My assistant already sent the RSVP. I’ll be there, and I’m bringing a small gift.” “What gift?” “You’ll see,” Mr. Zhang chuckled. “Sarah, I’ve done business for twenty years. I hate credit-stealers the most. Don’t worry, I’ll speak up for you.” I was speechless. “I remember the ideas you shared with me. You have talent. You shouldn’t be buried.” “Thank you, Mr. Zhang.” “No need. In this workplace, someone has to be willing to tell the truth.” I hung up and sat in the storage room, breathing deeply. Three months of waiting. Three months of preparation. Three months of silence. It all comes down to tonight. At 4:00 PM, the office got loud. “Is your makeup done?” “Yeah, Brenda lent me her lipstick.” “When Brenda goes up for the award, we have to cheer loud!” “Obviously!” I listened to their laughter from the storage room. At 5:00 PM, the office cleared out to change and prep. No one came to get me. I didn’t need them to. I pulled a dress out of my bag. Black, simple. I bought it myself last month. Today, I didn’t need to stand out. I just needed to look like a normal employee. At 6:00 PM, I locked the storage room and headed to the venue. The banquet hall downstairs was glowing with lights. At the check-in table, two admin girls were greeting guests. I walked up. “Sarah?” One of them blinked. “Aren’t you…” “I have friends inside,” I smiled. “Just going in to look.” Before she could react, I walked in. The hall was packed and lively. I found a corner seat and took out my phone. The PDF file sat quietly on my screen. Thirty minutes until showtime. I looked at my colleagues in their gowns and suits, smiles plastered on their faces. I felt strangely calm. Three months ago, I was one of them. Three months later, I am an outsider. But after tonight, everyone will know who the real victim is.

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I was in the bathroom stall when I heard the new hire at the sink outside, loudly sharing good news with his family. “I passed my probation! They’re starting me at $12,000 a month!” I sat there in silence. I’ve been at this company for six years. Year 1: Starting salary $6,000. No raise. Year 2: Salary $6,000. Year-end raise of 5%, adding a whopping $300. Year 3, 4, 5: Salary stagnant at $6,300. Year 6: HR just told me I’m getting another 5% raise next year. Total: $6,615. I currently manage the execution of five major projects. I was so overwhelmed they hired three juniors for me to train. The newest one just passed probation. His starting salary is $12,000. Almost double what I make after six years of blood, sweat, and tears. I walked out of the bathroom, went straight to the HR office, and resigned. The HR Manager, Linda, was shocked. “Why?” “The pay sucks, and I’m done.” 1 Linda stared at me for a full thirty seconds, stunned. “Chloe, don’t be impulsive.” “I’m not being impulsive,” I said. “I should have said this six years ago.” Since graduating, I’ve dedicated six full years to this company. In that time, I went from a lowly intern to managing the execution of five key accounts. Operations, client relations—nothing happens without me. To help me handle the load, the boss hired three interns at the beginning of the year specifically to assist me. And my reward for years of loyalty? My base salary went from $6,000 to $6,615. Meanwhile, the male intern who just passed probation starts at $12,000. “Linda, I don’t want to waste words. Please process my resignation as soon as possible.” Linda’s expression turned sour. “But Chloe, you’re handling five key projects right now. Quitting like this isn’t very professional, is it?” “Professional?” I laughed. When I joined, this company wasn’t even a real office. The boss and employees—less than ten of us—crammed into a tiny 200-square-foot room. No AC in the summer, no heat in the winter, unpaid overtime every single day. I endured it all. Relying on the sheer adrenaline of a fresh grad, I helped build this place from a failing startup to a company that rents four floors of a downtown office building. And today I find out the intern makes double my salary. “Linda, do you know how much I make a month?” “$6,615.” “For that money, I average three hours of overtime a day. I’m revising proposals at midnight. Even when I went home for Thanksgiving, one call from the boss had me working on the train.” “The male intern who just got hired? He’s been here three months. Clocks in on the dot, leaves on the dot. Last week he messed up a meeting time, and five department heads came to me to complain.” “Yet his base salary is $12,000.” “And you want to talk to me about being professional?” Linda fell silent. After a long pause, she finally spoke. “Well, who told you to be a woman?” “Excuse me?” I stared at her, thinking I misheard. Linda pressed her lips together and sighed. “I thought you understood how the world works.” “You’re a woman, twenty-eight years old. You’re going to get married and have kids soon. Wedding leave, maternity leave, breastfeeding breaks… that adds up to almost a year off.” “Plus, everyone knows that after women get married, their focus shifts. Their productivity drops.” “The boss is worried you won’t be able to balance work and family. You have to consider the company’s costs.” Her words were like knives, stabbing deep into my chest. I didn’t even have time to process the absurdity before I instinctively asked: “What about you? You’re five years older than me. Your second kid is in kindergarten.” “How much do you make?” Linda smirked, replying casually: “$8,000. But the CEO, Mr. Wang, is my cousin.” One sentence destroyed my entire argument. I thought of the countless all-nighters I pulled for this company over the last three years. The endless cups of instant noodles I ate at my desk to meet deadlines. The training courses I paid for out of my own pocket to improve my skills. I worked so hard, suffered so much, and in the end, it all amounted to nothing against the boss’s one sentence: You are a woman. Because I’m a woman, everything I did for the company means less than a male intern who can’t even schedule a meeting. Because I don’t have connections, I don’t deserve a fair wage, even though the company would collapse without me. All because of what’s between my legs. I suddenly laughed. “Okay,” I stood up. “I understand.” Linda blinked. “Understand what?” I didn’t reply. I opened the door and walked out. I understood that this company has been rotten from the inside for six years. 2 I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a new voice recorder pen I bought recently. Originally for meeting minutes, it was now my only weapon. I slipped it into my shirt pocket. A cup of coffee was placed in front of me. It was Ryan, my boyfriend of three years. He’s half a level above me. “Linda said you’re resigning?” I didn’t look up. “Yeah.” “Because of the salary?” My hand paused. I looked at him. “You knew?” He hesitated. “I knew.” “How much do you make a month?” Because we weren’t married, I never asked. But now, I was curious. Ryan’s eyes darted away. “$30,000. But I’m a Project Manager. You’re just in Operations. We’re different levels, of course it’s different.” I stared at him. “You were promoted to PM at the beginning of the year, but your salary hasn’t changed in two years.” “I started managing key accounts two years ago. My raise was 5%. I make less than a third of what you do.” “For six years, I’ve known every detail of every project. Every department waits for my signal to move.” “Without me, this company would be paralyzed by the afternoon. Not a single product would ship.” “Ryan, in this company, I am more important than you.” Ryan frowned. “So what? Ability doesn’t equal salary. Mr. Wang sets the wages. If you have a problem, go talk to him.” I stood up. “You’re right. I am going to talk to him.” I owed my six years an explanation. I walked toward the elevator. Ryan, startled, chased after me. “Chloe, don’t be impulsive!” I didn’t stop. I pressed the button. From the bullpen to the 5th floor, my mind replayed the last few years. Fresh out of college. I met Mr. Wang at a job fair. He was 37 then, just starting out. “Chloe, don’t look at our size now. We have dreams. We work hard. If you come, I promise you won’t be mistreated!” I believed him. Year 1. A residential apartment. Hot in summer, freezing in winter. As the only girl, Mr. Wang was considerate. He gave me an extra $500 a month as a “hardship allowance.” “Chloe, a top-tier grad like you deserves better. Sorry for the conditions.” Back then, everyone else made $4,000. I started at $6,000. Year 2. Things looked up. We moved to an office building. I got my first office. Mr. Wang was thrilled and gave me a 5% raise. A whole $300. That same year, Ryan joined as my subordinate. Starting salary: $8,000. Year 3. I worked myself to the bone, revising proposals sixteen times in two weeks, and finally landed the Apex Group account. The company made a fortune and finally took off. My reward? A cheap plaque and the responsibility of managing all key accounts. Mr. Wang patted my shoulder earnestly: “Chloe, I knew I picked the right person. The company relies on you.” That year, I was 25. Salary: $6,300. Year 4, Year 5. I brought in more projects. The company leased four floors. But I lost my office. Ryan was promoted to Manager, and he needed the space. Mr. Wang had developed a beer belly by then. His eyes were always yellow and muddy from drinking. “Chloe, don’t blame me. This promotion is because your talents are needed with clients, not sitting in an office.” He smoked a cigar, acting like he was doing me a favor. “Ryan joined later and hasn’t sold much, but he’s a man. It’s easier for him to drink with clients. And sometimes the staff needs a strong hand—a man just commands more authority, right?” I was naive then. I thought, he’s right, I hate office politics. As long as the boss values me, who cares about a title? But now, hearing Ryan say “We’re different levels” so self-righteously… I felt like a clown. The elevator dinged at the 5th floor. I took a deep breath, walked to the CEO’s office, and knocked. 3 “Come in.” Mr. Wang was smoking. Seeing me, he snubbed out the cigarette. “Linda told me about you resigning.” He poured me a glass of water personally. “I understand you’re unhappy with the pay. But you’re a veteran here. The company invested so much in you. Leaving like this isn’t very professional, is it?” That word again. I held the water cup, looking at him calmly. “Mr. Wang, I’ve been here six years. My salary is $6,615. The intern has been here three months. His salary is $12,000.” Mr. Wang’s face stiffened, then he put on a fatherly expression. “Yes, the salary oversight is my fault. How about this? I’ll give you another raise. 5%. How does that sound?” $6,615 plus 5% is roughly $6,945. Not even $7,000. Still $5,000 less than the intern. I didn’t back down. “Mr. Wang, I followed you for six years. In the hardest times, we didn’t even have a water cooler. We brought our own toilet paper.” “Back then, you paid me $2,000 more than everyone else.” “Now the company is thriving. The smallest project I manage is worth $5 million. Yet you won’t even pay me the same as an intern. Why?” I stared at him, waiting for the answer that would kill my hope completely. Mr. Wang twitched his mouth, reaching for his cigarettes. “Chloe, I didn’t want to say this, but since you insist: It’s because you’re a woman!” “A woman?” “Yes. A woman.” The fat on his face shook. “I’ve looked into it. In Fortune 500 companies, do you know the percentage of female executives? 21%! Some don’t have any. What does that tell you? Women are naturally inferior to men.” “But my performance is the best in the company,” I retorted. Mr. Wang scoffed. “So what? Aren’t you about to marry Ryan?” I froze. “So?” “So you have no value anymore.” He analyzed it for me seriously. “Once you marry Ryan, you’ll have to be a good wife. Once you have kids, you’ll have to be a good mother.” “How will you balance work and family? You’ll take wedding leave, maternity leave, parental leave. Who pays for the company’s loss?” “Plus, everyone knows women get ‘mommy brain’ after marriage. You’re 28. Soon you’ll be 30, then menopause. There are tons of young people out there. Why should I hire you?” My eyes were dead. I spoke calmly. “My performance is good.” “For a woman to have such good numbers, who knows who she slept with,” Mr. Wang muttered. “My capability is strong.” “How strong can it be? The manager is still your boyfriend, Ryan,” he sneered. “I’ve been here six years. I have the most seniority.” “That’s why I didn’t fire you. I gave you a raise. 5% is not a little.” I went silent, staring at the water cup. Mr. Wang patted my shoulder. “Alright, don’t be mad. I’ll round it up to $7,000. Forget about resigning. Work hard, and the company won’t treat you badly.” “By the way, the signing ceremony with Apex Group is tomorrow, right? Prepare well. It’s our biggest project this year. Don’t disappoint me.” Apex Group was a partner I had cultivated for three years. They were famous for their culture of “Respecting Women in the Workplace.” And coincidentally, their newly appointed CEO, Ms. Shen, was a successful woman who had suffered workplace discrimination herself. I looked up at the smiling Mr. Wang and stood. “Rest assured, Mr. Wang. I won’t disappoint you.” I turned and left. In my pocket, the recording pen and the mini-camera were still glowing with a faint red light. 4 That night, I had insomnia. I wasn’t sure if I could get justice tomorrow. I only knew that someone had to do something. And I was willing to be that person. At 8:00 AM, I arrived at the office as usual. Linda knew about my talk with Mr. Wang. She looked at me with pity. At 10:00 AM, Ryan asked me to lunch to celebrate not getting fired. “Thank god Mr. Wang is a good person and didn’t hold your tantrum against you. If my mom knew you were unemployed, she’d never let us get married.” I picked up my tray and left without giving him a glance. At 3:00 PM, Mr. Wang arrived. He walked into the bullpen, announcing proudly: “To celebrate landing the Apex Group project, I had Linda prepare a big bonus for everyone!” “Boss is the best!” “Thank you Mr. Wang!” Linda handed out the red envelopes. The male assistant who had been here three years gasped: “$5,000! Boss is too generous!” “I got $5,000 too! Working for Mr. Wang pays off!” A male colleague seven years my senior laughed until his eyes disappeared. Next to me, Vivi opened hers and muttered, “Why only $3,000?” “Me too.” The ones getting $3,000 were all women. “Whatever, $3,000 is better than nothing.” “But I do just as much work as the guys. Why?” Yeah, why? I opened my envelope. Five crisp bills. $500. “Chloe, don’t mind. I just gave you a raise yesterday. If I give you too much bonus, others might talk.” Mr. Wang explained with a smile, watching my reaction closely. He was trying to “tame” me. I didn’t argue. I accepted the envelope calmly. “Thank you, Mr. Wang.” At 7:00 PM, the Apex Group cars arrived. Ms. Shen led her delegation into the hall. Mr. Wang and Ryan greeted them eagerly. At 7:30 PM, the ceremony began. Mr. Wang took the stage: “We are grateful to Apex Group for this opportunity. Since our first collaboration, we have upheld the values of openness, fairness, and justice…” He spoke eloquently. In the VIP seat, Ms. Shen looked satisfied. She took the mic: “We trust your capabilities. However, more than capability, we care about whether your values of fairness and justice extend to your employees, especially regarding gender equality.” Mr. Wang stiffened for a second, then laughed. “Of course, of course.” Before he could finish, the big screen on stage went black. A few seconds later, the conversation between Mr. Wang and me echoed through the hall. “You women are naturally inferior to men…”

