It was midnight when my phone finally lit up. I stared at the screen, my heart doing a nervous little flutter-kick in my chest. “Dear Ms. Sharon Chan, wishing you a happy 28th birthday! Your account balance is $328.51.” It was just the bank app. I waited five more minutes, then ten, then thirty. The phone stayed silent. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan Jared, had texted earlier, claiming his flight was delayed due to a business trip, and he’d call as soon as he landed. My mom called last week: “Your brother needs $10,000 for the engagement, wire it over.” I said okay, and she hung up. My best friend, Maya Lin, posted on Instagram today: “Busy but fulfilling day!” The picture was a dozen perfect red roses. I flipped the phone face-down on the table. $328 was my total worth for the rest of the month. I’d given $300,000 for my brother’s down payment, $100,000 for his engagement, and God knows how much more over the last three years to fill various holes. Suddenly, I felt like there was nothing to celebrate on my 28th birthday. But that’s fine. I opened my laptop and pulled up a specific folder. Three years. It was time for me to collect my own debts. 01 Ryan’s flight delay was a lie. I’d known for a while. Because he hadn’t bought a plane ticket; he’d bought a train ticket. The order confirmation was pushed to my email late last night. We shared a joint rewards account. He’d forgotten to log out. The destination? A five-star hotel right here in the city. A “three-day business trip,” and the hotel was twenty miles away from our office. I didn’t confront him. I just wanted to see who he was spending his weekend with. At one in the morning, I lay in bed, wide awake. Staring at the ceiling, I drifted back through the past three years. Ryan was a senior from my college, now my co-worker. “Sharon, I’ve been watching you for a long time.” Back then, I thought he was kind, thoughtful, and ambitious. He told me, “Let’s work hard together. We’ll buy a house and get married before we turn thirty.” I believed him. My salary wasn’t high, but I saved every penny. I’d squirreled away eighty thousand over three years. I gave it all to him. He said it was for a stock market investment that tanked. He said it was for a startup that went belly-up. He said it was the down payment for a car that was stolen. I never questioned him. Because every time, he’d say, “Baby, when I make it big, I’ll pay you back tenfold.” I didn’t need tenfold. I just needed him to remember my birthday. At two in the morning, I messaged him: “Did you land?” No reply. Three in the morning: “Are you asleep?” Read, but ignored. He’d walked 12,876 steps today. A flight delay, stuck at the airport? Could you really walk twelve thousand steps in a terminal? I laughed. It was the first time I truly felt like an idiot. Five in the morning, I finally got his reply. “Just landed. So exhausted. Talk tomorrow, get some sleep.” Attached was a photo of a hotel room. The curtains were drawn tight. But I still saw it. There was a bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. Red roses. The exact same ones from Maya’s Instagram post today. 02 I didn’t lose it immediately. I hadn’t gathered all the evidence yet. At eight in the morning, I got up, washed, put on my makeup, and left for work, like a normal day. The office was forty minutes away by subway. Squashed into the morning rush hour crowd, I thought about Ryan and Maya. How did they even connect? Maya was my college roommate. That’s how she knew Ryan. When Ryan and I started dating, I was the one who introduced them. “This is my best friend, Maya. And this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Please look out for me, you two.” How naïve I was back then. I thought a best friend was a best friend, and a boyfriend was a boyfriend. I thought sincerity earned sincerity. The train was jammed. Someone stepped on my foot without apologizing. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair I bought on clearance last year for $59. Ryan mentioned last week he wanted a pair of limited edition sneakers—$2,999. I told him, “I’ll get them when I get paid.” He sighed, “Forget it, I don’t want to burden you.” The next day, Maya posted an Instagram story. “A gift I picked out for a good buddy. Hope he likes them.” The photo was the sneaker box. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, I realized. What best friend buys my boyfriend three-thousand-dollar sneakers? I was completely and utterly played. Nine on the dot, I arrived at the office. It was Monday, time for the weekly meeting. Our director, Ted Carson, sat at the head of the table and scanned the room. “Where’s Ryan?” Leo, a colleague, piped up, “Ryan’s on a business trip.” Ted frowned. “Business trip? What business trip? I didn’t approve any.” Leo laughed awkwardly. “I… I’m not sure.” Ted’s face darkened. The meeting continued, focusing on the proposal review scheduled for next Friday. This was the company’s biggest project this year—a major corporate client, an eight-figure contract. Our team submitted three proposals. I authored one of them. But during the kick-off, Ryan had said, “Just give me the first draft, I’ll help you refine it. We’ll co-author.” I gave it to him. In the end, only his name was on it. Ted had asked me once, “Sharon, the framework for this proposal doesn’t quite match Ryan’s usual style.” I’d said, “We collaborated; he incorporated some of my ideas.” Ted just looked at me and didn’t press. That look—I understood it now. He knew. But he never stood up for me. Because Ryan was his protégé. After the meeting, I returned to my desk and opened my computer. The original file for the stolen proposal was still on my USB drive. I’d saved everything. In three years, I’d learned one thing: Before you commit, always keep a record. 03 At noon, I ordered a $15 boxed lunch. I ate while scrolling through Instagram. Maya posted a second time: “Super happy today! Surprise coming this afternoon~” The photo was her fresh manicure—bright red with tiny hearts painted on the tips. A surprise? What surprise? I looked down at my own hands. My nails were clipped short, unpolished, practical for typing. It had been a year since I last got a manicure. It was for an anniversary dinner Ryan promised. I got my nails done specially. He canceled at the last minute, claiming an emergency. I sat in the restaurant alone for two hours, ate by myself, and went home. He said, “I’ll make it up to you next time.” There was no next time. “Sharon, my office.” Ted’s voice cut through my thoughts. When I entered, he was looking at Ryan’s proposal. The one that was mine. “Sharon,” he began, “how much of this proposal did you actually contribute?” I paused. “I…” “Don’t lie to me.” He looked up. “I know your writing. Ryan’s technical skills aren’t this good.” I kept silent. He sighed. “Forget it, you must have your reasons. I’ll just ask you this: Do you have a handle on next Friday’s review?” “What do you mean?” I asked. “The client has already internally decided on another firm,” he said in a low voice. “That’s insider information. All three of our proposals, no matter how good, are likely just a formality.” My heart sank. “Then why still hold the review?” “To follow protocol,” he said. “But if our proposal is groundbreaking enough, there’s still a slim chance.” He looked at me, a meaningful expression in his eyes. “Sharon, this project is important for you.” “For me?” “You’ve been here three years, and you’re still just a coordinator. Everyone below you has been promoted, and you’re stuck.” He paused. “Do you know why?” I didn’t. I made the PPTs for others to present, I pulled the all-nighters for others’ names to be on, and my ideas were used for others to take credit. But every time there was a promotion, I was passed over. Ted said, “Because you’re too accommodating.” He pushed the proposal toward me. “You present this one yourself.” I took it. I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t say no. Because a thought had suddenly sparked in my mind: Ryan was still “away on his business trip.” I had three days. I could do a lot of damage in three days. 04 After work, I didn’t go home. I went to the five-star hotel Maya mentioned. It was in the heart of the CBD. You needed a key card to get upstairs, but I could wait in the lobby. I bought a $58 latte, sat in a secluded corner, and watched the elevator. At 7:18 PM, the elevator doors opened. Ryan walked out. He was wearing the jacket I bought him—$2,800, three months of savings. The person on his arm was Maya. She was wearing a red dress, fully made up, more beautiful than I had ever seen her. They were laughing and chatting like a couple deeply in love. I took out my phone and snapped three photos. They didn’t see me. They would never in a million years think I’d be here. They walked toward the hotel’s fine-dining restaurant, sat down, and ordered. I watched from afar. I watched Ryan pour her water, serve her food, and cut her steak. He had never done any of those things for me. I watched Maya laughingly feed him a piece of food. He opened his mouth, took it, and they exchanged a look so sickeningly sweet it made my stomach turn. I suddenly remembered something that happened three days ago. Maya asked me out to lunch and inquired, “How are things between you and Ryan?” I said, “Good.” She said, “He got a promotion, you must be happy for him, right?” I said, “Of course.” She said, “Sharon, you’re so generous. I don’t think I could be so understanding.” I didn’t get what she meant then. I got it now. She was testing me. Testing to see if I knew. Once she confirmed I was an idiot, she could confidently move in for the kill. Eight on the dot, they finished their meal. Ryan called the waiter over and said something. The waiter nodded and walked away. A moment later, the restaurant lights dimmed. A cake was wheeled out, topped with candles. The staff started singing the birthday song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” Maya covered her mouth, a look of surprise on her face. Ryan held her hand, saying something I couldn’t hear. But I saw Maya nod. Then Ryan took a small box out of his pocket. He opened it. A ring. Maya cried, laughing through her tears. Ryan slid the ring onto her ring finger. They hugged. They kissed. The surrounding diners applauded. I sat in my corner and watched the entire show. Today was October 15th. My birthday. Ryan was celebrating another woman’s birthday and proposing to her. Maya’s birthday was April 9th. I remembered it clearly. I sent her a gift every year. So this wasn’t her birthday at all. They had simply chosen the day of my supposed “business trip” to stage their little performance. No. They didn’t think they were staging anything. They just assumed I would never find out. I set down my coffee cup. And I laughed a quiet, sharp laugh. Fine. Very fine. 05 I didn’t storm out right then and there. That would be letting them off too easily. I wanted them to lose everything. That night, I returned to my apartment and started organizing the evidence. First, the proposal. My original draft was completed in March 2023, three months before Ryan submitted his. The revision history, the metadata, the backup emails—a complete chain of evidence. Second, the transfers. In three years, I’d wired Ryan $83,200. I had screenshots of every single transfer. The notes were explicitly clear: stock market, startup, car down payment, credit card debt. Third, the text messages. Including every time he said, “Baby, wait for me,” and every time he said, “I promise I’ll pay you back.” Fourth, my family. My parents had taken $470,000 from me in three years. $300,000 for my brother’s house down payment, $100,000 for his engagement, and the remaining $70,000 for various excuses. Every single transaction was documented. But they had never called to ask how I was doing. They had never once remembered my birthday. I finished organizing around three in the morning. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t cry. The tears felt like they’d dried up. The next morning, I went to work as usual. Ryan hadn’t “returned” yet. Maya had also taken the day off. They were probably still celebrating their engagement at the hotel. I opened my laptop and continued revising the proposal. Ted told me to present it myself, and I would. I spent those three days working non-stop to polish that proposal until it was flawless. Around noon, my mom called. “Sharon, did you send the $10,000 for your brother’s engagement party?”

