Working late into the night on a project, my phone’s smart home assistant suddenly popped up with an alert. [Master Bathroom Light On.] [Master Bath Scented Soak Mode Activated. Your luxurious bath awaits, Your Highness.] Neither Leo nor I were home. Maria, our housekeeper, was on vacation these past few days. So, who had turned on those appliances? After quickly checking the app again, I called Leo: “Leo, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” He sounded utterly confused: “Missing me already? But, babe, this project is super important. I won’t be able to make it home until tomorrow night at the earliest.” I rubbed my forehead, sighing: “Sorry, I must be swamped and got the dates mixed up. See you tomorrow night, Leo.” After hanging up, I stared at the smart home remote control app, only to see the master bedroom curtains suddenly close. I quickly sent a message to Maria and sped home. Thinking of those thrillers where the housekeeper turns out to be a thief, I tapped Maria’s contact again. The moment I accidentally pressed the dial button, I immediately hung up. Maria had been with us for over a decade, practically family, always looking out for me. She’d never do something like this. Arriving at the community gate, I rolled down my car window and spoke to Officer Miller, the security guard: “A friend of mine said they were coming to visit me earlier. Did you let them in?” He shook his head, looking puzzled: “Ms. Chloe, no visitors registered today. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” I nodded slightly, forcing a smile: “Maybe they decided it was too far to come. Thanks for your hard work.” Just then, Maria FaceTimed me. She was at home with her elders and children. “Maria, I’ll send you an extra bonus this time, and please take a few more days off. Enjoy your time with your family.” After hanging up, my smile instantly vanished. Maria confirmed she wasn’t home. Could it really be an intruder? But why would a burglar use the bathtub? My car soon reached the villa entrance. Seeing the lights on in the master bedroom, my heart sank. Someone was definitely home. But who? I quietly opened the front door. Before I even turned on the lights, I noticed Leo’s slippers, clearly moved, in the moonlight. I distinctly remembered Leo leaving for his business trip a day before me. When I left, I had carefully placed our shoes side-by-side. Could this be one of those squatters you hear about in the news, sneaking into someone’s house because they can’t afford rent? Afraid they might get desperate and turn violent, I bit my lip and grabbed the stun gun hidden behind the door. However, just as I was trying to sneak upstairs to check, Leo, wrapped in a towel, stood at the second-floor hallway entrance and flipped on the downstairs lights. “Chloe, what are you doing back?” He wiped his hair, then saw the stun gun in my hand and clicked his tongue: “Still carrying that thing?” I let out a sigh of relief: “Just finished work and came home. Saw your shoes were moved, and I thought we had an intruder.” “Leo, you didn’t say you were coming home. You scared me half to death.” As I spoke, I suddenly realized something and looked at Leo’s face: “Wait, didn’t you say you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night at the earliest?” Leo rushed down and pulled me into a hug: “I was, but you called, and I figured you missed me, so I hurried back.” “I even wanted to surprise you.” His surprised expression when he saw me was flawless, and his words were sweet. But as I inhaled his fresh scent, my heart grew even colder. The bathroom light had clearly been on for a while, Yet he said he had just gotten back. He was lying to me. The scented soak mode leaves a distinct fragrance, but he only smelled of his usual shower gel. Leo was lying to me, covering for someone who had just used my bathtub. He was cheating. I opened my phone and checked the bathtub’s usage end time. I was already at the front door by then. And we only had one entrance to our house, so the person who used my bathtub was still inside! I smiled, pushed Leo away, and headed upstairs. “Thanks, Leo. I’m tired. I’ll go freshen up first.” Leo opened the master bedroom door for me, looking for praise: “I heard you come in, and I knew it was you. See, I even drew a bath for you.” I walked into the bathroom and glanced at the electronic display nearby—Soak Mode. He never used the scented soak mode, but there was a lingering perfume scent in the bathroom. Just then, I heard something drop. I walked back into the bedroom and frowned, looking at the closet. Behind me, Leo quietly sighed in relief as he saw the collectible figurine on the nightstand. I paid him no mind, my gaze fixed on the closet in front of me. That row of large wardrobes was custom-made; a person could easily hide inside. But just as my hand touched the closet door, Leo suddenly grabbed my arm: “Wait.”