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The giant baby intern in HR accidentally sent a termination email to the entire company. The whole department panicked and packed up to leave. Afterward, she cried her heart out, blaming herself. Not only was she completely unharmed, but the boss also rewarded her with a seven-day paid vacation and a $10,000 “emotional distress” bonus. Meanwhile, we, who believed the email was real, were marked as “absent without leave.” We were publicly reprimanded, and our performance bonuses were docked! Even worse, our combined year-end bonuses—totaling $100,000—were seized to pay for her compensation! I led the charge to confront the boss, but she immediately played the victim. “Ah! The Wicked Witch is here! So scary! Is she going to eat me? Save me, Daddy CEO!” Before the boss could even speak, my colleagues, desperate to suck up, instantly turned on me. “Exactly! You have zero empathy. Why are you picking on a fresh grad?” “No wonder you’re thirty and single. With a heart that toxic, you deserve to be alone!” In that moment, I became public enemy number one. The boss fired me on the spot for “destroying team unity.” Looking at their ugly faces, I laughed out of pure rage, ripped off my badge, and walked away. Since you all want to protect her so badly, I hope that when the IRS knocks on your door tomorrow… Your “Baby” can explain those dual accounting books. 1 Tuesday, 10:00 AM. The work group chat exploded. An email, bolded and highlighted in red, popped up for every employee. From: HR – Bella “Cutie Pie” Swan Subject: [NOTICE OF TERMINATION] The content was simple and brutal: [Because my computer screen keeps flickering and bullying me, Baby has decided to send you all home! Effective immediately, all employment contracts are terminated. Hmph! Don’t come back!] The office fell into a deathly silence, followed by an eruption of screams. “Holy sh*t? Did the company go under?” “The reason is her computer bullied her? What kind of insane excuse is that?” “Why are you just standing there? Grab your stuff! If you’re late, you won’t even get your laptop!” Someone shouted, and chaos ensued. As the CFO, my first reaction was to rush to the CEO, Simon Vance’s office. Empty. I went to find Bella. Her desk was empty too. I called Simon a dozen times. Straight to voicemail. Now even I was panicking. I manage the money. I knew the books were… flexible… but not “sudden death” flexible. But the boss is missing, and HR sent a termination letter. Isn’t this the standard procedure for a rug pull? Panic is contagious. Swept up by the crowd, I packed my personal items and went home in defeat. That night, the main group chat was chaos. Some were cursing, some crying about mortgages, others were already contacting lawyers for a class-action lawsuit. Then, early the next morning, a message from Simon popped up. [Everyone, get your asses back to work immediately!] [Anyone one minute late loses their entire month’s bonus!] Not bankrupt? Confused, we rushed back to the office. Pushing open the conference room doors, we saw Bella curled up in Simon’s lap. She actually had a pacifier in her mouth! “Daddy Simon, I really didn’t mean to.” “I wanted to send the Afternoon Tea notification, but my hand slipped, and the mouse was being naughty! Bad mouse!” I stood at the door, my brain trembling. Afternoon Tea notification and Termination Letter. One is under “Admin,” the other under “HR.” They are miles apart in the system, and you need a admin password to confirm sending the latter. And you “slipped”? Suppressing my rage, I walked in. “Mr. Vance, since it’s a misunderstanding, everyone can just get back to work. No need for such anger.” Simon looked up, his eyes ready to devour me. While gently patting Bella, he pointed at me and roared: “Joanna! Do you have no shame?” “You are the CFO! A senior executive! Yet you have zero composure!” “Bella is just a child! She made a small mistake, and instead of fixing it, you led the charge to loot company assets and skipped work!” I laughed in disbelief. “Mr. Vance, that was a termination letter with the official company seal, not a game of house.” “And Bella, as HR, made a low-level error that shut down the entire company. Shouldn’t she be held accountable?” Before I finished, Bella suddenly wailed. She spat out the pacifier and kicked her legs wildly on the chair: “Waaaah! The big sister is so mean! She’s going to eat me!” “I want to go home! I don’t want to work! There are monsters here! Boohoo!” Heartbroken, Simon hugged her tight and screamed at me: “Joanna! Shut up! Look how scared you’ve made Bella!” “She’s still an intern! Can she be compared to old veterans like you?” Then, Simon announced a decision that blew everyone’s mind. “Given that Bella made a mistake, her attitude is sincere, and she has been traumatized.” “I am approving a special seven-day paid leave, fully covered by the company, plus a $10,000 emotional distress bonus.” “As for you!” He glared around the room. “Yesterday’s collective absence without leave warrants a public reprimand for everyone!” “This month’s performance bonuses are forfeited! Any losses caused will be deducted from your salaries!” “Additionally, everyone’s year-end bonus will be docked to pay for Bella’s compensation!” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me? She made the mistake, why are you deducting our money?!” Before I could argue further, my colleagues—who were calling the boss a son of a b*tch in the group chat yesterday—suddenly changed their tune. Old Tom from Sales jumped out first, fawning: “Director Joanna, Bella is young, it’s her first job. Mistakes are normal.” Then, the Admin lady chimed in: “Yeah, this is just tough love for Bella.” Even Emily, the apprentice I trained for three years, lowered her head and whispered: “Master, just stop talking. Don’t make Mr. Vance angry and drag us all down…” Looking at these spineless cowards, I felt sick to my stomach. Bella peeked out from Simon’s embrace, picked up the drool-covered pacifier, and stuck it back in her mouth. She gave me a provocative smirk: “Bad woman! I’ll beat you up! Neener neener!” 2 During Bella’s seven-day leave, the company turned into chaos. Before she left, to prevent another “slip,” she changed the entire company system font to “Comic Sans.” Looking at that font made my eyes bleed. Even more ridiculous, she locked everyone’s system permissions. Her reason: “What if someone secretly changes data to bully me while I’m gone? Baby needs to protect herself.” New hires couldn’t be onboarded. Payroll couldn’t be processed. I went to Simon. He was busy liking Bella’s Instagram posts. Without looking up, he said: “Don’t bother me with trifles. Wait until Bella comes back.” “She is in her emotional healing period. No one is allowed to disturb her!” Fine. I swallowed my disgust, returned to the finance office, looked at the mountain of unprocessed invoices, and sneered. Seven days later, Bella finally returned. She came in with bags of plushies and merch. She fluttered around the office like a butterfly. “Tom, here’s a keychain. Hope you won’t be so mean in the future.” “Linda, here’s a sticker for your laptop. It’ll make you happy!” Holding these cheap trinkets, everyone acted like they were moved to tears. Bella walked up to me and tossed a squashed candy on my desk. “Sister Joanna, I saved this specially for you.” She blinked her big eyes, looking innocent. Colleagues immediately chimed in: “Director, aren’t you going to thank Bella?” “Bella repays evil with kindness. Learn from her!” I looked at the crushed candy and swept it into the trash. “No thanks. It’s work hours.” “The HR system isn’t restored. We can’t do payroll this month. Do you want everyone to starve?” Mentioning payroll, Bella suddenly laughed through her tears, as if remembering something fun. “Oh, Daddy Simon! I was just going to tell you!” “I invented a new way to calculate wages called the Mood Performance Method!” She pulled out a pink notebook covered in drawings of smiley and crying faces. “From now on, everyone’s salary will be based on how I feel when I see them!” “If you make me happy, you get a bonus! If you make me unhappy, I deduct money!” “This way, everyone will be more loving and united! Right, Daddy Simon?” I was trembling with rage. This was the biggest joke in the world! But Simon slapped his thigh in approval: “Great! What a brilliant idea!” “It’s human-centric and lively! Breaks the rigid financial system!” “Do as Bella says! Bella is in charge of payroll this month!” I immediately objected: “Mr. Vance, this violates audit procedures. If the IRS checks…” “Shut up!” Simon cut me off rudely. “Laws, taxes… Joanna, you’re annoying.” “I opened this company. I pay how I want!” I looked around. The colleagues who usually fought over every cent on their pay stubs didn’t say a word. They knew that in this company, sucking up to the giant baby was more effective than working hard. Under Bella’s Mood Performance Management, the company became a giant kindergarten. Every morning, instead of clocking in, we had to do a “Good Morning Dance” for Bella. Old Tom, a burly man, pinched his fingers and meowed like a cat for that extra $100. I almost vomited my breakfast. Because I refused to participate in this idiocy, not only did I lose my attendance bonus, but I became the source of “negative energy” in Bella’s eyes. “Sister Joanna, why aren’t you smiling?” Bella stood at my desk with her pink notebook. I ignored her and continued checking the messy manual ledgers. Since the reform, all reimbursement forms became her coloring book. On a $2,000 dining invoice, she drew a giant pig head and wrote: [This place tastes bad. Denied!] On a request for office supplies, she put stickers and wrote: [This notebook is ugly. I’ll approve if it’s pink~] I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed into Simon’s office with the receipts. “Mr. Vance, I can’t do these accounts!” “Bella is blocking legitimate business expenses and approving nonsense!” I slammed the receipts on his desk. “Look at this. ‘Emotional Healing Boba Tea’, $300? Is she drinking gold?” “And this. ‘Aesthetic Improvement JK Uniform’. This is an office expense?” Simon was gaming with headphones on. He looked annoyed. “Isn’t this good? It shows Bella treats the company like home.” “Joanna, as CFO, you need to open your mind.” “But…” “Enough ‘buts’!” Simon threw his headphones. “If you can’t do it, just say so. Stop complaining.” “Bella is learning finance fast. If you keep this attitude, she can have your job!” Give it to her? To a giant baby who doesn’t know debit from credit and only draws smiley faces? Before I could retort, Bella pushed the door open. “Daddy Simon, is Sister Joanna badmouthing me again?” “Why is she so insensible? She doesn’t understand my good intentions. I’m saving money for the company.” Simon instantly switched to a smile: “Of course not. Baby is the best.” “It’s Joanna who is narrow-minded and jealous of your excellence.” Bella leaned into him, blinking at me. Her eyes held zero innocence and 100% malice. “Daddy Simon, since Sister Joanna is so unhappy, let her handle the IRS inspection tomorrow.” My heart skipped a beat. The IRS was coming for a routine check tomorrow. If they saw these books… we’d be fined into oblivion! “No!” I refused flatly. “The current accounts cannot be seen!” Simon’s face darkened. “Why not? I think Bella’s accounts are cute and creative!” “Joanna, if you can’t handle this small thing, don’t bother coming in tomorrow!” Bella fanned the flames: “Yeah, isn’t Sister Joanna a top university grad? Can’t even handle this?” “If you’re scared, beg me. Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll act cute for the IRS officer and make it go away.” Beg her? I looked at the delusional couple. My anger cooled into icy resolve. Since you want to die, don’t blame me for handing you the knife. 3 The next morning, before the IRS arrived, the company exploded. It was payday. According to Bella’s Mood Performance Method, pay slips were distributed. “WTF? Why is my salary only $50?” Old Tom, the sales champ, was shaking. “I ran my legs off last month. My commission alone should be $2,000. How is it $50?” Everyone went mad, surrounding the finance office with red eyes. “Joanna! Get out here!” “Did you embezzle our money? You black-hearted accountant!” Of course, the blame fell on me. I calmly sipped my coffee and pointed to a pink poster on the door. Bella’s crooked handwriting read: [Love Salary Ranking]. “Don’t blame me.” “The payroll was drawn by Bella and signed by Simon.” “She said you guys performed well but looked too old, affecting her ‘Baby Aura’, so she deducted an ‘Ugly Tax’.” Hearing this, they almost fainted from rage. Just then, Bella arrived on Simon’s arm. “Anyone who dares to make trouble is disobeying management! Fired immediately! No severance!” Simon roared with a dark face. Threatened with unemployment, the mob deflated instantly. Old Tom gritted his teeth and forced a smile uglier than crying: “We… we accept it.” “Miss Bella is right. We aren’t pretty enough. We will improve.” Bella lifted her chin proudly, looking down at me: “See, Joanna?” “This is charisma.” She suddenly pulled a stack of papers from her bag and threw them in my face. “What is this?” I picked it up. A termination notice. Reason: [Destroying team unity, bullying newcomers, evil intentions.] “You’re fired.” Bella smiled sweetly. Simon added from behind: “Not only are you fired, but the $10,000 emotional distress fee will be deducted from your final pay!” The colleagues, eager to please the crazy couple, kicked me while I was down. “Yeah, Joanna, just leave. Don’t drag us down.” “Hated your stinking face anyway.” “You bullied Bella, you deserve it!” Looking at these clowns, I suddenly found it funny. I took off my badge and placed it on the desk. “Fine. I’ll go.” As I walked to the door, someone knocked. Bella shouted impatiently: “Who is it? Can’t you see Baby is giving a lecture?” She pulled the door open. Standing there were four or five men in uniforms, looking stern. The leader held up a badge. Bella looked at their uniforms and burst out laughing. “Daddy Simon! Look at this old witch Joanna!” “She hired extras to scare me! Wearing costumes and everything.” In that moment, I clearly saw the officer’s face turn black as coal. Simon came over, looking at them with disdain: “Joanna, how childish are you? Get out with your circus troupe! Or I’ll call the police!” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the down button. “Mr. Vance, Bella, you misunderstand.” “That is Section Chief Liu from the IRS and Captain Zhao from Economic Crimes.” “They aren’t actors. They are here to audit the books after I reported you with my real name.” “Here is all the evidence of dual accounting, tax evasion, and embezzlement.” The elevator doors closed slowly. In the last sliver, I saw Bella’s face twist in horror and the glint of handcuffs in Chief Liu’s hand. “Good luck.” 4 The doors were about to shut. Bella screamed and pried them open. “You can’t leave! Bad woman!” She bit Chief Liu’s wrist, drawing blood. “Daddy Simon! Beat these bad guys! They’re bullying Baby!” Chief Liu grimaced and slammed her onto the floor with a takedown. Bella’s face pressed against the tiles, legs kicking wildly. “Waaah! Murder! Help!” Simon charged like a madman but was handcuffed instantly by Captain Zhao. “Assaulting an officer, resisting tax investigation, obstruction of justice. Take them away!” The office was chaos. I watched coldly, but felt uneasy. Simon was too calm. Even in cuffs, his eyes were full of contempt and madness. “Joanna, you think this will kill me?” “Bella is my lucky charm. If you touch her, heaven will punish you!” I ignored his ravings and cooperated with the police. However, less than 24 hours later. I had just finished organizing evidence at a cafe when my phone rang. It was Emily, crying. “Sister Joanna, look at the group… Mr. Vance and Bella are back!” How? Assaulting police plus tax evasion—ironclad evidence. How could they be out? I opened the group chat. Simon sent ten $200 red envelopes. Note: [Celebrating Baby’s Survival of the Ordeal!] Bella posted a selfie. She was wearing a pink tutu, sitting on Simon’s desk, holding scissors. Background: shredded paper—copies of the tax records sealed by the IRS. Caption: [Hmph! Police station day trip is over! The police uncle said Baby is too cute to lock up! Die mad, bad woman! Neener neener!] I called Captain Zhao immediately. His tone was helpless: “Ms. Joanna, Simon took all the blame. He said he ordered everything and Bella is mentally challenged and was manipulated.” “Also, Simon used connections and paid bail. He’s applying for a review. We had to release them for now.” “But don’t worry, they are restricted from leaving the country.” I took a deep breath. Mentally challenged? What a way to escape. Before I could think, another @All popped up. Simon: [Notice: Due to Joanna’s malicious reporting damaging the company’s magnetic field. To soothe Bella’s wounded soul, effective immediately, the company initiates the “Baby Guardian Plan”.] [All employees must surrender their ID cards and passports to prevent betrayal!] [Those who refuse will be fired and must pay 10 times the breach of contract fee!] This wasn’t management; it was imprisonment and extortion. Terrifyingly, the chat filled with “Received.” Those colleagues with mortgages were completely trapped. I gripped my phone. If the law is slow, don’t blame me for using commercial means. I called Mr. Zhou, head of the investment firm that was Simon’s biggest backer—and my current new boss. “Mr. Zhou, the VAM agreement is triggered.” “Simon’s behavior constitutes a severe threat to asset safety.” “I apply for a hostile takeover.” Silence for two seconds. “Granted. Joanna, take the security team and close the net.” With a team of black-clad bodyguards, I returned to the company. The scene that greeted me shattered my worldview. The fingerprint scanner was smashed. In its place was a giant pink bouncy castle. The receptionist wore an oversized bib and a pacifier, scrubbing the floor on her knees. Seeing me, she dropped the pacifier, teary-eyed. “Joanna… sister…” “Shh! No talking!” Bella’s voice came from inside. “Daddy Simon said Baby’s world must be pure!” “Everyone must make baby noises! Anyone who doesn’t sound like a baby can’t go to the bathroom!” I kicked open the bouncy castle door and marched in. In the office, dozens of adults, men and women, wore pink baby bonnets. Old Tom, the balding man in his forties, was crawling at Bella’s feet, shaking a rattle. “Goo goo gaga…” Bella sat in the boss’s chair, feet resting on Tom’s back. “Good boy! Have a candy!” Old Tom swallowed his humiliation and the candy with a smile. “Enough!” I shouted. My bodyguards swarmed in, securing the scene instantly. Bella jumped up, startled. “Wah! The Wicked Witch brought the Black Magic Fairies!” “Daddy Simon! Save me! Baby is scared!” Simon rushed out from the inner room. Dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Joanna! You dare come back!” I looked at him coldly and pulled out the termination letter and takeover notice. “Simon, according to the investment agreement, you have been removed by the board for gross misconduct.” “Now, pack your sh*t and get out.” Simon froze. Then he laughed maniacally. “Remove me? Hahaha! You dare? I have Bella! She is the Chosen One!” “The Master said, the more she acts out in my company, the more prosperous I become!” “This is destruction before creation! You know nothing!” Just as I suspected. This was the real reason he indulged her. Not lust, but cult-like superstition. “I think your brain is flooded.” I waved my hand. “Clear the room! Everyone unrelated, out!” Bodyguards moved to evict the employees in bibs. Seeing this, Bella screamed and ran toward the server room. “Don’t touch my house! I’ll burn your house down!” She held a lighter. “Bella! Don’t!” Simon panicked, trying to stop her. But Bella was fast. She kicked open the server room door and threw the lit lighter onto a pile of paper archives near the server vents. Flames shot up instantly. Alarms blared. I was stunned. She actually set the fire! “Fire! Put out the fire!” I roared and rushed forward. But Bella stood before the flames, clapping and laughing. “So warm! Bonfire party!” “Burn the Wicked Witch! Burn the Black Fairies!” Simon stood by, watching the fire, a look of twisted obsession on his face. “Fire… fire creates earth, earth creates gold…” “Prosperity! It’s coming!” “Bella really brings me luck! This fire is good!” Lunatics. All of them. The fire spread fast. Smoke filled the hallway. The bodyguards grabbed me, abandoning the arrest. “Ms. Joanna! The fire is too big! Go!” I was pushed into the stairwell. Looking back one last time, I saw Bella riding on Simon’s shoulders, dancing in front of the inferno.

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This year, the Finance Department achieved a miracle. We saved the company $5 million in taxes through legitimate planning and recovered $30 million in bad debts. The night before the Annual Gala, the CEO ordered us to withdraw $8 million in cash and stack it in the main conference room. He specifically assigned the Finance Department to guard it overnight. “Gwen, thank you all for your hard work tonight. Tomorrow at the Gala, I have prepared a special, exclusive grand prize for the Finance Department!” That night, guarding $8 million in cash, we didn’t even dare go to the bathroom alone. “Gwen, $8 million smells so good,” the intern, Mia Lopez, whispered, staring at the mountain of cash with stars in her eyes. “Mr. Stone said he prepared a surprise. Do you think it’s a stack for each of us?” I smiled but didn’t answer. Knowing that cheapskate, a $500 bonus would be a miracle. But I never expected the bar to be lowered straight into hell. At the Gala, the Sales Department collected cash in literal sacks. The Top Sales Rep walked away with $300,000. When it was Finance’s turn, the CEO smiled and handed me a cheap device that screamed “Zero! Zero!” in a robotic voice. “The Finance Department works the hardest, always dealing with numbers,” he announced. “Here, a brand new calculator for each of you! Calculate faster, work less overtime!” 1 “Beep—Zero! Zero!” The crowd erupted in laughter, the sound nearly lifting the roof. Sales Director Rob Thorne laughed the loudest, clutching his sack of cash and pointing at us: “Mr. Stone really knows how to pick a gift!” “Let the finance ladies clear last year’s accounts to zero! Start fresh next year—more work, less nitpicking!” This was the “exclusive grand prize” Victor Stone promised. This was the “surprise” we earned by guarding cash all night until our bladders nearly burst. Last night, after hours, the building management turned off the heating. The conference room was 14 degrees Fahrenheit. To guard the $8 million he wanted to use to “flex his power,” the five of us huddled in surplus coats, taking turns staring at the cash, afraid to even blink. Mia, the intern, fell asleep on a stack of bills and drooled. She woke up terrified, thinking she’d be fined for soiling the money. My deputy, John Carter, has a severe herniated disc. He sat on a tiny stool all night and couldn’t walk straight this morning. We guarded a mountain of gold, only to receive a public execution. “Mr. Stone.” I took a step forward to the microphone. The laughter died down slightly, but the malicious gazes still pricked my skin. Victor Stone looked at me with a smile full of mockery: “What’s wrong, Gwen Bennett? Too excited? No need to thank me. It’s a small token from the company. A workman must sharpen his tools to do his work well, right?” “We don’t want tokens. We want fairness.” I stared at him, suppressing the rage in my chest. “This year, Finance saved the company $5 million in taxes through legal compliance.” “Last month, our entire department spent two weeks in the snow to recover $30 million in bad debts. We were bitten by dogs, splashed with water.” “Sales took a 5% commission. They deserved it; they are heroes.” “But what about us?” “We guarded $8 million in cash all night, and we get a $1.99 calculator?” The room went silent for a few seconds. The smile on Stone’s face faded. He spoke slowly: “Gwen, your math is wrong.” He picked up the mic, speaking earnestly to the whole room: “Finance works hard, sure. But you need to understand the logic.” “Sales is on the front line fighting the war. They are the ones feeding the company!” “And Finance? You are the nannies in the back. The money belongs to the company. The bad debts were recovered because Legal is intimidating. The tax savings are thanks to government policy.” “You just moved your fingers and pressed a few buttons. And you want a million-dollar commission?” “Should I give the receptionist shares because she presses the elevator button for me every day?” Laughter exploded again. This time, it was unrestrained and full of malice. “Exactly! Finance always has a long face, making reimbursement so hard. And they want commission?” “Mr. Stone is right. They’re just bean counters. No production, yet they want to split the money? Crazy!” The humiliation slapped me across the face. I felt my colleagues behind me reach their breaking point. I heard Mia sniffle. “Fine.” I nodded and slammed the calculator onto the podium. “Since Mr. Stone thinks we only know how to press buttons, this gift is too expensive for us.” I turned to the red-eyed women behind me. “Let’s go.” 2 Walking out of the hotel into the cold wind, I realized my back was soaked in cold sweat. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold it back…” Mia squatted by the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. “My mom’s surgery is next week…” “The doctor said we need $15,000. I thought… I thought this bonus would be at least $5,000. With my savings, it would be enough…” “Stop crying.” Sarah Jenkins, a senior accountant, dug tissues out of her bag and roughly wiped Mia’s tears, her own hands shaking. “Who are you crying for? Didn’t you hear Rob Thorne and his goons? We are parasites!” “But Sarah…” Mia looked up, her makeup ruined. “That $5 million tax plan… you made so many versions to get it right. The $30 million debt… Gwen led us to hell and back to get it…” “How does it have nothing to do with us?” “When we signed the commitment letter, Mr. Stone promised us 1% commission.” I stood silently, lighting a cigarette. He agreed so easily back then probably because he was sure we couldn’t do it. Ding. A phone lit up. It was a notification on Sarah’s phone: Tuition Payment Reminder. She panicked and turned off the screen, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll figure out the money.” I looked back at the hotel. “What belongs to us, no one can take away. Go home and sleep. Tomorrow, show up on time.” The next morning, I arrived an hour early. Victor Stone’s office door was ajar. Inside, smoke swirled, and laughter boomed. “Mr. Stone, that move last night was brilliant!” “Those Finance b*tches turned green! Hahahaha!” “About time we took them down a peg. Always blocking my reimbursements. Now they’ll behave.” “Hmph, bunch of misers. Blocking me from using my own money.” Stone’s voice was cold. “If they weren’t still somewhat useful, I’d say even that $1.99 was a waste.” “By the way, how’s the ‘Cloud Finance’ AI system deal going with Mr. Fisher?” “Done!” “Service fee is only $20,000 a year. Way cheaper than feeding these idlers!” “And it’s AI. It listens, doesn’t talk back!” I stood at the door, my hand freezing on the handle. So that’s it. Not to liven up the atmosphere, not a whim. It was a premeditated slaughter of the donkey after it turned the mill. Humiliate us to force us to quit so he can save on the severance package. I pushed the door open. The laughter cut off instantly. Seeing me, the surprise on Stone’s face turned to impatience. “Don’t know how to knock? Where are your manners?” Rob Thorne leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, looking at me with amusement: “Yo, Director Bennett is here?” “What, calculator broke? Want Sales to pool money for a new one?” I ignored the mad dog and walked straight to Stone’s desk, placing my hands on it and staring him down. “Mr. Stone, since you think Finance is useless, we won’t be an eyesore anymore.” “Here is our compensation plan. Severance plus the promised commission for the bad debts. Not a penny less.” “Sign it, and we leave immediately to make room for your AI.” I slammed the list I printed last night onto the desk. Stone glanced at the number, his eye twitching. “$300,000 commission? Gwen, are you robbing me?” “Is it a lot?” I sneered. “Yesterday Rob took $300,000 alone. We are asking for five people. Compared to the $30 million we recovered, this is peanuts.” “That’s the company’s money!” Stone slammed his cup on the table. “Gwen, don’t be ungrateful. Want to leave? Fine! Write a resignation letter and get out! Want severance? In your dreams!” “So there’s no negotiation?” 