“This engine… something’s wrong.” The mechanic at the dealership slid out from under the hood, a strange expression on his face. I froze. “What do you mean, wrong?” “Your car came with an imported engine,” he said, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. “This one… isn’t it.” I stared into the open hood. Three months ago, when my aunt borrowed my car, everything inside was brand new. “So what is it now?” The mechanic glanced at me, hesitating. “Wait here a second. Let me get the shop foreman.” 1 Three months ago, I was eating dinner when my Aunt Linda came over. “Ava, sweetie, I have a huge favor to ask.” Aunt Linda sat across from me, smiling that overly affectionate smile. I knew it well. Since I was a kid, that smile was always followed by “Can I borrow…?” “What is it, Aunt Linda?” “Could I borrow your car for a month?” My chopsticks paused in mid-air. My car was a Mercedes C-Class, bought three years ago. The sticker price was $65,000. I put down $45,000 myself and had just paid off the rest of the loan. “You need a car?” “Well, your cousin’s husband’s company is organizing a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Your uncle’s old Honda is too beat up. It would be embarrassing to drive that.” My mom chimed in from the side. “Your aunt really has no other options. Just let her use it for a month.” “But I need it for work.” “Can’t you take the subway? It’s just a month,” Mom glared at me. “Your aunt is asking you personally. Can you really say no?” Aunt Linda grabbed my hand, her tone sincere. “Ava, I promise I’ll take good care of it. I’ll bring it back washed and clean. If there’s even a scratch, I’ll pay for it.” I looked at my mom’s expectant face, then at Aunt Linda. “Fine.” “Oh, Ava is such a good girl!” Aunt Linda stood up immediately. “Where are the keys? We leave tomorrow.” “Auntie, I haven’t…” “Don’t worry, I’ve been driving for twenty years. My skills are great. It’s automatic, right? Perfect, easy to drive.” I handed her the keys, feeling uneasy. “Auntie, the odometer is at 20,000 miles. I filled the tank. When you bring it back…” “I know, I know, I’ll fill it up.” Aunt Linda grabbed the keys. “One month, max. I promise.” That night, lying in bed, I felt something was off. But Mom said, “Your aunt wouldn’t lie to you. You’re overthinking it.” What I didn’t expect was that “one month” turned into three. Month one: Aunt Linda said the Grand Canyon was beautiful and wanted to stay longer. Month two: She said they drove up to Yellowstone since they were already out west. Month three: She said the car had a “little issue” and needed repairs before coming back. I asked three times when I’d get my car back. First time: “Soon, soon, don’t rush me.” Second time: “It’s good exercise for a young girl to take the subway.” Third time: She ghosted my texts. Mom told me not to be petty. “Your aunt rarely gets to travel. Can’t you be generous?” Three months later, Aunt Linda finally returned the car. She parked it downstairs, didn’t come up, called to say the keys were at the front desk, and told me to get them myself. By the time I got downstairs, she was gone. I walked around the car. The exterior looked okay, freshly washed. But something felt wrong. I opened the door. The smell of stale smoke hit me. I don’t smoke. Odometer: 28,000 miles. It was 20,000 when she took it. Three months, 8,000 miles. I sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. The sound was wrong. It used to purr smoothly. Now it sounded… rough. I thought maybe I just hadn’t driven it in a while. But driving down the block, I felt it. The power was off. There was a lag when accelerating. That never happened before. My heart sank. I called Aunt Linda. “Auntie, is something wrong with the car? It feels weird.” “Nothing! It’s fine. You’re just not used to it.” “You said there was a small issue before. What did you fix?” “Just an oil change. No big deal.” “Where did you fix it?” “Some roadside shop. Forgot the name.” I hung up, the feeling of wrongness growing. The next day, I took time off work and drove to the dealership. “Full inspection, please.” The service advisor asked, “Has this car been in an accident recently?” “I don’t know. I lent it to a relative.” “Okay, have a seat in the lounge. We’ll let you know.” I waited for nearly two hours. Then, the shop foreman came to find me personally. “Ma’am, can we talk in private?” His expression was serious. My stomach dropped. 2 The foreman led me to a small office, holding a stack of printed reports. “Ma’am, the situation with your car is… complicated.” “What situation?” “First off, your engine… has been swapped.” I froze. “Swapped? What do you mean?” “Your car came with an original imported engine, model M264,” he pointed to a number on the report. “But the one inside right now is a domestic salvage part.” “Salvage part?” “Taken from a totaled or scrapped car, refurbished for reuse.” My head buzzed. “Are you sure?” “Positive. Engines have serial numbers. We checked. It doesn’t match your vehicle registration at all.” “How… how is that possible?” The foreman looked at me calmly. He’d clearly seen this before. “You lent this car out for the last three months, right?” “Yes, to my aunt.” “Then it likely happened during that time. The wear and tear on this engine doesn’t match your odometer. Plus, swapping an engine isn’t a small job. A certified shop would have records. We checked; your VIN has no history of engine work.” “So it was done at an unauthorized shop?” “Most likely.” I took a deep breath. “How much is my original engine worth?” “Original imported M264, brand new with labor? Around $25,000.” “And this one?” He hesitated. “This is a salvage part, poor quality. If I had to price it… maybe $1,200 max.” $25,000. $1,200. The numbers spun in my head. “Anything else?” “A few things,” he flipped a page. “Transmission shows signs of leaking, likely from bottoming out. Brake pads are heavily worn, unusual for normal driving unless there was constant hard braking. Also, the rear bumper has been repainted. Looks like a rear-end collision, repaired privately without insurance.” “Privately?” “Yes, no record. The bodywork is shoddy.” I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Three months. 8,000 miles. Engine swapped for junk. Leaking transmission. Worn brakes. Accident damage. What did Aunt Linda say? “I promise I’ll take good care of it.” “If there’s even a scratch, I’ll pay for it.” I laughed. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry. “Can I get a written report of all this?” “Yes, I’ll print it out.” “Photos too.” “No problem.” The foreman stood up. At the door, he looked back. “Ma’am, just so you know. Insurance won’t cover this because the engine swap isn’t an accident. If you want to pursue this, you’ll have to deal with the person who borrowed it, or go to court.” “I understand.” He left. I sat alone in the office for a long time. Then, I called Aunt Linda. “Auntie, I need to ask you something.” “What is it?” Her tone was breezy. “You got the car back, what else?” “About the engine.” Silence for two seconds. “What engine?” “Auntie, I took the car to the dealer today. They said my engine was swapped.” “…What?” “The original imported engine was replaced with a salvage part.” Silence again. Then her voice hurried. “Impossible. I drove it fine. Why would I swap the engine? Are you being scammed by the dealer? They love ripping people off.” “Auntie, I have the report. The serial numbers don’t match.” “Well… I didn’t do it!” “Then who did?” “How should I know!” Her voice raised. “I just drove it normally! Don’t pin everything on me!” “You said there was a small issue and you got it fixed outside.” “Just an oil change! Does an oil change swap an engine?” “Which shop was it? What’s the name?” “I told you I forgot! Why so many questions?” I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Auntie, the original engine is worth $25,000. This one is worth $1,200. That’s a difference of over $23,000.” Dead silence on the other end. After ten seconds, she spoke. “Ava, what are you trying to say?” “I’m saying, you need to pay for this.” “Pay? Pay $23,000?” Her voice turned shrill. “Are you crazy? I borrow your car and you try to extort me for $23,000?” “You swapped my engine for junk.” “I didn’t! It has nothing to do with me!” “Auntie, I got the car back from your hands.” “Well I don’t know what happened! Anyway, I didn’t do it!” I didn’t want to argue over the phone. “Fine, Auntie. Let’s talk in person.” “Nothing to talk about!” Click. She hung up. I looked at the inspection report in my hand. My hands were shaking. Not from sadness. From rage. 3 When I got home that night, Mom already knew. Obviously, Aunt Linda struck first. “Ava, how could you talk to your aunt like that?” I slammed the report on the table. “Mom, look at this.” She glanced at it but didn’t pick it up. “I don’t understand this technical stuff.” “The engine was swapped. The original was $25,000. This one is junk worth $1,200.” “What do you mean swapped? Your aunt wouldn’t do that.” “She had the car. It happened on her watch.” “Do you have proof? Did you see her do it?” “Mom, it was original when she took it, and junk when she returned it. Who else?” Mom frowned. “Your aunt said she drove normally. You believe the dealership? They just want your money.” “Mom, the serial numbers don’t match. That’s hard evidence.” “I don’t know about numbers. But you can’t talk to your aunt like that. She’s your elder.” I inhaled sharply. “Mom, it’s $23,000. Not $23.” “I know. But you can’t be sure it was her. Maybe the shop scammed her?” “Then it’s still her responsibility for taking it there.” “Responsibility, schmonsibility…” Mom waved her hand. “I know your aunt. She wouldn’t do this. There must be a misunderstanding.” “Mom, whose side are you on?” “Whose side?” Mom glared. “Yours! I’m afraid if you blow this up, we can’t face the family anymore!” “So I just eat a $23,000 loss?” “I didn’t say that. I said watch your tone. Talk to your aunt nicely, maybe she’ll admit it?” “Nicely? She said it has nothing to do with her.” “Try again. She’s stubborn. You have to coax her.” “Coax her?” “Yes! You’re the younger generation. Soften up, give her an out. She cares about face. Let her save some.” I laughed, a helpless, bitter laugh. “Mom, my property was destroyed, and I have to apologize?” “Destroyed? The car still drives, doesn’t it?” “With a junk engine that could fail any minute? You call that drivable?” “Then fix it.” “Fix it? A $25,000 part replaced by a $1,000 part, and I just ‘fix it’?” Mom choked, looking unhappy. “Why are you so difficult? I’m doing this for you! If you make a scene, are you going to the family reunion? What if your aunt holds a grudge?” “She scammed me out of $23,000, and I’m worried she’ll hold a grudge?” “You…” Mom sighed, softening her tone. “Ava, listen to me. We can’t offend your aunt. Your uncle, your cousins, they’re all close to her. If you fight her, you’ll look bad.” “Look bad?” “Yes. People will say you’re ungrateful, fighting over money with family.” I stared at my mom for a few seconds. “Mom, do you know I paid off that loan for three years? $600 a month, never missed a payment.” “I know…” “You don’t. You just know to lend it to Auntie. You don’t know how hard I worked.” “Ava…” “Enough, Mom. I’ll handle this.” I took the report and went to my room. As I closed the door, I heard Mom sigh. “This child, why so stubborn…” I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. $23,000. For me, that’s nearly a year of savings. For Aunt Linda, it’s a “small matter.” For Mom, it’s “not worth fighting over.” But why? Because she’s my elder? Because she’s Mom’s sister? Because I should be the “good girl”? I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the texts from when she borrowed the car. [Aunt Linda]: Ava honey, let me borrow the car for a month. I promise I’ll cherish it. [Me]: Okay Auntie. Odometer is 20k. Tank is full. [Aunt Linda]: Don’t worry, I got this. I screenshotted it. Then I scrolled down to the extensions. [Aunt Linda]: Ava, the Canyon is amazing. Want to stay a few more days. [Me]: Okay, when will you be back? [Aunt Linda]: Give it another week. Two weeks later. [Aunt Linda]: Ava, we went to Yellowstone since we were close. Pity to miss it. [Me]: Auntie, commuting is really hard for me… [Aunt Linda]: Subway is good exercise. One month later. [Aunt Linda]: Car had a small issue out of state. Fixing it then coming back. [Me]: What issue? Serious? [Aunt Linda]: Not serious, relax. I screenshotted everything. She said “small issue,” fixed it. Now the engine is gone. I googled: Engine swapped by borrower, legal recourse. Most posts said “hard.” Without direct proof, it’s hard to prove who swapped it. But some said, strict liability. Whoever borrowed the car is responsible for returning it in the same condition. I checked the time. 11 PM. Tomorrow, I’m doing something. 4 The next day was Saturday. I asked Aunt Linda to meet. I picked a coffee shop. Mom insisted on coming to “mediate.” Aunt Linda arrived late, bringing my cousin Jessica. As soon as she sat down, Aunt Linda started. “Ava, dragging me out here? Is this an interrogation?” “Auntie, I just want to clear things up.” “Clear what up? I told you I didn’t swap it. What more do you want?” “Auntie, you promised to take care of the car.” “I did!” “Then where’s the engine?” Aunt Linda scowled. “What are you implying? You think I swapped it? Why would I steal your engine?” “Then tell me how the car ended up like this.” “How should I know!” Her voice rose. “I drove normally. Hit some mountain roads in Utah. Felt a lag on a hill once, so I found a shop to check. They said it was fine, just changed the oil.” “Just an oil change?” “Yes, just oil!” “What shop? Where?” “I told you I forgot! We were in a rush!” I placed the inspection report on the table. “Auntie, look at this.” She glanced at it but didn’t touch it. “I won’t look. I don’t understand it.” “The serial numbers don’t match. Original was imported M264. This is a domestic salvage part.” “Numbers, schmumbers. You believe the dealer’s lies?” “Auntie, this is a technical inspection, not a lie.” “Fine, fine, whatever you say.” She laughed coldly. “You’ve already convicted me, what can I say?” Cousin Jessica spoke up. “Ava, just say what you want. Why beat around the bush?” I looked at Jessica. “Cuz, I just want to know how the engine disappeared.” “You asked my mom, she said she doesn’t know. What else?” “Does ‘I don’t know’ absolve responsibility?” “What responsibility?” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Do you have proof my mom swapped it? Did you see it?” “The car left her hands with an engine and came back without one. Of course she’s responsible.” “Responsible? You lend a car and create a liability?” Mom tugged my arm. “Ava, watch your tone…” I took a deep breath. “Auntie, Jessica. I’m not hunting for who swapped it. I’m saying, someone has to pay for the loss.” “You want my mom to pay?” Jessica sneered. “$23,000? Why don’t you rob a bank?” “The difference in value is $23,800.” “Fine, $23,800.” Jessica spread her hands. “You want my mom to cough up $23,800?” “Shouldn’t she?” “Why? My mom didn’t do it on purpose!” “Does accidental damage mean you don’t have to pay?” “You…” Jessica wanted to argue, but Aunt Linda stopped her. “Enough.” Aunt Linda looked at me, her face changing. “Ava, let me ask you. Are you dead set on fighting me over this?” “Auntie, this isn’t fighting. This is protecting my rights.” “Rights?” She scoffed. “Talking about rights with your aunt? How did your mother raise you?” “This has nothing to do with how I was raised.” “Of course it does!” She turned to Mom. “Sis, look at your daughter. What is she saying? I’m her elder!” Mom looked embarrassed. “Ava, watch what you say…” “Mom, what did I say wrong?” “You…” Aunt Linda interrupted. “Fine. I get it.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled, and shoved the screen at me. “Look. This is the shop I found in Utah. Here’s the Venmo record. $150 total. Just an oil change and service fee. If you don’t believe me, go check yourself.” I looked at the transaction. Recipient: Mike’s Auto. Location: Some town in Utah. $150. “Auntie, an engine swap costs more than $150.” “Exactly!” She pulled the phone back. “I never swapped the engine! Just changed the oil! The engine has nothing to do with me!” “Then how is it gone?” “I don’t know! Maybe the shop stole it! Maybe the dealer is lying! Not me!” She looked so self-righteous. As if she were the victim. “Auntie, I can investigate that shop.” “Go ahead.” She stood up. “I’ve said my piece. Not my fault. If you want to pin it on me, fine.” “Auntie, I’m not pinning it on you. I’m talking reason.” “Reason?” She huffed. “If you knew reason, you wouldn’t be counting pennies with your aunt.” She grabbed her bag and looked at Mom. “Sis, I can’t control your daughter. You handle her.” She walked out without looking back. Jessica followed, throwing one last line over her shoulder: “Ava, you’re hilarious. Over a used car? Really?” They left. The coffee shop was quiet. Mom looked at me and sighed. “Look. Look at what you did. You upset your aunt.” “Mom, she swapped my engine for junk. I can’t ask?” “Your attitude… who can stand that?” “What attitude? I was polite.” “Every word you said was forcing her to admit guilt. Would she?” “She did wrong, why can’t she admit it?” “Ava, why don’t you get it?” Mom lowered her voice. “Your aunt has pride. The more you push, the more she denies. You have to coax her, give her a way out.” “Coax?” “Yes. Apologize first, say you were rude, then talk slowly.” “Mom, apologize for what? I’m the victim.” “You apologize to solve the problem!” “Is this how problems are solved?” I looked at Mom, feeling a deep sadness. “Mom, do you know? Growing up, every time Auntie took advantage of us, you told me to endure. When she gave my toys to Jessica, you said share. When she borrowed my $500 savings in college and didn’t pay back for two years, you said family doesn’t count debts. Now she swapped my engine, and you want me to apologize?” “Ava…” “Mom, answer me. Are you on my side, or hers?” Mom froze. “I… of course I’m on your side…” “Then can you support me in getting this money back?” Mom opened her mouth but said nothing. I waited a few seconds. “Mom, I understand. You don’t want conflict. But I can’t let this go. $23,000 is two years of my life.” I stood up. “You don’t have to help me. But don’t stop me.” I took the report and left.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390929”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To make Caleb Vance happy, I, a pampered heiress, learned how to race cars. To catch his eye, I drifted through traffic, drew a heart on the pavement with gasoline, and set my $3 million hypercar on fire—just to see him smile. My father, furious, sent me away on a “humble pie” reality show, banishing me to the mountains to dig potatoes for six months. When I crawled back home, dusty and humbled, I heard Caleb had fallen in love with the scholarship student I swapped lives with. At my welcome-back party, Caleb publicly shielded the girl, frowning coldly: “Ava, enough is enough. I love her.” Nosy reporters shoved microphones in my face. “Miss Ava Locke, everyone knows you love Mr. Vance more than life itself. Now that he’s moved on, are you as devastated as rumors say?” The internet waited for my breakdown. Instead, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Love him more than life? Since when?” 1 After I spoke, the room went dead silent. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face: “Miss Locke, were you speaking out of anger just now?” I smiled. “It’s the truth.” “Then what do you think about Mr. Vance and Miss Bella’s relationship…” “I wish them the best,” I raised my champagne glass towards them. “A perfect match.” Caleb’s face darkened. He probably didn’t expect this reaction. In the past, I would have smashed glasses, screamed, and publicly demanded to know why he changed his heart. Bella spoke up in a soft, timid voice: “Sister, please don’t be angry, it’s my fault…” “It’s not your fault,” I interrupted her, turning directly to the buffet table to grab a slice of cake. My phone buzzed. Unknown number, one text: Enjoying the show? I deleted it. No need to guess who it was. Jax. My real lover, kept secret from everyone for three years. He knew about tonight. He knew how I should be feeling. Over by my parents, they saw Bella’s eyes turn red and immediately hugged her in distress: “Child, you’ve suffered…” My father patted Caleb on the shoulder: “Your parents talked to me. Treat Bella well.” Only then did they look at me. “Ava,” my mother’s tone was complicated, “Go easy on Bella. She hasn’t had it easy. You know her family situation…” Father sighed: “Let’s go home. Stop making a scene.” Bella timidly came over to tug my sleeve: “Sister, let’s go home together…” I pulled my hand back. “You go ahead. I have something to do.” Caleb immediately blocked my path: “Where are you going now? Racing? Drinking? Ava, stop messing around.” “Work,” I showed him my schedule on my phone screen. “Meeting someone about an investment.” He looked like he heard a joke: “What investment? Weren’t you digging potatoes in the suburbs for six months…” “Digging potatoes?” I finished his sentence, looking at him. “I wasn’t just digging potatoes these past six months.” In the underground garage, Caleb cornered me. “Ava, what exactly do you want?” I unlocked my car door. “Nothing.” “Why are you pretending?” He grabbed the door, stopping me from closing it. “Don’t come crying to me tomorrow, chasing me asking why…” “Cry?” I laughed. “Caleb, people grow up.” He froze, as if really looking at my face for the first time. But he had looked at this face for ten years. Ten years. I grew my hair long for him because he said “girls look better with long hair.” I changed my temper for him because he thought it was “embarrassing.” Even when he held his new love and told me “Ava, stop it,” I only asked “why” with red eyes. What did he say then? Oh, right. He said: “You’re always so childish.” “Bella is nice,” I sat in the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Obedient, listens well, treats you like her whole world. You two are a good match.” His face turned ashen: “What do you mean?” “I mean,” I started the engine, “I’m tired.” “Chasing you for ten years was pretty boring.” As I drove away, his figure grew smaller in the rearview mirror. I dialed the number I knew by heart. “Seen enough?” I asked. A low chuckle came from the other end: “This is just the beginning, my Ava.” “Sticking to the plan?” he asked. “Yeah.” “Let them be happy for a few more days.” I hung up. That night, I returned to the Locke mansion to find my room had been turned into Bella’s piano room. Mother held my hand, explaining: “Ava, you’re rarely home anyway. Bella likes to play piano, and this room has the best light…” I said nothing, dragging out the prepared cardboard boxes from under the bed and packing my things. When I took the photos off the wall, the backs were already yellowed. Bella stood at the door wiping tears: “Sister, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “It’s fine,” I stuffed a frame into the bottom of the box. “As long as you like it.” Father couldn’t watch anymore: “Ava, there’s an empty room on the third floor…” “No need,” I smiled. “My apartment is more convenient.” Caleb was there too. He frowned at me: “Ava, don’t act like a victim.” I picked up the box, frowning slightly: “I’m not acting.” He choked. Bella immediately whispered: “Caleb, don’t yell at Sister…” Caleb’s tone instantly softened: “Don’t be scared, Bella. I’m here.” I watched them being affectionate and silently carried my box downstairs. Mother chased after me, stopping me at the stair landing: “Ava, Mom doesn’t love you less, it’s just that Bella…” “I know,” I turned to look at her. “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” I had said this many times. When she praised the neighbor’s daughter for being well-behaved, I said: “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” When she praised my cousin’s grades, I said: “Mom, as long as you’re happy.” It seemed as long as I was sensible enough, I could exchange it for a little love. But now it was different. Looking at the panic and guilt in her eyes, I suddenly found it laughable. So she always knew she was biased, yet expected me to swallow all the grievances myself. “Mom,” I smiled, “actually you don’t need to explain to me, because I’m not sad at all.” She froze. “Because now I know,” I pulled my hand back, “it’s not that I’m not good enough.” “It’s that your love is too cheap.” When I turned and walked downstairs, my steps were lighter than ever before. 2 The next morning, when I went to the old house to pick up things, Bella “accidentally” broke the jade bracelet my grandmother left me. That was my grandmother’s legacy. The bracelet broke into three pieces, hitting the marble floor with a sharp, crisp sound. Bella immediately cried like a pear blossom bathed in rain: “Sister, I’m sorry… my hand slipped, I didn’t mean to…” Caleb immediately shielded her: “It’s just a bracelet, Ava, don’t make a scene.” Mother rushed over too, glanced at the pieces, and sighed: “Ava, Mom will buy you a new one. Bella didn’t mean to.” Father frowned: “Alright, everyone say less.” I didn’t speak, squatting down to pick up the pieces one by one. The jade edges were sharp, and blood soon beaded on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I said calmly, then stood up. “Out with the old, in with the new. Just like people.” Before Bella could react, I walked to the antique piano she cherished most. It was a gift Mother just gave her last month. As soon as the words fell, I grabbed the piano stool and smashed it onto the keys. CRASH! As she screamed and rushed over, I grabbed the photo frame she had just placed on the piano cover. Inside was a picture of her and Caleb. “This,” I let go right in front of her face, “also slipped.” The shattering sound was crisp and piercing. Caleb wanted to step forward but I stopped him with a raised hand: “What’s the rush? I’m not done.” I turned to my pale-faced parents: “Dad, Mom, all these years I’ve been wondering if I wasn’t good enough, which is why you always looked at other people’s children.” “Now I understand, it’s you who don’t deserve a good child.” I picked up my bag from the floor, walked past Bella, and whispered: “A counterfeit will never be the real thing.” “Just like you. Even if you live in the Locke house, deep down you’re still that pathetic creature who has to lie to be loved.” As I left, behind me was Bella’s breakdown of screams and sobs. I texted Jax: “Ready for the next step.” He replied instantly: “Been ready.” I looked up at the sky. The sky in the city was gray, much like my ten years in the Locke family. But soon, I would see the real light. On my birthday, the Locke family threw a grand banquet. The gold lettering on the invitation read: “Inviting you to the Homecoming Dinner of the Locke Family’s Second Daughter, Bella.” Not my birthday party, but Bella’s recognition party. I was coerced into attending. At the banquet, she played the piano in a million-dollar haute couture gown, winning a house full of applause. Guests whispered: “This is what a Locke daughter should look like.” Someone whispered: “Isn’t today Ava’s birthday?” Mother heard it and smiled awkwardly: “Ah yes… Ava, come, cut the cake.” The cake was a three-tier pink fondant cake, the style Bella chose. Pink, the color I had hated since childhood. Caleb fed Bella a small piece: “Sweet?” Bella nodded, eyes curving into crescents: “Sweet. Caleb, you eat too.” I put down the knife and told my parents: “I’m full.” As I turned to leave, I heard someone behind me say: “Ava has such a weird temper, no wonder Caleb chose Bella.” I scoffed. Who cares? Walking to the parking lot, I remembered my eighteenth birthday. Caleb promised to be with me but flew to the beach to watch the sunrise with an escort instead. I waited in the karaoke room until dawn. He sent a photo of the sunrise with the caption: “So beautiful.” I replied: “Didn’t you promise to spend my birthday with me?” He replied a long time later: “?” That day, my parents were on a business trip. I lit a candle alone at home and cried while making a wish. No one remembered me. The parking lot lights were dim. Jax straddled a black motorcycle, long legs touching the ground. Seeing me, he tossed over a helmet: “Let’s go. Taking you to eat a real birthday cake.” I caught the helmet, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my face against his back. This was the first time someone remembered I was the main character on my birthday. Three days later, Caleb came to my apartment. “Ava, let’s talk.” I let him in. He looked around my small apartment, frowning slightly. “Bella wants to work at Locke Corp,” he said directly. “Arrange it.” “What position?” “Yours,” he paused, “or at least equal to yours.” I laughed: “Why?” “Because she’s the second Miss Locke now,” he frowned. “Because she needs a sense of security.” “What about me?” “You’re capable,” he said as if it were obvious. “Make your own way again.” I looked at him like he was a stranger: “Caleb, what do you take me for?” “For…” he stalled, “Ava.” “An Ava you can summon and dismiss at will?” He got annoyed: “Stop being unreasonable! Bella…” “She’s pitiful, she’s had it hard, she needs care,” I finished for him. “I know, I’ve heard it eight hundred times.” “So?” I asked calmly. “So I deserve to give up everything? My room, my bracelet, and now even my position?” He was silent for a long time. Then he said: “Ava, I’m begging you.” Ten years. The first time he used the word “beg” with me. It was for another woman. When Mother came to find me, her eyes were swollen like peaches. “Ava, Mom has a favor to ask.” “Say it.” “We plan to transfer the villa in the south to Bella,” tears fell from her eyes. “She says she feels insecure and wants a home of her own…” My heart constricted. That villa was my eighteenth birthday present from my grandfather. He said: “Ava, this will be your safety net.” “Mom, Grandpa left that to me.” “Mom knows,” she held my hand, her palm cold. “But Bella… she suffered too much before, we have to compensate her…” “So I should yield?” I pulled my hand back. “Compensate her with my things?” Mother froze: “Ava, when did you become so cold-blooded?” I looked into her eyes and asked word by word: “Mom, where were you during the six months I was digging potatoes in the mountains?” “I…” “You were with Bella,” I laughed, my eyes burning. “Every day without fail. She called you Mom, and you answered so happily.” Mother’s face turned pale. “I can give the villa,” I stood up and walked to the window. “But this is the last time.” “From now on, don’t ask me for anything else.” She left crying. The moment the door closed, I texted Jax: “My patience is running out.” He replied instantly: “I’m here.” 3 On the day I went back to the Locke house to sign the papers, I stood at the corner of the second-floor stairs, looking down at my phone. “Sister.” I looked up. It was Bella. She stood next to me, grinning: “Sister, look at me.” I frowned in confusion. Suddenly, she leaned back. Thump! She tumbled down the stairs. Caleb rushed over at the sound and saw the scene. Bella lay sprawled on the floor, gasping weakly: “Sister… why did you push me… I just wanted to talk to you…” Caleb turned and slapped me across the face. I fell to the floor, ears ringing, the taste of blood in my mouth. “Ava,” his voice shook violently, unsure if from anger or fear, “I never thought you could be so vicious!” When my parents rushed in, Bella was crying, Caleb was yelling, and I was sitting on the floor wiping blood from my mouth. Mother pointed at me, fingers trembling: “Get out! I don’t have a daughter like you!” I propped myself up against the wall, my left cheek burning with pain. I turned to my mother: “Mom, when I was ten and had a fever of 104, you went with my brother to his piano lesson. The nanny took me to the hospital.” “You never came to a single parent-teacher conference.” “Now,” I wiped the blood from my lip, “for a liar you’ve known for six months, you tell me to get out?” Mother’s face went white. Caleb wanted to speak, but I cut him off: “Caleb, I’ll remember this slap.” “From now on,” I scanned each of them, “none of you will ever take anything from me again.” As I turned, fake sobs came from Bella behind me. I didn’t look back. The last bit of warmth in my heart went completely cold. The entrance to the Locke house was crowded with reporters. Cameras shoved in my face: “Miss Locke, did you push Miss Bella down the stairs?” “Was it out of jealousy?” “Is it true the Locke family is disowning you?” Flashbulbs went off like crazy. No need to guess, she arranged it. Then, a black sports car burst through the crowd, screeching to a halt in front of me. The door opened, and Jax stepped out, black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He walked straight over, put his arm around my shoulder, and spoke coldly to the cameras: “My girlfriend is tired. Move.” The reporters were stunned. Someone reacted: “Mr. Vance? You and Miss Locke…” Jax held my shoulder and smiled at the camera: “Let me introduce you properly. My fiancée, Ava Locke.” He waved his hand, and the trunks of nine sports cars parked by the road opened simultaneously, revealing a sea of red roses. The hood of the middle car had “Ava” spelled out in giant roses. “We’ve been together for three years,” Jax looked down at me, eyes tender. “We planned to go public later, but someone seems to misunderstand that my girlfriend is unwanted?” Just then, the door to the Locke villa opened. Caleb walked out supporting the red-eyed Bella, running straight into this sea of roses. He clenched his fists, staring at Jax’s hand on my shoulder. Everyone in the city knew Jax was Caleb’s hated rival, beating him in business and crushing him on the racetrack. “Ava!” Caleb looked panicked, voice trembling. “You and him… since when?” The man who was always composed in front of me now had red-rimmed eyes. He took a step forward but was blocked by Jax’s bodyguards. I didn’t answer, just fiddled with the ring Jax had just put on my hand. A three-carat pink diamond, dazzling with fire. Caleb’s adam’s apple bobbed, voice hoarse: “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Anyone else, why him…” “Why not?” I finally looked up. “Find someone worse than you so you can keep thinking I should be humble without you?” He stumbled back. Bella tried to support him, but he flung her off. I’d seen that look before. Three years ago, when he misunderstood that I was eating with someone else, it was this same anger of betrayal. I took the rose Jax handed me, smelled it, then turned and threw it at Bella’s feet in front of everyone. “Sister,” I smiled brightly, “you want the man I used, so I’ll give you the flower I don’t want too.” Bella’s face was ugly. Reporters snapped photos frantically. Jax chuckled in my ear: “Happy?” I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering: “Not bad. Let’s go, fiancé.” The crowd instinctively parted. 4 In the hilltop villa, Jax tended to my wound. His hand shook as the swab with medicine brushed the corner of my mouth. “I should have come sooner,” his voice was raspy. “Just right,” I pulled at the corners of my swollen mouth. “Any earlier and they wouldn’t have finished their performance.” He put down the swab and cupped my face: “How do you want to play it next?” I opened my phone and pulled up three files. Jax read them and laughed. “I want them,” I said softly, “to kneel and beg for my forgiveness.” The press conference was set for three days later. Jax sent the invitations himself. The title was explosive enough. Grand Vance Group Cooperation & Personal Announcement The venue was packed. As Jax led me onto the stage hand in hand, he announced into the mic: “First, Vance Group will enter a deep strategic partnership with Miss Ava Locke personally.” “Second,” he paused, looking at me sideways, eyes shining, “we are engaged.” Dead silence for a second, then the room exploded. “Mr. Vance! When did you and Miss Locke get together?!” Jax held my waist, smiling arrogantly: “Three years.” “Then Mr. Caleb and Miss Bella…” “Him?” Jax sneered. “Just a blind man who can’t tell a pearl from a fish eye.” Just then, the venue doors were slammed open. Caleb rushed in, suit messy, eyes bloodshot. As Jax led me off stage, passing Caleb, I stopped. “By the way,” I whispered, for his ears only, “the financial hole in your company can never be filled.” His pupils contracted sharply. The day after the evidence was mailed, the city nearly flipped upside down. Headline: “Humble Pie” Reality Show Participant Revealed as Real Illegitimate Child!? The diary stated in black and white: “Bella is Locke’s daughter. I didn’t want her to go back, but the Lockes are rich. Bella needs to acknowledge this father to have a good life…” Mother fainted on the spot seeing the newspaper. Father locked himself in the study for three days. Bella called Caleb like crazy: “Caleb, it’s fake! Someone is trying to harm me!” For the first time, Caleb didn’t believe her. Silence on the phone, then he asked: “Bella, tell me the truth. Are you really Uncle Locke’s illegitimate daughter?” “I…” she broke down crying, “I… I didn’t know about their affairs, but that’s not important, right? I love you, Caleb, isn’t that enough?!” Caleb hung up. The Locke family’s capital chain completely broke. Banks called eight times a day, three key projects halted simultaneously, suppliers blocked the company doors demanding money. Father Locke swallowed his pride to beg my father. My father smiled bitterly: “Old Locke, it’s not that I won’t help, but the one who can save the Locke family now… might be Ava.” “Ava?” “The cooperation with Vance Group is personal to her,” Father sighed. “The resources she holds now are more than the entire Locke Group.” When they found me, I was practicing driving at Jax’s private track. Caleb stood by the car, suit wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes. He lowered his voice: “Ava, help the Locke family.” I took the water Jax handed me, took a sip: “Why should I?” “For the sake of our ten years…” “Ten years you treated me as a backup,” I interrupted, screwing the cap tight. “Now you want me to be a savior?” Father Locke stepped forward, tearful: “Ava, Uncle knows he was wrong. We wronged you before…” “The wrong one is your son,” I looked at Caleb. “Caleb, what do you offer in exchange?” His throat moved: “What do you want? Money? Shares?” “I want you,” I smiled, “to kneel and beg me.” The air solidified. Caleb stared at me, eyes red as blood. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then, he turned and walked away. But his mother came. At the hospital entrance, Mother Locke knelt down with a thud in front of everyone. “Ava, Auntie begs you… the Locke family can’t fall, it’s generations of blood and sweat…” Onlookers raised their phones to snap photos. I bent down to help her up: “Auntie, whether the Locke family falls depends on your son.” “When he learns how to be a human, I’ll consider helping.”