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For three years, the personalized license plate frame on my SUV that read “Mr. Bellweather’s Spot” was a permanent fixture. It was a small, silly symbol of my marriage to Isabelle, but it meant something. That’s why finding a pair of men’s athletic boxer briefs, definitely not mine, shoved under the passenger seat, felt like a physical punch. When I demanded an explanation, Isabelle—Izzy—was unnervingly calm. “An early birthday gift for you, Cal. Don’t overthink it.” It happened again at a high-stakes business dinner. My CEO wife, Izzy, picked up a slice of scallop from her own plate and, with a casual intimacy that made my stomach churn, fed it directly to her male assistant, Dustin Keller. The whole room paused. Her defense, delivered without bothering to meet my eyes: “Just showing concern for a hardworking subordinate. If you don’t like it, fire him.” But the next time I saw Dustin, he was holding Izzy’s prenatal sonogram photo, a smug, sickening smirk plastered on his face. I snapped. I lunged across the table and landed a punch square on his jaw. Izzy didn’t say a word. She just went back to normal. She clung to me, smothering me with affection, and in bed, she was more intense, more possessive than ever, driving us both to exhaustion until the early hours. A few weeks later, the kidnappings started. Seven times in one month. Each time, the tormentors were new, but the goal was the same: to inflict pain that bordered on the medieval. I endured non-human levels of physical and psychological torture. Then, my father died saving me. He was stripped of all dignity and brutally murdered right in front of me. My mother, unable to bear the trauma, retreated into herself and became catatonic. When I finally staggered back to my own home, bloody and barely conscious, I found Izzy’s inner circle playing a high-stakes game in our living room. “I’ll put five million down,” one of them drawled, “that Cal Mercer is so far gone he’ll forgive Sera even after he finds out everything.” “Two million says he not only forgives her,” another countered, counting out chips. “Sera schedules a kidnapping every seven days, and he’ll still crawl back begging for her attention.” I bit down hard, a cry catching in my throat. Tears, mixed with the grime and blood on my face, began to fall. It was always for him. Izzy had been getting revenge for the single punch I landed on Dusty. If I could just get away from her, seven days was all I needed. … I stood in my foyer, soaked in my own blood, watching Izzy carefully help Dustin Keller up the grand staircase. “Sera is so good to Dusty,” her friend marveled. “Dusty just coughed, and Sera’s hands were shaking. Now, just a little dizziness, and she’s already heartbroken!” “Seriously. Remember the last time she was pregnant with Cal’s baby? Dusty just frowned, and she terminated the pregnancy that same day.” “And after Cal hit him? Sera had people trash Cal’s parents’ house and told the men who kidnapped Cal to go hard. He’s paying a hundred times over.” Izzy descended the stairs a few minutes later, a fresh, fiery red mark visible high on her neck. Her friends started to tease, but she cut them off sharply. “Quiet down. Dusty’s asleep. Did you take care of my instructions?” “Consider it done. The new company is incorporated, and the hundred-million-dollar project is secured.” Izzy nodded, her expression cold. “From now on, you call him ‘Mr. Keller.’ I’m transferring the new company to him next week.” The friend hesitated. “Sera, what about… Cal?” Izzy’s voice was lethal. “The second his fist made contact with Dusty’s face, he signed his death warrant. He will suffer a hundred times the pain Dustin felt.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood pooling in my throat. “The deadline is approaching,” someone else asked. “When are we bringing him back? If he’s gone too long, he might get suspicious.” Izzy let out a cold laugh. “Suspicious? He’s in a cage, praying every hour for me to save him. When I show up, he’ll be so grateful he’ll worship the ground I walk on.” I clenched my jaw until it ached, the tears washing paths down my filthy cheeks. I should have known. The Mercer estate had state-of-the-art security and multiple bodyguards. Yet, the night I was taken, the house was empty. Izzy had eyes everywhere, but my parents were able to pinpoint my location? It was all a gift from their loving daughter-in-law. A sudden, sharp scream from upstairs ripped through the silence. Izzy’s face twisted with a genuine, raw panic I’d never seen before. She flew up the stairs. My chest seized. A swarm of private doctors rushed in on her heels. I learned the truth: Dusty had simply had a nightmare. Izzy’s enraged roar echoed through the massive villa. A long while later, she finally instructed the team. “Tell the next crew. Move the kidnapping up. The psychological damage Cal inflicted on Dusty? He has to suffer a hundred times that pain!” I froze, struggling to hold myself upright. My eyes landed on the raw, purple bruises visible on my arms. Izzy was the woman who once frowned if a mosquito bit me. Now, daily beatings and torment were her form of discipline. The author of my never-ending horror show was the same woman who promised to cherish me forever. I panicked, scrambling for an exit, but my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the concrete, shards of decorative gravel embedding themselves in my open wounds. The pain was searing. Izzy heard the commotion. She spotted me and froze for a brief, bewildering moment. Then, she rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Cal, you’re finally home! I’ve been searching for you day and night! Tell me who did this to you, and I swear, I’ll make them pay!” Her tears splashed onto my face, but I felt nothing. How had I been fooled by this performance for so many years? I choked back a sob, my body trembling. She helped me back to our bedroom. My gaze immediately fixed on the tightly closed door of the room opposite ours. Izzy’s composure flickered with a millisecond of fear. “That’s… that’s the nursery I was planning for our baby,” she said quickly. “I locked it up. Didn’t want you to be reminded, you know.” My body tensed, and a bitter laugh caught in my throat. Another lie. Looking at her perfect, beautiful face, the bloody vision of my parents’ final moments flashed across my mind. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I doubled over and vomited a black, tarry substance onto the expensive rug. Before I lost consciousness, I heard her cold, detached voice. “Take him out. Hit him hard. Not to kill, just to send a message.” This time, Izzy, perhaps fearing discovery, only allowed them to torment me for a day. She held my filthy, blood-soaked body against her chest, her expression a mask of anguish. “I’m so sorry. You were snatched while I was taking you to the clinic. Cal, who are you messing with? Tell me, I’ll help you get revenge!” I looked at the woman radiating righteous fury and let out a cynical, internal laugh. It’s true, I thought. A person really will do anything for the one they love. She didn’t keep me around because she loved me. She kept me around to savor my thousand-fold suffering. “The doctor will be here any minute. Just hold on.” I nodded listlessly. But the footsteps I heard in the hall didn’t stop. They all went past our room, into Dusty’s room. Blood saturated my clothing, sticking the fabric to my wounds, and the pain made me dizzy. She wouldn’t even spare me a single doctor. A wrenching bitterness tightened around my heart. I passed out several times from the pain. When I finally woke up, I slipped downstairs. A man was sitting on the sofa. The second he saw me, he started shaking with fear. Before I could react, Izzy rushed over and shielded him. “Cal, stop. Dusty is just staying here for a while. He won’t bother you.” I managed a weak pull at the corner of my lips, ignoring them both, and walked straight out the door. I drove to the funeral home. When I went to collect my father’s ashes, the attendant handed me a small, sealed vial of liquid. My eyes widened in disbelief. “What is this?” “A gentleman specifically ordered it,” the attendant explained. “He said the deceased had a lingering, vengeful spirit that needed to be neutralized. Said you needed to use this solvent to dissolve the remains. A woman came by with him, too.” My blood ran cold. I gripped the nearest wall, barely keeping myself from falling. Tears blurred my vision. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Izzy. The first sound I heard was the low, intimate moans of two people on the other end. I ignored the sudden wave of nausea and choked out a sob. “Izzy, where are my parents’ ashes? Why would you do this?” “Dusty was being tormented in his nightmares by your father’s spirit,” she said, her voice breathy, unhurried. “The medium said the bones had a curse, so I had people… neutralize them. Don’t worry, it was for your dad’s own good.” I hung up, my fist slamming into the wall. Back at the house, I went straight for Dusty. I grabbed his collar, but Izzy moved faster. She slammed her foot into my ribs. “Calvin Mercer, what the hell is wrong with you! It’s just a dead man’s ashes! Does it matter that much?” The pain was suffocating. Suddenly, Dusty dropped to his knees in front of me, feigning repentance. “Cal, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Sera. Just kill me!” My father’s bloody, bruised body flashed in my memory. This man was the cause of it all. Blood rushed to my head. I reached for the heavy crystal ashtray on the side table. Clang! Izzy snatched the ashtray first and smashed it onto my forehead. “You dare try to hurt Dusty in front of me? Who knows what you do when I’m not here!” She pulled Dusty into her arms, soothing him. She didn’t spare a glance for the blood streaming down my face, soaking my shirt, or the unbearable agony in my heart. I found the first aid kit myself and started to clean the wound, fighting back the tears. My phone vibrated. I saw the caller ID and finally let the tears flow. “Sylvie, I couldn’t even protect Dad’s ashes. Mom is gone. I’m done with Izzy…” The woman on the other end, my adopted sister, suppressed her fury. Her voice, however, was impossibly gentle. “Cal, I’ve booked you a flight for tomorrow night. Come to me. The Bellweather house is about to change hands.” Suddenly, a pair of soft, boneless arms wrapped around me from behind. I froze. Izzy frowned. “Who are you talking to?” “No one.” “Honey, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. Please don’t misunderstand. I have always loved you. But since you inflicted a trauma on Dusty, it’s my duty to care for him and atone for your sin.” I swallowed the nausea and nodded listlessly. Atonement? Right. She held me close while ordering clothes on her phone. She bought dozens of pieces of high-end designer wear, but the shipping name wasn’t mine. Only then did she select a few ordinary coats for me. Noticing my gaze, Izzy spoke awkwardly. “Dusty always felt unloved growing up. He needs the best of everything.” I looked away, my chest throbbing with sharp, familiar pain. My thoughts were interrupted by a terrified scream. Izzy bolted out of the room. I stared, stunned. A black viper was coiled in front of Dusty, its tongue flicking. Izzy, quick as lightning, slammed her high heel down onto the snake’s neck, snapping it in two. Dusty saw me and scrambled back, crawling on his knees, his body shaking. “Cal, I know you resent me for taking Sera, but we really haven’t done anything. Why would you sprinkle snake powder under my bed and lure a viper to harm me?” My pupils constricted. Before I could utter a defense, Izzy’s hand whipped out and struck my face. Hard. She grabbed Dusty’s hand and spun around. She looked at me like a stranger. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I don’t know how long I sat there. Finally, two figures grabbed me and dragged me to the backyard. I started to shake uncontrollably when I saw it. It was the snake pit Izzy had maintained for years. Before I could react, they threw me into the inky blackness. Hiss. I slammed against the door, my hands raw and bleeding. Snakes coiled around my legs, the slimy coldness making me pull at my own hair, desperate for comfort. Then, the monitor clicked on. “Cal, this is for your own good. You need to temper your temper. Attacking Dusty repeatedly won’t be tolerated. This is a warning.” I laughed, the sound tasting like blood. Izzy, you are pure cruelty. I was a fool to trust her. The emotional torture was worse than the physical. The monitor suddenly filled with the graphic, intimate sounds of Izzy and Dusty locked in a desperate embrace. Izzy was giving Dusty all the tenderness and passion she had never once given me. A huge python slid toward me. I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, the world was completely dark. I fumbled for a light switch and fell out of bed. I realized I’d been blinded by a venomous bite. I sat on the floor, my eyes vacant. A familiar scent washed over me. “Cal, why are you so stubborn? Just apologize and beg for forgiveness. Dusty is a saint. He’ll forgive you.” Izzy looked at me, a flicker of genuine pity in her eyes. I ripped my arm away from her touch. Sensing my hostility, she fought to maintain her calm. “The venom wasn’t lethal; your sight will return in a couple of days. The snakes in the pit are normally harmless. I’ve already punished the person who introduced the venomous ones.” I already knew who it was, and I laughed bitterly. “Oh? How did you punish him?” “I forbade him from watching TV, using his phone, or racing his car for a week…” My cynical laughter made Izzy’s face turn crimson. “Calvin Mercer, don’t push me! Dusty didn’t mean to! He accepted his punishment; what more do you want?” She stormed out. My eyes burned, and my body shook violently. The day I was discharged, my vision still blurry, I felt my way home, determined to find my father’s dissolved “ashes.” As I stepped inside, Dusty was waiting, a knife in his hand. With Izzy gone, the facade dropped. He lunged, gripping my hair and twisting my head. His face was a mask of malicious joy. “She did all that to you, and you’re still back here? Why don’t you just drop dead like your old man?” I shoved him away and snatched up the few items I could manage. I went to the clinic, retrieved my comatose mother, and headed for the airport. Dusty watched my retreating back with pure venom. Then, he plunged the knife into his own thigh. Blood immediately saturated his pants. When Izzy returned, the sight terrified her. She drove to the hospital like a maniac. Dusty cried in her arms, feigning weakness. “Sera, don’t blame Cal…” At the airport, my mother and I were dragged out of the car and into a dark alley. “Calvin Mercer, right? Your mother is a lucky woman today. Someone paid us handsomely to make sure she never walks again, or worse!” My mind exploded. I desperately dialed Izzy. “Izzy, don’t hurt my mother!” “Dusty just got out of critical condition after you attacked him again. And you have the nerve to play the victim?” Before I could speak, the line went dead. The men behind me tore the phone from my hand and smashed it. They bound me tightly, loosened their belts, and advanced, grinning, on my unresponsive mother in the wheelchair. My eyes bulged. I let out a desperate, guttural howl. “Isabelle Bellweather, you will regret this!