3 “Negotiate? What right do you have to negotiate with me?” Stone stood up, grabbing a stack of files and throwing them at me. “Believe it or not, I’ll have security throw you out right now!” “Public insubordination, terrible attitude.” “You’re fired! Without a cent!” Rob sneered from the side: “Hear that? Get lost. Don’t embarrass yourself further!” I looked at Stone’s face and suddenly smiled. The smile made him pause. “Mr. Stone, you might have forgotten one thing.” I said softly. “Accountants love keeping records. And we are experts at… auditing old accounts.” “If you want to do this cleanly, we follow labor laws. If you don’t…” “Then we’ll help you recall exactly how those $5 million in taxes were ‘planned’.” I turned and left without looking at his changing face. Back in Finance, the atmosphere was oppressive. Everyone’s computer screens were black. “Gwen…” Mia ran over, crying. “I can’t log in. Account frozen.” “And Admin just came to tell us to pack our personal belongings by today…” “Don’t panic.” I patted her shoulder. “Where’s Sarah?” “Small conference room. Director Vance from HR is talking to her.” HR Director Linda Vance. The woman who always smiles and preaches “family culture” was now acting as Stone’s executioner. I pushed open the conference room door. Sarah Jenkins was huddled in a corner, hair messy, looking ten years older. Linda sat opposite her, twirling a pen. Two strangers in black suits sat nearby. “…Accountant Jenkins, think clearly.” Linda’s voice was gentle as always. “This is embezzlement. Falsifying accounts.” “If the company pursues this, you not only have to pay back all wages but also go to jail for a few years.” “Your son is taking his SATs soon, right? If his file says his mom is a convict, his life is ruined.” “Stop! Stop it!” Sarah covered her ears, breaking down. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign voluntary resignation! Please don’t call the police!” “That’s right.” Linda smiled and pushed a document forward. “Wait!” I rushed over, snatched the document, and tore it in half. “Linda, who are you scaring?” I stood in front of Sarah, glaring at her. “Those accounts were authorized by Stone’s signature!” “To evade taxes, he made Sarah split that business into five shell companies. His signature is on every process sheet!” Linda glanced at me with disdain, slowly brushing off the paper scraps. “Gwen, I knew you’d be trouble.” She waved her hand, and the two suits stood up, blocking us. Linda pulled another document from her folder and threw it at me. “You can refuse to sign. You can sue.” “But let me remind you, the legal representative of those shell companies is that little cashier who left your department six months ago.” “Can you, the finance manager, stay clean?” “As for Stone’s signature… do you have proof it’s original? I can print as many of those as I want.” My heart sank. So they were waiting for me here. That cashier was Stone’s distant relative. She left six months ago. The trap was set back then. They buried all the mines under Finance. Once detonated, we are the perfect scapegoats. “And,” Linda leaned in close. “The AI finance team has taken over the backend data. All operation logs on your computers have been wiped. Gwen, what are you going to fight the company with?” 4 Sarah grabbed my sleeve: “Gwen, forget it… we can’t win…” “I can’t go to jail. My son has such good grades…” At the door, Mia and the others heard everything, their faces ashen. Against a company with hundreds of employees and billions in turnover. Are we accountants really just ants to be crushed? Linda watched my expression and smiled with satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting.” “Mr. Stone will announce the restructuring decision for Finance.” “Gwen, I give you one night to think. Take your salary and leave with dignity, or be ruined and go to federal prison. Your choice.” She left with her men. Only Sarah’s sobbing remained in the room. “Gwen, what do we do?” Mia held my hand, her voice trembling. “Are we really going to jail?” I looked at these comrades who had gone through hell with me. Some got ulcers checking accounts, some were nearly beaten collecting debts, some sacrificed family time without complaint. Now, they were being pushed off a cliff by their own people. “Don’t cry.” “Sarah, do you remember which account the $30 million bad debt was paid into?” Sarah froze, looking up with teary eyes: “It… it went into the general account at Chase Bank. Why?” “No.” I shook my head. “When I negotiated, because the other party didn’t trust Stone’s character, I added a clause in the supplementary agreement.” Mia stopped crying, eyes wide: “What clause?” “Fund Supervision and Final Confirmation Clause.” I explained. “On the books, the balance is there. But the actual status is ‘Frozen Pending Confirmation.’ Stone, that nouveau riche, only looks at numbers, not status. He thinks the money is his.” “According to the agreement, the funds must be system-confirmed by our finance manager before the end of the seventh business day, or they will be returned to the sender.” I looked at the clock. “Tomorrow is the seventh day.” “If I don’t operate by 10 AM tomorrow…” “That $30 million will go ding and fly back to their pocket.” Sarah gasped: “But… but Stone thinks the money is already his! I heard he ordered a Bentley…” “Exactly.” “He thinks he won. He thinks he kicked us out and doesn’t have to pay commission?” “Tomorrow 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting, right?” “Good.” “We’ll use that meeting to teach Mr. Stone a lesson on Financial Risk Control.” The next day, the large conference room was packed. The atmosphere was hotter than the Gala. Rumors that Finance was getting fired en masse, maybe even jailed, had spread. My team and I were seated in the front row, the most conspicuous spot. Reserved for “sinners.” Victor Stone stood on stage, high-spirited, his custom suit making him look almost human. Rob Thorne sat nearby, gloating. Linda Vance was busy distributing documents—pre-written “Confessions of Violation.” On the big screen, bold words read: [Notification Regarding Severe Violations and Personnel Adjustments in Finance Department] “Colleagues,” Stone cleared his throat, voice booming. “It pains me to call this meeting. I have always treated people well, but I never expected there to be traitors in our team!” He pointed at us. “Gwen Bennett and others in Finance abused their positions, repeatedly violated regulations, and are suspected of falsifying accounts and embezzling company assets!” “After a thorough investigation, the evidence is conclusive!” The crowd gasped. “You never know a person’s heart. Their hands are dirty, yet they use rules to block us!” “Tsk tsk, no wonder they wanted bonuses without performance. Appetite grew too big.” Stone was satisfied with the effect. He continued: “For the healthy development of the company, to enforce discipline, the company has decided to immediately fire all involved personnel in Finance! And reserves the right to pursue legal responsibility!” “Of course,” He put on a magnanimous air. “Considering they are old employees, as long as they sign the confession on the spot, admit their mistakes, and return illegal gains, the company may consider not handing them over to the authorities.” Linda placed a “Confession” in front of me. “Sign it, Gwen. This is your last chance.”

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When the car pulled over onto the highway shoulder, I thought Caleb Thorne needed to use the restroom. “Lily is asleep, try not to wake her,” I whispered, pulling my daughter’s small blanket up to her chin. Caleb didn’t turn around. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Grace, take Lily and get out of the car.” I froze. “What?” From the backseat, Vanessa spoke in her soft, syrupy voice. “Caleb, honey, it’s fine. We can squeeze.” Her daughter, Bella, immediately started wailing. “No! I don’t want to sit next to the dirty kid! She coughed earlier!” Caleb turned around. His eyes were colder than I had ever seen them. “Did you hear me? Get out.” “Tessa is already on her way. She’ll be here in thirty minutes.” “Just wait here for a bit.” It was December 28th. The highway was a sheet of ice. The temperature was 23 degrees. I clutched my three-year-old daughter tight and watched him restart the car. The taillights faded into the snowstorm. Until they disappeared completely. 1 The snow fell harder. I held Lily close, standing by the guardrail, trying to shield her from the biting wind with my body. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Lily whispered, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Daddy… Daddy went to Grandma’s house first,” I forced a smile. “Auntie Tessa is coming to pick us up soon.” “But it’s cold…” I wrapped her inside my down jacket and covered her head with my scarf. My phone had 30% battery left. I called Tessa. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, she picked up. “Grace? What’s up?” The background noise was loud, like she was at a club. “Tessa, your brother said you were coming to pick us up. Where are you?” “Huh? Pick you up?” Tessa paused. “Oh, right. Caleb mentioned it.” “But I’m partying with friends right now. I can’t leave.” “Just wait a bit. I’ll come later.” “Tessa, it’s freezing out here. Lily can’t handle this…” “Ugh, Grace, stop being so dramatic. What’s the big deal about waiting a little?” “Caleb said Vanessa and Bella can’t catch a cold, so he had to rush them back.” “You two are tough. Waiting a bit longer won’t kill you.” Click. I gripped the phone, my fingers stiff with cold. I called Caleb. Voicemail. I called again. Still voicemail. Lily was shivering in my arms. “Mommy, I want to go home…” “Soon, baby. We’ll be home soon.” I kissed her forehead. My eyes burned. Four years of marriage, and I never knew Caleb could be this cruel. For his ex-girlfriend Vanessa’s daughter, he abandoned his wife and child on the side of a highway in a blizzard. Just because Bella said she didn’t want to sit next to the “dirty kid.” Headlights approached from the distance. I waved frantically. A black SUV slowed down and stopped in front of us. The window rolled down. A young man looked out. “Need help?” It felt like grabbing a lifeline. “Can you give us a ride? Just to the next service station!” The man looked at the child in my arms and frowned. “Get in.” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” I reached for the door handle… “Grace?” I froze. Another head popped out from the back. It was Caleb’s cousin, Ethan. He looked at me, then at the empty highway. “What are you doing here? Where’s Caleb?” I briefly explained what happened. Ethan’s face turned dark. “Is he insane? Leaving you and Lily here?” “So Vanessa’s daughter is human, but his own daughter isn’t?” He swore under his breath and turned to the driver. “Mark, let them in. We’ll squeeze.” The front was full, and the back seat next to Ethan was crowded with gear. “There’s no room…” Mark hesitated. Ethan opened the door and jumped out. “You guys go. I’ll wait here.” “No, you can’t!” “Hurry up!” Ethan shoved me toward the car. “Lily’s face is purple. She can’t stay out here!” I climbed into the back seat with Lily. The heat hit me, making my frozen skin sting. Ethan slammed the door and knocked on the window. “Grace, call me when you get to the service station. I’ll make Caleb come get you!” “Ethan, it’s freezing. What about you…” “I’m a man, I’ll be fine! Worry about the kid! Go!” The car started moving. I watched through the rear window as Ethan stood in the snow, his figure growing smaller and smaller. Tears welled up. My own husband left us to freeze. In the end, the one who saved us was an outsider. 2 Lily fell asleep in my arms, but her face was unnaturally flushed. I touched her forehead. It was burning hot. “Mark, can you drive faster? My daughter has a fever!” Mark nodded and accelerated. I took out my phone to call Tessa again. No signal. The highway wound through the mountains. Reception was spotty. “How much longer to the service station?” “Twenty miles. But with this snow, at least thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes… I held Lily tighter, constantly checking her temperature. Hotter and hotter. “Baby, wake up. Don’t sleep…” Lily opened her eyes groggily. “Mommy, I don’t feel good…” “I know, baby. We’re almost there. Just hang on.” She started coughing, a hacking sound that turned her face purple. I patted her back, tears finally falling. “Please, faster!” “I’m going as fast as I can! The roads are slick!” Mark shouted back, tension in his voice. Lily’s coughing got worse. Her breathing sounded like a broken bellows. “Mommy… I can’t breathe…” I unzipped her coat. Her chest was heaving violently. Acute pneumonia. She had it last year. We almost lost her. “Lily, look at Mommy. Don’t close your eyes!” “Mommy will tell you a story. The one about the little white rabbit…” Her eyes fluttered, half-closed. Her breathing grew faint. I banged on the window like a madwoman. “Help! My daughter is dying! Help us!” But outside, there was nothing but snow and darkness. The car finally pulled into the service station. I rushed into the convenience store with Lily. “Is there a doctor? My daughter is dying! We need help!” The clerk looked terrified. “No… no doctor here…” “Call 911! Now!” “The cell tower is down… landlines aren’t working…” My legs gave out. I nearly collapsed. In my arms, Lily had gone silent. The owner of the small motel next door rummaged through a first-aid kit and found some children’s fever reducers and antibiotics. “Try giving her these?” My hands shook so hard I couldn’t open the packaging. Lily lay on my lap, her breath so shallow it seemed like it would stop any second. I managed to get the medicine in her mouth, but she had no strength to swallow. “Lily, swallow it, please baby…” The liquid trickled out of the corner of her mouth. The owner couldn’t watch anymore. “I’ll drive you to the county hospital. But the snow is heavy, the roads might be closed…” “Go! Please! Go now!” I emptied my wallet and shoved all the cash into his hands. “Please!” The owner gritted his teeth. “Alright! Let’s risk it!” 3 The car crawled along the snow-covered road. Every bump made Lily’s body go limper. I held her tiny hand, talking nonstop. “Lily, remember you wanted to go to Disney World? Mommy will take you.” “We’ll ride the biggest carousel.” “You’ll wear your Elsa dress, right?” “We’ll go to Universal too. See the Transformers. Your heroes, remember?” Her eyelashes fluttered. But her eyes didn’t open. My phone buzzed. Signal! I dialed Caleb’s number with trembling fingers. It rang for a long time before he answered. “Hello?” The background was quiet. He was home. “Caleb…” My voice was a raspy croak. “Lily is sick. It’s bad…” “Where are you?