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The day I was diagnosed with cancer, I ran home, ecstatic, clutching the test results. The front door opened. My parents and brother were, as always, surrounding the fake heiress, coddling her. I rushed in, slammed the report on the table, and said: “Mom, Dad, Ethan, I have stomach cancer. It’s terminal. I won’t live past three months.” They froze. My heart swelled with anticipation, expecting to see their faces twist with regret. I thought, even if they cried and begged on their knees, I wouldn’t forgive them. But the scene I imagined never happened. They passed the diagnosis report around in silence. Finally, Dad spoke, asking me: “What kind of urn do you want?” Mom chimed in too: “Three months from now is Chloe’s debutante ball. So your funeral can’t be too big. It would be bad luck!” There was no dramatic regret, no chasing me to the crematorium. I died alone on the day of Chloe’s debutante ball. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first brought home. 1 My stomach still seemed to cramp with phantom pain, but the noise around me suddenly grew loud. I snapped my eyes open, just in time to see Chloe sobbing in Mom’s arms. The next instant, before I could recover from the daze of rebirth, I felt a violent shove. I stumbled and fell to the floor. Looking up, I met Ethan’s hostile gaze. “I’m telling you, I only recognize Chloe as my sister. So anyone or anything that hurts her, I will deal with personally.” My stalled thoughts began to turn. I remembered. This was the day my parents first brought me home. I had been abused for sixteen years. So when my biological parents recognized me and brought me home, I was full of hope, thinking I would finally get family, love, everything I had dreamed of. But I didn’t expect that there was already a fake heiress at home, enjoying everything in my place. So, when Ethan pushed me down, sixteen years of accumulated grievance and unwillingness exploded instantly. Covered in snot and tears, I demanded my parents kick Chloe out. I thought they didn’t know what I had been through, so I ripped open my past wounds myself, every word dripping with blood. “Chloe’s mother did it on purpose! She switched us intentionally! She told me herself!” “My ribs were broken by her mother three times! My right arm dislocated twelve times! My legs and chest have countless burns…” “When I was seven, her mother sold me to a circus! I lived and ate with animals, barking like a dog on stage, mimicking a dog peeing, jumping through rings of fire with zero dignity…” I screamed and cried, tearing at my clothes regardless of propriety. “Mom, Dad, Ethan, look! Look at my scars! It hurt so much back then…” “Please feel sorry for me… send Chloe away, and don’t let her call you Mom, Dad, and Brother anymore, okay?” I looked up, expectant, thinking they would hug me in heartache, gently wipe away my tears. But Mom and Dad looked awkward, and a flash of disgust crossed Ethan’s eyes. He spoke, mocking: “Even if what you say is true, what does that have to do with Chloe?” “She was just a child back then. She knew nothing. She’s innocent.” “Finding out suddenly that she isn’t related to this family, Chloe must be hurting much more than you.” Tears froze on my face. I looked at him in disbelief, realizing he wasn’t joking at all. I turned to my parents, who had brought me home personally. Mom, who had just shed tears of pity for me, was now hugging Chloe, looking troubled. “Yes! Willow, your brother is right. Chloe is innocent after all. Can’t you be more understanding?” Dad spoke up, making a direct decision: “Enough. Both stay. The Vance family can afford to raise both.” “Get up off the floor and change into some decent clothes. Look at yourself, what a mess.” So, in my past life, on the very first day, I stood against everyone. Three years of constant fighting followed. And for 1,095 days, I never won against Chloe, not even once. That’s why, when I got the cancer diagnosis, my first reaction wasn’t fear or sadness, but relief. I hoped my death would punish my biased parents, make my brother who loathed me regret everything. But alas! I bet my life and still lost miserably. On the day of Chloe’s eighteenth birthday debutante ball, my ashes were quietly buried. No memorial hall, no funeral service, and… no one came to see me off. Mom, Dad, and Ethan. In this life, I don’t want your love anymore. Thinking of this, my thoughts returned. I looked up at my angry brother and said: “Master Vance, I never said I wanted to be your sister.” Ethan froze. Even Mom and Dad, who were comforting Chloe, looked over in surprise. 2 Dad frowned, speaking coldly: “Willow Lee, stop making a scene!” “The Vance family is wealthy. Whatever Chloe has, you’ll have too. We won’t mistreat our biological daughter.” Mom looked at my thin frame, a flicker of heartache finally appearing in her eyes. She let go of Chloe, squatted down to help me up, and persuaded: “Willow, stop saying angry words. Besides, you’re not an adult and you have no money.” “If you don’t acknowledge us, do you want to go back to the circus and be a monkey, teased like an animal by the audience?” Even though I had died once and lived again, hearing this still brought a sour sting to my eyes. Look at my biological mother. She actually knew I suffered, knew my dignity was trampled on for sixteen years. Yet, even knowing that, she could still use such casual words to stab me in the heart. But in my past life, I was too desperate for love. So desperate I didn’t see the coldness hidden under her concern. But now… After standing firm, I raised my arm and pushed her hand away. Then, I spoke coldly: “I’m serious.” “Since the public doesn’t know about me yet, you can simply announce you’re sponsoring a poor student from the mountains.” Before they could object, I continued quickly: “Besides, I don’t know any etiquette, can’t taste wine, mix perfume, or arrange flowers…” “I’m afraid if people know who I am, I’ll embarrass the Vance family.” Mom and Dad, who were about to speak, exchanged a look and shut their mouths. Seeing this, I lowered my head, a smile of relieved mockery flashing in my eyes. This was how it was in my last life. Chloe deliberately took me to high-society banquets just to watch me make a fool of myself. And whatever guilt or pity my parents had for me vanished with every embarrassment. Terrified, thinking I wasn’t good enough, I spent sleepless nights learning etiquette and knowledge. Later, at a banquet, I handled myself perfectly, even better than Chloe. I thought Mom and Dad would praise me, that Ethan would change his opinion. But Chloe just shed a single tear, and all my efforts turned to ash. Ethan cut up all my gowns. Mom and Dad fired the teachers they hired for me. Chloe got an extravagantly luxurious solo piano concert. I heard my parents spent nearly ten million on it. Ten million! If I remember correctly, my urn cost just over a thousand dollars. Indeed, I wasn’t sensible enough in my past life. Always feeling wronged, unable to stop fighting and grabbing. Ending up bruised and battered, without a shred of their sympathy. Thinking about it now, what was the point? Willow Lee, what was the point? Fighting until the end, you didn’t even get a decent funeral… “Alright,” Dad said, breaking the silence. “We’ll do as Willow says for now. We’ll find you professional tutors.” “Once you’ve learned everything, we’ll hold a banquet to announce your identity as the Vance family daughter.” I nodded and said politely: “Thank you, Mr. Vance.” Arthur Vance frowned, correcting me: “We’re at home. No need to be so distant. You can call me Dad.” I shook my head, smiling distantly: “No, I’ll stick with Mr. Vance. In case I get used to it and slip up in public.” I turned to Grace Vance and changed my address for her too: “Thank you too, Mrs. Vance. I only need you to support me until I’m eighteen. I won’t bother you for too long.” Mom’s face turned a bit pale. She forced a smile and tried to take my hand again: “Willow, you don’t have to be like this. You are my daughter after all, we…” I dodged Grace’s hand. I felt tired and didn’t want to hear their hypocritical words anymore. So I shouldered my tattered bag and walked toward the guest room on the first floor. Behind me came Chloe’s timid voice: “Sister Willow, I’ve already given up my room. You… you go up. I’ll stay in the guest room!” I paused, replying only once: “No need. After all, right now, you are the legitimate daughter of the Vance family.” Walking a few more steps, I heard Ethan’s angry voice: “Chloe, ignore her.” “Won’t even call us Mom and Dad. Who is she acting pitiful for?” “Since she wants to suffer, let her suffer thoroughly. Don’t even give her the guest room.” “Martha, get the key to the storage room. Let Willow Lee sleep there.” I felt everyone’s eyes land on me instantly. I didn’t turn back or argue. I just followed Martha silently to get the key. 3 I didn’t go out for dinner. I just took some food back to the storage room. Passing the dining room, Chloe was laughing with Mom, Dad, and Ethan. Maybe intentionally, their voices grew louder as I walked by. Ethan practically fed Chloe her food. In my past life, I would have been hurt by this exclusion, made a scene, and upset everyone. But now, I just nodded politely at them and turned away. I have a lot to think about. Checkups, exercise, studying, and… the college entrance exam… So many things. I really don’t have the energy to waste on irrelevant people. It’s August now. One month until school starts. First, I got a full checkup. Seeing that my stomach hadn’t developed cancer yet, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I made a strict schedule and asked for a full set of high school textbooks. Every day, before the Vance family woke up, I washed up and went for a run. Then, timing it perfectly, I finished breakfast and went back to my room to study before they came downstairs. Mrs. Vance tried to bring me milk and chat many times, but was blocked by my lukewarm attitude. Gradually, she probably got annoyed too. Her attitude cooled, and Martha started bringing the milk. When my brain was fuzzy from studying, I looked up and saw the milk under the warm lamp. The once warm milk was now cold. The corner of my mouth couldn’t help but curve into an ironic smile. My mother! Say she has no heart, yet she gives me hope in tiny ways. A glass of milk, combing my hair once, making brown sugar ginger tea herself when I had my period… But say she has a heart! She doesn’t know I’m lactose intolerant, doesn’t know I’m allergic to ginger, and always leaves me alone to recover when I break down. In my past life, I was driven crazy by her ambiguous motherly love. Sometimes, I wonder if she didn’t want me back. Did she feel my existence embarrassed her in her social circle? Otherwise, why be so cruel to me? … Time slipped away silently like milk down a drain. When Arthur asked which high school I wanted to attend, I unhesitatingly chose Chloe’s school. Seeing this, Ethan sneered: “Being so quiet for a month, I almost thought you weren’t the competitive type.” “What, can’t hold it in anymore? Going to school to trouble Chloe?” I looked up, unflinching, straight into Ethan’s eyes, and said calmly: “I chose this school because it’s the best in City A, with the best teachers.” “Also, Master Vance, the college entrance exam is very important to me.” “Don’t worry. I won’t ruin my future for the childish reasons you mentioned.” Ethan’s face darkened, but Arthur looked up suddenly, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Sister, don’t say that about Brother. He’s just worried about me.” “Also, Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I know the school well. I’ll take good care of Sister.” The awkward atmosphere was pulled back on track by Chloe. Grace smiled and hugged Chloe: “Truly Mom’s darling, so sensible!” Scenes that stung me repeatedly in my past life now felt like drops of water in the ocean—no ripples at all. My phone dinged. I checked it and smiled. The school approved my dorm application. 4 Getting in the car, Chloe volunteered: “Sister, you and Brother sit in the back! I’ll take the passenger seat.” Before she could take a step, Ethan grabbed her. “What passenger seat? You sit in the back with me. The passenger seat is for outsiders.” Ethan glanced at me while speaking. Unfortunately, I didn’t show the hurt or disappointment he expected. Instead, I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded politely at him. What I desperately wanted in my past life, I now avoided like the plague. The car drove smoothly to school. Unsurprisingly, Chloe and I were in the same class again. During PE, she dragged a group of friends over to introduce me. Of course, it wasn’t out of kindness. In my past life, I suffered a lot because of these friends. I looked up at the familiar faces. In my past life, I desperately wanted to compete with Chloe, so naturally, I wanted to steal her friends too. I poured my heart out, sucking up to each of them like a dog. Later I learned they had a group chat called “Training the Bitch Dog.” They shared photos of my humiliation in the circus and discussed what fun demands to make next. Then, the day before the college entrance exam, they took photos of my degradation and my dignity-less sucking up. They printed them out and used drones to scatter them all over the school. So, despite maintaining the top rank in school for two years… Despite teachers agreeing I was a lock for top universities… I didn’t even take the exam. I ran to question them under everyone’s strange looks. Crying, asking why. Why treat me like this? Was I not good enough to them? Back then, they laughed, grabbing a few flying papers and throwing them in my face, mocking: “Look at your embarrassing state. How do you have the nerve to make friends?” “Just breathing the same air as you makes us sick!” “This is your punishment for making Chloe sad…” My thoughts returned. In front of me, Chloe put on a wronged expression again: “Sister, do you… not like my friends? I didn’t mean anything else, just saw you were lonely…” I stood up, interrupting her. “Play with your friends. Don’t worry about me.” But this time, my cold attitude seemed to pique their interest. All day, they tried to talk to me. Giving me snacks, asking me to lunch, even ignoring Chloe for it. I looked down, smiling mockingly. What a performance! I didn’t want to deal with them in this life, but since they insist on rushing to me… I’ll give them a big gift! Just like in my past life, Chloe didn’t wait for me after school and had the driver take her home. I knew her plan. In my past life, she deliberately got soaked in the rain. When she got home, she just cried without speaking. Later, under questioning from Mom, Dad, and Ethan, she hesitantly told the “truth.” She said she knew I held a grudge. So even though she knew I hired someone to lock her in the bathroom and drench her, she didn’t blame me. Hearing this, my face turned red instantly, and I shouted in anger: “She’s lying! I didn’t…” Unfortunately, what greeted me wasn’t trust, but a hard slap. They didn’t even want to hear my defense before making a final judgment. That night, I was locked out of the house in a torrential downpour. But sadly, this time, no one would be in the mood to care about Chloe’s suffering act. I didn’t take the bus home like last time. After dinner, I studied while waiting for something. Sure enough, near 7 PM, my phone vibrated like crazy. I paused, then answered. On the other end, Mrs. Vance cried incoherently: “Willow, something happened, come quick…”