“Chloe, I brought you a gift. It’s right there.” He pointed to the collectible figurine on the table. My eyes lit up: “Is it that limited-edition figurine I’ve been waiting years for and never got?!” With the closet still on my mind, I distractedly fiddled with the figurine for a moment, then, when Leo wasn’t looking, I immediately walked over and opened the closet. I checked every inch of the closet from left to right, confirming no living thing was hidden inside. Seeing the fully open closet, Leo casually tidied the clothes inside, his voice completely natural: “What pajamas do you want to wear, Chloe?” This was the only place in the master bedroom someone could hide. It seemed I was overthinking things; there was no one else here. I pointed to my favorite set of pajamas, finally relaxing. It must have been a glitch in this remote control system, causing the program to activate automatically. For our home’s security, I had not only added a facial recognition system to the outdoor monitoring but also installed a discreet camera facing inward from a hidden spot opposite the door. Anyone other than Leo or me appearing at our door would trigger an alert on my phone. And the other hidden camera could show what was happening in the living room when the door opened. The next day, just after lunch at the office, the smart home assistant suddenly popped up again. [Master Bathroom Light On.] [Master Bath Scented Soak Mode Activated. Your luxurious bath awaits, Your Highness.] I opened the monitoring app, which hadn’t alerted me, And watched the footage at ten times speed from when I left home, confirming no one had entered. I breathed a sigh of relief. It must be a bug in this newly connected smart home system. I mentioned the issue to my assistant, asking him to upgrade the system when he had time. Then I just dismissed the smart assistant’s message. In the evening, I had dinner with Bella, a best friend I hadn’t seen in ages. As we chatted about our childhood dreams at the restaurant, I smiled and pulled out a photo I’d taken yesterday: “Look, Leo brought me this collectible from his business trip!” Bella examined it closely, then regretfully said: “This is a limited edition, truly! What a shame, it’s got lipstick on it. It’s not so perfect anymore.” Her words made me freeze. How could Leo have put lipstick on it? And it hadn’t come in a gift box. Or did he buy a knockoff to begin with? Filled with doubt, I FaceTimed Leo. After I explained, Leo quickly apologized: “Sorry, Chloe. I thought the lip color was a bit pale, so I touched it up with some lipstick from your vanity.” “I don’t know anything about these things. I’m so sorry, I’ll get you another one.” This figurine was released years ago in a very limited quantity, making it extremely rare to obtain. The fact that he went to such lengths, pulling strings everywhere to get me one, had already touched me deeply. Thinking of this, I smiled, ending the conversation. Suddenly, my phone again alerted me that the bathtub at home had activated the scented soak mode, and it finished use over an hour later. I shook my head. Leo never took long to wash up. This smart home system really seemed to be broken. A week later, I was about to board a train for a business trip to another city, When Officer Miller from our community security suddenly called: “Ms. Chloe, your friend seems to have arrived. She just registered your address and went in.” Last time, I’d been trying to fish for information about whether anyone unauthorized had entered my home. I never expected that after all this time, the security guard would actually provide me with useful information. I exited the ticket gate and opened my surveillance app. Three minutes later, Leo arrived at our front door, with no one else beside him. But he knocked before opening the door, then stood for a few seconds before going inside. With a sense of foreboding, I clicked on the footage from the camera opposite the door. Sure enough, when I fast-forwarded to the time he entered, In the video, a graceful woman stood inside the doorway, opening her arms to greet him.

I quickly exited the train station, hailed a cab, and paid extra for him to drive as fast as possible back home. As I watched the driver accelerate to the speed limit, my wildly beating heart suddenly throbbed. What if I went back and walked in on them? Would our relationship be shattered, ending in divorce? But we’d been together for ten years, from high school sweethearts to marriage after college graduation. Aside from his desire to build his career before settling down and having kids later, our relationship had always been harmonious. He even took the lead in handling all the pressure from both our families about having kids, saying he wanted me to enjoy my youth longer. But now, I felt terrified. Did he not want children, or did he already have children with someone else? Traffic jammed just two miles from home. I anxiously stared at the sea of cars ahead. Just then, my phone again alerted me: [Master Bath Scented Soak Mode Activated. Your luxurious bath awaits, Your Highness.] I was too furious to speak. I got out of the taxi immediately, my hands trembling as I grabbed a shared bike by the roadside and pedaled desperately back. But when I arrived at the community gate and parked the bike, I felt a bit helpless looking at our front door not far away. My mind was a mess. I opened the door and walked straight upstairs, Slowing my pace as I ascended the stairs, biting my lower lip until it felt raw. Were they intimate in my bed right now? What if he denied it? If he admitted it, would I divorce him? How would I tell our parents? My hand hesitated on the doorknob for two seconds. I started video recording on my phone camera, then suddenly pushed the door open: “Leo, what are you doing?!” Leo put down his phone and sat up on the bed, looking at me: “I just lay down and was about to call you. Chloe, aren’t you on a business trip in another city?” Seeing the lumpy duvet on the bed, I gritted my teeth: “The project was canceled last minute. I’m a bit tired.” Leo chuckled softly, then dotingly pulled back the covers: “Well, my dear wife, why don’t you come up and get some sleep? I’ve missed you all day.” The bed was completely empty; it seemed the person had already hidden. I hugged Leo and sniffed him. The scent was very faint. Then I immediately went to the master bathroom. A strong fragrance instantly flooded my nostrils. Someone else had definitely showered here just now! I pursed my lips, crouched down to check under the bed, and then opened the closet. But after searching every corner by the bed, there was no one. I could only look at Leo: “Where is that woman?” He stood up, put his arms around me, and rubbed my neck, his voice puzzled: “What woman? Besides you, only Maria is ever here, and she’s on vacation.” I pushed him away and walked out of the bedroom, checking every other room, confirming no one was hidden. Until I had angrily checked the entire house, I was utterly exhausted. Leo frowned, pulled me over, and sat me down on the living room sofa. “You suspect me.” Then, his voice softened, and he pulled me into his arms: “I’m sorry, I haven’t given you enough security. How about I take you back to Mom and Dad’s for a few days to relax?” His face showed undisguised concern. I pretended to sigh in relief, rubbing my temples: “I must be going crazy with all this stress, maybe I’m just getting old and sensitive.” Leo shook his head, lifted my face to meet his gaze: “No way, Chloe.” “You’re the most beautiful, youngest girl in the world. Don’t be anxious. Go wash up and get some sleep. I’ll hold you tonight, and I promise you’ll feel completely safe.” I didn’t believe a word he said, but just smiled and nodded, “Okay.” Then, I used the opportunity to check the number of condoms in the nightstand drawer. Sure enough, there were fewer. To check the surveillance footage, I grabbed a bathrobe and went into the bathroom. After rinsing the bathtub three times, I finally suppressed my disgust and lay down to open the app. No one had exited through the front door, nor through the side window. But when I scrolled back a few days before the first alert message, I discovered that, Although there was no footage of them entering together, Leo had once exited the front door with that girl. Which meant— Besides the main entrance, she had another way to get into my house.