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “On the way to the county hospital. Come quickly…” “Grace.” He interrupted me. “Didn’t Tessa pick you up?” “She didn’t come! She never came!” “Impossible. She just posted on Instagram that she was on her way.” I froze. I opened Instagram. Found Tessa. Latest post, ten minutes ago. A selfie. Background: highway. Caption: “On my way to pick up the sister-in-law~ Bro worries too much~” The geotag showed she was sixty miles away. In the city. She hadn’t moved. She was lying to Caleb. And lying to me. “See?” Caleb said. “Tessa will be there any minute. Just wait.” “We can’t wait! Lily is dying! Our daughter is dying, Caleb!” “Grace.” His voice dropped to zero. “It’s New Year’s. Don’t talk about death. It’s bad luck.” “Vanessa and Bella just got here. Mom is happy. Don’t ruin it.” “When Tessa gets you, take Lily to a clinic.” “Kids get fevers. It’s normal. She won’t die. Stop being dramatic.” Click. I stared at the phone, my blood running cold. The owner looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Husband?” I nodded. “Bastard,” he spat. “Hold on tight. I know a shortcut. We can’t let the kid die!” The car swerved onto a mountain road. The snow fell harder. Lily’s breathing was almost inaudible. I checked her pulse. It was weak, almost like a hallucination. “Lily… don’t scare Mommy…” “Mommy was wrong. Mommy shouldn’t have been so stupid in love!” “Mommy was wrong. I shouldn’t have married him…” “Mommy shouldn’t have let you suffer…” sobbing, I reached into my inner pocket and pulled out a button-sized metal device. My father gave it to me. He said: “Grace, the Thorne family values sons over daughters. If one day they mistreat you because Lily is a girl, press this.” I pressed it. No sound. But I knew the signal was sent. Father said his people would be there within three hours. But three hours… Could my Lily wait three hours? 4 We finally reached the county hospital. I rushed into the ER with Lily, my voice gone from screaming. The nurse took one look at Lily and yelled for a doctor. “Acute pneumonia! Heart rate dropping! Prep for resuscitation!” I was stopped outside the trauma room. Through the glass, I watched them intubate Lily, hook her up to monitors. That tiny body, lying on the bed, looking like she could disappear at any moment. I crouched in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. My phone rang. Caleb. I answered, saying nothing. “Grace, where are you?” He sounded annoyed. “Mom is waiting to eat.” I opened my mouth, no sound came out. “Speak!” “Hospital…” I squeezed out. “Lily is in resuscitation…” “What?” He paused. “Why are you at the hospital? Where’s Tessa?” “She didn’t come…” “Bullshit. She just texted me she got you.” I opened the family group chat. Twenty minutes ago, Tessa sent a message: “Bro, got Grace. Heading back now.” Attached was a blurry photo of a car interior. The back of a woman’s head in the passenger seat, wearing a jacket like mine. It was an old photo she took of me months ago. She was lying. Using prepared photos. “She’s lying,” I said. “Caleb, come to the hospital. Now.” “Grace.” Silence for a few seconds. “You just don’t want to come back for New Year’s, do you?” “Is it because Vanessa is here? You’re jealous?” “So you make up these lies?” I was stunned. “You think I’m lying?” “What else?” He sneered. “Why would Tessa lie to me?” “She’s my sister. What are you?” “A woman who served her purpose after popping out a girl.” I gripped the phone so hard my nails cut into my palm. “Caleb, if Lily dies today, I will never forgive you.” “Whatever,” he said. “Mom said Vanessa can still give me a son.” “If you can’t, then step aside.” The line went dead. I listened to the dial tone, sliding down the wall to the floor. The trauma room doors opened. A doctor walked out, mask pulled down. “Family?” I scrambled up. “I’m her mother.” The doctor looked at me, eyes full of pity. “We got her back, but…” “But what?” “Because of the prolonged hypoxia, there’s brain damage.” “It might affect her intelligence, or even… permanent paralysis.” My vision went black. I grabbed the wall to stay upright. “How… she’s so small…” “We did our best.” The doctor sighed. “Go handle the admission. The ICU costs won’t be low.” I stumbled to the billing window. Card declined. Insufficient funds. Caleb only gave me $500 a month for “allowance,” saying it was “enough for a girl.” I called him. “What now?” Noisy background. Glasses clinking. Laughter. “Lily needs surgery. Transfer me $10,000.” “$10,000?” His voice spiked. “Grace, do you think I’m an ATM?” “Caleb, she’s your daughter!” “Just a girl. Even if we cure her, she’s a losing investment.” “Are you going to transfer it or not?” “No,” he said. “Earn it yourself if you’re so capable.” “Oh, and Mom said don’t bother coming back. Going to the hospital on New Year’s is bad luck.” “After the holidays, we’ll divorce.” “The house is mine. You didn’t pay for it, so you get nothing.” “As for Lily…” He paused. “If you can’t afford her, send her to an orphanage.” “I don’t want a burden anyway.” I hung up, drained of all strength. I looked at the billing clerk. “Can we treat her first? I’ll pay back slowly…” “Sorry, hospital policy. Deposit first.” I walked out of the hospital into the snow. My phone vibrated. Ethan. “Grace! Where are you? Caleb said Tessa got you?” “Ethan.” My voice was so calm it scared me. “Do me a favor.” “Name it!” “If I die, help me take care of Lily.” “What are you talking about!” “I have no money. Lily is dying.” “Caleb doesn’t want her. I can’t save her.” “Send her to an orphanage. At least she’ll live.” “Grace, don’t do anything stupid! Where are you? I’m coming!” “No need.” I hung up and turned off the phone. I walked back to the ICU. Lily lay there, tubes everywhere. Pale face, looking like she was just sleeping. I held her hand. “Baby, Mommy is sorry.” “In your next life, don’t be my child.” “Find a good family. Be a princess everyone loves.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then I turned and walked out. The hospital roof. The wind was howling. I stood on the edge, looking down. The people below looked like ants. One jump, and it would all be over. Lily would go to an orphanage. Caleb would marry Vanessa and have his son. Everyone would be happy. Except me and my daughter. I closed my eyes. Leaned forward. A hand grabbed my wrist. Yanked me back violently. I fell onto the concrete roof and looked up.

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On the second day of the Lunar New Year, my thirty-year-old cousin stomped on my limited edition figurine, crushing a $5,000 collectible into pieces. My Aunt Clara immediately shielded him behind her back, screeching at me with righteous indignation. “If you didn’t put your things away, they belong to Tyler now! Besides, aren’t you too old to be playing with toys?” My mother was shaking with anger. “How does something my daughter spent five grand on suddenly become yours?” Aunt Clara instantly sat on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing. “God help me! I come with good intentions to visit my own brother for the holidays, and my sister-in-law tries to extort five thousand dollars from me!” I pulled back my mom, who was on the verge of tears, and smiled at them. “It’s fine, Mom. It’s just a pile of plastic.” “It’s rare for Aunt Clara and Tyler to visit. We should treat them to something better.” Aunt Clara’s wailing stopped abruptly. She scrambled up, suspicious at first, then sneered. “Now that sounds like human speech. A girl like you can’t compare to my precious Tyler.” An hour later, Aunt Clara was handed a $500,000 compensation bill by the police. I smiled even brighter. “That’s right. My cousin is precious indeed.” 1 “See? That’s what I call sensible.” Aunt Clara’s heavy hand slapped my shoulder. “You can tell she’s been in the big city. She knows her place.” After saying that, she turned and rolled her eyes at my mother. “Unlike some people who’ve never left this village their whole lives. Long hair, short wit. Only knows how to protect a money-losing daughter.” My mother’s lips trembled, unable to say a word. Her precious thirty-year-old son, Tyler, was picking his teeth on the sofa, mumbling in agreement. “Making a fuss over a broken toy.” Aunt Clara pointed at the shattered remains of the figurine on the floor and ordered me around. “Sophie, sweep up those broken plastics. Tyler can take them home.” I paused. “Take them home for what?” “They’re broken anyway. We can sell them for scrap and get a few bucks. Can’t waste them.” She spoke as if she was disposing of her own property. Tyler grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He climbed off the sofa, walked over to the pile of fragments, and lifted his foot. Crunch. Crunch. He stomped down hard, grinding the figurine into dust. “Mom’s right. It’s trash anyway. Stomping it a few more times doesn’t matter.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Aunt Clara’s gaze had already been drawn to the holiday gifts and red envelopes on the coffee table. She picked up the thickest envelope and tore it open right in front of us. Pulling out the cash, she licked her finger and counted the bills one by one. “One, two, three… only two thousand?” Her voice suddenly rose, sharp and piercing. “David! You’re dismissing your own sister with this little money?” My father, David, an honest man his whole life, rubbed his hands together, looking troubled. “Sis, the factory hasn’t been doing well this year, and Sophie’s mom’s medical bills were high…” “I don’t care about that!” Aunt Clara violently threw the money in her hand at my mother’s face. “If you don’t have money, don’t pretend to be fat! What’s the use of raising a daughter? In the end, she’s just a losing investment!” The red bills scattered, the sharp edge of one slicing across my mother’s cheek, leaving a thin red line. My mother gasped, tears bursting from her eyes. She didn’t dare make a sound, just silently crouched down to pick up the money one by one. Tyler swaggered over and stepped on my mother’s hand. “Oops, Auntie, sorry. Didn’t see you.” He apologized with his mouth, but his foot ground down hard. My mother sucked in a breath of cold air, her hand instantly swelling red. The fire in my chest reached its peak. I calmly pushed Tyler aside and forced a bright smile onto my face. “Aunt Clara, Tyler, it’s the New Year. No need to get angry over small things.” “I’ll take you somewhere nice to open your eyes. The new Grand Era Gallery downtown. I heard it’s full of treasures.” Aunt Clara looked me up and down suspiciously. “A place like that? Can a working girl like you even get in?” Her eyes were full of contempt. “You’re not working there as a cleaner, are you?” I didn’t deny it. I just took out my phone, tapped a few times, and sent a message. [Prepare for guests.] Then I looked up, my smile unchanged. “You’ll know when we get there, won’t you?” Seeing my confidence, the greed in Aunt Clara’s eyes overpowered her suspicion, and she finally nodded. On the way to the garage, she lectured my parents, demanding dinner be even more lavish than lunch. Once in my car, she showed her true colors, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the floor mat. Tyler, meanwhile, stuffed his tangerine peels one by one into the crevices of the leather seats. I watched the ugly behavior of this mother and son, the smile on my lips growing wider. The car stopped in front of the magnificent main entrance of the Grand Era Gallery. Aunt Clara and Tyler stared at the building, eyes wide. “My god, Sophie, this place is so grand!” Greed and calculation shone unhidden in Aunt Clara’s eyes. I knew. The fish had taken the bait. 2 The Grand Era Gallery was closed today. It was open only for my aunt and cousin. I led them into the empty exhibition hall. In the magnificent lobby, only the sound of our footsteps echoed monotonously. Aunt Clara touched this and looked at that, constantly clicking her tongue in amazement. “Wow, is this pillar gold? This floor tile is shiny enough to be a mirror!” Tyler was even worse. He wanted to touch everything he saw. Blocked by glass cases, he slapped them hard with his palms. Thud, thud. The dull sounds echoed. The head of security at the door saw me and immediately straightened up, about to approach. “Miss So…” I shot him a glance, and he shut his mouth instantly, pretending not to know me and standing far away. Aunt Clara saw this but completely misinterpreted it. She thought the security guard was scared off by her presence, and she stood even straighter. She turned to brag to my mother: “See? In places for rich people, even the watchdogs know who to respect.” My mother looked worried, tugging secretly at my sleeve. “Sophie, the things here are too expensive. Don’t let them touch anything. We can’t afford to pay if they break something.” I patted her hand reassuringly, then deliberately raised my voice. “Aunt Clara, Tyler, look all you want. Have fun.” Hearing this, Aunt Clara and Tyler’s eyes lit up instantly. “Really? You said it!” Aunt Clara looked skeptical. “Of course. Why would I lie to you?” I smiled with utmost sincerity. With my guarantee, they completely let loose. Aunt Clara pointed at a colorful Tang Dynasty ceramic horse in the center of the hall and insulted my mother. “Sister-in-law, look at this horse. Doesn’t it look like you?” My mother froze. “Working like a horse for David your whole life, exhausted, and can’t even birth a son. Useless.” The harsh words were like knives, turning my mother’s face pale instantly. Tyler wasn’t idle either. He set his sights on an ivory folding fan in a glass case, carved with exquisite landscapes. “I want that fan! Mom, I want to take it out and fan myself!” He whined like a three-year-old. I walked over slowly, looking regretful. “Tyler, this case is special bulletproof glass. It’s locked.” “Only the curator has the key. I can’t open it either.” “Bullshit!” Tyler cursed. “What crappy cabinet? Watch me kick it open!” He stepped back, gathered his strength, and kicked the display case hard. BANG! The loud noise hurt our eardrums. The case didn’t budge. Tyler clutched his foot, grimacing in pain. Aunt Clara didn’t stop him; instead, she clapped and cheered. “Good! Kick it hard! My Tyler is so strong, he’ll be a big boss for sure!” “Another kick! Shatter this stupid glass!” The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a message from the monitoring room staff. [Ms. Sophie, should we call the police?] I lowered my eyes, tapping the screen lightly to reply. [Wait.] Thinking for a moment, I added another sentence. [The amount isn’t high enough yet.] My mother couldn’t stand it anymore and ran over to stop the crazy Tyler. “Tyler, stop kicking! That’s an artifact! You’ll go to jail if you break it!” Seeing this, Aunt Clara rushed forward and shoved my mother hard. “Get away! You jinx, daring to curse my son with jail?” Caught off guard, my mother slammed her back against a stone pillar with a muffled groan. She was in so much pain she couldn’t straighten up, tears circling in her eyes. Aunt Clara wasn’t done. She pointed at me as I rushed to help my mother and cursed loudly. “Losing investment! Just like your heirless mother!” I ignored her screaming. I took a bottle of water from my bag. Unscrewing the cap, I handed it to her with a smile. “Auntie, you must be thirsty after shouting so much.” “Drink some water to soothe your throat so you have the strength to keep playing.” Aunt Clara snatched the water and gulped down half the bottle. She wiped her mouth and threw the bottle on the floor in disgust. “What is this trash? Not even as good as tap water.” After walking around the hall, Aunt Clara’s thieving eyes started darting around. She walked to an inconspicuous corner. While I wasn’t looking, she stuffed a Qing Dynasty snuff bottle into her large cloth bag. All of this was recorded clearly by the