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I was having afternoon tea, scrolling through my phone, when an unexpected post caught my eye. [My son is a future Greenwich legacy with a trust fund that already includes 8 luxury condos and 3 commercial properties in SoHo!] [His dad just added $150,000 worth of gold bullion, too. Any perfect little future daughters-in-law out there?] The post was gaining serious traction—thousands of likes and comments. I initially dismissed it as another obnoxious flex until I zoomed in on the photos. I froze. Those condos and commercial properties? Weren’t those my dowry when I married my husband, Graham? And the gold bullion—it was clearly engraved with my daughter’s initials… How, in the span of a few years, had all of it become this stranger’s son’s property? … 1 I checked the addresses on the storefronts in the picture again and again. They were three adjacent boutiques in SoHo that my parents had specifically purchased as a wedding gift. They told me to treat them as my future, my financial safety net. And the gold was unmistakable. I’d personally overseen the engraving of my daughter’s initials on the side. My fingers flew across the screen. Are you sure these items are yours? The phone vibrated immediately. The poster was practically a bot—she replied in seconds. It’s not mine, then whose is it, yours? She followed up with several more photos: a woman in head-to-toe designer clothes, holding a newborn, surrounded by mountains of gold and high-end jewelry. Before I could process the images, she sent another barrage of messages. I’m looking for a daughter-in-law, not a nanny. I looked at your profile. Your daughter won’t cut it, sweetie. The blatant malice made my mind go blank. The comments section exploded. OMG, the poster is a queen! She shut down that jealous hater! Seriously, people just accuse others of lying because they don’t have it themselves. LOL! Someone even screenshotted a photo of my five-year-old daughter, Dahlia, from my profile and captioned it: The poster is right, that girl is… unfortunate looking. Imagine trying to use your kid to climb the social ladder! Give up, peasant. The young master doesn’t want your little housemaid! My breathing hitched, and my phone nearly slipped from my grasp. Dahlia is five, the light of my life, the absolute center of my and Graham’s world. And I hadn’t posted her photo looking for a future marriage partner. How dare they say those things? I quickly took screenshots and sent them to my husband’s family group chat. How did my property become someone else’s? Silence followed for a few tense seconds. Then, my mother-in-law’s voice memo popped up. “Rory, all these things are yours. Did someone steal your photos and try to use them to show off online?” “Oh, the internet is full of crazy people. You need to be more careful, dear.” Before I could respond, Graham texted me. Honey, you must have posted photos before, and someone used an AI program to deep-fake them onto their own posts. I already warned the poster and told her to delete it. Don’t worry about it. He attached a screenshot of his direct message to the poster: Hello, these photos are a violation of intellectual property and privacy. Please delete them immediately, or we will pursue legal action. I clicked the link. The post was gone. That was quick. I stared at the screen, typed a simple Okay into the group chat, and then put my phone down. “Driver,” I said, looking up, “take me to Mercer Street.” Graham’s explanation sounded plausible. AI is everywhere now; synthesizing photos is easy. But I knew one thing for certain: I had never posted photos of those specific storefronts, nor had I ever photographed the custom-engraved gold. And what were the chances of a “deepfake” being this accurate? The exact addresses, the exact amount of gold, and the exact engraving? The car pulled up outside the SoHo boutiques. I pushed the door open and looked up at the three properties. The glass doors of what had been a long-term tenant—a high-end apparel store—were shattered, and the interior was undergoing a full renovation. It looked like they were setting up a florist shop. My brows furrowed. The original tenant had a ten-year lease that wasn’t up yet. How could they have been replaced? And why hadn’t Graham mentioned any of this? I hurried toward the building and called out to one of the workers. “Who authorized this construction?” A woman in a crisp Chanel suit emerged from the storefront. She looked me up and down, her voice sharp and arrogant. “My store, my decision. Who the hell are you to give me orders?” I stared at her face, my heart doing a heavy slam in my chest. It was her. The poster. My jaw tightened. “These three properties are mine. How are they yours?” She paused, then burst out laughing. “Yours? My husband gifted these to me!” She pulled a phone from her Louis Vuitton bag and tapped the screen. “Open your eyes and look at whose name is on this deed!” On the screen, three property deeds were side-by-side. The owner’s name: Delia Prince. A buzzing started in my head. It was impossible to transfer ownership without my signature. I had checked my safety deposit box before leaving the house—all the real property deeds were there, though the gold bullion was missing. Her deeds were likely fake. But the fact that she could drive away a long-term tenant with a fake deed could only mean one thing: Graham was involved. Seeing my silence, the woman, Delia, suddenly drew out an “Oh.” “You must be that apparel store owner, right?” “My husband already told you. I liked the space, and he gave you a fat compensation check. Why are you causing a scene? Are you greedy for more?” I took a deep breath, pointed at the man in my phone’s wallpaper, and asked, “Is this your husband?” Delia leaned in for a closer look, and her face instantly turned a sickly green. She shrieked, pointing at me. “How dare you use my husband’s photo as your wallpaper!” “My husband is the CEO of the Leighton Group! Do you think a fantasy girl like you could ever get close to him?” “Let me warn you! I just gave him a beautiful, healthy son! His mother is over the moon! You should just give up now!” People had stopped walking, drawn by the commotion. An absurd feeling surged from my feet to my head, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The Leighton Group? My father founded it and put Graham in charge! When did it become his company? Even more grotesquely, it was now clear that Graham’s mother—the one who had always acted so loving toward me—knew he was seeing this woman. She had even approved of my daughter’s gold being given to Delia. But no one gets to spend my money on their mistress. I snapped back to reality and, without thinking, raised my hand and slapped her hard. “Who are you calling a mistress?” Delia was stunned, covering her cheek and staring at me. I glared at her. “You’re a mistress and you don’t even know it? Is that supposed to be honorable?” “I’m telling you to stop construction immediately! Or I’m calling the police!” The gathering crowd was buzzing, pointing fingers at Delia. “Whoa, it’s the wife beating up the mistress!” “The mistress isn’t even as pretty as the wife. What was that guy thinking?” Delia finally reacted, lunging forward and grabbing my hair. “I’m the mistress?! My husband and I have been married for three years! We just had a baby! His mother even named our son!” “Don’t let this liar fool you!” As we struggled, I saw the gold necklace around her neck. It was one of the custom pieces from the missing gold, the one my Dahlia loved most. A blind fury took over. I ripped the necklace off her neck. “How dare you wear my daughter’s property!” “You don’t deserve it!” Caught off guard, Delia stumbled, crashing to the ground. The sharp edges of the necklace left a bloody scrape on her neck. I hadn’t intended to fight in public, but seeing my property so brazenly stolen made the rage impossible to swallow. I held up the necklace and declared, every word a hammer blow, “This is engraved with my daughter Dahlia’s initials! You and Graham Prescott can expect to hear from my lawyer!” Before the words fully left my mouth, a heavy impact hit me from behind. I lost my balance, and the necklace was snatched from my hand. Graham’s furious voice exploded over my head. “Who says those are your daughter’s initials?!” I was sprawled on the ground, my knee screaming from the broken glass. I gasped in pain. Looking up, I saw Graham shielding Delia in his arms. Behind him, my mother-in-law stood holding an infant. There was no doubt. That was Graham’s illegitimate son. My mother-in-law had claimed she was too inexperienced to help with Dahlia, preferring to hire an expensive nanny, supposedly to protect my daughter. Now I knew the truth: she simply preferred grandsons. Before I could react, Graham turned to me, his eyes filled with sheer disgust. “Aurora Leighton!” “Get out before you cause any more trouble! And don’t you dare touch my wife!” Wife? Graham was publicly admitting his adultery. Ignoring my shock, he gently fixed the necklace back around Delia’s neck, his eyes full of concern. “Honey, are you hurt?” “You just gave birth; you can’t get worked up. Does your stomach hurt?” Delia leaned into his chest, sobbing. “Graham, she says the properties you gave me are hers, and she stole the necklace you bought me!” “Who… who is she?” Graham glanced at me, his expression cold and dismissive. “I told you about the employee at the office who kept harassing me? That’s her.” “I’ll handle this. Don’t worry.” With that, the onlookers gasped, their expressions shifting to contempt. “Oh, so she’s the desperate office mistress. I knew no man would leave his wife for someone uglier.” “Trying to steal another woman’s husband and vandalize her store. You’re sick.” “Why is she so possessive of other people’s stuff? Shouting yourself hoarse won’t make it yours.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. I looked at Graham, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Graham, those initials are for our daughter, Dahlia Prescott. You had them engraved! What are you talking about?” He scowled at me. “Who told you that?” “The ‘D.P.’ stands for Delia Prince and Prescott. It’s the initial of my wife and my name.” What? My head reeled. Delia and Prescott? He had told me Dahlia’s initials were a representation of my maiden name and his family name—the physical proof of our union. It meant that they had been together since the moment Dahlia was born. Worse, even my daughter’s initials were a twisted celebration of his relationship with Delia. I took a deep breath, pulled the real property deeds from my bag, and slapped them against his chest. “Graham Prescott, my dowry is not marital property. This is my final warning: Get your mistress out of my stores!” “And return my daughter’s gold, down to the last gram!” Graham hadn’t expected me to bring the deeds. He froze, then viciously ripped them into shreds and threw the paper to the ground. “Anyone can forge a few sheets of paper. What does this prove?” My mother-in-law rushed forward. “Just leave, Rory. It’s almost the holidays. We won’t press charges.” “You won’t press charges?” I found my voice. She flushed, then jutted out her chin. “Yes! Now, go! Or do you want to be thrown out?” Graham took a step closer to me, lowering his voice to a hiss. “Aurora, I told you in the group chat to let this go.” “Delia just gave the Prescott family a male heir. My mother is ecstatic. If you escalate this, and she ends up in the hospital, what then?” “Just go home now, and you can still be my wife, Mrs. Prescott.” I used to be obsessed with the scent of his cologne. Now, it made me sick. Just then, a small voice called out from the edge of the crowd. “Mommy!” My body went rigid. I whipped my head around. Dahlia, in her school uniform and backpack, was being led through the onlookers by our driver. “Mommy, why are you on the ground?” Seeing the blood on my knee, her eyes welled up. “Mommy, you’re hurt!” My stomach dropped. I tried to stand up to stop her, but it was too late. Delia recognized her instantly. She grabbed Dahlia’s shoulder and screamed, “So it’s you!” Then she spun and delivered a brutal slap across my face. “You know your ugly daughter isn’t good enough for my son, so you try to seduce my husband?!” The force of the blow made my ears ring. Dahlia immediately burst into tears, looking helplessly at Graham. “Daddy… why is she hitting Mommy…?” Delia pointed at her and roared, “Who are you calling Daddy?” “My post looking for a daughter-in-law was a joke! A poverty-stricken girl like you will never marry my son!” Dahlia was sobbing loudly, but Graham only frowned. “Driver, take your mother back.” Seeing me frozen, he gave the driver a look, and the driver immediately tried to pull me away. “Honey, let’s go! Don’t make a scene!” What? Hearing this, the onlookers started whispering and pointing at Dahlia. “Oh my God, her own father is right here, and she’s calling another man ‘Daddy.’ That little girl is a gold-digger already!” “The mother is a dream-girl, the daughter is a wannabe social climber. What a pathetic pair.” “She’s so young, and her mom is already trying to marry her into a rich family. What kind of mother is that?” Dahlia is only five, but she could understand the cruelty in their words. She looked at Graham, her face dissolving into tears. “Daddy, do you not want Mommy and me anymore?” Graham didn’t answer. Dahlia stared at him, biting her lip, her face crumpling with hurt. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, and looked up at Graham. Every word was infused with ice. “Graham Prescott, aren’t you worried my parents will hear about this?” The mention of my parents made him visibly flinch. But he quickly suppressed a small, nervous laugh. “I told you, they’ve been ‘traveling abroad for fun’ for five years and haven’t come back.” “Don’t you think I’ve figured it out?” he continued. “I know they weren’t traveling. They fled.” “Think about it. The Leighton Group is huge. How could your dad have built it up all by himself? He must have done something shady.” “Giving the money he left behind to Delia and my son? I’m just helping to relieve their guilt.” The realization hit me. He thought I was vulnerable because he believed my parents were fugitives who had abandoned me. He didn’t know that my parents had been abroad for five years opening a major international division—which was now worth hundreds of millions. And today was the day they were returning home. I had texted them my location before leaving. They should be close. With that thought, I pulled Dahlia to her feet. “Dahlia, Mommy is taking you home. If Daddy wants to be someone else’s father, let him.” My daughter was in shock. Until today, Graham and his mother had showered her with affection at home. She cried, shaking her head stubbornly. “Daddy…” The next moment, Delia shoved my daughter toward the street like a madwoman. “Are you a beggar? Crying on someone else’s property!” Dahlia, small and slight, stumbled onto the road. A small car was speeding toward us. I didn’t hesitate; I lunged for her. “Dahlia!” Seeing my daughter nearly hit, Graham and his mother looked panicked. Graham lifted his foot to follow, but Delia grabbed his arm. “Graham… my incision hurts so badly… I think you made my stitches tear…” Hearing her words, Graham stopped immediately. He gently pulled her into a hug. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” Dahlia and I crashed hard under the wheels of the braking car, while Graham tenderly scooped Delia into his arms. I couldn’t help but scream at him. “Graham Prescott! You will regret this!” He paused, then turned back, his face hard. “Delia has a low pain tolerance. You caused her stitches to tear. I’m not done with you!” “You better pray she’s okay. Otherwise, you and your daughter will kneel on the ground and apologize to her!” “You won’t leave until she forgives you!” The words died in his throat as the rear door of a sleek black sedan opened. My father’s familiar, booming voice cut through the air. “Kneel?! I think you are the one who should be kneeling!”

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I possessed the Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System. All it took was a small gift from my husband to trigger a hundredfold surge of luck and fortune for him. For ten years, Grant Kensington ascended from a humble gig-economy driver to the undisputed magnate of Westport, all by being “good” to me. This year, for our anniversary, he promised a surprise luxury getaway. It wasn’t until the plane landed that I discovered his secretary, Brooke, had gambled away everything in Monte Carlo. “Honey, you’re the only one who can save me this time, or Kensington Holdings is finished.” “The casino owner has been looking for a woman who looks exactly like you. If you stay here, all our debts will be wiped clean.” He had no idea that casino was owned by my father. And his act of pushing me forward as collateral was about to trigger the system’s merciless counter-curse: The Husband-Waster’s Penalty: All Prosperity Ceases. 1 The moment we landed in Monte Carlo, Grant rushed me straight to The Golden Citadel Casino. After the heavy soundproof door of the VIP suite clicked shut, I saw Brooke. She was slumped on the sofa, eyes red and swollen, hair a mess. Seeing us, she lunged into Grant’s arms. “Grant! You finally came! I thought you’d abandon me.” It was only then that I fully understood: The surprise luxury getaway was merely a ruse to rescue Brooke from the crippling debt she’d amassed. Grant had brought Brooke to Monte Carlo a few days earlier under the guise of a business trip. She’d insisted on trying the high-stakes tables, and the two had spent three days and three nights in a drunken, losing spiral. Looking at the distraught woman, I didn’t immediately fly into a rage. I simply asked, my voice dangerously calm, “How much?” Grant’s voice shook, barely a whisper. “F-five… five hundred million.” My head exploded in a deafening silence. Five hundred million dollars. That was the entirety of Kensington Holdings’ liquid capital, plus loans secured by mortgaging most of our assets. While my Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System could bring him boundless luck, each activation came at a steep, private cost to me: weight gain and accelerated aging. In the past decade, Grant had gone from a delivery driver to a Westport titan thanks to the system, but I’d paid for every step of his success. I was over a hundred pounds heavier, and despite my best efforts to maintain my appearance, I looked a decade older than my actual age. Paying off $500 million in one go? Even if my body spontaneously combusted, it would be impossible. I took a deep breath and stared at him. “Why am I here? Are you planning to have me gamble it back to save you?” He waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, that’s impossible. I want to—” Brooke cut him off. “Grant, we don’t have time. If you can’t say it, I will.” She walked up to me, shoving a phone screen almost into my face. “The casino owner, Victor Kensington, has been searching for this woman for thirty years. The bounty is still active—whoever provides a lead, or the woman herself, has their debt erased.” Seeing the photograph of the woman in a vintage gown, I instantly recognized her: my mother, who had passed away years ago. My mother had left my father after a terrible argument, taking me with her. But one morning, I couldn’t wake her up. The social worker said she’d taken sleeping pills. I’d spent three decades believing my father’s absence was due to his hatred for us. But now, Brooke claimed he’d been looking for us for thirty years? My silence spurred Grant on. He grabbed my arm, his voice desperate. “Jo, I know this isn’t fair to you, but it’s the only way. All you have to do is agree that you’re her, and play along.” “It’ll only be a few months. Once the heat is off and the debt is cleared, I swear I’ll find a way to get you back!” I looked at him, completely stunned. “Grant, you brought me to Monte Carlo to hand me over to another man? To bail out the massive hole you and your mistress dug?” When Grant and I first married, he was a broke kid. He’d spend $199 of the $200 he earned delivering food on me. One day, he spent his entire month’s paycheck on a gold necklace. That’s when the system’s voice chimed