After showering with a heavy heart, I put on my bathrobe and prepared to leave the bathroom, Only to notice a smear of bright, vivid lipstick on the collar in the mirror. Practicing the expression I’d wear when I stepped out, I resisted the urge to throw away the bathrobe. She comes to my house, sleeps with my man, and wears my clothes. To use my things so skillfully, it seemed Leo’s affair hadn’t started just a day or two ago. It was only after connecting the smart home app for remote control that I, foolishly, began to notice. The moment I walked out, Leo thoughtfully offered me hot milk: “Drink this, you’ll sleep more soundly. You’ve worked hard, Chloe.” I managed a tired smile and hugged him: “I’m sorry, Leo. I’m just so exhausted, I’m even imagining things and doubting you.” “I’m not feeling well, and I’m afraid I’ll wake up several times tonight. I’ll sleep in the guest room.” Leo considerately helped me lie down on the bed, then went to the guest room without further questions. But I left the bedside lamp on, staring at the ceiling, sleepless all night. It wasn’t until I went to the bathroom to wash up in the morning, looking at the bright lights in the mirror, that an idea sparked… I went out and searched everywhere for a shop, finally buying some harmless fluorescent dye and pouring it into my shower gel and scented bath products. No matter what mode she used to shower next time, she would inevitably get covered in the fluorescent agent. This fluorescent agent couldn’t be washed off without a special solution. I wanted to see where she’d hide then! To avoid giving anything away, I planned to go home at eight, as usual. After the system notified me that the bath mode was activated, I immediately called Leo, saying I wanted to eat his home-cooked meal. Leo instinctively glanced at the bathroom, his smile strained. “How about you eat when you get off work? If I cook now and bring it over, it’ll get cold by the time you’re home.” I sighed, about to try to stall him further, When suddenly, a woman’s scream came from his end: “Ah, it hurts! Leo, help me!” I paused, feigning confusion: “Sounds like a woman’s voice. Leo, are you watching TV?” Leo quickly nodded, then his eyes darted around a few times before he spoke: “Ah, the company has an online meeting. I have to hang up.” Seeing him flustered, I sneered. This time, I was bringing both our parents to catch him in the act. Let’s see how he’ll talk his way out of this! Leading a whole crowd of us, I pushed open the bedroom door with a fierce demeanor. In the brightly lit bathroom, music was still playing from a phone. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison grabbed me: “Chloe!” “Don’t open the door yet. Just call them out. Give us a little face. When Leo comes out, whatever punishment you want, we’ll support it.” I hesitated, but looking at Mr. and Mrs. Harrison’s kind faces, I nodded. But to my surprise, after calling out several times, there was still no answer from the bathroom. Finally, Mr. Harrison steeled himself and pulled open the bathroom door. But the moment the bathroom opened, I froze. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison and my own Mom and Dad gasped, looking at me. Despite the lights being on, there was no one inside— Only a pink phone playing music. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison exchanged a glance, then quietly tried to reassure me: “Chloe, are you sure you heard a woman’s voice?” “But there’s no one home.”

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I’ve had four boyfriends in total. My first boyfriend was a rich playboy. I chased him for two years, and we dated for three months. When we broke up, he looked down at me, aloof and condescending: “Willow, you were nothing more than a passing amusement.” My second boyfriend was a university professor. I pursued him first too, and we dated for a year. When we broke up, he smiled gently: “Willow, I don’t have the time to wait for you to grow up.” My third boyfriend was a huge celebrity. I didn’t chase him; he chased me. When we broke up, he sneered, “An illegitimate child really is a disgusting thing, isn’t it? Just a little attention, and you came practically throwing yourself at me.” Later, Landon and I announced our marriage, and then, one by one, they all came knocking on my door. [Long roads of life, long journeys with you.] I posted a marriage announcement on my Ins story, with a picture of Landon and me holding our marriage certificate. Friends who knew me well flooded the comments with blessings. Among the many well wishes, I spotted a jarring remark. [Are you serious?] I checked the sender. It was Liam. Liam, my first boyfriend, technically my first love, I guess. But our breakup was so humiliating that he didn’t leave any ‘first love’ glow surrounding him for me. Given Liam’s arrogant nature, he should have unfriended me ages ago. Why did he keep my contact information all this time? Maybe he just thought it was irrelevant and didn’t bother deleting it. I replied to each blessing, casually skipping over Liam’s ambiguous comment. I sent Landon a voice message: [Could you pick up a blueberry cupcake for me on your way home?] Just as I sent it, I saw a message from Gavin. It caught me off guard. Why was Gavin messaging me? [Are you getting married?] My heart felt heavy. With Gavin, I’d imagined our future together more than once. I met Gavin when I was in college; he was a Ph.D. senior and six years older than me. He was gentle, considerate, and always polite. Even when we broke up, he remained calm. Even though I cried and begged him not to leave, he still gently wiped away my tears and, with a soft smile, said, “Willow, you’re too immature. I don’t have the time to wait for you to grow up.” That was Gavin. He was always so self-controlled, so by the book. When I was hysterical during our breakup, he remained calm and composed. He’d point out my flaws as if he were giving a scholarly presentation, which then plunged me into a period of relentless self-doubt and emotional exhaustion for quite some time. But those painful days were behind me. I glanced at the marriage certificate on my table. I’d found my true home. [Yes, we’ve already tied the knot.] The “typing…” indicator stayed on for a long time before a message finally came through: [Congratulations.] [Thank you, Gavin.] It turned out that even such intense love and hatred for Gavin could fade with time. I scrolled through TikTok for a bit and saw that the top trending news was Jaxon, the A-list actor, visibly losing his cool during a live stream. The comments below were all variations of: [What news did our oppa see? His face changed in an instant!] I raised an eyebrow. That kid, even after all these years, he still couldn’t hide his emotions. But given his status and background, he didn’t really need to. Jaxon, my third boyfriend. Though his words during our breakup were incredibly harsh, they didn’t really affect me. From the first day we started dating, I knew we wouldn’t last. I knew he had ulterior motives, but I was so lonely then. I just wanted someone to be with me, so when he chased me, I agreed. I was a little curious about what Jaxon had seen to react that way. Just then, the doorbell rang. Landon walked in, holding a small cake. Looking at the tall, imposing man before me, it was hard to imagine us together.