surveillance cameras in the corner. Having stolen something, Aunt Clara grew bolder. She set her sights on me. Her gaze fell on the bag I was carrying. “Sophie, what good stuff do you have in there?” Saying that, she reached out to grab it. I didn’t resist, letting her snatch it away. Aunt Clara unzipped it and dumped the bag upside down. Everything inside clattered to the floor. Lipstick, powder compact, tissues, and my work ID and a personal seal. She picked up the seal, examining it, thinking it was gold or jade. “Ooh, what’s this? Gold?” Then, she picked up my work ID. When she read the words on it, she let out a shrill laugh. “Grand Era Gallery Art Restorer? Sophie, after all that, you just fix junk?” Tyler also came over and stepped on my lipstick, crushing it. He saw my phone on the floor and snatched it. “Unlock it! I want to play games!” he ordered. I looked at him coldly. “No.” “You wanna die!” Enraged by my attitude, Tyler smashed my phone hard onto the floor. The screen shattered. My mother looked at the fragments on the floor, heartbroken. “You child! That phone cost over a thousand dollars!” She tried to pick it up but was shoved away by Tyler. “Get lost, old hag!” My mother stumbled, her forehead hitting the sharp corner of a display case. A trail of blood ran down her temple. “Mom!” I rushed to support her. Aunt Clara looked at my mother’s bleeding forehead and spat on the ground. “Deserved it! Heirless woman, this is your karma!” My mother covered her wound, trembling, tears rolling down. She grabbed my arm, her voice pleading. “Sophie, let’s go home. Let’s go home, please? Mom begs you…” I held her cold hand tightly, my heart clenching. I looked at the wound on her forehead, at her despairing eyes, and a wave of fury hit me. I leaned into her ear, my voice so low only we could hear. “Mom, endure for five more minutes.” “Just five minutes.” “Today, we take back everything we’ve suffered in this life, with interest.” My mother froze, looking at me in confusion. I helped her stand, turned around, and put the docile smile back on my face. I led the still-shouting Aunt Clara and Tyler into the deepest part of the gallery. The Supreme Hall. In the center of the hall, displayed alone, was an ancient painting I had spent countless hours restoring—Spring Mountains. Aunt Clara looked disdainful. “Just this ragged painting? Colors are fading. Not even as nice as my wall calendar.” I didn’t argue. Instead, I lowered my voice and whispered mysteriously: “Auntie, Tyler, don’t underestimate this painting.” “I heard the curator say there’s a secret hidden inside.” Tyler was instantly interested. “What secret?” I leaned closer, voice even lower. “There are gold threads in the interlayer of the paper.” “Tear it open, and it’s full of gold.” As soon as the words left my mouth, greedy light exploded in Aunt Clara and Tyler’s eyes. “Gold? Are you serious?” Aunt Clara’s voice pitched up, sharp and ear-piercing. She stared dead at the Spring Mountains. Tyler pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Click. The blade flashed cold light. “Who cares if it’s real or fake? Cut it open and see!” He raised the knife and charged at the ancient painting. “No!” My mother screamed, trying to stop him. Too late. RIIIP! Almost simultaneously, piercing alarms rang through the entire gallery. Red warning lights flashed wildly, making Aunt Clara and Tyler’s faces look ghastly pale. “What’s happening? Why is it ringing?” Aunt Clara was scared out of her wits. Tyler panicked too, dropping the knife with a clatter. Just then, Aunt Clara snapped out of it. She turned and slapped me across the face with all her might. Smack! Pain exploded on my cheek, ears ringing. “Sophie! It was you, you little bitch! You told Tyler to cut it!” She shrieked at the rushing security guards. “Come look! This black-hearted girl wants to frame her own cousin!” Tyler immediately found his scapegoat and pointed at me along with his mother. “Yeah! It was her! Sophie told me to cut it however I wanted!” Security guards quickly surrounded us. Aunt Clara pulled at me, trying to push me forward to take the blame. “Grab her! She did it! It has nothing to do with us!” The gallery doors burst open. My father, David, ran in panting, followed by several police officers. Aunt Clara’s eyes lit up. She let go of me and threw herself at my father, pounding his chest and wailing. “David! Look at the good daughter you raised!” “What a vicious heart! She wants Tyler to go to jail!” She cried with tears and snot, her acting impeccable. “If you don’t make her kneel and apologize to my Tyler today, I’ll die right here in front of you!” Saying that, she actually grabbed the knife and held it to her own neck. My father, honest to a fault, turned pale with fright, his legs going weak. “Sis, don’t be impulsive, let’s talk…” The scene was chaotic to the extreme. Under everyone’s gaze, I took out a second phone. I pressed play. Clear video and audio flowed from the phone. Aunt Clara insulting my mother, Tyler smashing my phone. Their bandit-like behavior, and finally their false accusations… Everything was recorded. The noisy hall fell deathly silent. The knife at Aunt Clara’s neck clattered to the floor. I walked up to her step by step, watching her trembling body, and spoke clearly, word by word. “Auntie, I forgot to tell you.” “This Spring Mountains painting is a national treasure.” “Its base valuation is five hundred thousand dollars.” The leading officer walked up to me, expression serious. “Director Sophie, we came as soon as we got the call.” “Director… Sophie?” Aunt Clara pointed at me in disbelief, her voice cracking. “What did you call her? She fixes trash! A working girl!” I smiled faintly, pointing at the limp Tyler and Aunt Clara, and said to the police: “Officer, these two are suspected of intentionally damaging precious cultural relics, the amount is exceptionally large.” “Also suspected of theft, and intentional injury.” “Please, handle this with the utmost severity.” Aunt Clara lunged from the ground, pouncing at me to grab the phone. “You little bitch! Give me the evidence!” I dodged sideways, and she slammed heavily onto the floor. In her hand, she was still clutching the stolen snuff bottle. I looked down at her, my tone icy. “Cousin really is precious.” “One move of his hand, and it’s five hundred grand.” 3 Aunt Clara went completely mad, screaming hysterically. “I’m her aunt! She’s framing me! You can’t arrest me!” Her answer was a click. Cold handcuffs locked onto her wrists. “Sophie Summers, Curator of Grand Era Gallery, National Level 1 Art Restorer.” The officer verified my ID. Every word hammered into Aunt Clara’s heart. The color drained from her face, and she collapsed. The woman who was throwing a tantrum seconds ago was now muttering blankly. “Impossible… this is impossible…” “A little girl… how can she be the curator…” The shock of reality shattered her mind. Tyler was even more wretched. The moment the handcuffs clicked, a foul stench spread. He had peed his pants in fear. “Not me! It was Sophie! She told me to cut it!” He pointed at me, snot and tears streaming down his face. “Officer, my mom can testify! She instigated me!” This woke Aunt Clara up. She jerked her head up and crawled to my feet. “Sophie! My good niece! Auntie was wrong! Auntie isn’t human!” She cried while slapping her own face. “Let your cousin go! He’s still a child, he can’t go to jail!” “If he goes to jail, his life is ruined!” A security guard nearby couldn’t help but mutter, “Still a child? He’s twice my size.” Aunt Clara glared at him viciously, then immediately switched back to sobbing. “We’re family! Flesh and blood! How can you be so cruel!” Family? Laughable. When she pushed my mother down, causing her to bleed, did she mention family? When Tyler stepped on my mother’s hand, maliciously grinding it, did she think about flesh and blood? I coldly pushed her hand away and stepped back. “Auntie, it’s too late for that.” “From the moment you laid hands on my mother, there was nothing left between us but the law.” My voice was soft, but it stopped her crying instantly. She looked at me in disbelief, her eyes filled only with venom. “Sophie! You have a cruel heart! You’ll get your karma!” My father, David, finally recovered from his immense shock. He looked at his handcuffed sister and nephew. This honest man’s face was full of pain. His lips moved, wanting to beg for mercy. “Sophie…” I cut him off directly. “Dad, Mom’s head is still bleeding.” I helped up my silent, weeping mother. Without another glance at the mother and son, I walked past them. Behind me came Aunt Clara’s hysterical curses. “Sophie! You heirless wretch who deserves to die horribly! I won’t let you go even as a ghost!” I didn’t stop. A ghost? Fine. But before that, you have to survive hell on earth. Dad and I took Mom to the hospital. The doctor said the wound wasn’t deep, but she had a mild concussion and needed observation. After settling Mom in, Dad sat by the bed sighing, wanting to speak but afraid to. I knew he wanted to persuade me. Blood is thicker than water; forgive and forget. I didn’t give him the chance. A call came in. From the police station. They told me Aunt Clara was throwing a tantrum at the station. Insisting it was a family dispute and demanding a private settlement. She was even calling every relative to cry and complain. Exaggerating how her niece was heartless and cruel. Trying to send her own aunt to jail over a painting. As soon as the call ended, my phone started vibrating wildly. The family group chat exploded. Uncle Bob: [Sophie, your aunt says you’re suing her? It’s New Year’s, don’t make it so ugly.] Aunt Helen: [Sophie, Tyler is your cousin. He’s immature, just let it go.] [It’s just a painting, let them pay for it!] Uncle Mike was the most direct, tagging my dad: [David! Control your daughter! She’s shaming the Summers family name!] Dozens of people in the group. Not one asked about my mom’s injury. Not one cared about the truth. All lecturing me. These words were like dull knives cutting my father’s heart. His lips trembled, wanting to defend me, but he couldn’t type a single word. I remained expressionless. Unlocked my phone, found the full surveillance video. And threw it directly into the family group. The video wasn’t long, but it recorded all the ugliness. Aunt Clara’s tantrum, Tyler smashing the figurine. Aunt Clara throwing money to cut my mom’s face, Tyler stepping on my mom’s hand. How they smashed my gallery stuff, pushed my mom until she bled. Finally, how they cut the painting in front of me and framed me. In the video, the faces of that mother and son were nauseating. The group chat that was spamming messages a second ago went dead silent. For a full five minutes. Aunt Helen cautiously popped up: [This… how could Clara treat her sister-in-law like that?] Uncle Bob: [Tyler is an animal! Hitting an elder!] The wind changed instantly. The people who were advising me to be generous started condemning Aunt Clara and her son. Uncle Mike: [David, this is Clara’s fault. Do what needs to be done, we won’t interfere.] Aunt Helen: [Right, who needs relatives like that!] My father looked at the chat history and let out a long sigh. He never mentioned pleading for them again. Clara, Tyler. You will pay the price for what you’ve done. The next day, my legal team officially stepped in. Intentional destruction of property, theft, intentional injury. Multiple crimes punished together. Tyler faced prison time. Aunt Clara, as an accomplice and instigator, couldn’t escape either. The lawyers moved fast, applying for property preservation immediately. The court ruling came down quickly. Aunt Clara’s old apartment downtown? Seized. The wedding house she bought for Tyler? Seized. All bank accounts in her name? Frozen. When the news reached the detention center, Aunt Clara went crazy on the spot. She banged her head against the bars, screaming that the house was her life. Cursing me, her niece, for being heartless and trying to kill her. Tyler, hearing this in the interrogation room, completely collapsed. His arrogance was gone. Snot and tears covered his face as he slumped in the chair, shaking like a leaf. To reduce his sentence, he started frantically biting his own mother. “It was all my mom! She made me do it!” “She said Sophie’s family is rich, breaking things doesn’t matter!” “She said there was gold in the painting and told me to cut it open!” “Officer, I was the one tricked! I’m the victim!” The police relayed the confession verbatim to Aunt Clara. The mother and son who were usually so close turned against each other completely. Aunt Clara couldn’t believe it. Her precious son, whom she had pampered for thirty years, sold her out completely to save himself. She cursed in the detention center, calling Tyler an ingrate, a beast she raised in vain. Separated by cold walls, the mother and son tearing at each other became the biggest joke in the detention center. And I watched it all with cold eyes. My father held the materials submitted by the lawyer, looking at the astronomical compensation figure, his hands shaking. “Sophie, do we really… have to go this far?” He was soft-hearted after all. I didn’t speak. I just took out a thick stack of IOUs from my bag and slapped them in front of him. “Dad, look at these.” Each one was evidence of Aunt Clara borrowing money from us. Game console for Tyler, $500. Sponsorship fee for school, $8,000. Car for him, $15,000. Wedding house, $30,000. Totaling over $80,000. Item by item, page by page, all his soft-heartedness and indulgence. Aunt Clara never intended to pay back this money. Whenever my parents mentioned it, she would throw a tantrum, scolding my dad for not caring about his nephew, calling us rich and heartless. “Dad, have we helped her little over the years?” “She took our kindness for granted, our concessions for weakness.” “Today she dared to let Tyler step on Mom’s hand. Tomorrow she’ll dare to stab us with a knife.” “Why should we be soft-hearted to such an ungrateful vampire?” My words, like hammers, struck his heart. He looked at the yellowing IOUs, then turned to look at my mother on the hospital bed, still dizzy and nauseous from the concussion. The hesitation in his eyes was finally replaced by heavy guilt and anger. He picked up the pen and, on another document prepared by the lawyer, solemnly signed his name stroke by stroke. No more hesitation. It was a lawsuit to recover all debts with interest. Old debts should be settled with new hatreds. My mother stayed in the hospital for two weeks. During this time, Aunt Clara and Tyler were formally arrested and transferred to the prosecutor’s office. The relatives who had clamored in the group chat disappeared completely. No one dared to visit. Good. Saved my mom the trouble. The day she was discharged, she had lost weight, but her eyes were clearer than ever. She looked out the window for a long time, then suddenly spoke. “Sophie, I used to think taking a step back meant peace in the family.” “Now I understand. With some people, the more you retreat, the more they think you’re easy to bully.”