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My dad hangs a Performance Improvement Plan chart on the living room wall. Last semester, my sister, Chloe, got straight A’s. Dad put a gold star next to her name. I studied until my eyes bled, but still scored three points lower than her. Dad shook his head in disappointment and drew a giant red “X” next to my name. “Lily, do you know how much money you cost this family this month?” He tapped aggressively on his calculator, his face stern. “Tutors, supplements, plus the SAT prep course… total $5,000. The ROI on you is abysmal.” “Next month, your allowance is docked by $200. You’re covering all chores to pay off the debt.” Chloe smirked, her eyes curving with delight. “Lily, per the performance rules, you have to hand-wash my underwear for a year starting today.” I clenched my fists and nodded timidly. That night, hiding in the bathroom, I searched “how to improve grades fast.” A pop-up link for a forum called “Equivalent Exchange” appeared: “Are you willing to trade?” “Give what you have for what you want.” “Click here to start the transaction.” I stared at the forum, my fingertips cold. Give what you have for what you want. But… what did I have? I only had grades that never improved. Debts I couldn’t pay off. Endless chores. And the cold red “X” on the performance chart. Maybe these things couldn’t trade for what I wanted. Just as I hesitated, ready to close the tab, I heard Mom and Dad talking outside. “What happened with Lily this time? Why did she fail again? Is the pressure too much?” Mom’s voice carried her usual exhaustion. She sighed. “Her total score is three points lower than Chloe’s. Her ranking dropped.” “At this rate, getting into a top-tier college is a pipe dream.” Dad scoffed. Then I heard the sharp sound of the calculator clearing to zero. My body jerked reflexively. I knew that sound too well. Dad pressed it every time he calculated my “cost.” It struck a fear deep into my bones. Sure enough, Dad said with disgust: “Do the math. Tutors, prep courses, those supplements… isn’t that all money?” “We dumped nearly five grand into her, and for what? A splash?” “I just told her, her ROI is terrifyingly low!” “She’s a junk stock. Her fundamentals are trash. No matter how much we invest, it’s a loss!” Even though Dad had said these things countless times, my heart still constricted violently. The soap slipped from my hands into the basin. “Should we stop her supplements next month?” Mom lowered her voice. But I still heard it clearly. “Chloe eats them and her grades go up. It works for her.” “Lily eats them and nothing happens. Might as well stop wasting money.” Dad agreed without hesitation. “Cut it.” “Cut the tutors too. It’s throwing money away.” “Resources are limited. Chloe is the blue-chip stock. She’ll bring glory to the family.” “As for Lily… being a maid who does chores is fine too.” My heart sank. Mom and Dad… were they giving up on me? Footsteps approached the bathroom. I frantically shoved my phone into my pajama pocket. Then I plunged my hands into the freezing water, scrubbing Chloe’s underwear hard. To save money, Mom and Dad didn’t let me use hot water for laundry. My hands were covered in chilblains, stinging at the slightest touch. But Mom and Dad turned a blind eye. Yet when Chloe got a hangnail, they screamed and rushed her to the ER, heartbroken. The bathroom door was knocked symbolically twice. Mom raised her voice: “Lily, hurry up! Stop dawdling! Mop the living room when you’re done!” “Your sister has an early competition class tomorrow, don’t wake her.” “Okay…” Hearing my response, Mom left satisfied. I leaned against the cold tiled wall and slid down slowly. The words they just said buzzed in my brain. Junk stock. Waste. Am I really useless? Trembling, I took out my phone and clicked on the forum. My finger hovered over the screen, unable to press down. The bathroom door cracked open. Chloe poked her head in, frowning deeply. “Lily, why does washing underwear take so long?” “That’s my silk pair, it’s expensive. Don’t ruin it.” I hurriedly turned off the screen and lowered my head. “Okay.” Chloe slammed the door and shuffled away in her slippers. The living room was bright, filled with laughter. Mom, Dad, and Chloe were squeezed on the sofa watching a variety show. On the coffee table were the apple slices I had just cut. I carried the water basin, silently walking around them. After hanging the laundry, I had to mop. I struggled to wring out the mop, the chilblains on my hands stinging. Only when no more water came out did I drag the heavy mop to the living room. I mopped twice before Dad frowned at me. “Lily, didn’t you wring it out?” “There are water marks everywhere. What if your sister slips?” Mom glanced over coldly. “Exactly. Always so sloppy.” I lowered my head and dragged the mop back to the balcony. Soaked it again, wrung it with all my strength. But Chloe looked up, annoyed. “Quiet down!” “It’s so noisy, how can I watch TV?” I froze, lightening even my breathing. After finishing, I returned to my cold, damp room. Every room had heating except mine. In winter, it felt like an ice cellar. I curled up on the bed and lit up my phone again. The forum page was still open. On the black background, a single line of white text: [Are you willing to trade?] Below was a small input box, the cursor blinking. What did I have left to trade? If I could trade for just a little warmth, a little approval, I would give anything. I didn’t want to be a waste anymore. With shaking hands, I typed slowly: [I want Mom and Dad to approve of me.] [I want to be number one in the grade, just like my sister.] The screen went dark, then new text appeared: [Assessing wish…] The text pulsed, the result delayed. My heart hung in the air. [Analyzing tradable assets… Exchange successful!] My breathing quickened. [You will receive: Top grades and parental approval!] Just seeing this line made my eyes hot. I dreamed of getting Mom and Dad’s approval. But then, another line appeared: [You must pay the price: Become a true learning machine, devoid of self, devoid of thought.] [Consideration period: 48 hours.] [During this time, as an adaptation, you will gradually lose various senses.] [You may unilaterally terminate the transaction within 48 hours.] [Do you accept the trial?] [Yes / No] I… hesitated for a moment, then clicked Yes. The forum disappeared. The countdown officially began. Deep into the night, the chill seeped through the leaky window. But strangely, the stinging pain from the cold on my body faded significantly. At first, I didn’t pay attention, thinking I was just numb. But early the next morning, when I was cooking breakfast for the family, hot oil splattered on my hand. I hissed and pulled back. But the expected burning pain didn’t come. There was only a dull sensation. I stared blankly at my red finger. So it had begun. But I panicked. The forum said I would become a learning machine. Would I still be me then? Would I still recognize Mom, Dad, and Chloe? So I secretly took the allowance Grandpa gave me and went into a gift shop. I wanted to buy gifts for my family. When I became an emotionless machine… At least these gifts could accompany them in my place. They wouldn’t be too sad, right? I bought a set of matching family mugs. Just then, someone tapped my shoulder lightly. “Lily?” My desk mate, Sam, wearing a black hoodie, scratched his head awkwardly. “It really is you. I watched from outside for a while, didn’t dare to ask.” “Is it your birthday? Is there anything you li—” Before Sam could finish, a cold voice interrupted him. “I wondered why you weren’t home. Hiding here dating early, huh?” I turned around. Chloe was standing at the shop entrance, linking arms with Dad. He stared at Sam’s clothes, his face darkening. I knew Dad had already labeled Sam, who wasn’t in uniform, as a delinquent. My heart tightened. “Dad, I’m not dating…” I tried to hide the gift bag, but Chloe snatched it. “Wow, buying gifts for your little boyfriend?” She unwrapped the mugs I had carefully packed and sneered. “What, using parents’ money to buy gifts for a boy?” “Why don’t you put this effort into studying?” The ceramic mug dangled in her hand. I reached out to grab it back, but she suddenly let go. “No!” Crash. The mug shattered on the floor. “Embarrassing thing. Let’s go home!” “Are you that cheap? Can’t live without a man? What are you staring at? Move!” Dad dragged me out. “Uncle, we just met by chance…” Sam tried to explain, but Dad glared at him viciously. As soon as I was dragged home, Chloe added fuel to the fire and tattled to Mom. Mom was furious, as expected. Heartbroken, she said: “Lily, how did you go bad? Learning to date early?” “Mom, I…” Dad waved his hand, rubbing his temples wearily. “Take her to the bathroom and check if she’s still a virgin.” “If not, sue that kid.” I froze in disbelief. Shame washed over me instantly. I protested violently: “No! I won’t go… I didn’t do anything!” “You’re wronging me! I don’t want to!” I couldn’t even get the words out. Chloe and Mom together couldn’t drag me. So Dad slapped me hard across the face, grabbed my hair, and dragged me into the bathroom. “Now you’re scared? What were you thinking before?” “Hanging out with trash every day, shaming the whole family! Do you have any self-respect?” The bathroom door slammed shut. They stripped my clothes off quickly. Mom and Chloe’s hands were everywhere, prying my legs apart. As if I were an object, they checked me for damage. The shame almost drowned me. Tears spun in my eyes. I don’t know how long it took before they left, throwing my clothes onto my naked body. I put my clothes on numbly. My buttons wouldn’t align with the holes. Just then, my phone screen, which had fallen nearby, lit up faintly. The black forum popped up automatically. [Adaptation period: 24 hours passed.] [Current sensory loss: 37%] [Warning: If transaction continues, you will become a highly efficient learning machine.] [Do you wish to terminate the transaction?] [Yes / No]

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1 I walked out of the doctor’s office, clutching the test results, my face grim. My husband glanced at the report and saw the three words that would change everything: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. He didn’t say a word. He went home and cooked me a feast of all my favorite dishes, the ones he was famous for. After we ate, he looked at me, his expression serious. “Chloe,” he said, “we still have to put our son through college. This disease… it’s a bottomless pit. There’s no cure. Maybe we shouldn’t even try to treat it.” I stared at him, stunned. He continued, “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” Of course, I understood him. So I nodded. “Okay. We won’t treat it.” What he didn’t seem to realize was that I wasn’t the one who was sick. 2 Mark had been complaining of weakness and fatigue for a while. I hadn’t been feeling great myself, so we went to the hospital for a check-up together. When the results came back, the doctor called me into his office alone. “You’re Mark’s wife, correct? Based on his test results, he has ALS.” Those three letters exploded in my mind. I knew exactly what they meant. “Doctor, money is no object for us. Please, do everything you can to slow the progression of my husband’s illness, to give him a few more years of quality life. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I don’t care if we have to sell everything we own.” I was trembling when I left the office. I tried to compose myself, but Mark could tell something was wrong. He glanced at the papers in my hand. I quickly stuffed them into my purse. Mark didn’t say anything, just pulled me into his arms. “You must be hungry. Let’s go home, I’ll cook you something delicious.” He made a spread of all my favorites. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears started to fall. He gently wiped them away. “Let’s eat first. We can talk after.” I guessed he already knew. After dinner, we sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Chloe, maybe we shouldn’t treat it.” I sobbed. “No! The doctor said with proper treatment, we can manage the symptoms. He can still have a few good years!” “But the cost of treating ALS is astronomical. It’s hundreds of thousands a year. It’s too much for us.” I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry about the money. We both have good salaries. Even if only one of us is working, we can afford it. We’ll just have to tighten our belts a little.” “Chloe, we still have to put our son through college. Your illness is a bottomless pit with no cure. Let’s just not treat it.” I froze. “What did you say?” “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” So that was it. He hadn’t seen the name on the report. He thought I was the one who was sick. I pulled my hand away. The tears stopped instantly. It’s amazing how quickly love can die. “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “I understand. We won’t treat it.” 3 Mark visibly relaxed. He took my hand again. “Chloe, it’s not about the money. I’m just thinking about our son’s future.” “He’ll need to go to college, maybe study abroad. He’ll want to get married someday. All of that costs money. If we drain our savings on medical bills, what will he do?” “And the most important thing is, there’s no cure for your disease. Why would we waste money on something that can’t be fixed?” I pulled my hand back. “That’s enough. You don’t have to say any more. We won’t treat it. It is a waste of money. And since you said you wouldn’t get treatment if it were you, how can I argue?” “I’m glad you understand. We can use the money we save to travel. See the world, try new things, experience different cultures. It’ll be great!” For a second, I felt a pang of guilt. Had I misjudged him? I wanted Mark’s last days to be happy. “Okay, then. Book the tickets. You pick the place. We’ll go as a family, wherever you want to go.” “Great. I’ll start looking up destinations.” He spent the rest of the evening on his phone. I assumed he was researching our trip. Three days passed, and I heard nothing. “Mark, have you picked a place? When are we leaving? I need to request time off from work.” He avoided my eyes. “I was about to book the tickets, but my dad was suddenly hospitalized. I have to go be with him. And I don’t feel right about you and our son going alone.” “Let’s wait a little while. When my dad is better, we’ll go.” Mark had a tell. Whenever he lied, his eyes darted back and forth. “Then I should go see your dad.” “No, don’t. Hospitals are no place for you to be right now. Dad will understand.” “By the way, I won’t be home after work today. I’m going to the hospital to stay with him.” I didn’t call him out on it. I just nodded and said okay. At seven o’clock that evening, the GPS on Mark’s phone showed his location as a high-end karaoke bar. I took a cab straight there. After a quick word with the hostess, I went to the private room he was in. The door was slightly ajar. Before I even went in, I could hear Mark’s voice, booming with confidence. “Everyone here is a good friend of Jessica’s, so don’t hold back! Whatever you want to drink, whatever you want to eat, order it. It’s on me!” Cheers erupted from the room. “Mark’s the man! Jessica will be in good hands with you.” Mark had his arm around a woman I didn’t recognize, a wide grin on his face. I pushed the door open. “Mark. Is this what you call ‘staying with your dad at the hospital’?” The noisy room fell silent. Mark snatched his arm back from the woman’s shoulder as if he’d been electrocuted. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” “If I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known you were having such a party. Who was it I just heard was going to be ‘in your hands’?” “This is Jessica. She’s my new secretary.” “We just closed a big deal at work, so I’m treating everyone to a night out. My dad has a nurse with him, so you don’t need to worry.” “I’ve been to your office dozens of times. I know all your colleagues. How is it that I don’t recognize a single person here?” Jessica stood up, her face a mask of cold fury. “They’re my friends.” I laughed. “How generous of you, Mark. Treating your new secretary’s friends to a place this expensive.” “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone?” Mark stood frozen. I linked my arm through his and addressed the room. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mark’s wife. My name is Chloe.” 4 The room was dead silent. A girl sitting next to Jessica sneered. “I know who you are. You’re Mark’s wife, the one with ALS.” “Mark is a saint for not divorcing you, knowing you have a disease like that.” I looked at Mark. “So, even your new secretary’s friends know about this? You’re not exactly discreet, are you?” Mark didn’t say a word. I walked over to Jessica. “Are you that desperate to take my place?” Jessica’s lip trembled, and she started to cry. Mark stormed over, yanked me away from her, and slapped me across the face. “I organized this party! I was the one who told Jessica to invite her friends! If you’re angry, take it out on me!” I stared at the man in front of me, this man who was so consumed with rage on behalf of another woman. I didn’t recognize him. One illness had shown me the true face of the man I slept next to every night. Mark was furious. “You’ve ruined the whole mood.” He called the waiter over. “The check.” “That’s it for tonight, everyone. I’ll treat you all again some other time.” The waiter brought the bill. The total was over ten thousand dollars. Mark paid it without batting an eye. I burst out laughing. No money to treat his dying wife, but plenty to lavish on his mistress. Mark called a car service to take us home. The moment we walked through the door, he said, “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” I paused. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” “Fine. Then let’s talk about how we’re going to divide our assets.” “We have twenty thousand in savings. We’ll each take ten. The house and our son, they’re both mine. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” Rage surged through me. “Mark, we’ve been married for ten years. We should have at least three hundred thousand in savings. Now you’re telling me there’s only twenty thousand left? Are you kidding me?” “And the house? You bought it with a mortgage. We’ve been paying it off together. Why should you get it? And our son, I’m fighting for him.” “There really is only twenty thousand left in savings. I forgot to tell you, I invested the rest in a small business venture. It all went bust.” “And the house, even though we were both paying the mortgage, the deed is in my parents’ names. So it has nothing to do with you.” I slammed my hand on the table. “Mark! When we got married, you told me this was your house!” “It is my house. Can’t I put my house in my parents’ names?” “Fine. You want to play dirty? Then I’m not divorcing you. Let’s see who outlasts who.” “Chloe! How long do you think you have left to live? If you don’t divorce me, then I’ll just wait for you to die!” I scoffed. “Then let’s wait. Let’s see which one of us dies first.” Mark threw a teacup against the wall. “I must have been cursed to have married you!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. This time, I didn’t care where he went. I immediately contacted a lawyer to discuss the divorce and asked her to investigate Mark’s transfer of our marital assets, as well as how to win custody of our son. Our eight-year-old son was terrified by our fighting. “Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?” he asked, his voice trembling. I pulled him into my arms. “Sweetheart, if Mommy and Daddy separate, will you hate me?” He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s because Daddy likes that other lady.” He took out the Polaroid camera I had bought him. “I took a picture of Daddy kissing her.”