Landon and I meeting was a complete accident. I had just broken up with Jaxon not long before. Although I’d known this day would come, I’m a very emotional person, and I was still feeling low. So, I went traveling to Wyoming, and that’s where I ran into Landon. Landon was a lawyer. I had actually met him once before. When the man I knew as my father passed away, everyone was called back to divide the estate. Even though I was an illegitimate daughter, the law still protected my rights as a legitimate heir. Landon was the lawyer handling the case then. I ended up with three million and an apartment. For a family as wealthy as the Carmichaels, it was barely a drop in the ocean. I knew without a doubt that my half-brother and half-sister had deliberately ‘taken care’ of me; the other illegitimate children of the Carmichael family received more. I also knew why they hated me so much, but it didn’t matter. That money was enough for me to live a simple life. Back then, Landon, in his professional manner, asked if I needed him to provide legal assistance. I said no. After that, we never saw each other again. I never expected that we would meet again in picturesque Wyoming. Landon said his wallet and ID had been stolen, and I was the only person he knew there. He asked if I’d let him tag along. I figured I was already out enjoying myself, and besides, as a lone woman, it wasn’t really safe. So, I agreed. Landon usually seemed like a cold, reserved person, but he was surprisingly good at taking care of others. He knew a lot about everything; no matter what I talked about, he could always chime in. Traveling with him was genuinely delightful. He taught me how to ride a horse. On the vast prairies of Wyoming, he took me galloping, with the world seemingly at our feet. In that moment, I truly felt I could let go of the misfortune and pain of my past twenty-something years. I’m a graphic novelist. I turned my experiences in Wyoming into a graphic novel, and overnight, it became a massive hit online. My career success helped me forget my romantic setbacks. After returning to New York City, Landon and I grew closer. We’d talk about everything under the sun, from local gossip to global affairs. Sometimes I’d marvel at how much Landon and I resonated intellectually; we had a connection as if we’d known each other for ages. Landon and I would often plan trips together. One evening in New Orleans, after we’d had a few drinks, the moon hung bright in the sky. I smiled and asked Landon, “Do you… like me?” Landon smiled faintly too. “Did you notice?” “I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had a feeling you did.” “No need to be unsure. I like you. I’ve liked you for a very long time.” Landon’s eyes shone brightly, like stars. After he said that, he just kept looking at me. Landon later told me he was so nervous then, afraid I would reject him. I suddenly burst out laughing. “I like you too.” Landon and I got together so naturally, it felt like we were destined. After we started dating, Landon took me to do many things I’d never dared to try before. He took me to Antarctica to see penguins, to Australia to witness a volcanic eruption. On a stormy cruise ship, we kissed passionately, lost in the moment. “Willow, life is meant to be lived intensely. I hope you always shine brightly.” Meeting Landon filled so much of my emptiness and loneliness. So when he proposed, I didn’t hesitate for a second to say yes.

It was Mr. Carmichael’s 90th birthday, and all us younger relatives were summoned to celebrate. I absolutely dreaded going, but Mr. Carmichael loved his reputation more than anything. If I dared to disrespect him publicly, he’d probably banish me from New York City. Besides, he was the one who stopped my half-siblings when they tried to make my life hell. So, even though I knew the feast would turn my stomach, I had to go. Thankfully, Landon would be with me. My half-siblings still looked at me as if I were garbage, their disgust impossible to hide. There were four illegitimate children in the Carmichael family, but my half-siblings hated me the most. My mother, you see, was very shrewd, and she almost managed to marry their father, becoming his official wife. I was brought into the Carmichael household at age twelve. They gave me a privileged life, but it was also the place I detested most. Genevieve never liked me. She constantly bullied me behind the scenes—locking me in the yard during rainstorms, cutting off the power to my room and sealing the windows shut in the summer, inciting my classmates to bully me at school. Of everyone in the Carmichael family, I hated Genevieve the most. When I discovered Genevieve had a crush on Liam, a method of revenge suddenly clicked in my mind. I would hook Liam, and let that stuck-up princess Genevieve experience the taste of loss. I spent two years carefully cultivating an innocent, unassuming persona around Liam. Others whispered that I was as low-class as my mother, learning to ensnare men at such a young age. I didn’t care because back then, I hated Genevieve to my core. In the end, I successfully got together with Liam. I still remember Genevieve’s eyes, practically spitting fire, when I walked in front of her, holding Liam’s hand. “Willow, you’re like a persistent ghost,” Genevieve hissed darkly. The more miserable she was, the happier I became. I smiled brightly. “Thanks to you all, I’m doing perfectly fine in New York City.” Genevieve glanced at Landon beside me and scoffed, “Who’s this stray you picked up now?” “Ms. Carmichael, long time no see. I’m Landon, Willow’s husband,” Landon said calmly. Genevieve’s disdain immediately vanished when she heard Landon’s words. Landon’s family had been prominent in law for generations; his grandfather had even participated in drafting important legislation. “Ms. Carmichael, your words just now not only offended Willow but also insulted me. I kindly request an apology,” Landon said softly, yet his presence was overwhelmingly authoritative. Genevieve’s face flushed with anger, her neck stiff, refusing to apologize. I noticed more and more eyes gathering on us. Harrison said gravely, “Genevieve, apologize to them.” Genevieve was furious, but she still begrudgingly apologized. *Sigh.