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Two years ago, my best friend’s catering business was on the brink of bankruptcy. I put my own job on the line to secure her an exclusive contract with my company’s cafeteria. That deal was worth over a million dollars a year. I thought she would be grateful for life. Until someone sent me a recording. It was her husband’s voice: “Her? She’s just skimming kickbacks from us. Don’t act like she’s some saint.” I listened to it and smiled. I didn’t explain. I didn’t confront them. Three days later, the contract was awarded to the restaurant she hated most. When she called me, sobbing and begging, I replied with just two words: “Reflect on it.” 1 On a sunny Friday afternoon, I felt a chill that reached my bones. An anonymous email sat in my inbox with a subject line of just two words: “Listen.” The attachment was an audio file. My finger hovered over the mouse, a sense of dread gripping my heart. I put on my headphones and clicked play. After a burst of background noise, a man’s rough, bragging voice pierced my eardrums. It was Greg, my best friend Chloe’s husband. “Audrey? Don’t let her ‘professional’ act fool you. She acts so high and mighty.” “She gave us the contract, sure, but you think she isn’t taking a cut?” “A million dollars in revenue a year, and she doesn’t want a penny? Is she running a charity? Do you believe that?” “It’s just that my Chloe is too honest and kind, willing to let her take advantage. Otherwise, why would such a good thing fall into her lap?” “She’s a butcher. She talks about helping, but she’s holding a knife, cutting our meat piece by piece.” “If it weren’t for the money she brings, who would want to kiss her ass?” The recording wasn’t long, three minutes and twenty seconds. I listened to it expressionlessly. Once, twice. Until that sharp, mean tone drove every word into my brain like steel needles. I took off my headphones. The office was so quiet I could hear the hum of the central AC. The cold air crept down my neck, chilling me to my feet. My mind involuntarily flashed back to two years ago. Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen” had a broken capital chain. She couldn’t pay wages for months and was about to close down. She came to me with red eyes, a woman nearing thirty crying like a child in front of me. “Audrey, help me. This restaurant is my mom’s life’s work. I can’t let it die.” We grew up together. I couldn’t watch her fall. During that time, I withstood pressure from everyone in the company, slamming tables in board meetings with senior directors. I used my position as Administrative Director and my personal reputation as collateral to guarantee that “Chloe’s Kitchen” would provide top-tier catering service. In the end, I secured the exclusive contract for the company cafeteria for her. A steady flow of over a million dollars a year was enough to bring her back from the dead. The day we signed the contract, Chloe held my hand, crying harder than before. She said, “Audrey, I’ll remember this kindness for the rest of my life.” “From now on, my life is yours.” Greg, standing beside her, dropped his usual aloofness. He bowed and scraped, his face piled with a flattering smile. He served me tea and peeled fruit, calling me “Sister Audrey” sweeter than a real brother. “Sister Audrey, you are our family’s savior. We’ll work like horses for you.” The more sincere the smiles in my memory, the more vicious the voice in the recording. Two years. Just two years. The friendship I wholeheartedly protected was, in their eyes, just a transaction to brag about and smear. The help I thought was saving a life became the “kickbacks” of my insatiable greed in their mouths. A wave of physiological nausea rose from my stomach. I didn’t call to question or argue in anger as they might have imagined. Meaningless. Arguing with ungrateful wolves only dirties my mouth. I carefully saved the recording and the email into an encrypted folder. Then, I closed my email as if nothing had happened. I opened the company’s internal supplier database and typed three words. “Taste of Home.” The light from the computer screen reflected coldly on my gold-rimmed glasses. I calmly handled all the afternoon’s pending work, wrote my weekly report, and organized the agenda for next week’s meeting. At 5:30 PM, I clocked out on time. Walking out of the office building, the city lights were just coming on. But the warmth of the world could no longer reach my heart. Before the storm, it is always calm. 2 The next day was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to the office. But my biological clock woke me up at 7 AM sharp. Outside, the sky was gray, threatening rain. I didn’t stay in bed. I got up, washed, and made myself a simple breakfast. My phone vibrated. A small internal company group chat was flashing. A few colleagues I was on good terms with were chatting. “Omg, did you guys eat the lunch yesterday? That braised pork was so greasy I almost threw up.” “More than greasy, I suspect the kitchen spilled the salt shaker. It was bitter.” “It’s been two months. The cafeteria food is getting worse. Too salty, too oily, bugs in the vegetables.” “Shh, keep it down. She’s Director Audrey’s relative after all. We shouldn’t say too much.” “What relative? I heard they’re best friends. Tight as thieves.” “But it should still be worth the money we pay, right? This quality is worse than cheap takeout.” The phrase “Director Audrey’s relative” pricked my eyes like a tiny thorn. I put down my sandwich, appetite gone. Because of Chloe, my professionalism had been discounted in the eyes of my colleagues. I became the person who practiced nepotism, sacrificing employee welfare to take care of “connections.” I opened Instagram and scrolled down out of habit. Greg’s profile picture appeared in the latest feed. A carefully edited selfie with the steering wheel of a brand-new black sports car in the background, the logo shining brightly. On his wrist was a new luxury watch. The caption read: “Wifey worked hard. All our efforts deserve the best rewards!” Between the lines, uncontrollable pride and showing off. I clicked on the picture and zoomed in. Blinding. I laughed coldly. So “efforts” meant badmouthing me behind my back, painting me as a greedy vampire? It meant lowering the employee food standards again and again, cutting costs to fund your luxury life? Under the post, Chloe’s comment was first. A heart emoji, followed by: “Hubby is the best!” How loving. How harmonious. My finger unconsciously scrolled up, looking through their posts from the last two years. From cautious beginnings to reckless extravagance. New car today, new house tomorrow, Europe trip the day after. Greg’s feed was a live record of a nouveau riche lifestyle. And me? I looked down at my phone, used for almost three years, scratches on the edges. For two years, to help their restaurant balance the books and get on track, I even proactively shortened their settlement period from quarterly to monthly. This meant so much more communication and paperwork for me, so many more rounds with Finance. Did they forget all this? No, they didn’t forget. They just felt it was all deserved. That I should do it. The fire suppressed in my chest finally found an outlet and burned fiercely. I’m not running a charity. My kindness and friendship are not cheap goods for them to squander and trample on. I exited Instagram and found a number in my contacts I rarely contacted. The note said “Taste of Home – Leo.” I dialed his number. “Hello?” A capable, steady male voice came from the other end. “Mr. Leo, hello. This is Audrey Lin.” My voice was calm, without a ripple. “I’d like to meet you to discuss the cafeteria supplier contract for our company. Do you have time tomorrow?” 3 I met Leo at a downtown coffee shop. He arrived before me. When I entered, he was sitting by the window with a laptop, typing rapidly. He wore a well-fitted dark gray suit, hair combed meticulously, radiating professionalism. Seeing me, he immediately closed his laptop, stood up, and extended his hand. “Director Lin, pleasure.” His hand was warm and firm, his gaze open and bright. “Mr. Leo, likewise.” We sat opposite each other, skipping the small talk. Leo took a thick stack of documents from his briefcase and pushed them to me. “Director Lin, this is our initial catering proposal and quote tailored for your company.” I flipped through it. The plan was incredibly detailed, covering nutritional balance, a seven-day non-repeating menu, and custom meals for holidays. Every ingredient source and inspection report was attached at the back. Most importantly, his quote, while guaranteeing higher quality, was actually 10% cheaper than Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen.” I looked up at him. Leo met my gaze frankly. “Director Lin, I won’t hide it from you. I have a bit of a history with Greg from Chloe’s Kitchen.” He didn’t embellish, just stated facts calmly. “My previous head chef was poached by him with triple the salary, taking several of our signature recipes.” “After that, he went around saying Taste of Home’s food wasn’t fresh and hygiene wasn’t up to standard.” I listened quietly without interrupting. I had heard rumors of these old grudges in the catering world, but hearing it from the person involved felt different. There was no resentment on Leo’s face, only a businessman’s calm and honesty. “So, if your company is willing to give me this chance,” he paused, his tone firm, “I am willing to offer another two percent discount on this basis. Furthermore, I can personally sign an unlimited joint liability food safety guarantee with the company.” “I need this order not just for profit, but to prove that Taste of Home is better than them.” His eyes shone with an unconquerable, vigorous ambition. This contrasted sharply with Chloe’s helpless cowardice and Greg’s narrow vanity. I appreciated him. A reliable adult, a trustworthy partner, should look like this. “Mr. Leo.” I closed the proposal, leaning forward slightly to look into his eyes. “Your professionalism and honesty have moved me.” “No need for the extra discount. We’ll go with this quote.” “I have only one request. From the first day of cooperation, I want my colleagues to eat the best work meals in the city.” Leo’s eyes lit up instantly. He nodded heavily: “Director Lin, rest assured. I guarantee it with my reputation.” We drafted a letter of intent on the spot. Shaking hands goodbye, Leo said to me: “Director Lin, thank you.” I smiled: “You should thank your own professionalism.” Returning to the empty office, I sat at my desk and opened my computer. First, I drafted a formal report on terminating the catering service cooperation with “Chloe’s Kitchen.” In the report, I included no personal emotions. Only facts. I attached screenshots and negative data statistics from the internal forum and anonymous feedback channels regarding poor food quality and hygiene concerns over the past three months. Employee satisfaction had dropped from 90% two years ago to less than 30% now. Shocking. Next, I drafted a second report on the public tender and introduction of the new supplier “Taste of Home.” In the proposal, I made a clear comparison table between Leo’s plan and quote versus “Chloe’s Kitchen’s” current service and price. The winner was obvious at a glance. All documents were ready. I saved them on the desktop, named “Final Plan.” The sky outside darkened. Looking at the cold text on the screen, my heart was calm. Everything was ready. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 4 Monday, 9:00 AM. The internal bulletin board and all employees’ inboxes received a notification from the Administration Department simultaneously. “Notice Regarding the Change of Cafeteria Catering Service Supplier”. Black and white, official wording, but it was like a depth charge dropped into a calm lake. The whole company boiled over. Break rooms, office areas, department group chats were instantly flooded with cheers of “Long live,” “Finally changed,” and “Admin is wise.” A colleague even posted a screenshot of the notice on social media with the caption: “Happiest thing today: finally don’t have to eat pig swill anymore!” 10:30 AM. The delivery van from “Chloe’s Kitchen” drove slowly downstairs as usual. Then, it was stopped by security. “Sorry, sir. Starting today, our company has changed cafeteria suppliers. Your vehicle cannot enter the garage.” The driver, Chloe’s cousin, was dumbfounded. He immediately called Chloe. When Chloe got the call, she probably thought it was a mistake. She hung up and started calling me frantically. Once, twice, three times. Watching the name “Chloe” flashing on my screen, I muted it and tossed the phone to the corner of my desk. When calls didn’t work, she started texting. “Audrey, what’s going on? Security won’t let our car in.” “Are you joking? Tell them to let us in.” “Audrey? Answer me!” I ignored her. At this moment, I was in the conference room with Leo and the legal department, signing the formal contract. Leo had changed into a more formal dark suit, excitement unhidden in his eyes. He signed his name, then we exchanged contracts and shook hands. “Pleasure working with you.” “Pleasure.” On the other side, Chloe, receiving no reply, was going crazy. She abandoned her car on the roadside and rushed into our company lobby like a headless fly. “I’m looking for Audrey Lin! I’m your supplier!” she shouted at the reception. My secretary had received my instructions and politely but firmly stopped her. “Ms. Chen, sorry, Director Lin is in a meeting. You cannot go up without an appointment.” Blocked outside the turnstiles, she sweated profusely, spinning in circles. The embarrassment of her predicament turned her decent face liver-red. She finally gave up, took out her phone, and sent me a long text message. Her tone shifted from questioning to panic-stricken begging. “Audrey, what do you mean? Our friendship of so many years, how can you cut it off just like that? Without even a heads-up?” “Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I’ll change, okay?” “Pick up the phone! Say something! If you do this, my restaurant is finished!” I finished signing, saw Leo off, and returned to my office. Picking up my phone, I saw the text full of breakdown. I looked at it calmly, then typed four words. “Reflect on yourself.” Sent. At the same time, Greg’s social media exploded. He probably saw the celebratory screenshots from my colleagues or got a call from Chloe. He sent a string of question marks in our mutual friend group. “@Audrey, what’s the meaning of this?” No one answered him. Minutes later, he posted a new status, naming no names, but obvious to everyone. “Some people are truly ungrateful wolves. Give them a little sunshine and they think they’re the sun. Who do they think they are!” The picture was a selfie of him rolling his eyes. Looking at that twisted, resentful face, I only found it laughable. The show had just begun.