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1 The day I got my cancer diagnosis, I practically skipped home with the report in my hand. When the front door swung open, my parents and my brother were huddled around the girl who had taken my place, Seraphina, cooing over her and trying to make her smile. Same as always. I stormed in, slapped the papers down on the polished mahogany table, and announced, “Mom, Dad, Spencer. I have stomach cancer. It’s terminal. I’ve got less than three months.” They froze. I waited, my heart pounding with a strange, vindictive excitement. I imagined their faces crumbling with regret, the remorse they should have felt for years finally hitting them. I pictured them on their knees, begging for my forgiveness, and I knew, even then, I would never grant it. But the scene I had so vividly imagined never played out. They passed the diagnosis report between them, a heavy silence filling the grand living room. Finally, my father spoke, his voice void of any emotion. “What kind of urn do you want?” My mother was next. “In three months, it’s Sera’s eighteenth birthday gala. Your funeral can’t be a big affair. It would cast a shadow on her celebration.” There was no gut-wrenching moment of regret from my family. On the day of Seraphina’s lavish party, I died alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they first brought me home. … My stomach was still twisting with a phantom agony, but the world around me had erupted into chaos. My eyes snapped open to the sight of Seraphina sobbing in my mother’s arms. Before the dizzying reality of my rebirth could even settle in, a violent shove sent me stumbling to the floor. I looked up into the hostile glare of my brother, Spencer. “Let me make one thing clear,” he snarled. “Sera is my only sister. I’ll destroy anyone or anything that hurts her.” The gears of my mind, rusty from death, began to turn. I remembered this. This was the first day. The day my birth parents, the Baldwins, finally brought me home after sixteen years of hell. I’d been abused my entire life, so when they found me, I foolishly believed I had found a safe harbor. I thought I would finally receive the affection, the love, the everything I had only ever dreamed of. I never imagined they already had a replacement, an impostor daughter who had been living my life, basking in the warmth that should have been mine. In my first life, when Spencer pushed me, sixteen years of bottled-up grief and injustice exploded out of me. I collapsed into a pathetic, weeping mess, snot and tears streaming down my face as I demanded they throw Seraphina out. I thought they didn’t know what I’d been through, so I tore open my old wounds for them to see, my words practically dripping with blood. “Seraphina’s mother did it on purpose! She switched us at birth, she admitted it to my face!” “She broke my ribs three times! My right arm was dislocated twelve times, and my thighs and chest… they’re covered in burns…” “When I was seven, she sold me to a grimy traveling circus! I had to eat and sleep with the animals, forced to bark like a dog on stage for scraps of food, to jump through rings of fire…” I was screaming, clawing at my own clothes in a desperate, undignified plea. “Mom, Dad, Spencer, look! Look at my scars! It hurt so much, it hurt so, so much…” “Please, just have a little pity on me… Send her away. Please don’t let her call you Mom and Dad and Spencer. Please?” I looked up, my vision blurred with tears, desperately hoping to see a flicker of compassion, to feel a gentle hand wipe my face. But my parents just looked… awkward. And in my brother’s eyes, I saw a flash of pure disgust. He was the one who spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Even if any of that is true, what does it have to do with Sera? She was just a baby. She didn’t know anything. She’s the innocent one here. Imagine how she feels, suddenly finding out she’s not related to us. I bet she’s hurting a lot more than you are.” My tears froze on my cheeks. I stared at him, searching for any sign he was joking, but there was none. My head swiveled to my parents, the very people who had brought me here. My mother, Isabelle, who had been weeping with pity just moments before, was now clutching Seraphina, her expression troubled. “He’s right, Aurora. Spencer has a point. Sera is innocent in all this. Can’t you try to be a little more understanding?” My father, Arthur, delivered the final verdict. “Enough. You’ll both stay. The Baldwin family can afford to support two daughters. Now get up off the floor and change into something decent. You’re making a scene.” And so, on my very first day home, I became the enemy. The next three years were a blur of constant, bitter conflict. One thousand and ninety-five days. And in all that time, I never won a single battle against Seraphina. Not one. That’s why, when I saw the cancer diagnosis, my first feeling wasn’t fear or sadness. It was relief. A vicious, liberating relief. I hoped my death would be the ultimate punishment for my biased parents, the final blow that would make my hateful brother drown in guilt. But I gambled with my life and still lost everything. On Seraphina’s eighteenth birthday, my urn was quietly buried. No memorial, no eulogy. No one even came to say goodbye. Oh, Mother. Father. Spencer. This time around, I don’t want your love. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I looked up at my furious brother and said calmly, “Mr. Baldwin, I have no intention of being your sister.” Spencer stared, dumbfounded. Even my parents, still comforting Seraphina, turned to look at me in shock. 2 My father’s brow furrowed, his voice cold. “Aurora, that’s enough.” “This is the Baldwin estate. What Sera has, you will have too. We won’t neglect our own flesh and blood.” My mother’s gaze softened as she took in my frail frame, a flicker of pity in her eyes. She let go of Seraphina and knelt to help me up. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, darling,” she murmured. “Besides, you’re not an adult yet, and you have no money. If you don’t come home with us, what will you do? Go back to that circus? Be paraded around like an animal for the crowd’s amusement?” Even though I had already died and come back, her words still stung, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. You see, that was my mother. She knew the depths of my suffering, knew my dignity had been stripped away for sixteen years. Yet she could still weaponize my trauma with such casual cruelty, wrapping it in a guise of concern. In my last life, I was so desperate for her love that I never saw the cold indifference hiding beneath the surface. But now… I steadied myself and gently pushed her hands away. “I’m serious,” I said, my voice level. “No one outside this house knows I exist. You can just tell people you’re sponsoring a scholarship for an underprivileged student from the countryside.” Before they could argue, I pressed on. “Besides, I don’t know any of your etiquette. I can’t tell a Merlot from a Cabernet, I don’t know the first thing about flower arranging… I’d only embarrass the Baldwin name if my identity got out.” The protests died on their lips. My parents exchanged a look, and both fell silent. I lowered my head to hide the bitter, knowing smile that touched my lips. It was just like last time. Seraphina would drag me to elegant galas just to watch me make a fool of myself. And with every clumsy mistake, the guilt and pity my parents initially felt for me slowly evaporated, replaced by shame. Terrified of losing them completely, I had driven myself to the brink, staying up all night, cramming years of culture and etiquette into my exhausted mind. Eventually, I could navigate those shark-infested waters with grace, even outshining Seraphina. I thought they would be proud. I thought Spencer would finally see me differently. But all it took was a single tear from Seraphina, and all my hard work turned to ash. Spencer cut up all my evening gowns. My parents fired my tutors. And Seraphina? She was rewarded with a private piano concerto, a lavish affair that I later heard cost them nearly a million dollars. A million dollars. If I remembered correctly, my urn cost just over a hundred. It was clear now. In my past life, I was too naive, too consumed by my own sense of injustice. I fought, I clawed, I demanded. And all I got were more scars, without earning a single drop of their sympathy. What was the point of it all? Aurora, what was the point? You fought until your last breath and couldn’t even earn yourself a decent funeral. Breaking the thick silence, my father finally spoke. “Fine. We’ll do it your way for now. We’ll hire the best tutors for you. When you’re ready, we’ll hold a proper reception to announce your identity as a Baldwin.” I nodded curtly. “Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.” He frowned at the formality. “You’re home now. You don’t have to be so distant. You can call me Dad.” I shook my head, offering a faint, detached smile. “No, I’d better stick with Mr. Baldwin. I wouldn’t want to get too comfortable and let it slip in public.” I turned to my mother, Isabelle, adopting the same formal address. “And thank you, Ms. Baldwin. I only require your support until I turn eighteen. I won’t be a burden for long.” A pale shadow crossed my mother’s face. She forced a smile and reached for my hand again. “Aurora, you don’t have to be like this. You’re my daughter, after all. We…” I pulled my hand back. I was tired, so tired of their hollow words. Slinging my tattered bag over my shoulder, I started walking toward the guest rooms on the first floor. Behind me, Seraphina’s small, timid voice piped up. “Aurora… sister… I’ve already moved my things out of my room for you. You can… you can take it. I’ll just stay in the guest room.” I paused but didn’t turn around. “Don’t bother. After all, you’re the rightful daughter of this house right now.” A few steps later, I heard Spencer’s voice, laced with anger. “Sera, just ignore her. She won’t even call them Mom and Dad. Who does she think she’s fooling with this pathetic act?” “If she wants to suffer, let her. She shouldn’t even get a guest room.” “Mrs. Gable!” he barked. “Get the key to the storage closet. Let her sleep in there.” I felt their eyes on my back, a collective weight of judgment. I didn’t look back. I didn’t argue. I just followed the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, in silence to collect my key. 3 I ate dinner alone in the storage closet that night. As I passed the dining room to get my food, I could hear Seraphina laughing with my parents and brother. As if on cue, their cheerful chatter grew louder the moment I appeared. Spencer was practically feeding Seraphina by hand. Last time, that kind of deliberate exclusion would have shattered me, sparking a huge fight that left everyone miserable. This time, I simply gave the happy family a polite nod and walked away. I had bigger things to worry about. A full health check-up, a fitness regimen, my studies, and most importantly… college entrance exams. I had no time or energy to waste on people who didn’t matter. It was August, with a month left before the school year started. I immediately got a comprehensive medical exam. Seeing the clean bill of health for my stomach, I breathed a sigh of true relief. The cancer hadn’t started yet. I drafted a strict daily schedule for myself and requested all the textbooks for the next two years of high school. Every morning, I was up and out for a run before anyone else in the Baldwin house had stirred. I would time my return perfectly, finishing breakfast just before they came downstairs, and then retreat to my room to study. Isabelle tried, on several occasions, to bring me a glass of milk and chat, but my cool, indifferent responses always shut her down. Eventually, she seemed to get the hint, or perhaps took offense. Her visits grew infrequent, and soon it was Mrs. Gable who brought the milk. One night, my head swimming from hours of calculus, I glanced up and saw the glass of milk under the warm glow of my desk lamp. It was stone cold. A sardonic smile twisted my lips. That was my mother in a nutshell. You couldn’t say she was heartless; she always offered these tiny gestures of hope. A glass of milk, a moment spent brushing my hair, a cup of ginger tea she brewed herself when I had cramps. But you couldn’t say she was caring, either. She never knew I was lactose intolerant. She never knew I was allergic to ginger. And whenever I had a breakdown, she would simply leave me alone to pick up my own pieces. In my last life, I was driven mad by that hollow, performative version of motherly love. Sometimes I wondered if she even wanted me back. If my very existence, a living reminder of her failure, was just an embarrassment to her in front of her high-society friends. Otherwise, why would she be so cruel? … Time slipped away, silent and unnoticed, like the milk poured down the drain. When Arthur asked which high school I wanted to attend, I chose Seraphina’s without hesitation. Spencer scoffed. “So the quiet act is over, huh? I almost believed you were the type who didn’t like to compete. What’s the plan? Finally ready to go make Sera’s life miserable at school?” I met his gaze directly, my own calm and unblinking. “I chose that school because it’s the best in Crestwood City, with the strongest faculty. And Mr. Baldwin, my college exams are extremely important to me. Rest assured, I won’t jeopardize my future over the kind of petty drama you’re imagining.” Spencer’s face darkened, but I saw Arthur glance at me, a flicker of something thoughtful in his eyes. “Sister, don’t talk to Spencer like that,” Seraphina interjected, her voice soft and placating. “He’s just worried about me. And Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I know the school inside and out. I’ll take good care of my sister.” Her words smoothed over the awkward tension. Isabelle beamed, pulling Seraphina into a hug. “That’s my sweet girl. Always so thoughtful.” The scene that used to pierce my heart now felt like a distant echo, causing no ripple within me. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and smiled. It was the school. My application for a dorm room had been approved. 4 When we got in the car for the first day of school, Seraphina offered graciously, “Sister, you and Spencer should take the back. I can sit up front.” But before she could even take a step, Spencer grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You’re sitting with me. The front seat is for outsiders.” He shot a pointed look at me from the corner of his eye. To his disappointment, I didn’t look hurt or angry. In fact, I was relieved. I gave him a polite nod. The very thing I had begged for in my last life was something I now desperately wanted to avoid. The car purred smoothly onto the school grounds. As expected, Seraphina and I were placed in the same class. During gym class, she brought her whole clique over to meet me, a mix of popular boys and girls. Of course, she wasn’t being kind. In my first life, I had suffered immensely at the hands of these “friends.” I looked up at their familiar faces. Back then, desperate to beat Seraphina at her own game, I had tried to win them over. I poured my heart out to them, acting like a pathetic, loyal puppy, eager for their approval. I later found out they had a private group chat. Its name was “Taming the Mutt.” In that group, they circulated humiliating photos of me from my circus days and brainstormed new, cruel “games” to play with me. Then, the day before the final college entrance exams, they executed their masterpiece. They printed out compromising photos of me, along with screenshots of all the degrading things I’d done to please them. They loaded them onto a drone and showered the entire school campus with them. And just like that, the girl who had clawed her way to the top of the school rankings for two years, the student the teachers were certain would get into an Ivy League school, never even made it to the exam. I ran through the hallways, dodging the strange looks and whispered insults, and confronted them. “Why?” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Why would you do this to me? Wasn’t I good enough to you?” They just laughed. One of them casually plucked a flyer out of the air and threw it at my face. “Just look at yourself. You’re pathetic. How could you even think someone like you deserved friends?” “We feel sick just breathing the same air as you.” “This is your punishment for making Sera sad.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. Seraphina was already putting on her wounded expression. “Sister… do you not like my friends? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just saw you were all alone and I thought…” I stood up, cutting her off. “They’re your friends. You have fun with them. You don’t need to worry about me.” But this time, my coldness seemed to pique their interest. They spent the rest of the day trying to talk to me, offering me snacks, inviting me to eat with them, even ignoring Seraphina in the process. I looked down, a scornful smile playing on my lips. What a performance. I hadn’t planned on getting involved with them again in this life. But since they insisted on playing this game, well, I might as well give them a parting gift. Just like last time, the driver took Seraphina home after school without waiting for me. I knew exactly what she was planning. In my first life, she had intentionally drenched herself in the rain and gone home in tears. When my frantic parents and brother asked what was wrong, she had played the part of the reluctant victim, eventually confessing that she knew I resented her. She claimed that even though she knew I had paid some bullies to lock her in a bathroom and pour water on her, she didn’t blame me. When I heard her lies, my face flushed with rage. “She’s lying! I didn’t—” But my denial was met not with trust, but with a sharp, stinging slap across the face. They didn’t even bother to listen to my side of the story before passing judgment. That night, I was locked out of the house, forced to endure a torrential downpour. But this time, I had a feeling no one would be in the mood to appreciate Seraphina’s little act. Instead of taking the bus home, I had a quiet dinner, found a spot in the library to study, and waited. Sure enough, just before seven o’clock, my phone began to vibrate violently. I let it ring for a moment, then answered. On the other end, I heard my mother’s voice, choked with sobs. “Aurora, something’s happened. You need to come to the hospital. Now.”