in my head. [Benevolent Spouse Prosperity System Activated] [Detected partner gift: Necklace, valued at $3,500] [Return: Partner Grant Kensington receives a hundredfold surge of luck, lasting 30 days] I thought it was a hallucination. The next day, Grant won $50,000 on a scratch-off ticket. The day after, while on a delivery, he saved an elderly man who was having a heart attack—who turned out to be the patriarch of a major investment firm. A month later, Grant quit his job, used the reward money and the connections from the grateful family, and opened his first logistics company. For ten years, no matter how small the gift, good fortune would cascade upon him. 2 A lipstick secured a multi-million dollar contract. A scarf helped him narrowly avoid a hostile takeover. A home-cooked anniversary dinner led to insider information on a government-backed project. The more expensive the gift, the greater his reward. Grant became a commercial legend, rising from a delivery driver to the new elite of Westport. We upgraded from an eight-hundred-square-foot apartment to an eight-thousand-square-foot penthouse overlooking the harbor. Each system activation meant more weight and more years added to my apparent age. But Grant had never shown a hint of disgust. “Jo, you’re my lucky charm. My woman should be soft and well-fed.” Seeing him transform from a self-conscious young man into a confident titan, I felt it was all worth it. Until three years ago, when he hired Brooke. Within two weeks, Grant was coming home later and later. He missed holidays and anniversaries and, most critically, stopped giving me gifts. It wasn’t until this year’s anniversary that he came home early, promising this trip to make up for his neglect. I was genuinely touched by his seemingly sincere eyes. But the system in my mind remained silent. No chime, no hundredfold prosperity countdown. Still, I said yes. Ten years of marriage—I clung to a thread of hope. Maybe I was overthinking, maybe he was just busy, or maybe the system was gone. Yet, I underestimated the depths of his cowardice. Grant began to argue desperately, his words turning cruel. “Jo, don’t make it sound so awful! This is a win-win!” “Besides, you’re… well, you’re exactly the kind of mature look the photo would have thirty years later, anyway—” Mature look? I laughed, though tears spilled from my eyes. “Grant, for ten years, every time you gave me a gift, I got a little fatter, a little older, and your career soared. Did you ever wonder why?” “From a delivery driver to the new Westport elite, do you honestly believe all of it was due to your superior talent and luck?” His face paled slightly. Brooke sneered. “Jo, are you losing it? What crazy talk is that? Grant’s success is entirely his own!” I ignored her, staring intensely at Grant. “The wife is the family’s true fortune. The Benevolent Spouse brings prosperity.” I leaned in. “But now you’re trying to sell me. You’re the Husband-Waster. Do you know what the penalty is?” Grant didn’t know. He’d never known the system was real. He thought his success was all his own merit. But now, a sudden panic flashed in his eyes. “Y-you’re talking nonsense. What are you going on about?” I didn’t want to waste another second. I turned to leave. The moment my hand touched the doorknob, a sharp sting hit the back of my neck. A cold liquid rushed through a needle and into my skin. I stumbled, turning to see Grant holding a syringe, his eyes a mix of anguish and determination. “Jo, I’m sorry.” “You…” My tongue went numb; my limbs quickly lost all strength. Grant caught my falling body and settled me onto the sofa. Brooke pulled a second vial from her purse. “Grant, Victor has seen every type of woman. You said she was like a dead fish in bed. What if he’s not satisfied?” She shook the vial of pink liquid. “This is something I sourced—a little boost. It’ll turn even a stone-cold woman into an easy conquest. Just to be safe, we should use it.” I widened my eyes in horror, shaking my head violently. Grant was silent for a few seconds. “Give it to her.” I managed to force the words out. “Grant, ten years of marriage… is this how you treat me?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Jo, don’t blame me! I have no choice!” “If I don’t do this, Kensington Holdings will declare bankruptcy tomorrow. I’ll be buried in debt, I’ll fall from the clouds into the gutter, with nothing!” “You’re my wife. We went through the early days together. You should help me!” My heart felt like it was submerged in freezing seawater, sinking slowly, hardening into ice. I scanned their faces, a cold, bitter smile touching my lips as I asked my final question. “You’re trying to trick a man who practically runs Monte Carlo. Aren’t you afraid of being exposed? Or, are you afraid that I am the woman he’s looking for?” Grant’s expression froze. Brooke paused, then covered her mouth and chuckled. “Jo, you’re really getting into character! Everyone knows Victor has been looking for this woman for thirty years. She’d be in her fifties now. You might look a little worn, but you’re only in your thirties. Are you actually dreaming?” She stepped closer, whispering in my ear. “You don’t know the full story, do you? Victor’s rule is: anyone who provides a lead or brings in a woman who fits the description has their debt instantly cleared, regardless of the outcome.” “Whether the woman is real or not…” 3 She drew out the words, her eyes shining with wicked calculation. “That’s your problem to deal with. It has nothing to do with us. Our debt is cleared the second we hand you over.” “I’ve heard the women who were caught lying didn’t end up well. Broken bones were the least of it; some were dumped into the ocean. So, Jo, let’s hope your performance is convincing.” I felt a chill run through my body; my blood seemed to turn to ice. So that was their plan. They didn’t care if I was real or fake, alive or dead. They just needed a credible pawn to clear their slate. I looked at Grant, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “So… that’s what you think? As long as the debt is cleared, you’re safe back in Westport? And if I’m exposed here, tortured, or even murdered, it won’t matter to you?” Grant avoided my gaze. “Jo, don’t think the worst. Victor is a gentleman. Even if… even if he finds out, he’ll just throw you out. He won’t hurt you.” “And once I’m back in Westport, Monte Carlo’s reach won’t extend that far. No one can touch me, and I’ll figure out a way to get you out.” Ten years. A whole decade. I hadn’t nurtured a loving partner or a devoted husband. I had nurtured a selfish man who would sacrifice me without a second thought for his own survival. I finally understood: Some people’s self-centeredness and weakness are innate. Even if you give them the world, they’ll never use it to protect you. I started laughing, a cold, choked sound at my own stupidity. Brooke seized the chance, pinching my jaw and forcing the sweet, cloying liquid down my throat. I choked violently, tears and mucus blurring my vision, unable to speak. Just then, the suite door swung open. Leading the group was a man with a prominent scar on his face. “Grant, Victor sent me to take a look.” He walked to the sofa, leaned over, examined me closely, and compared me to the photo on his phone. His brow furrowed instantly, and his eyes turned hostile. “Grant, you sure this is the woman Victor is looking for? The photo shows a young, beautiful woman with a gentle air. This one is old and fat. You think Victor runs a junk-lot?” Sweat broke out on Grant’s forehead. He quickly stepped forward, forcing a smile. “Bart, it’s been thirty years. Don’t women age and gain weight? It’s completely normal!” “Look closer, Bart. The eyebrows, the nose, the curve of the mouth… aren’t they identical to the picture? She’s just a little older and heavier, but the foundation is all there!” The man, Bart, stared at my face for a long moment, his frown easing slightly. “I guess… thirty years is a long time. Even with the best maintenance, time catches up to a woman.” Then his nose twitched. His expression hardened as he looked at Grant. “You drugged her?” Grant froze. Brooke quickly interjected with a fawning smile. “Bart, it’s just a little something to get the party started.” “Victor is still a vigorous man, but for a reunion after so long, a little mood setting helps. We just wanted to ensure Victor was… satisfied.” Bart stared at Grant, then at my agonizing struggle, and a leering, knowing look passed between them. “Tch. Your woman is pretty well-versed, isn’t she?” He turned, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and spoke quietly for a moment. Returning, he nodded to Grant. “We’re keeping the woman. I’ve notified Victor. He’ll be here once he finishes his current business.” He snatched the betting slip from Brooke’s hand and shredded it. “Grant, your debt is cleared.” He pointed at the door. “Now, get lost.” Grant looked like a man given a reprieve from death. He profusely thanked Bart. “Thank you, Bart! Thank you! We’re going now! Right now!” He practically dragged Brooke out the door without a backward glance. The drug’s effects were intensifying. I tried to use my remaining rationality to speak. “W-wait…” Before I could finish, a thug standing nearby delivered a vicious kick to my side. “Settle down, you! You dare stop Bart when he’s letting someone go? Do you have a death wish?” I stifled a grunt and coughed up a mouthful of blood. 4 Bart slapped the thug across the face. “Are you out of your damn mind?! I told you to watch her, not kill her!” “What if she is the woman Victor’s been looking for? Do you have enough lives to pay for that, huh?! You want a taste of Victor’s methods?!” The thug clutched his cheek, startled and terrified, but a spark of defiance remained. He muttered. “B-Bart… I… I just saw she wasn’t cooperating…” “Besides, so many women have come in over the years—young, beautiful, in great shape… they all looked more like the photo than her, and none of them were real.” He eyed me with disgust. “This one is old and fat. How could she be the one Victor’s been searching for? I bet someone was desperate and brought the cheapest option they could find to fool us…” “Shut up!” Bart snapped at him, but a flicker of doubt crossed his own eyes. He shot a sharp look at Grant’s retreating back, then crouched in front of me. “Woman, I’m asking you one last time. Are you Victor’s woman? Think carefully before you answer.” He paused, his voice low and warning. “Lots of women have tried to pose as her over the years. Their fates weren’t pretty. Broken limbs were the least of it. Some were thrown to the sharks. Tell me the truth now, and I might put in a word for you to lessen your pain. But if Victor finds out you lied, you’ll wish for death.” I looked at Grant and Brooke, whose faces were pale and whose eyes were urgently signaling me to lie. After a long silence, I nodded. “I am.” Relief washed over Grant and Brooke’s faces. They started to leave, but I called out to them again. “Grant, before you go, can you give me a gift?” He stopped, confusion clouding his features. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single, cheap, low-value poker chip from a slot machine. “Here. A souvenir.” The instant the token landed in my palm, the system’s silent alarm, dormant for three years, finally blared to life. But it wasn’t the familiar [Benevolent Spouse Prosperity] notification. It was: [Detected partner gift under malicious circumstance, intended to use Host as collateral. Husband-Waster behavior confirmed] [The Husband-Waster will have all previously acquired prosperity reclaimed, with the Hundredfold Wealth Drain commencing in one hour, lasting until the end of life.]

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The day my father ushered his mistress and their illegitimate daughter through the front door was the same day a video of me with a stranger leaked online. The headline screamed across every gossip site: “Socialite Scandal: Norah Gates’ Wild Night and Wrecked Home.” Overnight, my reputation was incinerated. I went from the pampered daughter of the Gates dynasty to a pariah, a walking scarlet letter. My father didn’t want to hear explanations; he just wanted me gone. In the depths of that despair, Harrison appeared. He shielded me from the paparazzi flashbulbs, standing like a fortress between me and the world, declaring to anyone who would listen: “From now on, Norah is with me. Anyone who comes for her answers to Harrison Cole.” We dated for two years. Despite the immense pressure from his old-money family and the board of directors, he proposed. I said yes with my whole heart. But that very night, I stood frozen outside the door of his private study, listening to the clinking of scotch glasses and his voice drifting out, talking to his oldest friend. “Harrison, are you serious about marrying Norah? The girl is radioactive. What’s the angle?” “The angle is that she is radioactive,” Harrison replied, his voice smooth and detached. “I thought the family was blocking you from marrying Mallory?” “Decades of bad blood. They’d die before letting Mallory through the front door. So, here’s the play: I marry the most scandalous woman in New York. I force their hand. They either accept Mallory, or they watch the Cole family heir marry a woman who’s the laughingstock of the city.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, hot and fast, but my blood turned to ice. The redemption I thought I’d found was just a long con. From the beginning, I wasn’t a partner. I was a pawn in his pursuit of true love. Fine. If he wants a performance, I’ll give him the show of a lifetime. 1 I heard the flick of a lighter, followed by the sharp inhale of smoke. “Norah is the perfect tool,” Harrison said, the disdain in his voice cutting through the heavy oak door. “She’s foolish, and she’s desperate for affection. Show her a little kindness, and she becomes loyal as a dog.” “Her ruined reputation is exactly the leverage I need to break my parents. Once they cave, I’ll find a reason to cut her loose. Clean break.” His friend sounded hesitant. “But you’ve been… intense with her. You went to war with CEO Zhang over her last month. Are you sure there’s no feelings there? You can lie to me, Harrison, but don’t play yourself.” Harrison exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It’s called method acting.” “If I don’t sell it, how does she take the bait? How do my parents believe I’m actually crazy enough to marry her?” He paused, his tone shifting to something colder. “Honestly? Being around her… knowing what the internet says about her… it’s nauseating. If it weren’t for Mallory, I wouldn’t look at her twice.” The bento box I was holding slipped from my fingers. Smash. Rice and vegetables scattered across the hallway runner, a messy mirror of my shattering heart. I didn’t storm in. I didn’t scream. I turned around and walked away. Back at the apartment, I moved with mechanical precision. I took every gift he’d ever given me—the jewelry, the bags, the hollow tokens of a fake love—and shoved them into a cardboard box. What once looked like devotion now just looked like a bribe. A tear splashed onto the back of my hand. I wiped it away furiously. I shoved the box into the back of the closet, hidden in the shadows. Then, I opened my laptop and bought a one-way ticket to Europe, departing in a week. I couldn’t breathe in this city of lies anymore. When the front door unlocked, I composed my face into a mask of calm. Harrison walked in, took one look at my swollen eyes, and frowned. He reached out to cup my cheek. “Hey. What’s wrong? Who upset you?” I flinched. It was a reflex. His hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced my voice to sound steady. “Nothing. Just… didn’t sleep well.” He bought it. He assumed I was doom-scrolling, reading the comments about myself again. He pulled me into a hug. “Stop reading that trash. I don’t care about your past, Norah. I only care about you.” He kissed the top of my head. “The wedding is in a week. My bride can’t be crying her eyes out. You need to be beautiful.” I rested my head against his chest. His body was as warm as it had always been. But listening to the steady beat of his heart, I felt nothing. The connection was dead. I shrank into his embrace, playing the part he wrote for me. “I’m so lucky to have you, Harrison.” He patted my back, satisfied. “Silly girl. I’m not going anywhere.” Suddenly, his phone on the counter lit up. A notification. Sender: Mallory. 2 My peripheral vision caught the preview text: “Harrison, I’m back in the city. We need to talk.” Harrison’s body went rigid against mine. His hand, resting on my waist, clenched instinctively. He pulled away, grabbed his phone, fired off a quick reply, and locked the screen before tossing it onto the sofa. He stood up, smoothing his suit jacket. “Norah, something urgent came up at the firm. I have to go in.” I watched him rush toward the door, my heart feeling like it was being squeezed by a giant, cold hand. “It’s ten o’clock at night,” I said softly. “Can’t it wait?” I held onto one last, pathetic shred of hope. Just stay. Choose me for one second. He didn’t even stop walking. He threw a look over his shoulder, impatient and annoyed. “I’m working late to close this deal so I have leverage when I tell my family we’re getting married. Can you be a little more understanding? Stop being so needy.” “Needy?” I whispered. I looked at him, tears threatening to spill, but I willed them back. “Harrison, are you hiding something from me?” He grabbed his coat, his voice hard. “No. Stop overthinking. I’ll be back when I’m done.” The door slammed shut. Bang. The sound severed the space between us. I sat on the sofa, staring at the empty, luxurious room, feeling the chill settle into my bones. Harrison didn’t come home that night. No texts. No calls. The appearance of Mallory—the “White Moonlight,” the one who got away—had turned my fragile peace into a hurricane. I didn’t sleep. Early the next morning, a text from an unknown number buzzed on my phone. “Ms. Gates, it’s Mallory Kent. We need to clear the air. Southside Café, 3 PM.” When I arrived, Mallory was already there. She was wearing a pristine white dress, hair cascading over her shoulders, makeup flawless and barely there. She looked innocent. Pure. But her eyes were sharp, filled with an undisguised sneer. “Norah. Thanks for coming.” I tossed my bag onto the chair, clinging to whatever dignity I had left. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Ms. Kent. What do you want?” She took a delicate sip of her latte, then set the cup down. The mask dropped. “I want you to leave Harrison.” I let out a dry laugh. “Excuse me? I’m the fiancée. You’re the ex. Aren’t you overstepping?” She laughed, a harsh sound that didn’t match her angelic face. “Oh, honey. You don’t actually think he loves you, do you? You’re a bargaining chip. He’s using you to terrorize his parents into accepting me.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know why he picked you? Because you’re ruined.” “Your reputation is trash. You’re the girl from the video. The girl everyone whispers about. He needs someone unacceptable to make the family desperate. He’s showing them: ‘Accept Mallory, or watch the heir marry the town pariah.’” Her words were precise, surgical strikes. “You don’t belong next to him. You’re not even fit to hold my purse.” She smiled, cruel and sweet. “Do yourself a favor. Leave now, save yourself the embarrassment. If you wait for him to dump you, it’s going to be ugly.” I looked at her face—beautiful and rotton—and felt… nothing. Just a profound sense of absurdity. I took a sip of my black coffee. “Ms. Kent, if you want me to leave, fine. Have Harrison come tell me himself.” Mallory’s face darkened. She slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t be delusional! You think you’re actually Mrs. Cole? You’re a tool for his revenge against his father.” “Whether I am or not,” I stood up, “isn’t up to you.” I turned to leave. “Norah Gates!” she screamed after me, losing her composure. “I will run you out of this city! Once he’s done with you, you’ll be nothing but a joke!” I didn’t look back. I walked straight out into the afternoon sun. But as soon as I got home, a wave of nausea hit me. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching. A sinking feeling settled in my gut. I bought a test. Two red lines. 3 I was two months late. I had been so stressed I hadn’t tracked it. A child. I used to dream about this. But now? A baby born into a marriage built on lies? A baby with parents who were playing a sick game of chess? No one knew better than I did what that kind of trauma does to a kid. I didn’t hesitate. I called the clinic and scheduled the surgery for the next morning. I hung up the phone and turned around to find Harrison standing there. “Who were you talking to?” he asked, stepping closer. “Surgery? Are you sick?” I slid the phone into my pocket, keeping my face blank. “It’s nothing. My dad needs an operation. The housekeeper called to let me know.” Harrison visibly relaxed. He pulled me into a hug, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Oh, thank god. I thought something was wrong with you.” I closed my eyes, fighting a bitter laugh. “You’re worried about me?” “Of course. You’re my priority. I don’t know what I’d do if you were hurt.” I pushed him away gently, looking him in the eye. “If I’m so important, tell me where you were last night.” His jaw tightened. “I told you. The office.” “The office? Or with an old friend?” He stood up abruptly, defensive. “It was a friend. She just got back to the States. I picked her up. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get jealous over nothing.” He reached for me again, his eyes pleading. “Norah, trust me. Everything I’m doing is for our future.” “I trust you,” I whispered, exhausted. “See? You’re just stressed about the wedding.” I closed my eyes as he held me. A tear slid down my cheek, unseen. I used to think his silence was protection. Now I knew it was just indifference. At midnight, another text from Mallory summoned him. He crept out of bed and left the apartment. I opened my eyes in the dark. This time, I didn’t ask him to stay. The next morning, the sky was grey. I walked toward the clinic entrance, only to find my path blocked. Mallory was there. Flanked by two large men in dark suits—private security. “You really are like a cockroach,” she spat. “You know the truth, yet you’re still clinging to him? And now you’re pregnant? You think a baby trap is going to work?” “This is none of your business,” I said, trying to step around her. The bodyguards moved to block me. “Ms. Gates,” one grunted. “Ms. Kent thinks you should reconsider the pregnancy. We’re here to help you make the right choice.” I stepped back, adrenaline spiking. “What are you doing?” Mallory smirked. “Helping Harrison clean up his mess. A woman like you doesn’t get to have his heir.” Suddenly, the screech of tires tore through the air. A delivery truck had jumped the curb, careening straight toward us. I tried to dive out of the way, but Mallory lunged at me, grabbing my arm in a panic. “Norah, help me!” She anchored me to the spot. In that split second, a blur of motion slammed into us—Harrison. He had been following her. He shoved Mallory out of the path of the truck, wrapping his body around hers to shield her as they hit the pavement. But the shove sent me stumbling backward. Right into the grill of the truck. The impact was a dull, bone-shattering thud. I flew through the air. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was Harrison. He was on the ground, cradling Mallory’s face, screaming her name. He didn’t look at me once. When I woke up, I wasn’t in a hospital. I was in a damp, freezing warehouse. My kidnappers were business rivals Harrison had destroyed the previous month. They saw an opportunity. They filmed videos—me, disheveled, bleeding, humiliated—and uploaded them. The internet exploded. Hashtag: #NorahGatesFakeKidnapping The comments were vile. “She’s such an attention whore. The sex tape wasn’t enough, now she’s faking a hostage situation?” “Probably sleeping with the kidnappers. Anything to get Harrison to marry her.” For three days, I lay on a dirty mattress, burning with fever. Sharp cramps tore through my abdomen, and I could feel the warm, sticky blood soaking my jeans. When the police finally raided the place, I was barely conscious. I woke up in a sterile hospital room. The doctor’s voice was grim. The baby was gone. And because of the trauma and the infection, the damage was permanent. I would never carry a child again. I stared at the white ceiling tiles. I had no tears left. Just a vast, arctic numbness. Harrison showed up on the second day. He walked in holding a binder—wedding plans. The performance continued. “Norah! Oh my god,” he rushed to the bedside, his face twisted in performative anguish. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The company… the wedding prep… I just heard. I should have protected you.” I watched him like I was watching a bad movie. “Don’t worry,” he said, gripping my cold hand. “I’ll make the people who did this pay.” The doctor walked in for rounds. He glared at Harrison. “You’re the partner? Do you have any idea about the pregnancy complications—” I caught the doctor’s eye and shook my head slightly. A silent plea. Harrison frowned. “Pregnancy? What complications?” “My stomach,” I interrupted, my voice raspy. “The kidnappers kicked me. Internal bruising. The doctor says I need rest.” The doctor sighed, shook his head in disgust, and walked out. Harrison opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. He looked at the screen, glanced at me, and answered on speaker. 4 It was his mother. Her voice was shrill, panicked. “Harrison! The wedding is in two days! I am hearing about this kidnapping nonsense from TMZ! Have you lost your mind? You cannot marry this girl!” “The stock is tanking. The internet says she staged it herself. She is trash, Harrison! If you marry her, the board will vote you out. We will disinherit you. Choose. Her, or the legacy.” Harrison looked at me, feigning conflict. “Mom, she’s innocent… she’s a victim…” “She’s a liability!” his mother screamed. “Her own father threw her out. That tells you everything. Get rid of her.” Harrison hung up. He looked at me, eyes filled with “regret.” “Norah… I…” “I know,” I said. My voice was flat. “Family comes first. I understand.” He blinked, surprised by how easy it was. Then, relief washed over his face. “You’re amazing, Norah. You truly are.” He leaned in, conspiratorial. “I have a plan. We keep the wedding date. But… Mallory will stand in for you. Just for the ceremony. Just to calm the family down. Once the dust settles, I’ll bring you back. I’ll marry you properly.” He squeezed my hand. “I know it’s unfair. But it’s for our future. Can you just… bear with it for a little while?” I looked at his handsome, lying face and felt physically ill. But I nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen to you.” He kissed my forehead, ecstatic. “Thank you, baby. You’re so understanding. As soon as the wedding is over, I’ll come straight here.” He rushed out, eager to prep his real bride. I lay there, a cold smile touching my lips. On the day of the wedding, the news cycle shifted. It was all about the “Fairytale Union” of Harrison Cole and Mallory Kent. The grandeur, the history, the “true love.” My kidnapping scandal was swept under the rug, forgotten news. I checked myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I asked the nurse for the box. I placed it inside a gift bag, along with the ultrasound photo. I addressed it to the grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel. A wedding gift. I was sure he’d remember it. I packed my life into a single suitcase and went to JFK. As I sat at the gate, a text from Harrison popped up. “Norah, I’m sorry I can’t be there today. But know that no matter who is standing next to me, you’re my wife in my heart. Just wait for me. I’ll bring you home soon.” I laughed until tears blurred my vision. He was still acting. Even now. I didn’t reply. I popped the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash can. “Flight 802 to Zurich, now boarding.” I grabbed my handle and walked down the jet bridge. I didn’t look back. Harrison, I give you these last two years. Keep them. We will never meet again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “390819”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife’s male assistant claimed he had chronic poor circulation, which meant the air conditioning had to be set to a sweltering eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit even in the middle of a blazing summer. Otherwise, he was prone to catching cold. He also had a strict, non-negotiable rule: no one was permitted to eat in the office, ever, because the mixture of food smells was too much for his delicate senses. The employees were practically suffering from heatstroke, forced to hug their takeout containers and eat their lunch huddled miserably in the bathroom stalls. They complained repeatedly, yet my wife, Sloane Merritt, was not only indifferent to their plight. She actually chuckled and handed the assistant, Jasper Jeffrey, total jurisdiction over the entire office. “Jasper is a meticulous, high-vibration guy. He has sophisticated tastes, and it’s good for all of you to have him around to break your bad habits.” With her blatant encouragement, Jasper Jeffrey became a miniature tyrant, micro-managing everything from the thermostat to lunch breaks. The entire office simmered with resentment, and many longtime, loyal employees resigned. I couldn’t stand by and watch the corporate culture rot. After discussing it with Sloane multiple times to no avail, I took executive action and suspended the male assistant for three days. Sloane didn’t say anything to my face. She acted as if nothing had happened. But a few months later, the small company my father had set up for me was intentionally sabotaged into bankruptcy. I went to find Sloane, but overheard her talking to her friends first. “Sloane, I have to say, you are brutal. That’s your father-in-law’s business, and you just tanked it?” She gave a soft, dismissive scoff. “My father-in-law means nothing. He only has himself to blame after Christopher forced Jasper into suspension. He cried and was depressed for days. I was heartbroken for him. Bankruptcy is exactly what they deserve.” “Once Christopher Vaughn realizes he’s a low-s

The company was rolling out new vehicle allowances, and Patrice from HR was collecting our car details. When she saw the Kia Forte I’d filled out, she actually laughed. For a long time. “Jax, sweetie, why do you need a mileage allowance?” she said, still chuckling. I frowned, confused. She leaned in conspiratorially. “You can just run a few Uber shifts on your way to and from the office, right?” I thought she was kidding. She wasn’t. The allowance was denied. I cornered Bryce Sullivan, the Vice President who’d once been my manager, to appeal. He didn’t even look up from his desk. “Look at this, Jax,” he said, shaking his head. “You bought this car barely a year ago and you’ve already put fifty thousand miles on it.” “Do you think I’m running that many sales calls? Don’t be insulting. You’re definitely driving for hire. Why should the company subsidize your side hustle?” The whispers spread like wildfire through the office group chat. “Riley says he’s out running deals, but he’s really out collecting fares.” “Hey, Jax, what’s the surge pricing for a ride home? LOL.” I didn’t bother to respond. I just smiled, logged into the system, and with a quiet click, I hit ‘Delete’ on the million-dollar account I’d been nursing for six months. For good measure, I cleared the hundred-plus prospective clients I’d cultivated over the quarter. After all, what difference does it make if the company tanks? I’m just an Uber driver. … It was the seventeenth time I went to Bryce to plead my case for the car allowance. I laid a neat stack of expense reports on his working desk. “Bryce, these are my validated trips from last month. Can we finally process my allowance?” He leaned back in his leather chair, picking up a receipt and flipping it over with an air of mild annoyance. When he didn’t speak, I felt the familiar urge to justify myself, a pathetic reflex I hated. “That one,” I rushed to explain, pointing. “That’s the trip to the motor plant. You asked me to go overnight, remember? I drove over eleven hundred miles straight.” He gave a noncommittal grunt and picked up another one. “That’s the one where I handled the emergency warranty issue at the vehicle factory. The client was furious. I know I didn’t file the pre-approval, but I called you the minute it was resolved!” He scoffed and grabbed a third. “And this one is…” He cut me off, his voice ice-cold. “Enough, Jax. All these receipts, all these ‘validated’ trips, only add up to about two-and-a-half thousand miles. But your vehicle information shows four thousand miles this month.” He stared me down. “We’re adults here. Do we need to spell it out? We don’t penalize you for driving for Uber on your own time—that’s your choice—but you’re not getting an allowance for it.” I bit back a groan. “Bryce, I have a commute. I also drive to appointments you send me on the fly—the ones that don’t get a trip report. But I haven’t been driving for hire.” He swept the receipts off the desk onto the floor. “Denied.” A surge of genuine panic made me forget the papers scattered around his Italian loafers. “Bryce! It’s been a year! A whole year of collecting evidence for you. It’s clear I’m not doing ride-share! The new interns drive better cars and they have an allowance, but I’m still waiting!” He looked at me with open contempt. “You compare yourself to them? They drive a Mercedes. You drive a Kia.” “Besides, the math doesn’t add up. How can I verify you’re not hustling on the side? And honestly, it’s a twelve-hundred-dollar-a-year allowance. Why the theatrics? Go close two more deals, and you’d cover it. Stop wasting my time.” His dismissiveness was the final insult. I slammed my hand on his desk. “Bryce! Have some decency! You steal my accounts, you gut my bonuses, and now you’re nickel-and-diming me over the car allowance! What, are you scared of me?” Bryce started to laugh, holding his stomach. “I’m just enforcing policy. And you think I’m scared of you?” He flung the office door open, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the hallway. He pointed to the rows of cubicles. “Hey, everyone! Jax Riley here says I’ve been stealing his business and skimming his bonuses!” Then he turned back to me, jabbing his finger into my chest, speaking loud enough for the entire floor to hear. “Jax. Now they all know. What are you going to do about it?” “You drive a Kia Forte. You are not getting an allowance.” “Here’s some free advice: Go run those ride-share shifts and earn the allowance yourself. It’ll save you the effort of begging me. Now, grab your paperwork and get out of my office!” My face was burning. I could hear the immediate chatter. “He’s making a scene over twelve hundred bucks? Wow, he must be desperate.” “I heard he’s doing six thousand miles a month. He’s definitely hurting for cash.” “Probably maxed out his credit cards. No wonder he’s so intense about a few dollars.” I didn’t yell. I didn’t swing. I bent down, silently gathered the shredded receipts, and walked back to my desk. I didn’t want the allowance. I wanted respect. I wanted fairness. Since they wouldn’t give it to me, I’d take it back myself. I tossed the torn-up receipts into the trash bin and opened my work log. Jackson Riley, Sales Performance: Year 2020; Clients Secured: 27; Revenue (USD): $1.28 million; Stolen by Bryce Sullivan: 15 clients ($750K); Year 2021; Clients Secured: 27; Revenue (USD): $5.26 million; Stolen by Bryce Sullivan: 38 clients ($3.22M); Year 2022; Clients Secured: 121; Revenue (USD): $10.18 million; Stolen by Bryce Sullivan: 81 clients ($6.96M); By this year, I had secured 167 clients and $31.21 million in revenue. The company credited me with less than 20% of it. Bryce was a junior VP when I started. By taking my accounts—my blood, sweat, and miles—he’d ridden a career rocket. He went from a used Toyota to a flashy Mustang GT. My sales figures were the lifeblood of that department, but I was stuck in neutral. No promotions, no awards, just the same stagnant salary. I’d bought the Kia only because driving was essential, but even that modest purchase was a target for their scorn. He didn’t just take my clients, my bonuses, and my reputation. He had to take the last twelve hundred dollars too. It was twelve thousand dollars over the years. Not life-changing money, but it was my last sliver of dignity, and he was grinding it into the floor. Enough. I compiled years of evidence—the stolen accounts, the skimmed bonuses, the allowance denials—and bundled it into one explosive file. I addressed it to the company’s internal Ethics and Compliance department. I hit ‘Send.’ There was no going back. I glanced up. Sam, the new intern, was standing right behind me. I kept my expression neutral. “Still no car allowance, Jax?” Sam asked, the feigned sympathy in his voice failing to hide the smirk. “It’s wild how the company treats a ‘top producer’ like you.” I ignored him and walked away. That afternoon, I got a call. “Mr. Riley, the company takes these allegations very seriously. We will have an internal investigation and a result shortly.” Bryce, you forced my hand. I’m simply reclaiming what is mine. The next day, the office was buzzing. Everyone was watching me. When I reached my cubicle, my personal effects were already packed into a box. No one would tell me who did it. Sam, the intern, only said that Bryce was waiting for me in his office. I sneered. My report had worked. Bryce was retaliating. I headed straight for the confrontation. Patrice from HR was already there. Bryce stood up immediately, his face tight with feigned fury. “Jax Riley! You have the audacity to show your face here? You actually reported me?” I looked him straight in the eye, fearless. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not the one who’s been stealing from this company for years. I have proof, Bryce. You’re done. I will get back everything you took.” Bryce smiled a cold, triumphant smile. He slammed a thick file on the desk. “This is your ‘evidence,’ correct?” My stomach dropped. Compliance had handed my report right back to him. The game was rigged. Bryce threw his head back and laughed, a maniacal, victorious sound. “I truly admire your idiocy, Jax. Did you honestly think anyone would side with a nobody like you? You’re just a low-level sales guy. I could crush you like an ant. You think the board is going to sacrifice me, their golden boy, for you, a loser?” I lunged, grabbing his silk tie. “How did you get here, Bryce? You climbed over my back! I wasn’t competing with you! All I asked for was what was mine! Just approve the stupid allowance! Why did you have to push me this far?” He shoved me back and smoothed his tie. “Why? Because you’re a machine, Jax. An efficient, hungry machine. Keep you hungry, you keep running. Feed you, and you get ideas. You think you’re irreplaceable? Any person with a tenth of your drive could do your job if they had this platform. Even Sam.” I turned, and Sam was standing in the doorway, wearing a sickly, satisfied smirk. Bryce tapped his knuckles on the desk. “Did you think I was blind to your little moves? I was waiting for your complaint, Jax. This isn’t a self-defense, it’s a self-destruct.” He started pulling documents from the file. “This is a record of your private chats with clients. You’ve been offering kickbacks! You have the nerve to bypass company policy? How much of the company’s revenue have you pocketed, Jax? Confess!” My face went pale. I stumbled backward. “No! That’s fabricated! I never offered kickbacks! You’re framing me! You bastard, you used the lowest trick in the book!” Bryce remained calm, totally assured. “I knew you’d be stubborn.” He pulled out his phone and played an audio clip—a conversation between me and Sam. “Jax, your numbers are incredible. What’s the secret?” “Listen, Sam, the sales game is about playing both sides. You promise the client a discount to lock in the deal, then you negotiate with the company. The back-and-forth—that’s how you land the accounts.” I wheeled around, looking at Sam, who gave me that uncanny, knowing smile. “Don’t look at me, Jax. I’m just following your advice. Playing both sides.” I was furious, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You altered that! That’s not what I said! You spliced my words!” Bryce cut me off. “Spare me the outrage, Jax. We know who you are. Now look at these.” He pulled out several phone screenshots from the file. They were logs from a major ride-share application, showing I had been driving on the platform since 2025. He pointed a victorious finger at me. “The rest of it—the kickbacks, the lies—I could almost believe were an overzealous salesman being aggressive. But the Uber driving? That was the icing on the cake. A Kia Forte and a side gig. It suits you, Jax. Denying your allowance was the right call after all!” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. I had never, ever driven for a ride-share service. It was all a complete fabrication. Bryce was framing me. But the silence from Patrice and the snide whispers outside the office told me everything. “He actually was an Uber driver! I knew it! All that talk about being broke—he must be drowning in debt!” “And he accused Bryce of stealing? I heard Bryce was just cleaning up Jax’s mess, reassigning clients that Jax had barely touched. What a fraud.” Desperate, I turned to Patrice for a shred of integrity. She looked at me coldly. “Jax, I’m just here to deliver the company’s decision. We were initially only going to issue a verbal reprimand for your accusations against a VP. But given the clear evidence of your other activities, which violate company policy and damage our reputation…” Bryce interrupted, cutting her off with a false show of mercy. “Patrice, it’s fine. Jax brought us a lot of business. Let’s call it even. Just fire him. No need to pursue legal action for the theft or the fraud.” I glared at him, fire in my eyes. “It’s a frame job, you rat! Don’t play the hero! I never did any of that! You want to take me to court? Let’s see who is cleared then!” Patrice frowned. “Jax, you’re making this difficult. Bryce and the company are letting you walk away clean, and you’re insulting them?” I threw my head back and laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. “Walking away clean? My performance tops the department every year! Seventy percent of our revenue came from my accounts! And my salary? It’s been stuck at minimum for years! My bonuses are gutted, and I’m always the lowest paid! Why? You approved everyone’s car allowance except mine for a year! You call that ‘not difficult’?” Bryce sneered. “You think sales are just about bringing in the contract? There’s client maintenance, back-office work—the others do that. Stop complaining about fairness.” I pointed at him. “You dare say that? Who drove eleven hundred miles last month to save a contract? Who puts thousands of miles on their car every month? They sit in the office watching TikTok and drinking coffee, and they all have allowances, but I…” Bryce slammed his hand down. “You bring up the allowance one more time, and I swear I’ll bury you! We have undeniable proof you run a side gig! Keep pushing, and I will sue you for everything you’re worth!” I didn’t flinch. “Bring it on, Bryce. Let’s see whose reputation is ruined in court!” Bryce exploded. “Patrice! Fire him! Now! Then instruct Legal to file the complaint! The evidence is rock solid!” Patrice hesitated. “Bryce, let’s all just calm down.” Suddenly, I felt a calm wash over me. I stood up straight. “You know what? Fine. I quit. Let’s just call it a day.” Bryce lunged, eager to press his advantage. “You think you can just walk away? Not a chance! I will sue you! That audio, that evidence—it’s all real. Sam downloaded it from your phone. I was going to be generous, but you’ve lost your chance. We’ll see you in court!” I looked at Sam, whose face was a mask of smug satisfaction. I left the office in a daze. My belongings were tossed onto the curb outside the building. My former colleagues were already lining up to watch the drama. “Bryce gave him an out, and he still pushed it. This is what happens to arrogant people.” “He’s going to be sued for a million dollars. He’ll be driving that Kia for Uber for the rest of his life to pay it off.” A few days later, sitting in my rented apartment, the court summons arrived. Bryce was actually suing me. Then my phone rang. It was Sam. “It’s done. All the evidence is in their hands.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. Bryce had taken the bait. “Excellent,” I said, sitting up. “Initiate the next phase.” Yes. All of it had been my plan.

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After breaking up with Ethan Cole, I found out I was three months pregnant. I raised my daughter Lily alone for five years. But working three jobs took its toll, and I died suddenly from a stroke. I floated in mid-air. Suddenly I saw. Ethan Cole, now an award-winning movie star. Knocking on my door. 1 It took a long time for the door to open. “Who are you?” The one who opened the door was my daughter, Lily. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the lock of the main door, taking quite a while. She looked warily at my ex-boyfriend, who was also her biological father, Ethan Cole. Seeing it wasn’t me, Lily was about to close the door immediately. Ethan propped the door open. Frowning, “Where is Chloe Cloud?” Lily thought for a moment, looked up, and smiled brightly. “You’re looking for my mom. My mom isn’t home.” “She’s working.” Ethan’s face turned grim. He asked again: “Where’s your dad?” [It’s you! Her father is you!] I shouted anxiously in mid-air, but he couldn’t hear. Lily thought for a bit. “My dad is making big money in a very faraway place. Mom said he’ll come to pick us up when he makes enough money.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly. Suddenly he laughed self-deprecatingly. Muttering to himself in a low voice. “Heh, I was crazy to think you would wait for me.” With that. He turned to leave. He suddenly paused again. Asked for Lily’s full name. “Lily Cloud.” “Mom says I’m her little lily flower, so I’m called Lily Cloud.” Lily said it with great pride. Ethan’s gaze searched her face. Seeming to look for some proof. But in the end, he said nothing. Stepped into his stretch limo. I watched the car driving away in the distance, screaming. [Don’t go, Ethan Cole. If you leave, what will happen to our Lily?] [She’s only five. How can she survive alone?] I gently coaxed my daughter, who was blinking her eyes watching the car speeding away in the dust. [Lily be good, go chase daddy. Now that mommy is gone, only he can raise you.] But Lily couldn’t hear either. She just said one sentence: “What a strange uncle.” Then closed the door. At this moment, I wished I could slap myself hard. Why didn’t I tell Lily who her father was earlier. Why didn’t I show Lily a photo of her biological father. This is all my fault. It doesn’t matter if I die. But what about my daughter? 2 Lily swung her little legs, waiting for me to come home. The afterglow of the setting sun faded. The sky gradually darkened. Reasonably speaking, I should have been back long ago. Because Lily is afraid of the dark. But I was already dead. My colleague just received the notification of my failed resuscitation at the hospital. And was about to notify my family. But opening my phone, she found the family column in my contacts was empty. However, they knew I had a child. So, the phone at home rang that night. Lily ran towards the phone with her short legs. “Hello.” The childish voice made my colleague’s eyes misty. She didn’t know how to explain to a little girl that her mother was dead. And wouldn’t come back again. “Is it mommy?” Lily’s voice carried excitement. “Are you working overtime again? It’s okay, Lily is fine, not hungry at all. Lily just ate the bread mommy bought.” Saying that, she patted her round belly. “Lily, your mom just passed away.” Lily asked in confusion: “Where did she go? But it’s okay, mommy will definitely take Lily with her.” Once before, due to work arrangements, I went on a business trip to a neighboring state. Worried about leaving Lily alone at home. I took her with me. That was Lily’s first long trip. Sitting on the train, she pointed at the scenery outside the window excitedly. So now Lily still thought I just went on a business trip somewhere. After hearing this, my colleague sighed. Didn’t know what else to say. Could only hang up the phone. Finally, she represented the company to send my body for cremation. I was left with only an urn of ashes. 3 This night passed exceptionally slowly. It was also the first time I didn’t come back. Every once in a while, Lily would run to the door to see if I was there. But soon, scared by the darkness, she would run back. Just like this, running back and forth many times. Unable to resist sleepiness. She finally fell asleep hugging the teddy bear I bought. Dawn broke, roosters crowed. She was startled awake. And rushed to the door again. Seeing I hadn’t returned yet. A trace of disappointment flashed across Lily’s face. But soon, she comforted herself again. “It’s okay, mom is just too busy, she’ll be back soon.” Having eaten nothing all night, Lily’s stomach growled. She could only eat the bread I bought to fill her stomach. And opened the milk I bought. Imitating me, she wanted to heat up some water to warm the milk. “Mom said can’t drink cold, otherwise will get a tummy ache.” Lily said while carrying a pot filled with water. But her hands were so small, how could she carry it. I was extremely anxious, telling her not to do this. But there was nothing I could do. When Lily stood on the stool, just about to put the pot on the stove. Her strength failed, and water spilled all over the floor. Even the pot smashed onto her little foot, and her instep swelled up immediately. My heart ached like a sharp blade was gouging it. But also rejoiced, this wasn’t boiling water. Lily sobbed softly. Soon hugging her foot again, blowing on it. “Mommy isn’t here, Lily blows on it herself, then it won’t hurt.” She wiped her tears. Moved a stool. Sat in front of the living room, staring unblinkingly at the door. “Lily won’t cry. When mommy comes back, she’ll praise Lily for being brave.” Lily is very obedient, very sensible. Sensible enough to make my heart ache. How I wished she would resent me at this moment, blame me for being an incompetent mother. But she just waited very obediently for me to return. 4 Two hours later. A car stopped at my door. My colleague knocked on the door. Lily was extremely excited, thinking it was me. Ran very fast. But tripped unexpectedly. Her calf was scraped by a sharp stone. But she just frowned, got up quickly. After opening the door. Seeing it wasn’t me. Her emotions finally went out of control. Crying loudly. “Mommy, why isn’t mommy back yet.” “Lily’s foot is swollen, leg also hurts from falling, Lily has been very brave.” “But mommy still isn’t back, mommy doesn’t feel sorry for Lily anymore.” “Does mommy not love me anymore.” Lily cried heart-wrenchingly. I listened with my heart shattered on the ground. … My colleague hurriedly comforted her. And found the home first aid kit to disinfect Lily’s leg with alcohol and put on a band-aid. After everything was arranged properly. My colleague brought back my urn and belongings from the company. Lily didn’t understand. But seeing a photo taken with Lily at the amusement park not long ago inside. In the photo, I was holding Lily, and we were both smiling happily. She recognized me. Asking her: “Sister, are these all my mommy’s things? Then where did my mommy go?” My colleague held back tears. Pointed to that urn. “Your mommy is inside here. If you miss her, just hug it and talk to it.” Lily shook her head. “How could my mommy turn into a jar, she’s not the Monkey King, only the Monkey King can transform, you’re lying.” Then she hugged my photo in her arms. “This is my mommy.” And gave it a kiss. Smiling sweetly. My colleague sighed and put my urn on a high place. Then looked around. Asking: “Where’s your dad? Are you alone at home?” Lily lowered her head. “Mommy said daddy went to a very faraway place to make money, I haven’t seen daddy since I was little.” My colleague couldn’t believe it. “Then don’t you have other family members? Grandparents?” Lily shook her head. My colleague could no longer hold back tears, hugging her in her arms. “Poor child.” “You’re so young, how could your mom bear to leave you alone and go.” Lily retorted her. “Mommy wouldn’t leave me, mommy likes Lily the most.” My colleague put a card into Lily’s hand. “This is the compensation money from the company for your mom’s passing. There is two hundred thousand dollars in the card, the password is six eights. Keep it well. Don’t lose it.” Lily nodded seriously. Clutching the card tightly in her hand. Because of poverty, I taught Lily from a young age that money is a good thing and must be taken care of. Now, she also kept it in mind. After considering everything. My colleague called the local welfare agency. It was prepared specifically for these homeless children. I was extremely grateful. Bowing to my colleague in the air. [Thank you.] If she can be sent to the orphanage, at least my Lily can survive.