* Honestly, adult Genevieve is far more of a pushover than her younger self. Just as I was reflecting, I felt someone staring at me. I searched for the source of the gaze and found it was Liam. Of course. Given the relationship between the Carmichael and Knight families, Liam was definitely expected to be here. After years apart, Liam seemed much more composed, exuding that classic, overbearing CEO vibe. I plastered a fake smile on my face, purely to annoy him. To my surprise, his expression changed drastically. The clinking of glasses and chatter of the banquet made me feel suffocated. I slipped away to the Carmichael family’s back garden for some fresh air. Just as I was about to head back to find Landon, Liam suddenly appeared. “What was that smile for just now?” I was actually quite irritated by Liam. He was always so high-handed, with that classic spoiled rich kid attitude. Back then, to ensnare him, I’d put in so much effort. Even though my initial intentions weren’t pure, people develop feelings. Liam had helped me a few times, and for someone as isolated as I was then, it was a lifeline. So, later, I genuinely fell for him. But we only dated for three months. When we broke up, he trampled on my dignity, making me feel utterly worthless. I casually brushed him off: “Nothing, really. Just saying hello after all these years.” He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, whether it was my imagination or not, his voice sounded a bit strained: “Are you really married?” “What else would it be? A fake marriage?” My tone was laced with sarcasm, because when we broke up, he’d said, “I was just pretending to mess around with you, and you actually believed it.” “The Davies family has been in politics for generations; they would never approve of someone like you, an illegitimate child. Willow, don’t delude yourself. Break up with him soon.” He said this in a tone that suggested he was looking out for me, but his words dripped with contempt for my background. A voice came from behind us: “Does Mr. Knight enjoy meddling in other people’s relationships so much? My relationship with Willow is none of your concern, Mr. Knight. Our families adore Willow. One cannot choose their birth, and that should never be a chain binding Willow.” Landon walked up to me and quietly asked, “Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you.” Little did I know that our intimate moment, whispering close together, made Liam’s eyes burn red with fury. He sneered a few times, “Willow, do you really think Landon is such a good guy?” I gave him a strange look. How did Liam become so good at making baseless accusations after a few years abroad? “If he isn’t, then you are?” Liam’s chest heaved with anger. I didn’t see the triumphant smirk Landon flashed at Liam. After the banquet, Liam sent me a SnapChat message. [Willow, what I said that day wasn’t meant to mock you. I just wanted to warn you.]

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At our engagement party, my fiancé, Blake, completely changed the menu, swapping out the Wagyu Beef and Caviar for burgers and hot dogs. I was furious, beyond words. Right then and there, I broke up with him and called off the engagement. He looked utterly bewildered. “Zara, you’re breaking up with me over a *table of food*?” I shot him a cold smirk. “You’ll find out the real reason soon enough.” I pulled out my phone and played a video from the security camera. In it, a total stranger, a girl I’d never seen before, was twirling around in *my* custom-made wedding dress. Blake’s face instantly went white. Blake grabbed my hand, about to explain, but I shoved my palm over his mouth. “Don’t say a word. I swear, I’ll punch you right here if you do!” His face was a mask of dismay. He just followed me silently to his apartment. And there it was. *My* wedding dress, hanging in his bedroom. I barely glanced at it before grabbing a pair of scissors and savagely cutting it to shreds. Blake didn’t dare stop me. He just stood there, watching. A few moments later, I dropped the scissors. The floor was covered in a pile of white fabric confetti. I turned to him. “We’re over.” “No, wait, listen to me, Zara, please! I just met her once! I have no idea why she’d wear *that* dress!” “Really? Then tell me, why was she in *our* marital home?” “Isn’t she just an intern from your company?” “You let her wear *my* custom-made wedding dress, twirl around for you, even kiss you. Do you seriously think I’m an idiot, Blake? You’re disgusting.” My words made his face drain of all color. “No, it’s not like that! She was harassing me! She said she was just passing by and wanted to come up for a minute. I only went out to take out the trash, and she just helped herself to the dress!” “Seriously, Zara, check the security footage! I swear I yelled at her!” Blake was the one who installed the security cameras in our marital home and shared access with me right away. Honestly, I never planned to actually watch them. But I was on a business trip that day and just wanted to check in on him. I never expected to see something that would rip my heart out and ignite such a furious rage. “You did yell at her, I saw that. But she was confessing her love to you in my dress, and then she kissed you. You didn’t exactly pull away, did you?” Blake’s face went utterly pale. I didn’t hesitate; I just walked away. He yelled after me, his voice filled with fury. “Zara! She was just an accident!” “You’ve always looked down on me, haven’t you? You’re just using this as an excuse to break up with me, aren’t you?!” “Both today’s engagement party and Chloe’s appearance were just accidents! I was just afraid you’d be angry, that’s why I didn’t tell you!” “Why can’t you ever think about *me*? Do you know how much I sacrificed just to marry you?” At his words, I turned to face his furious expression, unable to help but let out a cynical laugh. “Sacrificed what, exactly?” Perhaps my gaze was too direct, or maybe my sarcasm was too much for his ego, but he couldn’t utter another word. I just gave a bitter smile, then turned and left. Back home, I told my parents everything. I packed up every single gift he’d ever given me, arranged for a courier service, and sent them all back. The engagement was off. Blake’s parents were incredibly displeased with me, but I didn’t say a word. I just forwarded them the video, then exited their family SnapChat group. I wanted to put an end to all of it, but Blake wouldn’t let it go. The next day, he showed up at my door, even bringing that intern, Chloe. The girl looked at me, her eyes reddening as she started to cry. I didn’t speak, just stood there, staring them down. The office was silent. Chloe probably felt incredibly awkward. She choked back her sobs, glancing around, then at me, finally managing to stop her tears. “Zara, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have tried on your wedding dress!” “Please, I’m begging you, don’t break up with him.” “Oh, really? So, you’re willing to compensate me for my losses?” She froze. I continued, “That wedding dress was custom-made. I waited a whole year for it, and it cost $200,000. Trying it on, even once, depreciated its value. So, you can just pay me $30,000.” Before she could speak, Blake blurted out, “No way! That’s too expensive!” “Chloe is just an intern. And seriously, $200,000 for a wedding dress? You obviously got ripped off. I can take you to a bridal street where you can rent one for $400!”