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My husband always left little clues behind after his affairs. Last time, I found a lipstick in the passenger footwell of his car. A vibrant plum shade. The same color his junior nurse always wore. I pretended not to see it. He kept glancing at me during the drive, probably wondering if my feigned ignorance emboldened his little nurse to cross more lines. This time, he’d actually tucked a pair of black stockings under my pillow. He even sent me screenshots of their explicit messages. [So what if you’re childhood sweethearts? You’re old news now. Arthur’s bored with you. You have no idea how passionate he gets in your marriage bed, do you?] I saved it silently, just like all the others. I used to fight Arthur countless times over her. Our wedding home was practically ripped apart and redecorated multiple times after my outbursts. But now, I was tired of fighting. I wouldn’t do it anymore. I meticulously gathered the evidence. I compiled a thirty-five-page presentation, complete with receipts, and uploaded it online. She loved to share, didn’t she? Then let her share to her heart’s content. 1 Arthur stood at the bedroom door, holding the black stockings between two fingers, a look of distaste on his face. “Audrey, we need to talk about this.” My eyelids were heavy from a night spent working on that presentation. I closed my laptop. “There’s nothing to talk about. You deal with it.” “No.” Arthur spoke, ignoring my grim expression. “You were away on business last week, and I had a major surgery. I gave my key to someone from the department to pick up a change of clothes for me.” “I never expected it to be Scarlett, and I certainly never expected her to do something so… sordid.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Audrey, you have to believe me.” “Are you finished?” He choked on his words. I tried to walk past him into the bathroom. “Audrey.” Arthur grabbed my wrist. “Don’t you care at all?” I used to care. A year ago, when I first found that lipstick in his car, I smashed the dinnerware we’d bought on our honeymoon. Six months ago, when I saw a photo of them at the movies on social media, I shredded all his white shirts. Three months ago, when I found her suggestive emojis in his phone, I threw a vase at our television. I’d made a scene countless times, but in the end, we never truly separated. Because we were childhood sweethearts. We were three years old, fighting over the same building block in preschool. When I was ten, he took the blame for me and got a lecture from our teacher. On the eve of our high school finals, when we were seventeen, he climbed through my window onto the balcony. Just to tell me: “Audrey, don’t be nervous. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” Twenty-seven years of memories had spun a thick cocoon around me, trapping me inside. “Arthur, I’m just so tired.” I tugged my wrist, but he wouldn’t let go. “What do you mean?” He stared at me intently, not wanting to miss a single flicker of emotion. “Let go.” “No! You have to tell me what’s going on today!” Struggling was almost an instinct. In the frantic push and pull, something fell. The sharp crack of breaking porcelain shattered the quiet night. We both froze. A pile of scattered fragments lay cold and gleaming under the lamp. It was the white porcelain vase I’d made during a summer art program in Florence when I was sixteen. Arthur had squatted behind me, our faces burning with embarrassment as our classmates teased us, helping me finish it. Our intertwined handprints were the vase’s only pattern. Over the years, we’d moved several times, argued countless times. I’d smashed necklaces he gave me, shattered furniture we’d picked out together. But I had never touched that vase. It had always stood there, holding dried baby’s breath. Now it was broken. Arthur flinched, his grip on my arm suddenly slackening. And I, utterly drained of strength, crumpled directly onto the ceramic shards. Blood bloomed instantly, staining the white porcelain, blurring the memories of my youth. Arthur’s face turned ashen. “Audrey…” His hands trembled uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—” More and more blood flowed, pooling on the floor. Strangely, I felt no pain, only a dull ache in my eyes. He scooped me up in a panic. After a quick, makeshift clean-up, he drove me to the hospital. His hands gripped the steering wheel, shaking the entire way. He drove at top speed, straight to the emergency room, only to find Scarlett on duty. He frowned. “Get someone else.” Scarlett shrugged, a playful pout on her lips. “Sorry, Dr. Blackwood. I’m the only one free right now.” Arthur was about to say more, but I cut him off. I pointed at Scarlett. “You. You do it.” My assessment of Scarlett had always been brutally honest: stupid and malicious. But I never imagined she’d be so brazen, even in front of Arthur. When she deliberately poked my wound with tweezers for the third time, Arthur shoved her away. “What the hell are you doing? Can’t you even dress a wound? How did you even get into medical school if you can’t manage basic first aid? Get out!” Scarlett’s eyes welled with tears, but Arthur ignored her. He quickly changed into surgical scrubs and prepared to treat my wound himself. 2 Arthur put me in a private room. “We need to observe you for a few days.” He handed me a glass of warm water, the pills resting in the bottle cap. “The wound might get infected. You need to be extra careful these next few days…” He rambled on and on. I didn’t respond. His voice softened. “I’ll get you those cinnamon rolls you love, with some herbal tea. How about it?” Seeing I still didn’t react, he stood for a moment, then turned and left. When he returned, he carried a tray with warm pastries, a light broth, and a box of sliced fruit. “Careful, it’s hot.” He blew on a piece of pastry before offering it to my lips. I took a small bite. No point in punishing my own stomach. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. A few doctors in white coats stopped at my door. The one in front peeked in and chuckled. “Well, well, Dr. Blackwood, you’re here earlier than all of us!” Arthur’s ears turned a faint red. He pursed his lips. “Heard you pulled some strings to get a private operating room for a… family member last night,” another colleague teased, winking at him. “Isn’t that against regulations?” Despite knowing it was a joke, Arthur explained earnestly, “Everyone was busy yesterday. It was an emergency, and I had to make a judgment call. But if the hospital wants to investigate, I’ll cooperate fully.” The others burst into laughter, then, understanding the unspoken hint, discreetly left. Arthur stood there, head down, ears crimson, not daring to look at me. He was like this the first time he told me he loved me. Like this the first time he held my hand. Like this when he said “I do” at our wedding. Those days felt so good. So good they seemed like another lifetime. I closed my eyes and burrowed deeper into the blankets. He called my name a few times. When I didn’t answer, he simply sat beside me, guarding the forgotten broth. Just as I was drifting into a hazy sleep, I heard someone push open the door. A cheerful voice bubbled in. “Dr. Blackwood, I’ve come to apologize to Audrey.” “Yesterday really wasn’t on purpose. I was just so nervous. With you watching, Dr. Blackwood, my hands were shaking.” I squinted through a gap in the blankets toward the sound. I saw Arthur grabbing her arm, trying to usher her out. “Who told you to come in?” “The door was open, wasn’t it?” She took another step closer, almost pressing against his chest. “And I really want to apologize… You were so harsh with me yesterday, I cried all night when I got home.” As she spoke, she lifted her hand, her fingertips subtly brushing the name tag on Arthur’s chest. Under his white lab coat, he wore a thin, dark grey shirt today. “Scarlett.” Arthur’s voice was low, a warning. “Hmm?” She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching his ear, whispering conspiratorially, “Dr. Blackwood, your heart is beating so fast…” I pushed myself up in bed. “Perhaps the two of you would prefer to take this outside?” I suggested, my voice flat. “Or I could leave and give you some privacy.” Arthur abruptly pushed Scarlett away. She stumbled back a couple of steps and landed hard on the floor. “Arthur, you—” Her eyes instantly welled up. “Get out.” Arthur’s voice was chillingly cold. Scarlett scrambled to her feet, glared at me, then clutched her face and ran out. Arthur stood there, his back to me. His shoulders rose and fell a few times before he finally turned around. “Audrey, I…” “Apologies. Did I interrupt your little rendezvous with your mistress?” I lay back down, turning my back to him. He stood for a long time. Then his phone vibrated. He didn’t answer the first time. On the fourth, he picked up. “Hello?” A muffled sob came through the receiver, broken and clear in the quiet room. “…I’ve been hit… that old man on the scooter… he won’t let me go… Dr. Blackwood, I’m scared…” Arthur remained silent. “Could you… could you come? Just by the back entrance of the hospital… please…” The sobs grew louder, punctuated by a man’s angry shouting in the background. Arthur silently hung up, then glanced at me. He walked to the edge of my bed and murmured, “Audrey?” “I’m just stepping out. I’ll be back soon. She’s a colleague, after all…” As he spoke, his phone vibrated again in his pocket. He ignored it. Then I heard the soft click of the doorknob. Ten minutes later, I pulled out my IV and discharged myself. The wound on my knee hadn’t healed yet. But a little pain meant nothing now. 3 As I walked towards the artificial lake, I saw them. Arthur was supporting Scarlett, her body half-slumped into his. Her right hand rested on his shoulder, while her left pressed against his waist, her fingertips tracing the upper edge of his belt buckle, stroking it. Arthur’s free hand made a move to pull her away. But Scarlett was quicker. Her fingers slipped, burrowing into his palm, intertwining with his. He stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. I stopped dead. Suddenly, as if sensing my presence, Scarlett turned her head. She whispered something into Arthur’s ear. He nodded, released her hand, and turned to walk towards the outpatient building. Scarlett remained where she was. Only when he was out of earshot did she walk towards me. “Audrey, you’re discharged? Why didn’t you ask Dr. Blackwood to see you off?” I ignored her. She caught up to me. I glanced at her ankle, which she had supposedly twisted. She shrugged, unfazed. “You know, he helped me all the way, and his hand never left me.” She tilted her head, her eyes curving into a smile. “How could a surgeon like him not tell if my ankle was really sprained?” “He held me so tight, though. Don’t you think he cares about me?” “But I understand you.” She sighed, feigning sympathy. “After so many years, you two probably don’t have any passion left, just habit, right?” “Are you finished?” I stopped walking. “Oh, are you angry?” She covered her mouth, giggling. “There’s no man in the world who doesn’t stray. You can’t expect him to stay faithful to you forever. But I do admire you, being able to turn a blind eye like this…” “Scarlett.” I cut her off. “Do you know what the most pathetic thing about you is?” Her smile froze. “You have to resort to such contemptible tactics to win a man who doesn’t love you.” She suddenly grabbed my wrist. “What do you mean?” “Exactly what I said.” I shook her off. “Let go.” I pulled my hand back forcefully, and she stumbled. Instinctively, she pushed me. I fell backwards towards the artificial lake. I clung to her tightly, and the momentum pulled us both into the icy water. The surface was partially frozen, and the splash was loud, drawing many eyes. Including Arthur, who had just returned. He hadn’t seen Scarlett push me. So, from his perspective, I had tried to push Scarlett in, and she had pulled me in with her. Arthur quickly pulled her out. Scarlett was soaked, her nurse’s uniform plastered to her body, shivering from the cold. She collapsed into Arthur’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dr. Blackwood…” She burrowed desperately into his embrace, even unbuttoning his shirt. Arthur said nothing, his eyes fixed on me. I’d seen that look before. The same cold, disappointed, impatient look he’d given me every time I’d made a scene over the past two years. “Audrey,” he said, his voice deep and stern. “This is a person’s life.” “If you have a problem, take it out on me. Don’t vent your anger on others.” I didn’t bother to argue. I reached out, bracing myself against the muddy bank, trying to stand. But Scarlett, who had supposedly fainted, suddenly slipped. Her shoe, as if guided by an unseen force, brutally kicked the side of my knee, right where the wound was. My grip loosened, and I tumbled back into the lake. Arthur, meanwhile, frantically scooped up Scarlett and rushed towards the outpatient building. This fall was much worse. The back of my head hit the ice, and my vision went black for a few seconds. The frigid water flooded my nasal cavity, choking me. I struggled to the surface. He never once looked back. The water wasn’t deep, only reaching my chest when I stood. But after two attempts, my right leg wouldn’t bear any weight. Every movement sent a blinding pain through me. In the end, it was the cleaning lady who found me. By the time she pulled me out with her mop handle, I was too numb to speak. My lips were purple, my fingers so stiff I couldn’t clench them. “Oh, the poor thing…” The woman draped her jacket over me. “How did you fall in? Where’s your family?” I shook my head. The moment I stood up, a searing cramp tore through my lower abdomen. My vision swam, and I passed out.