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My husband’s secretary was locked in a car with the windows up for half an hour, and in a fit of rage, he locked me in the storage room. I knelt on the ground, tightly gripping the hem of his shirt, admitting to a mistake I didn’t commit. He impatiently pried my fingers away, stepped on them hard, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Who do you think you are, daring to hurt Chloe?” Suffering from severe claustrophobia, I curled up in the dark, cramped space, gasping for air. My palms were scratched bloody by my own fingernails, yet I still couldn’t resist the suffocating feeling of impending death. A week later, he returned from a trip abroad with his secretary and finally remembered me. But he didn’t know that I had long died in fear and hatred. 1 When Ethan Reed walked into the villa with his arm around Chloe Shen’s waist, the servants had already decorated the house in advance. Rose petals scattered on the floor, a diamond necklace on the dining table, and a three-tier cake with a cartoon girl drawn on it nearby. Everything proclaimed Ethan’s regard for Chloe. Leaning in Ethan’s arms, Chloe saw all this, covered her mouth in surprise, her eyes flashing with tears as she looked at Ethan: “Ethan, you are so good to me!” Ethan affectionately scraped the tip of Chloe’s nose, his tone gentle: “I have another gift for you.” Ethan turned to look at his personal assistant and ordered: “Go call Ava down. I want this bitch to kneel and apologize to Chloe in public.” I looked coldly at this man I had loved for ten years, my heart numb. “Ethan, don’t blame Ava anymore. I believe Ava didn’t mean to hurt me either. We are sisters after all, I will be sad if you punish her.” Chloe’s tone was tinged with a cry, but only I, with the God’s perspective, saw the fleeting viciousness in her eyes. Yes, I am already dead. A week ago, in a rage, Ethan locked me in a storage room less than one square meter to teach me a lesson. I clung to the door frame and admitted all the charges he placed on me, begging him not to lock me in this cramped and dark space so cruelly. But all he left me was a resolute back and that vicious sentence: “I will make you suffer hundreds and thousands of times the harm Chloe suffered. This is what you owe her!” He seemed to have forgotten that I suffered from severe claustrophobia. While he held Chloe’s hand rushing to Finland to see the aurora, I curled up in a ball, breathing with difficulty. I pinched my thighs and arms until they were bloody but couldn’t maintain my increasingly thin consciousness. Until the last moment when consciousness faded, I struggled to break free from that terrifying room. Hearing Chloe pleading for me, Ethan reached out distressingly to touch Chloe’s cheek: “You, you are just too kind, that’s why you are always bullied by her. I won’t let her hurt you again!” I couldn’t help sneering. So in his eyes, I have always been such a vicious person. Everything I paid for him seemed to have become a huge joke. At this time, the assistant ran down from upstairs in panic. 2 “Mr. Reed, there is no response in the storage room. Madam… seems to have stopped breathing.” Panic flashed in Ethan’s eyes, but soon he curled his lips knowingly, his tone containing anger: “Assistant Xu, have you also been bought by Ava?” “I haven’t settled the account with you for helping Ava lock Chloe in the car before, and this time you help Ava lie to me again.” “I think you have forgotten who your boss is. I notify you now, you are fired.” Before Assistant Xu could argue, Ethan took Chloe’s hand and went back to the room. Assistant Xu froze behind them, opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing. I really couldn’t figure out how Ethan turned into what he is now. Clearly, we used to love each other very much. I have known Ethan for ten years, and I accompanied him from starting from scratch to becoming a new prominent figure in the business world today. But only after death did I completely realize that the balance in Ethan’s heart had shifted the moment Chloe appeared. Chloe is Ethan’s private secretary and also my half-sister. A week ago, Ethan took Chloe and Assistant Xu out to inspect partners. It was also that day that my mother, who was in the late stage of cancer, was in rare good spirits, holding my hand and asking about my relationship with Ethan. But in the next second, the values on the monitor dropped straight down. I looked at the closed door of the emergency room and dialed Ethan’s number helplessly. Ethan sat silently with me in front of the emergency room until he received a call from Chloe, his face changing drastically. On the phone, Chloe weakly told Ethan about her fear, not forgetting to ask Ethan to take good care of me, his legal wife. Ethan was full of anxiety, ignored my retention, forgot to even take his coat, and immediately got up to save Chloe. What he didn’t know was that just ten minutes after he left, my mother left this world forever. What’s ridiculous is that at that time I hadn’t seen through Ethan’s regard for Chloe, until he expressionlessly pushed me into the storage room, squatted on the ground, pinched my chin hard, his tone icy: “Ava, I thought you were just jealous. How come I never found out you are such a vicious woman? Chloe is your biological sister, yet you could do such a thing.” “If it weren’t for you and your short-lived mother, how could I not be by Chloe’s side when she was in danger!” “Just reflect on yourself here properly. Come out when you know where you went wrong.” My fingers were trampled ruthlessly under his feet, leaving only numb pain in my heart. And now, he is still waiting for me to bow my head first and admit my mistake obediently. But unfortunately, this time it is destined not to be as he wishes. Ethan stood outside the storage room door, his face full of indifference: “Ava, you should curb your petty temper. You know my patience is very limited.” “If you roll out now and apologize to Chloe properly, I can barely forgive you.” His response was only silence. Ethan impatiently smashed the storage room door hard, his tone gradually becoming fierce: “Fine, if you don’t want to come out, then die inside.” I looked at Ethan’s departing back, a sudden sadness rising in my heart. I seem to have to admit that the man I once loved deeply had rotted unknowingly long ago. 3 For the next few days, Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side and never returned home. I watched him take care of another woman with all his heart, eating with her, watching movies, doing all the things couples do, and could only laugh at myself. This day was my dad’s birthday. Ethan carried big and small bags of gifts and rushed to the Shen family with Chloe early in the morning. My dad, who was watering flowers in the yard, saw the two figures and walked forward with a smile to welcome them in. Chloe ran forward and skillfully took my dad’s arm to act coquettishly, while Ethan just smiled dotingly, carrying things and following behind them. Natural as if the three of them were the family. At the dinner table, Chloe said pleasing words to coax my dad into laughter, and Ethan occasionally picked some dishes Chloe loved for her. From beginning to end, no one mentioned me. It was Ethan’s cell phone ringtone that broke the quiet atmosphere at this moment. Ethan answered the phone, but the words from the other side made his face freeze. “Hello Mr. Reed, I am a doctor at the City Hospital. We received a female corpse today. DNA comparison confirmed that the deceased is your wife, Ms. Ava Shen.” “Is it convenient for you to come to the hospital now to complete the relevant procedures?” Ethan frowned and listened to the other party’s words, then sneered lightly, his tone full of disdain: “Heh, are you also hired by Ava to help her put on a show? Tell Ava for me, don’t think pretending to be dead will make me forgive her.” “Also, this trick is boring.” After speaking, without waiting for the other side to respond, Ethan hung up the phone decisively. Seeing Ethan put down the phone, Chloe spoke with worry in her tone: “Ethan, did something happen to my sister?” Ethan raised his hand to rub the top of Chloe’s hair and shook his head. But in the second half of the dinner, Ethan was obviously absent-minded, picking celery, which Chloe hated the most, for her several times by mistake. Even my dad saw something was wrong with Ethan, so he didn’t force Ethan to stay after the meal. To my surprise, after Ethan drove Chloe home tonight, he rarely didn’t stay overnight at her place but went to the City Hospital. I followed him to outside the cold morgue. His hand was on the doorknob, but he delayed pressing it down. I saw Ethan’s mouth opening and closing, and only heard clearly what he was saying when I got close. “Ava, if I find out you are playing me again this time, I will definitely skin you!” Heh! Even at this time, he is still threatening a dead person. If I could take human form at this moment, I would definitely not be able to control myself from slapping him twice. As if finally mentally prepared, Ethan walked into the morgue. The doctor on duty responsible for guarding the corpses was dozing off in the duty room. Seeing Ethan’s figure, he stood up in horror. “Who are you?” Ethan seemed to hear nothing, walking slowly towards the corpse covered with a white cloth on the bed not far away. “Ava, get the fuck up! Stop pretending!” Ethan clenched his fists tightly, shouting in front of the corpse as if trying hard to suppress his anger. But in front of him was a corpse, how could a corpse respond to him? Ethan suddenly shook my corpse violently like crazy. Somehow, even floating in the air, I seemed to feel severe dizziness. The doctor on duty finally reacted, rushed to Ethan and hugged him who was still going crazy. “Mr. Reed, calm down!” Ethan threw off the doctor hugging him fiercely, his tone agitated: “This can’t be Ava! You are all liars! You are all lying to me!” To be honest, I really haven’t seen Ethan lose his composure like this for a long, long time, but at this moment I couldn’t control the urge to laugh out loud in my heart. The doctor looked at Ethan’s agitated appearance and shook his head, turned back to the duty room, took a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to Ethan. 4 I leaned close to Ethan and found out it was my death certificate. “Mr. Reed, it was the servants in your house who smelled an abnormal odor at home and discovered your wife’s body.” “My condolences.” The doctor patted Ethan on the shoulder, said nothing more, and left the morgue. Only Ethan was left in the room. He squatted on the ground, lowering his head and staring dead at the death certificate in his hand. “How is it possible! Ava, how could you be dead.” “You must be lying to me, right?” “That’s right, it must be so! I will expose your lie now!” Ethan stumbled when getting up, staggering towards the corpse covered with white cloth. “Ava, I give you one last chance. Get up now, and I can pretend nothing happened.” The room was silent. Ethan raised his hand to pinch a corner of the white cloth, but never lifted it. I clearly saw his fingers trembling uncontrollably. A sudden urge to scare him rose in my heart, wanting him to taste fear and despair too. Using all my strength, I blew a breath at the white cloth on the corpse. The white cloth was blown to the ground. The corpse was presented unreservedly in front of Ethan. The face turned blue and purple due to suffocation was shocking even to me. The eyes that couldn’t close until death, the two eyeballs protruded extraordinarily, looking even more scary in the gloomy atmosphere. “Ahhh!” Ethan was scared into sitting on the ground, screaming while moving backward vigorously: “Don’t come over! Don’t come over! I was wrong!” Seeing his comical reaction, the pent-up anger in my heart finally dissipated a bit. Ethan sat on the ground for a long time before recovering. When he stood up, his legs were still trembling non-stop. He moved slowly back to the corpse, staring fixedly at the lifeless corpse on the bed, his eyes scarlet. “How is it possible?” “Nothing happened between me and Chloe Shen. Stop being angry, okay? As long as you come back!” A bean-sized tear fell, followed by a second, a third. I really don’t understand this man a bit. Trampling my sincere heart on the ground when I was alive, and acting hypocritically here when I’m dead. Who is he putting on a show for?