I stared at Blake, utterly astonished. My family isn’t super rich, but my parents have been in business for years. I’m their only child, their pride and joy, and everything they have will eventually be mine. My future wedding wouldn’t just be for family and friends; there would be many business partners there too. If they found out I was wearing some bargain-bin dress, they’d laugh me out of the room! Seeing my silence, Blake realized what he’d just said. He stammered, “I just… I just said that offhand. Of course, if my wife likes it, not just $200,000, but $2,000,000, I’d buy it!” I took a deep breath. “So? Are you going to pay or not?” Chloe immediately burst into tears again, refusing to say a word. I had zero patience for her crying performance. “Either I call the police, or you pay up. Your choice!” Blake immediately got angry. “Zara, when did you become so petty?” “Blake, when did you become so blind? Your fiancée is being bullied by your intern, and you’re siding with her. Who exactly is the love of your life?” “If I let another man wear your custom-made groom’s suit, would *you* be okay with that?” His face darkened. “Zara, if you’re really going to talk like this, then there’s nothing I can do.” “Then you can get lost!” I pointed toward the door. “We’re breaking up. Don’t ever come back. And she *will* pay for that wedding dress!” With that, I called the police. Don’t let anyone think I have a good temper and then walk all over me. Seeing that I was serious, he suddenly slapped my phone out of my hand. I immediately slapped him back! “Looks like you didn’t learn your lesson last time!” My family is well-off, and it’s perfectly reasonable for me to have a bit of a temper. Blake knew this from the first day we dated. At the sight of me striking him, Chloe shrieked, “How could you hit someone?!” I patted my hand. “You treat scum like scum. I don’t mind giving you a couple of slaps, as long as you can take it!” Blake’s face was livid from my slap. “Zara, you’re nothing but a shrew!” “*This* is a shrew? You probably don’t even know what I’m capable of yet. I can get even shrewder! Wanna bet?” He instinctively backed up two steps. He knew I meant what I said. “You, you’ll regret this!” “I won’t regret a thing. But if you don’t pay, I’ll post everything online! Then I’ll make sure everyone knows what happens when you mess with me!” “Go ahead, try it! Let’s see if public opinion will tear *you* apart!” That’s when Chloe finally showed fear, quickly pleading, “I, I’ll pay. I’ll pay, okay?!” I called my lawyer and had him witness Chloe compensating me for the damages. This wasn’t blackmail; seeing me go through with all this, Blake’s face grew even darker. “Do you really have to go this far? Why are you so guarded?” “I’m guarded against petty people, not gentlemen. Don’t worry, this is standard procedure. If you have any objections, feel free to call the police. We can resolve this with them as witnesses.” “No need!” Chloe quickly tugged at his hand. “No need, I’ll just pay.” “Please don’t argue with her because of me. Don’t let me ruin your relationship.” Her fake sincerity was practically radiating off her. “Chloe, from now on, when you see me, stay far away!” Once the money was transferred, I simply told them to leave. As he left, Blake glared at me, his eyes full of resentment. “I know you’re angry right now. I won’t hold it against you. I’ll come see you again in a couple of days!”