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My husband, Alec, and I had been married for three years, and he insisted on splitting every single cost down to the last kilowatt of electricity. The day I found out I was pregnant, he calmly pulled out a calculator. “Audrey, pregnancy expenses will be fifty-fifty. After the baby is born, if you choose to breastfeed, you’ll need to compensate me for my lost work hours. You’d be monopolizing a shared household resource.” I trembled with rage, tears blurring my vision. He handed me a tissue. “Don’t cry. That’s two cents a tissue. I’ll add it to your tab.” I burst out laughing, a hollow, bitter sound, and then, right there in front of him, I booked an abortion. … I stared at the numbers, a dry, bitter laugh catching in my throat. With a flick of my wrist, I screenshot it, saving it. This nauseating message was the final epitaph for any lingering illusions I had about him, about this marriage. I ignored him, hailing a cab straight to the hospital and checking into gynecology. Alec probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He sent a new message. Not comfort, not concern, but an Excel spreadsheet. [Monthly Household Expenses]. In the notes, he’d written: “You exceeded your shower time by 5 minutes recently. Water bill increase: 15%.” The words stung my eyes. I turned off my phone. In the hospital corridor, expectant mothers sat around me, their husbands doting on them. Their faces were radiant with unconcealed joy. The men handed them water, peeled oranges and brought them to their lips, constantly checking on their comfort. “Audrey.” The nurse called my name. I walked into the consulting room alone. The doctor looked at my examination results, then up at me. “Where’s the family? We need a family member’s signature for the procedure.” I forced a smile, one uglier than a cry, my voice devoid of warmth. “He’s dead.” The doctor paused, then didn’t press for details. Before signing the consent form, a strange impulse made me want to give him one last chance. I dialed Alec’s number. The phone rang for a long time before he answered. The background was noisy, and a cloying female voice drifted through. “Alec, darling, who is it? Come help me with this project proposal, please.” The voice was sickly sweet. It belonged to Scarlett, his idealized first love, who had just returned from abroad. Alec’s impatient voice came through the receiver. “Audrey? I’m in the middle of a multi-million-dollar deal. What do you want now?” My hand, gripping the pen, trembled violently, the pen’s shaft almost snapping under my fingers. “I’m about to have surgery, and you…” “Handle that minor abortion yourself. Don’t interrupt my important business,” he cut me off, his voice laced with contempt. “A mature adult should know how to manage their own body and emotions.” “And remember to get a receipt. Otherwise, I won’t reimburse my half.” The call ended. Listening to the busy signal, a sudden realization hit me: my three years of marriage had been a colossal joke. My chest heaved. When I opened my eyes again, all hesitation was gone. I signed my name on the surgical consent form, each stroke deliberate and firm. Two hours later, the nurse wheeled me out of the operating room, utterly drained. She handed me a medical waste disposal slip, detailing the disposal of the embryonic tissue. I picked up the paper, still bearing my bloodstain, and with my last reserves of strength, snapped a photo. I sent it to Alec. “Your half? The hospital disposed of it as medical waste. Disposal fee is $50. Transfer me $25.” He replied instantly. “You actually went through with it?” “Audrey, you unilaterally destroyed a shared family asset of incalculable value. We’ll settle this score thoroughly when you get back!” I dragged my aching body back to our so-called home. A cold, dark room greeted me. Alec hadn’t returned. I opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. My half of the fridge was empty. His half, however, was locked shut with a small combination lock. The blood in my veins turned to ice. This was my husband, on the day I miscarried, terrified I might eat one of his eggs. I ordered takeout, a bowl of hot soup. The moment I placed the order, Alec’s message arrived. “You ordered takeout? You’ll be responsible for 80% of the takeout waste disposal fee. I don’t eat takeout, so I won’t generate that trash.” I was too weak to reply. The soup arrived slightly cold. I took two sips, and my stomach churned. The soup, mixed with bile, spilled onto the cold floor. I collapsed onto the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through my social media. One post caught my eye, a sharp stab to my heart. It was from Scarlett. “First day back in the city, thanks to Alec for the welcome dinner! The King Crab was amazing~” Accompanying the caption was a photo of a cracked crab leg. In the background, a woman’s hand was conspicuously visible. On her wrist was a Fendi watch, worth hundreds of thousands. I clicked on the full image, my gaze fixed on that watch. Last year, on my birthday, I had seen the same watch in a boutique and loved it. I wanted to buy it, but Alec pulled me away, righteously declaring, “Married couples should be rational consumers. This money would be better saved as a family emergency fund.” Now, his supposed “cash flow problems” had vanished, reappearing on his idealized first love’s wrist. Meanwhile, I, his lawful wife, had just miscarried his child and couldn’t even stomach a warm meal. I felt no pain, couldn’t cry. My chest was hollow, filled only with cold. I stood up and walked, step by painful step, to his study. I began to search through his computer and filing cabinets. Since he loved keeping tabs so much, I would help him settle the real scores. Late into the night, the lock turned. Alec was home. He carried the heavy scent of perfume, not mine, but the one Scarlett always wore. He noticed my pale face, but offered no concern. Instead, he frowned. “You were home today. Why isn’t the floor swept? We can skip the cleaning service tomorrow. You can do it.” I let out a cold laugh, looking up at him. “How was Scarlett’s King Crab? Was it delicious?” He froze, then bristled, defensive. “That was a client dinner, reimbursed by the company. Audrey, can you stop being so unreasonable?” “I had a miscarriage,” I stated calmly. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, but he quickly reverted to his cold, detached demeanor. “Your miscarriage was a unilateral decision. The physical toll it took on you is your own responsibility, not mine.” He pulled a printed list from his briefcase and slapped it on the table. “This is a recommended list of nutritional supplements for your recovery. I’ve already compared prices by brand and quantity. You can purchase them yourself.” “Remember, personal expenses. I’m not paying.” The next day, I dragged my still-recovering body to the kitchen to brew myself some herbal tea. Alec followed, like an overseer, his eyes glued to the gas meter. “That pot of water has been boiling for nearly twenty minutes. I’ll note down the gas fee. It’ll be deducted from your account at the end of the month.” I looked at his handsome but cruel face and found it utterly ridiculous. Right in front of him, I opened my banking app and transferred him $0.01. “Here. Keep the change.” His face darkened. “Audrey, what is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing. A tip.” He was speechless with rage, slamming the door as he left. Soon after, my phone vibrated. A message from Scarlett. She pretended to have sent it to the wrong person. “Thanks, darling, for letting me borrow Alec for the day. I absolutely adore this handbag. It’s just so expensive, I feel bad making Alec spend so much.” Below was an image: an Hermes box, next to a receipt. I zoomed in. The total was $120,000. Almost simultaneously, I received a bank alert. Alec’s supplementary credit card had just made a $120,000 purchase at a luxury department store. That supplementary card was one I’d given him, with a shared limit, for his so-called “business entertaining.” It had become his ATM for buying handbags for his idealized first love. In three years of marriage, his most expensive gift to me was a necklace he bought on sale for $999. The money even came from our shared household account. But for Scarlett, just back in the country, it was a six-figure handbag. That evening, Alec returned home. I tossed my phone in front of him. “A $120,000 handbag. Explain.” He glanced at it, not a hint of remorse on his face. “I lent it to her. She’ll pay me back later. Besides, she’s a young woman, just back in the country, unfamiliar with everything. What’s wrong with me helping out a friend?” His blatant double standards infuriated me. “Then I miscarried, and I’m not well. Why don’t you help me out?” His answer revealed his true nature. “You’re my wife, my partner in this household. You should be capable of independently managing risks. She’s different. She’s fragile, she needs protection.” I looked at his self-righteous expression and suddenly lost the urge to cry. It became clear. In Alec’s mind, I, his wife, was merely a partner for splitting costs and sharing risks. His idealized first love, however, was a precious treasure to be doted on without regard for cost. I said nothing more. I quietly returned to my room and closed the door. The post-operative infection hit swiftly and violently. In the middle of the night, I woke up shivering from a deep chill, my body burning like a furnace, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. The thermometer read 104.4°F (40.2°C). I nudged Alec awake, my voice as weak as a whisper. “Alec, take me to the hospital… I feel terrible. I can’t…” He stirred, annoyed, rolling over and glancing at his phone. The glow of the screen highlighted his furrowed brow. I caught a glimpse of a message from Scarlett: “Alec, darling, it’s thundering outside. I’m so scared, I can’t sleep.” He immediately sat up and began dressing. “You can take a cab yourself. I have an urgent matter to attend to.” I used my last ounce of strength to grasp his sleeve. “I might die.” He recoiled in disgust, pulling his arm away with such force that I tumbled off the bed. “Audrey, stop with the melodrama for sympathy. A simple abortion can’t kill you. Can you just be mature?” “Your irresponsible behavior is wasting family rest resources and severely impacting my work efficiency tomorrow!” The door slammed shut, cutting off the sound of his retreating footsteps. I lay on the cold floor, my consciousness fading. I struggled to reach my phone and dialed 911. I next woke up in the emergency room. White ceiling, acrid smell of disinfectant. A doctor was on the phone with a family member, his tone harsh. “Are you Audrey’s husband? The patient is experiencing severe post-operative hemorrhaging and urgently needs a blood transfusion and surgery. Get over here and pay the fees and sign the consent form!” From the other end of the line, Alec’s voice came through, colder than ice. “She’s an adult. She’s responsible not only for her own actions but also for her own bills.” “This expense is not within our joint household budget. I won’t pay.” The doctor was clearly infuriated and put him on speaker. Alec’s voice echoed clearly throughout the emergency room. I heard a nearby patient’s family member gasp, then whisper, “That animal.” “Furthermore, this infection is due to her individual constitution, an individual accident. According to our prenuptial agreement, personal accident expenses are borne by the individual.” I lay on the hospital bed, semi-conscious, listening to his words, and the last tear slid from my eye. Not for him, but for my own blindness over these three years. Well done, Alec. You finally, with your own hands, killed the last flicker of love I held for you. When I was fully conscious again, my best friend, Julia, sat by my bedside, wiping away tears. Seeing my eyes open, she immediately gripped my hand, trembling with rage. “Audrey, listen to this! Is this animal even human?” She pressed play on her phone, and Alec’s bone-chillingly cold voice filled the room. “…This expense is not within our joint household budget. I won’t pay…” It turned out, Julia had rushed to the emergency room and arrived just as the doctor put Alec on speaker. She, quick-witted, recorded the entire conversation. In the recording, the murmurs and gasps of other patients’ families were clearly audible. It was perfect evidence, enough to nail Alec to the pillory of public shame. Julia cried, “I’m putting this online! Everyone needs to see what kind of monster he is!” I pulled out the IV needle from my arm and shook my head at her. My face was devoid of color, my eyes chillingly calm. “No,” I took her phone, my voice hoarse, but with a thrill of impending vengeance. “The internet is too cheap a punishment for him.” I retrieved the recording, then deftly forwarded it to two people: Alec’s mother and his direct superior. Julia leaned in for a closer look, gasping. “Audrey, you…” I watched the ‘sent successfully’ notification, then forced a pale smile. I said to her, word by word, “Contact the best lawyer you can find. Then, the show begins.”

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1 It was the celebration party for Cole’s third consecutive Southport Racing Championship victory. It was also the night he had promised to propose to me. Instead, with a bright smile on his face, he pulled a petite, shrinking girl into the spotlight. “Let me introduce the real hero of the night,” Cole announced, his voice booming over the music. “If Sienna hadn’t guided me through my rehab training, I would never have returned to the track.” He pulled her closer, his arm draped casually around her waist. “From today onwards, she will be my exclusive physical therapist. The twenty-four-seven kind of companionship, you know?” My eyes widened in shock. Cole caught my gaze, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. The crowd erupted into rowdy cheers, though a few people shot me teasing, sympathetic looks. “Twenty-four-seven? Won’t Cindy have a problem with that?” someone shouted. Cole just laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Cindy is very generous. Aren’t you, babe?” I stood there, frozen in silence. Halfway through the party, I pulled him aside. He reeked of expensive alcohol. “Cole, stop this. You need to stop messing around.” He reached out, his fingers gripping my chin. He let out a dark chuckle. “What? You’re allowed to have your male best friend, but I can’t have a female one?” … Fury flickered in my eyes. “That is enough.” “I have told you countless times. Gabriel is just my brother.” “Brother.” Cole chewed on the word slowly, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. “Sounds so intimate, doesn’t it?” His grip tightened slightly. “Cindy, you barely ever call me ‘babe’ anymore. You always claim you’re too shy for pet names, yet you seem perfectly comfortable being so sweet with someone else.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe such insulting words were coming out of his mouth. This was the man who used to call me his innocent angel, untouched by the world. Whenever anyone cursed around me in the past, he would instinctively cover my ears and whisper, Cindy, don’t listen. A sharp pain pierced my chest. Seeing the redness rimming my eyes, Cole froze. A flash of regret crossed his face. He opened his mouth to say something. But in the next second, my phone started ringing. The name Gabriel flashed relentlessly on the screen. I turned away from Cole immediately and answered it. Behind me, I heard a self-deprecating scoff. “I’m such a damn fool.” His heavy footsteps faded into the background noise of the party. “Cindy? Is everything okay?” Gabriel asked, instantly picking up on the tremor in my voice. I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of acidity in my throat. “I’m fine. How is my mom?” “Her condition is stable for now, but she’ll need another round of chemo. Don’t worry, Cindy. I will do absolutely everything in my power to make sure Aunt Sarah recovers.” I murmured a soft thank you and hung up. Six months ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I ran into Gabriel at the hospital by pure chance. My mother had once been married to his father, making us step-siblings for a brief period. After their divorce, we lost touch. I never expected him to become an oncologist. For the past year, Cole had been suffering from severe PTSD after a horrific crash on the track. I didn’t want to add to his burden, so I kept my mother’s illness a secret. Because of a few late-night calls from Gabriel, Cole became convinced I was cheating. He started making snide remarks, turning paranoid. He even started showering other women with attention just to get back at me. Now, he had overcome his trauma and won the championship. I decided it was time to tell him the truth. I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart. Suddenly, a loud commotion drew my attention to the other side of the room. I looked over just in time to see Cole gently wiping red wine off Sienna’s dress with a napkin. He then looked up, glaring fiercely at a woman holding a wine glass. “An accident? Are you blind?” Cole snarled. The woman stamped her foot in frustration. Sienna waved her hands frantically, her voice trembling. “I’m fine, really. I can clean it myself.” She grabbed the napkin, dabbing at her dress. She said she was fine, but huge tears began rolling down her cheeks. Cole immediately panicked. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll make her pay for this, okay?” He stepped forward, his eyes cold as ice as he stared the woman down. “No one bullies my people and gets away with it.” The woman panicked. “It wasn’t me! She bumped into me!” When Cole got angry, he lost all sense of reason. Afraid he would cause a scene that would ruin his career, I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Cole, calm down. Don’t make this a big deal.” He violently yanked his arm out of my grasp. His voice was absolute zero. “Since when is my business any of yours?” My hand hung suspended in the air. The entire room fell dead silent. 