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Of all the second-generation billionaires in my circle, I chose the only doctor for our arranged marriage. Only after we were married did I realize—he’s exactly like the doctor best friend in every romance novel who gets dragged out of bed at 3 AM to treat the female lead! After witnessing this happen multiple times, I decided to scrap my plan of trying to make this marriage work romantically. I mean, seriously. Who wants to compete with a billionaire’s love interest? But I never expected one thing: he can read my mind. For people like us, we always knew an arranged marriage was coming. It’s fine, really. We enjoy so many privileges; it’s only fair we pay a price. I was lucky enough to choose my own partner—from a pool of eligible heirs, of course. Honestly, it didn’t matter who it was. Everyone knows these marriages are just for show, a way to cement business deals between families. But since I had a choice, I wanted someone… normal. According to my intel: One guy is still obsessed with his ex who’s studying abroad. Hard pass. Another is playing some “cat and mouse” game with his kept woman. Pass. And a third just started sponsoring a D-list actress. Definitely pass. After picking through the lot, I landed on Caleb Vance. The few memories I had of him were of a refined, elegant man. His name sounds like a classic CEO, but he’s actually the only one in the group who isn’t. Caleb is a doctor. A genuine academic who got into the top medical school in the country on his own merit, completing his MD and PhD in one go. He fits the image perfectly: gentle, polite, always looking clean and sophisticated. Every time I see him, he’s wearing white or light-colored suits. With his doctor filter, he almost seems saintly. Our engagement went smoothly. Our parents hit it off immediately. I heard Caleb agreed without hesitation. So, in just a month, I went from single since birth to a married woman. From the day of the wedding, I moved into the house he bought for us. The beige interior suited him perfectly. That day, after giving me a tour, Caleb led me to the master bedroom. His voice was warm and gentle: “Even though this is an arranged marriage, I don’t want it to be just for show. I hope we can take things slow, get to know each other, and build a real relationship.” He pointed to the guest room across the hall. “I’ll sleep there. Don’t be nervous. I won’t force anything until we’re both ready.” I went into the master bedroom and closed the door. Honestly, he was better than I expected. I always assumed that even without scandals, his friends were all typical rich playboys with their “pets.” Birds of a feather, right? Even though he seemed different, I didn’t have high hopes. I just wanted a peaceful marriage. As long as no one caused trouble in front of me, I wouldn’t care what he did outside. Two months passed in a blink. One night, after a shower, I lay in bed staring at the scandalously skimpy nightgown beside me. My heart started racing. Look, Caleb might be a gentleman with no impure thoughts. But I am not! I’ve been single for over twenty years and barely held a man’s hand, but my mind is definitely rated R. With a legitimate, handsome husband right here, why should I live like a nun? Plus, over the last two months, he’s come home at 6 PM every day. We’ve had cozy dinners, gone shopping on weekends, and he’s even waited patiently while I got my nails and hair done. We’ve binged cheesy soap operas on the couch together. I have to admit, I’m kind of falling for him. One day, I was out shopping with friends and realized it was 5:30 PM. My first thought was, I need to go home. I paused, realizing I truly saw that house as my home. I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected. Seeing the chaos in our circle—including my own parents’ dramatic affairs and illegitimate children popping up—I thought I had no hope for love or family. But the quiet consistency of our life was powerful. Thinking about Caleb’s character, I felt a surge of confidence. I wanted to gamble on this. Maybe trusting someone, trusting in love, could actually work out? Caleb’s parents are one of the few happily married couples in our circle. Surely, the son they raised is trustworthy… right? Even if it’s a trap, maybe it’s one everyone has to walk into eventually. I put on the black lace nightgown, tiptoed to Caleb’s door, struck a pose I learned online, and knocked lightly. The door opened. Caleb froze. He looked left and right, clearly searching for something to cover me with, but failed. Our eyes met. His gaze darkened. Finally, his voice raspy, he asked, “Chloe, are you sure?” With my nod, he swept me up and carried me to the bed. The room was dim, lit only by a warm bedside lamp. The weight of another person pressed down on me. His warmth on my face, shoulders, back, and waist… his hands, his kisses… everywhere he touched burned. I felt like I was melting. My brain turned to mush. I was pliable as water under him. Turning my head, I saw the pristine white sheets and had the inappropriate thought: If we make a mess, it’ll be really obvious. But I didn’t get to find out. Just as I had turned into a puddle and Caleb was about to take off his shirt, his phone rang. Caleb took a few deep breaths, exhaling hot air. He propped himself up on one arm and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. “Dr. Vance, Mr. Sterling drank too much and is in severe pain. Can you come over?” The anxious male voice on the other end sounded familiar. I think I’d heard him with one of the other CEOs. Caleb paused. When he spoke, his voice was incredibly hoarse. “I know. I’ll be there.” I snapped out of my haze. I grabbed his half-removed shirt. “Don’t go!” Caleb met my eyes. He lowered his head, gently biting my lip, and coaxed, “Be good. I need to check on him.” Watching him get dressed, anger flared in my chest. I stared at his back, cursing internally: Be good? I’ll go check? Ha! Who knows if you’re checking on a bro or a babe. He froze, stuttering in his movements, and turned to look at me with a complicated expression. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head and continued dressing. I kept up my internal monologue: Go ahead, go. Who can stop you, Mr. Saint? Ambulances are useless, hospitals are useless. You must have magic powers if only you can save him… I felt better after venting silently. But as he left, I saw him stumble. Must have been my imagination. After all, he’s famous for being unflappable. Before closing the door, he said, “Chloe, I’ll be back soon.” I don’t know when I fell asleep, but he hadn’t returned. When I woke up, he was sleeping beside me, back in his pajamas from last night. Seeing him just made me angrier. Seriously? You can just leave in the middle of that? Even when he reached over me for the phone, I could feel the heat radiating off him. I angrily chewed on my toast. Caleb walked out. Seeing my face, he chuckled softly. He hugged me from behind and whispered in my ear, “Sorry. Sterling is in a bad spot. He had gastric bleeding recently, so I was worried.” It happened. I didn’t want to dwell on it. But after he left for work, I watched a drama on TV. The plot involved a CEO chasing his runaway lover. The female lead got hurt, and the CEO called his doctor friend to treat her. It hit me like a bolt of lightning. The plots of all those romance novels I’d read flooded my brain. Wait. Isn’t Caleb exactly like that poor doctor friend who always gets called in the middle of the night? We have plenty of CEOs around us. Gastric bleeding? Check. Doctor friend? Check. Midnight call? Check. I imagined Caleb being summoned by this CEO today, that CEO tomorrow… a pitiful tool, running around like a tired puppy. I couldn’t help but laugh. That night, I didn’t make a move. But Caleb knocked on my door. His hair was styled, and he smelled of cologne. He looked at me with smiling eyes. “Can you take me in tonight?” I raised an eyebrow. “No one needs a checkup tonight?” He didn’t speak. He cupped my face and kissed me, gentle and teasing. With the previous night’s experience, things went smoother. Until he took off his shirt. We both froze, terrified the phone would ring. We looked at the phone, then at each other, and almost burst out laughing. He leaned in close, his voice thick with amusement, hot breath tickling my ear. “I’m not leaving tonight.” My face burned. Jeez, making it sound like I’m the desperate one. That night taught me a lesson: don’t judge a book by its cover. Caleb is a good person. Objectively speaking. Professionally, he’s dedicated to curing incurable diseases. Personally, he has a great temper, is filial to his parents, loyal to his friends, and takes excellent care of me. However, being too good has its downsides. It’s not the first time. Just as we’re about to celebrate an anniversary or go on a trip, a friend calls. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s always at the worst time. The assistants’ voices on the phone are always trembling and pitiful. Sometimes a CEO has gastric bleeding from drinking. Sometimes a CEO’s “forced love” antics have left someone physically collapsed. What can I do? They make it sound life-threatening. I can’t stop him. Though I’m speechless. Is calling an ambulance that hard? Does it have to be Caleb? I laughed thinking he was a tool in a novel. But this is reality. Not calling the police or going to a hospital? Even though he rushes back every time, the mood is ruined. Today is our first wedding anniversary. Last night, I specifically told Caleb I didn’t want any interruptions today. His lab has made progress recently, so he’s been busy. We went grocery shopping together, a rare treat. On my birthday, Caleb surprised me by cooking. It was amazing—restaurant quality, and all my favorite dishes. When we first confessed our feelings, we made a big deal out of every holiday. But for this anniversary, we just wanted to shop and cook a quiet dinner together. Watching Caleb busy in the kitchen, I felt dazed. A year ago, I never imagined my married life would be like this. Not explosive, but warm. I walked over and hugged his waist from behind, rubbing my face against his back. He chuckled and was about to speak. The phone rang. I pressed my lips together. I have PTSD from his ringtone now. I listened against his back. “Dr. Vance, please come quickly…” Rage flared. I snatched the phone. “Can you not call an ambulance? Can you not drive him to the hospital yourself?” The voice on the other end choked. I hung up, still fuming. “That was Sterling’s assistant, wasn’t it? I recognize his voice. You really believe that playboy is drinking himself to death over a woman?!” Caleb frowned. “I heard he really cares about someone recently…” “He’s cared about a busload of people over the years!” I gritted my teeth. “If you go, we’re done. Your bros are clearly more important, so go live with them.” He went anyway. Even though he coaxed me gently, “I’ll just take a look. I’ll be back before you finish one episode, okay?” I was disappointed. My heart sank. Compared to the tear-jerking, life-or-death love stories of others, our journey was too smooth, too plain. My only complaint was wishing these grown-ass CEOs would grow up. Stop with the “kidnapping” and “fatal illness” tropes that drag Caleb into their mess. But I realized something. Even if my “rivals” are these unexpected men, Caleb’s attitude matters. I’ve heard rumors. Some of these illnesses are fake. Tricks to win sympathy. Tricks to fool the board. They’re lies. I can tell some of them apart now. I don’t believe Caleb can’t. I’m not smart, and I hate trouble. My solution to difficult things is usually acceptance or avoidance.

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