Before I could even respond, he dragged Chloe out the door. I shook my head. Blake probably still didn’t understand me. When I get mad, not even wild horses could drag me back. His promise to “come see me again” meant absolutely nothing to me. After all, I had no intention of ever being involved with him again. All his gifts were returned, the ruined wedding dress was cut up, the wedding canceled. I immediately declared myself single on Ins. “Single Ladies’ Night Out! Looking for company for late-night snacks!” The comments section exploded. “Broken up? So suddenly!” “Good riddance! Out with the old, in with the new!” “Party at the club tonight!” My girlfriends and I decided to hit a bar that night. When we got there, they were shocked to hear the reason for my breakup. “Blake is such a piece of trash. He should look at himself, trying to cheat with an intern!” “Eating from one bowl and looking at another! He had a beauty like you and still thought about an intern! What was he thinking?!” “Blake’s parents must be fuming. You’re a rich, beautiful woman, and now he’s lost everything he could’ve gained from you!” I shrugged. “I don’t know about all that. All I know is, he and I are done. He can forget about trying to mess with me again!” Just as I finished speaking, a shadow fell over our table. I looked up and saw my arch-nemesis, Damon. He sat down across from me. “Tsk, tsk. I always said your taste was terrible!” “And what makes *you* so great, Damon?” “Right, I’m not great either. Just hoping you’ll open your eyes next time, old lady. All my wedding contribution money went to waste!” I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “How much? I’ll pay you back!” He just chuckled, not saying anything. I finally took a proper look at him. He was wearing a red shirt today, unbuttoned enough to reveal his chest. It made my mouth go dry. This guy, with his dangerously handsome face. I tried to look away, but he pulled his collar open further. “Come on, get a good look!” My heart involuntarily sped up. I slapped the back of his hand. “Stop it, who’s looking at you?!” “You’re practically drooling, but still deny it. Way better looking than that pathetic excuse for a man you were with.” That was actually true. Damon saw me smile and boldly put his arm around my shoulders. “You said you broke off your engagement. Aren’t you thinking about finding someone new?” I gave him a sidelong glance. “What do you mean?” “My old man’s pushing me to find someone, says he wants to recoup all the wedding contributions he sent out.” “I don’t have anyone, and you know how much I hate trouble. How about we team up? I’ll give you 30% of the contribution money!” He was being so generous. I was a bit tipsy, and my brain wasn’t quite catching up. “You…” “Zara, let’s get married. Spite that pathetic excuse for a man, and make some serious cash while we’re at it!” Hearing that, my girlfriends chimed in. “Zara, I think it’s a great idea!” “Damon, how much bridal price would you offer?” “My entire fortune, for her!” He looked at me, the light in his eyes reflecting on my face, making me blush. Just then, an angry voice cut through the air. “Zara!” “You broke up with me for *him*? You had your next rebound lined up already!” I looked up to see Blake’s furious face. His eyes held an unfriendly glare. I laughed, struggling to my feet, and shouted, “You were messing around with your intern in our marital home! What, was I supposed to stay with you for Christmas?!” “Blake, you’re so messed up in the head, everything you see is dirty! I broke up with you, so what if I find someone new?!” “Let me tell you, I’m going to find a man who’s better than you in every single way!” “And I! Am going to marry him!” With that, I grabbed Damon and planted a big kiss on his cheek! Blake’s face turned scarlet with rage. The crowd around us cheered and whistled. He pointed at me. “You’ve got guts!” “We’ll see about this!” Watching him storm off, I grinned at Damon. The next second, I swayed and collapsed into his arms, completely passing out.

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My sister, the eternal favorite, not only announced at my wedding that she’d already eloped with my fiancé and was pregnant with his child, but she also pressured me to have a hysterectomy. Her demand? That I promise to take care of her child for the rest of my life. My dream wedding, a love story that started in high school and was supposed to end at the altar, turned into a living nightmare in front of over two hundred guests, all thanks to my sister. She stood there in a pristine white wedding gown, clinging to Brandon, the man who should have been standing beside me, and walked straight up to me. “Stella, I’m pregnant with Brandon’s child.” “We’re already legally married. He’s your brother-in-law now.” Amber’s words hit me like a bomb, exploding in my ears. Casually, she projected their wedding certificate onto the big screen behind us, then handed me the physical copy, as if worried I wouldn’t see it clearly enough. Underneath the crimson banner, their smiles were radiant, like a picture-perfect couple deeply in love. The date on the certificate? Just yesterday. “Why?!” I choked out to Brandon, the simple question catching in my throat multiple times. Brandon furrowed his brow, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, quickly replaced by a sigh. His voice dripped with feigned sympathy, “Stella, Amber only has a year left.” “This is her last wish—to marry the man she loves and have a child before she dies…” “Stella, Amber is your sister. You’d understand, right?” But who would understand *me*? I looked at his hypocritical face and suddenly found it utterly laughable. Utterly heartbreaking. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I screamed in anguish, “I’m supposed to understand her by letting my boyfriend sleep with her and giving up my own wedding?” Growing up, my sister had always monopolized our parents’ favoritism. And what she loved most was snatching away everything that was mine. My clothes; my toys; my friends… Until I met Brandon. I thought I’d finally found a love that was solely mine. But of course, she had to take even that! “Amber, please, just get out of my wedding! Get out of my life, okay?!” “Enough! Don’t talk like that!” Brandon snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. “If it weren’t for Amber, how do you think I would’ve ended up with you?” “What do you mean?” I stared at him, stunned and disbelieving. “Stella, I’m sorry. Please, don’t fight because of me anymore.” Suddenly, Amber burst into tears. “I just worried Mom and Dad would be devastated with no hope after I’m gone, so I wanted to leave them something to hold onto. Marrying Brandon was a last resort; I didn’t want the child to be born without a mom, or a dad.” “If you can’t accept this, then I’ll just go die right now!” With that, Amber suddenly charged forward, head first towards the wall!