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Just because of a game, I decided to divorce Ethan Ford. During the game, when he blurted out that he liked to rest his head on a pregnant belly and listen to the baby’s sounds, the room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes were on me. There was no shock in those gazes, only pity and the panic of a secret being revealed. I realized then that they all knew Ethan had a child with another woman. But they all helped him hide it from me. Just because they knew I was Ethan’s life. If I found out, I would definitely leave him. And he would definitely go crazy. So, to make him go completely insane, I did three things. First, I melted down the wedding ring he designed for me personally. Second, I saved the video of Chloe Lin provoking me onto a USB drive. Third, I applied to join a highly confidential scientific research team. The joining date was exactly on our seventh wedding anniversary. On that day, I would vanish from his life like I evaporated. And he would only receive a package from me. Inside, there was a USB drive, a divorce agreement, and my abortion surgery form. Chapter 1 Swallowing the bitter red wine in my mouth, I tried to make myself look calmer. My voice was almost inaudible, but I still asked the question: “How many months?” Ethan Ford seemed to wake up from a dream, the wine glass in his hand suddenly crushed by him. Glass shards instantly pierced into the flesh of his palm, blood dripping. But he didn’t care at all, just rushed to me in a panic, hugged me tightly, his voice trembling abnormally: “Mia, it’s not what you think, the child was just an accident!” Hearing this sentence, I felt my heart and soul split. Suppressing the sourness in my throat, I said word by word in disbelief: “So you… really… got another woman pregnant?” Ethan was silent, not giving me an answer. I closed my eyes, two tears rolling down from the corners of my eyes. Thinking that he had hugged another woman like this, I pushed him away in disgust and turned to flee. Ethan chased me to the door, his phone rang, seeing the caller ID, he answered immediately. I heard a soft and sweet female voice from the other end: “Ethan~ Your little baby keeps kicking your big baby, torturing me to death~” My heart stung sharply, and I quickened my pace to escape. The person behind didn’t chase after me. I smiled bitterly, not knowing whether to rejoice or feel lost. Taking out my phone, I made an international long-distance call. “Professor, I agree to join the AMP research team.” The person on the other end seemed a bit surprised, “Really? That’s great, our team really needs someone like you.” “However, this research team is highly confidential. Once joined, your family won’t be able to contact you.” “Your husband cares about you so much, to the extent of calling the police if you disappear for a second. Does he agree with you joining?” My eyes dimmed, and I said hoarsely: “I’m preparing to divorce him.” The other end was silent for a moment, didn’t ask more, only said: “Okay, I’ll help you with the process. Joining in three days.” The moment the call ended, the large screen in the mall behind me started playing Ethan’s exclusive interview. The host keenly noticed his small movement and asked with a smile: “Mr. Ford, I noticed you keep touching your own ring, but… it seems to be just a very ordinary silver ring. Is there anything special about it?” Ethan smiled very gently, held up his hand to show her: “This is my wedding ring.” “Huh? Sorry, I thought with your current wealth, the wedding ring must be a large carat diamond ring.” Ethan said: “My wedding ring was made by myself seven years ago, polished bit by bit, and engraved with my wife’s and my names on the inner circle.” “Wow, there really are two strings of letters, it’s FWJ (Ethan’s Initials – EF) and…” Ethan said: “SMZ (Mia’s Initials – MJ), my wife is Mia Johnson.” “Wow, really envy your wife. She must have saved the galaxy in her past life to marry Mr. Ford like you.” Ethan smiled gently, only said: “Actually, it was me who saved the galaxy in my past life to marry her.” “This year is the seventh year of my marriage with my wife. Seven years ago when I had nothing, she firmly supported me. She even lost our first child to save me…” “Mia Johnson is the only love of my life, Ethan Ford. I will hold a century wedding for her on our seventh wedding anniversary in three days, letting everyone witness my love for her.” Among the passers-by around, almost all were envious voices, praising him as a wife-doting maniac. Yes, everyone thinks Ethan loves me like life. Even I, before today, thought so too. Looking at the wedding ring in my hand that I wore for seven years and Ethan never let me take off, I walked into a jewelry processing shop. “Please help me melt this ring, thank you.” The clerk looked at the ring in surprise, then looked at me in astonishment, asking hesitantly: “Excuse me, are you… Mia Johnson?” Another clerk rolled her eyes at her, disagreeing: “Please, it’s just that this silver ring happens to be engraved with FWJ and SCT too. Mr. Ford loves Mrs. Ford so much, how could Mrs. Ford melt the ring?” Listening to their conversation, I laughed at myself, paid, and left silently. I walked aimlessly, suddenly seeing Ethan’s car by the roadside. The car was parked there quietly, as if waiting for something. Standing in the cold wind, looking at the car, I had mixed feelings. My steps slowed down involuntarily, a complex emotion surging in my heart. I hated myself for actually having expectations in my heart. What was I expecting? Expecting that he parked here actually waiting for me? I didn’t know whether to face him or continue to escape. Took a deep breath, slowly walked towards the car, every step felt like stepping on my heart. He suddenly got out of the car, walked quickly to the passenger seat to open the door. A young girl, gently stroking her belly, was carefully supported by him to get out of the car. Chapter 2 The girl kissed him on the cheek coquettishly, raising her left hand to admire it back and forth. I saw, on the ring finger of her left hand, a silver ring. “Ethan, the ring you made yourself is so beautiful. If the baby knows his daddy loves mommy so much, he will also look forward to coming to this world.” Ethan dotingly took off his coat and draped it over her, then bent down to gently stroke the girl’s bulging belly. “Daddy also looks forward to him coming to me quickly.” Watching this scene, I smiled, but while smiling, tears flowed down. Loved for seven years, Ethan kept a distance of three meters from women other than me. For a while, others thought he had gynophobia. He didn’t care much, only saying this was the sense of propriety a married man should keep towards the opposite sex. Later, he even bought a book “Male Virtue Standards”, studying it every day. I laughed at him being childish, he only said he wanted to give me a full sense of security. He said, his love was only given to me alone. But now, he shared a part of his love with the woman pregnant for him. I watched quietly, until Ethan felt my burning gaze, our eyes met. He straightened up instantly, the girl in his arms suddenly like a hot potato. Ethan let go of the hand around the woman’s waist and ran straight to me. He nervously held my face with both hands, then held my hands, his face full of distress. “Mia, why are you so cold? Why are you crying, don’t scare me.” The concern in his eyes was absolutely genuine, making me soft-hearted for a moment. But the girl with the huge pregnant belly behind him was constantly reminding me that his concern was just a joke. That girl was fearless, holding her pregnant belly with one hand, stroking it gently with the other, raising her head proudly, staring straight at me. I threw off Ethan’s hand, stepped back two steps, as if using up my last breath, asked him weakly: “Who is she? Is the child in her belly… yours?” In this moment, I bet our seven years together and all my courage on this line. A desperate gamble. As long as he denies it, as long as he says personally that the child isn’t his, I am willing to believe him, willing to forget all this pain and betrayal. However, the girl’s low, clear sobbing from not far away, like fate’s mockery, shattered my last fantasy. A flash of guilt passed through Ethan’s eyes, he closed his eyes in pain, after opening them again, he pursed his lips, saying that devastating sentence: “It’s mine.” I lost strength instantly, falling heavily to the ground. Because of supporting myself, the palm was scraped. Ethan hurriedly knelt in front of me, eyes full of distress and anxiety: “Mia, you can hit me or scold me, but don’t hurt yourself like this.” His voice was almost pleading. He held my hands, wiping the wound for me. Suddenly, he paused, lost his voice: “Mia, where is the wedding ring on your hand?” I withdrew my hand, smiled mockingly, signaling with my eyes, “Isn’t it on her hand? For the same ring, one is enough.” Hearing this, his eyes panicked, mouth opened several times, but couldn’t say anything. Suddenly, he raised his hand, slapped himself twice hard, with such force that red and swollen palm prints immediately appeared on his cheeks. At this time, the girl quickly stepped forward, shielding Ethan behind her. Although her voice trembled, it carried a firmness. “Ms. Shen, I am Chloe Lin, Ethan and I are both victims, please don’t blame him!” There were tears in her eyes, yet she still tried to protect Ethan. Ethan’s face sank, voice cold and hard as ice. “Mia is my wife, you should address her as Mrs. Ford!” His words revealed unquestionable authority. Chloe shrank slightly, speaking firmly: “Mrs. Ford, believe me, I’m only 23. If it weren’t for Ethan’s mother… I wouldn’t have kept this child at all!” As soon as her voice fell, Ethan’s unfocused eyes suddenly looked at her, subconsciously blurting out: “No!” At this moment, I understood, between us, there was no future anymore. Chapter 3 I didn’t question anymore, just let Ethan drive me home. In the car, he explained the ins and outs of that accident to me: 9 months ago, he was on a business trip, drugged by a rival, and mistakenly entered Chloe’s room. After that accident, he gave her a sum of compensation, asking her to disappear from Seaport City. But he didn’t expect she actually got pregnant. And when my mother-in-law learned about this, she brought her back from abroad, and was determined to keep this child. I knew deeply my mother-in-law’s obsession with children. Seven years ago, Ethan and I were on a honeymoon cruise, but the cruise hit an iceberg, losing buoyancy instantly. In the process of falling into the sea, to protect me, Ethan’s leg was broken by heavy objects falling together. He used his last strength to throw the lifebuoy to me, urging me to escape first. But how could I bear to abandon him? I chose to stay. Holding him up, preventing him from sinking into the sea. When the rescue team finally arrived, I had been soaked in the biting cold seawater for a day and a night. Ethan recovered soon after, but I lost our child in that accident, and the road to bearing children became extremely difficult from then on. From then on, Ethan’s feelings for me grew deeper. He said we shared life and death, swearing no matter what happened, he wouldn’t separate from me. However, my mother-in-law was extremely dissatisfied with me being unable to bear children. Now, facing this sudden grandson, it’s not hard to imagine how she would try her best to protect him. Inside the car, Ethan held my hand with guilt, voice low: “Mia, this really was an accident…” I looked straight into his eyes, enduring bitterness, asked him: “The child and me, who do you choose?” He fell into silence. But I got the answer. Withdrawing the hand held tightly by him, I turned to look at the prosperous night view outside the window. My relationship with Ethan was the same, prosperous for seven years, finally coming to an end. After arriving home, Ethan gently pulled me. Found the medicine box wanting to apply medicine to my palm: “Promise me, don’t let yourself get hurt in the future, it will kill me with heartache.” I didn’t respond to him, just withdrew my hand, went back to the room, locked the door. Soon, a knock sounded gently. Ethan’s coaxing voice came from outside the door: “Mia, I beg you to say a word to me okay? I’m very worried about you.” I covered my head directly with the quilt to sleep. Waking up the next day, I wore all black, looking at the photo of me and my parents on the bedside table, eyes wet. Five years ago, they died in a car accident, and today is their memorial day. I still remember that day, watching them being covered with white cloth, crying voicelessly. It was Ethan who held me, comforting: “Mia, don’t be afraid, you still have me.” It was also him, kneeling before my parents’ graves promising, He would love me for a lifetime, he would accompany me to pay respects to them every year, letting them see how well I was taken care of by him. The door opened suddenly, Ethan walked in with a haggard look, eyes full of bloodshot. “You have the key why didn’t you come in last night?” I said coldly. He squatted down, helping me put on slippers, “Just treat it as punishment for me. I’m in good health, not sleeping for a night doesn’t matter. If I came in you would sleep even worse. Put on slippers, don’t catch a cold.” My nose soured, blurted out: “Do you still remember what day it is today?” Ethan looked at me seriously, “Of course, father and mother-in-law’s memorial day, how could I forget.” He got up, actively preparing things needed for worship. Suddenly glimpsed a message on my phone placed on the table. Seeing the content of the message clearly, he paused abruptly, picked up the phone and asked me: “You booked flight tickets?” My brows didn’t move, calmly explained: “Originally wanted to travel with you, but felt the time wasn’t appropriate, so canceled.” He opened his mouth, wanted to ask something more, but the phone rang. “Ethan! I fell and my stomach hurts so much! Seems bleeding too! What to do!” Ethan became visibly nervous, completely forgetting about the flight tickets. He held my hand, eyes pleading. “Mia, I’ll just go take a look, I swear I’ll definitely come back!” He turned and ran into the car, stepped on the gas, disappearing around the corner. Tears dripped on the ground, I raised my hand wanting to wipe dry tears, but found tears couldn’t be wiped away. I went to the cemetery alone, waited until dark, talked to parents for a day. Returning home, I started packing luggage. At midnight, Ethan finally rushed back, he hugged me tightly, constantly saying sorry. I let him hug, without words. This night, our world seemed split into two halves, his embrace warm and familiar, but my heart felt unprecedented distance. Chapter 4 The next morning, Ethan was no longer by the bedside. Only a note left by him: [Urgent matter at company, I went back to company first, made breakfast for you, remember to eat.] He didn’t know, this morning, when the sky was just getting light, I heard the call Chloe made to him. It was Chloe who called him away. Looking at the breakfast on the table, I suddenly felt a wave of nausea. A thought rose in my heart, I took a taxi to the hospital. Looking at the pregnancy test report, I actually laughed tears out. The doctor looked at me with sympathetic eyes, asked softly: “Are you a single mother? Do you want to keep the child? With your constitution, aborting this child, you will never be able to conceive again.” Leaving the hospital, I took a taxi to the villa worth a billion that Ethan gave me. Looking at the two words “Mia’s Garden” carved on the big stone in front of the villa, And the line written by Ethan himself below: [Holding Mia’s hand, destined for a hundred years of harmony.] I only felt ironic. This was given to me by Ethan, our exclusive “love nest”. Except for servants, no other woman was ever allowed to enter. But at this moment, I saw Chloe appearing in front of the villa. She looked at me proudly, provoking: “The legendary Mia’s Garden, is just so-so, didn’t I enter easily.” “Heard this is your love nest? But Mother Ford said this place is most suitable for nursing pregnancy, Brother Ethan let me move in, you aren’t angry right?” “Afraid I bump and hurt, Brother Ethan even changed all the furniture, all to what I like~” I looked around this villa that was unrecognizable, the bitterness surging in my heart almost suffocating me. Memories surged like tide, clearly floating before eyes. On our third wedding anniversary, Ethan knelt on one knee, handing the key of this villa into my hand. “Mia, I won’t let anyone step in here, here has the imprint of our love, is the two-person world exclusively ours.” Here was once the sanctuary of our love, now personally given to another woman by him. I felt all strength in my body seemed drawn away, almost unable to stand. Chloe stared at me closely with jealousy and hatred. And I, could only lean weakly by the door, heart filled with endless sorrow and despair. This place once full of love, now became the witness of my heartbreak. “So how long are you going to occupy the position of Mrs. Ford? Can’t you see Brother Ethan’s liking and preference for me and the child?” Chloe’s words were full of provocation. Occupy? I smiled bitterly, a sense of powerlessness surging in my heart. Suddenly, my gaze fell on a corner of the empty living room, where my parents’ portrait was originally placed, now nowhere to be seen. “Where is my parents’ portrait?!” My volume suddenly increased, voice trembling, eyes full of disbelief. “Such unlucky things were of course thrown away by Brother Ethan~” Chloe smiled faintly, speaking contemptuously, as if discussing a trivial matter. I glared at her, she then reluctantly went to take out the portrait. Immediately after, right in front of me, the corner of her mouth raised a smile, then lit the portrait with a lighter. I pounced fiercely wanting to extinguish the fire, Chloe then took the opportunity to fall on the ground, then shouted pain. I couldn’t hear her shouting clearly, only focused on extinguishing the fire. But Ethan’s incredulous roar suddenly sounded in my ear: “Mia why did you push her?!” Ignoring the fire burning my hands, I extinguished the fire. Looked up but found Ethan didn’t look at me once, instead panicly picked up Chloe to leave. I looked at my hands burned red and fresh, feeling this seven-year marriage was really a joke. After rinsing the burns with cold water, I began to clean up all the mess here. Mother-in-law appeared suddenly, slapped me hard. “You hen that can’t lay eggs, jinx, if anything happens to my grandson, I won’t let you go!” Ethan who returned quickly came over to stop her. He finally ran to me, grabbed my hands, applying ointment to me with heartache. Ethan saw mother-in-law still wanted to make trouble, he spoke: “Over there is giving birth.” Mother-in-law left immediately. Ethan seeing people gone, carefully observed my expression, finally weighed and spoke: “Mia, Chloe is young, made you unhappy, you shouldn’t have pushed her either.” “I pushed her?” My voice was full of disbelief. “It’s okay it’s okay, I apologized to her for you, she won’t blame you.” One sentence, determined my crime. Exhaustion and powerlessness struck, I didn’t want to explain anymore. Between me and Chloe, Ethan had already chosen to believe her. Seven years of husband and wife, couldn’t compare to a new love known for less than a year. Watching Ethan carefully blowing on my wound but obviously absent-minded, thinking of the flash of smile in his eyes when he said over there was giving birth just now. I touched my belly, the child’s stay or leave, he helped me decide.

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