2 Everyone in Cole’s inner circle knew how much he adored me. Back in high school, we lived on opposite sides of the city. One winter night, I casually mentioned over the phone how much I was craving warm cinnamon rolls. He drove across the entire city in the freezing cold just to bring them to me. When he arrived, shivering but beaming, he pulled a warm paper bag from inside his leather jacket. “Almost burned my chest off keeping these warm for you.” Seeing my tears, he panicked. “Cindy, why are you crying? I was joking, they weren’t hot at all!” When it came time for college applications, he handed the decision to me. “Wherever Cindy wants me to go, I’ll go. You own me for life.” His friends used to tease him, calling him my loyal puppy. He just smiled, completely unbothered. “It’s my absolute honor.” The memory burned. The back of my hand, where he had slapped it away, stung. My chest felt tight, as if the air was being sucked out of the room. I lowered my hand and stared at him, my voice steady. “Cole, I’m saying this one last time. Stop making a scene.” He didn’t even glance at me. He took Sienna’s hand, stepped forward, and addressed the terrified woman. “Get on your knees, apologize to Sienna, and I might let this slide.” Cole wasn’t just the hottest star in the racing world. He was the sole heir to the wealthy family behind the circuit. This woman couldn’t afford to cross him. Humiliated, she dropped to her knees, apologized to a crying Sienna, and ran off in tears. Cole patted Sienna’s head with sickening tenderness. “Don’t cry. It’s no big deal.” Whispers began to spread through the crowd like wildfire. “He really seems to like that therapist.” “Is the golden couple finally over?” “To be fair, Sienna stuck by him through his worst year. Hard times reveal true love.” “Yeah, I haven’t seen Cindy do a single thing for him lately.” Cole heard every word. He raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes saying: See? Everyone agrees with me. I sighed. “Cole, we need to talk. I have something to tell you.” Seeing the seriousness on my face, he shrugged and started walking toward me. But Sienna suddenly grabbed his arm. She clutched her stomach, her face turning pale. Cole’s demeanor shifted instantly. He caught her as she stumbled. She whispered something in his ear, and without a second of hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms. “Cole!” I shouted after him. He ignored me completely, striding out of the venue as if he were deaf. My heart felt like it was being plunged into a bucket of ice water. Cold and suffocating. The sympathetic looks from the crowd felt like slaps across my face. Cole used to say, The world is big, but Cindy is the biggest. Even if you wanted my life, it’s yours. Yet now, he was leaving me behind for someone else. Early the next morning, Cole returned home, looking exhausted. He spotted me sitting on the living room sofa. He paused, noticing the dark circles under my eyes. “Didn’t sleep at all?” “Cole, we need to talk.” “Fine. Talk. What is it?” He collapsed onto the opposite sofa, his gaze burning into me. “You’ve misunderstood everything between me and Gabriel. I’ve been in contact with him because my mother is sick, and he’s her doctor.” I poured my heart out, explaining everything in detail. After a long silence, he tilted his head. “That’s it?” His reaction was not at all what I expected. My throat went dry. “You…” “I thought it was something important,” he chuckled. “By the way, I have some news too. I’ve decided to let Sienna move in. As my therapist, she needs to monitor my health twenty-four-seven.” He waved a hand toward the hallway. “Give her your room. You can take the guest bedroom.” I frowned, standing up abruptly. “Cole, what do you mean…” “This showed up in my email,” he interrupted, his voice turning cold. A stack of photos was thrown onto the coffee table. They were pictures of Gabriel and me meeting privately. Sitting in a coffee shop, Gabriel’s hand near my cheek. Walking down the street, Gabriel’s arm around my shoulder. And finally, sitting in a car, Gabriel appearing to kiss me. My pupils dilated. “It’s not what it looks like, Cole. You have to listen to me…” He stood up, grabbing the back of my head. His grip was so tight his knuckles turned white. “Your excuses are pathetic, Cindy. If you want to play the bad girl, you should take some lessons.” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you. If you want to play games, I’ll play with you.” 3 Sienna really moved in. In the house Cole and I had shared for five years, the scent of another woman began to linger. When we first moved in, Cole gave me the master bedroom with the best sunlight. He had said, Our Cindy deserves the best of everything. Now, I was kicked out, and the room was given to Sienna. With a simple claim of being “allergic to pollen,” Sienna had Cole throw away all the flowers I had carefully cultivated for years. Sienna loved spicy food. Suddenly, every meal on the table was loaded with chili peppers, completely ignoring the fact that I couldn’t handle spicy food at all. My best friend was furious when I told her. “Why haven’t you dumped him yet?” “Cole just misunderstands me,” I replied, a bitter taste in my mouth. I firmly believed he was doing this purely out of spite. It was just like when his mother abandoned him for another family. Years later, no matter how much she begged him to visit her, he refused. Even on her deathbed, Cole never showed up. He was a man of extremes. During this time, I was quietly investigating who took those photos. The photographer was incredibly opportunistic. Gabriel brushing a bug out of my hair was framed as him caressing my face. Gabriel pulling me out of the way of a speeding scooter was framed as him embracing me. The most ridiculous one was the “kiss” in the car. Gabriel was just leaning over to check the side mirror, but the angle made it look like a kiss. The motive was clear. Someone wanted to destroy my relationship with Cole. Following the digital footprints, I finally found the person who hired the photographer. I never expected it to be Sienna. I found them sitting in a cafe. Sienna was taking something from the man’s hands. She smiled, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I want more photos. As many as possible. I want Cole to completely loathe that bitch Cindy.” In that moment, fury eclipsed my reason. I marched up to their table. “So it was you who hired someone to stalk me!” Sienna paused, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Cindy? What are you talking about?” I looked down at the flash drive she had just taken. I lunged forward to grab it, but she pulled back quickly. “Cindy, this is mine! What are you doing!” In the struggle, Sienna fell to the floor. Suddenly, a furious roar echoed through the cafe. A strong force shoved me aside. My lower back slammed hard into the sharp corner of a nearby table. The blinding pain brought instant tears to my eyes. “Cindy, have you lost your mind!” Cole stood protectively in front of Sienna, glaring at me with raw anger. “Why are you bullying Sienna!” I swallowed the pain, looking at Cole with red-rimmed eyes. My voice shook with grievance. “She hired someone to stalk me! I just heard them talking about it!” Cole frowned, looking back at Sienna for an explanation. Sienna handed the flash drive to Cole, her eyes welling up. “I didn’t do anything. This is the photographer I hired for you. He took pictures of your last race for the club’s website.” The photographer immediately chimed in, opening his laptop. “You can check the drive right now, sir. We aren’t lying. This crazy lady just showed up and accused me of stalking her.” Cole plugged the drive into the laptop. The screen lit up with high-quality photos of his race cars. I was speechless. “But I heard them talking about me just a second ago. Cole, you have to believe me.” “Believe you? Why on earth would I believe you?” “Because you’re too busy sneaking around with other men?” Cole’s gaze swept over me, filled with contempt. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried perfectly to the onlookers. Mocking, curious glances shot toward me like arrows. I felt as if I were standing naked in the middle of the room, swallowed by intense shame. I had been in a situation like this before. When I first started my writing career, a senior author falsely accused me of plagiarizing her work. No one dared to offend the industry giant, so they all pointed their fingers at me. Public opinion crushed me. At a prominent publisher’s gala, everyone looked at me with disgust. Just as I was about to flee in tears, Cole arrived like a knight in shining armor. He slammed a stack of evidence on the table for everyone to see. He pulled me into his arms, his voice firm and unwavering. “Cindy did not plagiarize. She is the most dedicated writer I have ever met, and I will not allow anyone to slander her!” That night, he fought the world for me. But today, he was the one pushing me into the fire. My heart contracted violently. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

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Holden Corfield’s tablet was broken. I tried our wedding date three times, and each time it flashed an error. I had no choice but to call him. “Holden, take your tablet in for repairs tomorrow.” A mischievous, sweet voice answered from the other end. “Mrs. Corfield? Oh, I’m so sorry! I was playing games in Mr. Corfield’s office yesterday.” “I accidentally changed the password to my birthday.” I stood in silence for two seconds, then hung up. When Holden returned home that evening, I tossed a divorce agreement onto the table in front of him. He pressed his fingers to his temples, clearly exasperated. “Why are you quarreling with a young girl? She’s immature, but are you going to be immature too?” I let out a cold laugh. “Then you can live with the ‘mature’ one.” … Holden bent down, picking up the divorce agreement from the floor. Without even a glance, he tore it to shreds and tossed the pieces into the waste bin. His gaze, when it finally landed on me, remained utterly cold. “Ivy, you’re becoming increasingly unreasonable.” There wasn’t a hint of a smile in my eyes. “Holden, I don’t want to discuss this with you any further. Our marriage was always an arrangement, without a foundation of love. Going our separate ways amicably is the only path forward.” As I spoke, my heart felt as though it were being pricked by countless invisible needles, a dense, throbbing ache. Holden and I were indeed an arranged match, but over five years, I had fallen for him without realizing it. But what did love matter now? This wasn’t a one-time offense; it was a pattern. If I pretended nothing happened this time, what about next time? And the time after that? Was I to live a lifetime of constant compromise and hurt? Rosie White’s words today were an undeniable provocation. Everyone in Newhaven knew that Holden disliked women getting too close to him, or anyone touching his personal belongings. When Holden was twenty, the housekeeper’s daughter, refusing to believe the rumors, pulled off his tie while he was dead drunk after a business dinner, hoping to seduce him and secure her place by getting pregnant. The result was two broken hands and banishment from the Corfield estate, never to be seen again. Not only that, Holden had severe germophobia and a strong sense of personal boundaries. For years, I had been the sole exception. Only I could freely touch his personal items: his tablet, his phone, his laptop. Even if I wanted to look through his chat history, he would only sigh, a fond, helpless expression on his face, and gently ruffle my hair. He’d softly tell me not to stay up too late, to get some rest. But today, that privilege no longer belonged to me. I had received a dangerous signal, and I knew I had to cut ties before I became even more deeply entrenched. A suffocating silence spread through the living room. Holden and I faced each other in a silent standoff. He knew my temper. I couldn’t tolerate deception. On our wedding night, I had told him clearly: if he ever found someone he truly loved, I would step aside and never cling on. At the time, he had held me tightly, with a force so great it felt as if he wanted to meld me into his very being. He said we were so compatible, like a match made in heaven. He claimed that even without love, we could grow old together. He didn’t mind touching me. And I felt the same. Rather than spending my life with some useless, philandering socialite, I preferred him as my husband. For five years, Holden and I were the envy of society, a perfect couple. All the joint ventures between the Corfield and Rivers families flourished, yielding impressive profits. Three months ago, on Holden’s birthday, I proposed having a child. Holden traced the tears on my face—a mix of pleasure and pain—his expression moved. “Ivy, are you truly sure?” I whimpered, lifting my weak, aching arm to wrap around Holden’s neck. Even now, I remember that moment clearly. A flicker of light danced in the dark, almond-shaped depths of Holden’s eyes. The second before I succumbed to exhaustion and sleep, something warm dripped onto my face. Then I was pulled into a wide, warm embrace. Holden’s voice was deep, gentle: “Ivy, thank you.” My memories fractured, and I forced myself to forget those beautiful moments. Swallowing the bitter surge in my heart, I gathered my resolve and reiterated, “Holden, I want a divorce.” Several long minutes passed, but Holden remained unresponsive. I couldn’t stand the silent treatment, so I turned and went upstairs to pack my things. Half an hour later, I was pulling my suitcase toward the door when Holden finally reacted, blocking my path with his arm. “Ivy Rivers, you want to divorce me over such a trivial matter?” It had been a long time since Holden had called me by my full name. I took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Yes.” Holden’s brows furrowed deeper, lost in thought. Perhaps remembering the child I carried, his tone softened slightly. “Ivy, I can explain what happened today.” Even though I had no intention of giving Holden another chance, I still wanted to hear what kind of absurd excuse he would offer. “The young lady’s proposal was approved by the board. She didn’t want a bonus; she just told me she hadn’t played games in a while and wanted to use my tablet for a few rounds. I agreed.” He paused, looking directly into my eyes. “The password has already been changed back, Ivy. This is a very small matter. I’ve already reprimanded her, and she’s deeply remorseful. She even said she wants to come over personally to apologize to you.” “Please, be the bigger person and don’t make things difficult for a young girl fresh out of college. I promise you, aside from necessary work, I will have no further contact with her.” I seized on the critical point. “Holden, are you already defending her? Do you see me as some malicious, jealous shrew? You think you two are innocent, and I’m just being unreasonable, clinging to a baseless accusation?” “Ivy, that’s not what I meant.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Holden, no matter what you think, I am divorcing you. As for the child, I haven’t decided yet, but don’t worry, even if I have him, I won’t use him to threaten you.” My words were final. I pushed past Holden and walked out the villa’s front door. The staff stood frozen, not daring to intervene. I hailed a cab back to the Rivers’ family home. I expected my parents to support my decision once I explained the situation, but the opposite was true. My father chain-smoked several cigarettes. “Ivy, it’s not that your mother and I disagree with your divorce from Holden. It’s just that the Rivers Corporation still relies on Holden’s support. If you two divorce, Holden will inevitably withdraw his investment, and then our company will be on the brink of collapse.” My mother, wearing an expensive face mask, accused me of being ungrateful. “We’ve seen how well Holden treats you. He’s a good man worth spending your life with. Don’t be impulsive and hand him over to another woman.” “Even if, by some stretch, Holden did have feelings for another woman, you would have to endure it, wouldn’t you? In our circles, there’s not much true love. Being married to Holden is a blessing you earned over lifetimes.” Ultimately, it all came down to “interests.” For years, my father’s poor management had brought the Rivers Corporation to the brink of bankruptcy multiple times, and each time, Holden had stepped in to help. I thought I would be upset, that I would yell and scream. But I didn’t. I looked at my parents calmly and asked, “So, what do you suggest I do?” My father extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. “I’ve already texted Holden. He’ll be here soon. Go back and live a good life with him. Don’t keep running back to your family; people will gossip.” My mother chimed in, “Ivy, listen to your father. We wouldn’t hurt you. Also, your brother is interested in a plot of land owned by Corfield Corporation. Remember to mention it to Holden and ask him to make it convenient.” Yes. The reason I became a pawn in an arranged marriage was because I had a younger brother. Holden arrived quickly. His usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, a sign of his haste. He took my hand, despite my strong resistance, and offered my parents an apologetic smile. “Father, Mother, it’s my fault. I upset Ivy.” My father instructed the butler to prepare the finest tea for Holden. My mother busied herself in the kitchen, insisting Holden stay for dinner. And I became the superfluous one. No one considered my feelings. And so, I returned to Holden’s villa. Before we got into the car, my mother pulled me aside, mysteriously handing me a small pink bottle. She said it was something good to enhance marital relations. “If a man’s heart strays, it’s not just because another woman tempted him. Often, the wife needs to examine herself. You’re pregnant now, and Holden must have needs in that area.” “Listen to your mother. This potion will not only make Holden crave you, but it won’t harm the baby.” I didn’t take the bottle she held out. Instead, I looked at her with an entirely unfamiliar expression. She was my mother, blood of my blood. But only today did I truly see her for who she was. My mother, seeing me motionless, forced the potion into my hand. On the other side, my father obsequiously offered Holden a cigarette. Holden declined. “Father, secondhand smoke isn’t good for pregnant women.” My father chuckled awkwardly. “My apologies, I wasn’t thinking.” I felt an absurd sense of unreality. After that day, Holden arranged for a therapist for me. The therapist suggested my anxieties were due to hormonal changes during pregnancy. Holden was as considerate and attentive as ever, making me doubt if that night’s argument had just been a dream. But I wasn’t fooled by the sweet facade he deliberately created. His coldness, his impatience that night, had left indelible scars on my heart. Even if the wounds healed, the occasional faint pangs would always remind me of what had happened. I couldn’t pretend everything was normal; most of the time, I gave Holden the cold shoulder. As long as I didn’t bring up divorce, Holden never got angry. He thought I had become compliant, no longer demanding my due. Unbeknownst to him, I had already booked a plane ticket to leave the country. I would leave him in a week. Leave Newhaven. And never return. I wanted nothing to do with him, or my parents. I had an abortion scheduled for tomorrow. But Holden watched me closely. Even when he went to the office, he had bodyguards follow me. I didn’t know if he was worried about me, or the child I carried. The next morning, for the first time in ages, I made Holden breakfast. He looked genuinely surprised. After all these years of marriage, I had cooked only a handful of times, let alone woken up early to prepare a beautifully presented meal to his taste. After Holden finished eating, I told him I was going for a prenatal check-up. He pulled out his phone to call. “Today’s meeting will be postponed until the afternoon.” “No need to postpone. I can go by myself.” I offered him a rare smile, helping him tie his tie. “Holden, I’m not a child. I don’t need you, nor do I need bodyguards. Go to your meeting. I’ll call you if anything happens.” Holden looked down at his perfectly tied knot, then at me. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. Before leaving, he repeatedly reminded me to be careful. And then he added, “Ivy, come back early after your check-up. Rosie spent half her salary buying you a gift, and she’s coming to the house after work to apologize.” I lay on the cold operating table, many memories flashing through my mind. Holden pressing his face to my belly, saying he wanted to hear what the baby was doing. Holden gently massaging my swollen legs during pregnancy, saying we would only have this one child because he didn’t want me to suffer again. Going further back. Holden carrying me on his back through the snow, promising me a lifetime of devotion to only me. At that time, I jokingly asked him, “Holden, we’ve been together for so long, do you like me even a little bit?” What did Holden say? He seemed to say yes, and no, at the same time. I thought and thought, and finally remembered his exact words. He had said, “Ivy, I don’t know if I’ve fallen in love with you, but I can say for certain that you are the one I want to spend my life with. The only one. Irreplaceable.” Oh. Now, there was a replacement. Rosie White.

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