A collective gasp echoed through the wedding venue! Just as Amber was about to hit the wall, the host rushed forward and pulled her back. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Brandon shot me a blaming glare, then hurried to comfort her. My parents, too, rushed over, their faces full of heartache as they hugged and soothed her. Amber sobbed, “Don’t save me! Just let me die! I won’t live much longer anyway!” “It’d be better to grant Stella’s wish! If she can live happily, then dying like this would be a worthy end for me, her sister.” Her words instantly threw me back into the eye of the storm. Sure enough, Mom, after hearing that, stood up furiously and walked over, slapping me hard across the face. “I don’t have a daughter with such a wicked heart!” I clutched my stinging cheek, my eyes welling with tears. I stared silently at my mom. From the day I was born until now, she’d been like an invisible presence, lurking in the shadows. She never cared if I was sad, or if I was humiliated. But the moment Amber was involved, she’d appear without hesitation. It had always been like this, ever since I was a child. Brandon looked at me with disappointment. “Amber is your own sister, and you’re trying to force her to her death. Your heart is too cruel.” “Apologize to Amber right now, or our wedding is off, forever!” *Slap!* I swung my hand hard, slapping Brandon. “You’re disgusting!” The wedding I had dreamed of since I was a teenager finally ended in utter humiliation. After storming out, I went straight back to our apartment. When Brandon returned, I had just finished packing my belongings and was heading for the door with my suitcase. He grabbed my hand, rubbed his temples, and said impatiently, “Is this really worth all this drama, for such a small thing?” “It’s only for a year, then I’ll be back with you. Can you just stop making a scene?” I yanked my hand free. “A scene?” “Brandon, we’ve been together for so long. Did you ever truly love me? If you had just said you fell for someone else, I would have stepped aside immediately.” “But what did you do? You secretly got together with my sister, and then you humiliated me at our wedding in front of so many people!” The memory still sent shivers down my spine. “What did you take me for?” Brandon paused, then said, “Stella, I’m sorry you were wronged.” One simple “sorry you were wronged” to gloss over the deep wounds he inflicted. How pathetic. I lowered my gaze, no longer feeling any shred of love for him. “Brandon, we’re over,” I said. The moment he chose to hurt me, we were done. “Get out!” With that, I shoved him and his suitcase out the door, then quickly slammed it shut. This apartment was mine; *he* was the one who had to leave. Ignoring his knocking on the door, I went back to the living room and sank onto the couch, feeling utterly defeated. Brandon and I had been together for seven years. During my senior year of high school, he joined my class as a transfer student, a year older than me. Because he was an orphan, he was aloof and quiet, but he treated me differently. After graduation, we naturally started dating. We had our sweet moments, and our arguments too. He told me his biggest dream in life was to marry me and give me a home. When he made that promise as a young man, his face was sincere, his eyes filled with love. I genuinely believed we’d go from school sweethearts to husband and wife, but I never even knew when he and Amber started their affair! I buried my face in my hands, trying not to cry. But the sobs wracked my body. I stayed in the apartment in a daze for three days until my best friend, Chloe, rushed back from out of town. The moment she walked in, she hugged me, her eyes red with tears. She was my childhood friend, and she’d been away on a business trip, unable to make it to my wedding. “I shouldn’t have been away on that trip. I should have been with you, it’s all my fault…” she cried inconsolably. After a long while, she finally stopped, sniffling. “Stella, they humiliated you like this. We absolutely cannot let them get away with it!” “And with your sister’s manipulative nature, she definitely has more tricks up her sleeve!”

I nodded. Amber and I might be blood sisters, but she never liked me, not since we were kids. Plus, she had a terminal illness; doctors predicted she wouldn’t live past twenty-eight. Our parents felt guilty and spoiled her rotten. As a result, I’d been taken advantage of by her countless times. She wanted to plot against me even in her final moments, making me live in her shadow for the rest of my life? Dream on! And I refused to be played for a fool by her and Brandon! I wiped my tears and told Chloe my plan. She helped me find witnesses to prove my long-standing relationship with Brandon. Meanwhile, I began gathering evidence of our seven years together. I didn’t know what Amber and Brandon would do next, but I wasn’t going to sit around and wait! But I never expected Amber to be so utterly shameless!

After a few days of rest, I returned to work. Having been out for several days, my workload was enormous, leaving me swamped and unable to even grab a proper meal. When I got home that day, I saw Mom and Dad sitting on my living room couch with Amber and Brandon. That’s when I remembered Brandon still had a spare key. Seeing him, and remembering everything we shared in that apartment, made me sick to my stomach. I took a deep breath. It seemed I needed to speed up the process of selling this place. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice stiff. Mom pretended not to notice my sour expression. “Stella, you and Amber are sisters; there’s nothing you can’t get past.” “Amber has also promised that after she’s gone, we’ll hold another grand wedding for you and Brandon to make up for it.” “This time, Mom and Dad didn’t think things through.” It was rare for Mom to lower herself like this, but a chill ran through me. “So, you and Dad knew all about it that day?” Mom and Dad’s eyes flickered, looking a little guilty. I scoffed. So that’s how it was! Mom pursed her lips before saying, “Your sister and the baby needed a legitimate status. That was the best occasion.” Because Amber needed it, they chose to sacrifice me without hesitation. I closed my eyes, laughing self-deprecatingly. I always knew I wasn’t as important as Amber in their hearts. But I never imagined how utterly insignificant I was. Amber interjected at just the right moment. “Stella, don’t blame Mom and Dad. They did it all for me.” “I know you’re hurt, but I didn’t want to miss Brandon again in my lifetime. We’ve already missed our chance once.” As Amber spoke, she looked at Brandon with tender affection, and his eyes were filled with sympathy. My heart skipped a beat. I suddenly remembered Brandon had a first love before his senior year. I’d been curious and asked him about it once, but he’d always changed the subject. I never imagined his first love was my sister! No wonder he treated me uniquely. It turned out I’d been a stand-in all these years! I clenched my fists tightly. Amber, Brandon! You’ve gone too far! Perhaps my face was too pale, Brandon didn’t dare to look at me, but Amber continued, “Stella, I know you love Brandon very much.” “But I love him too, and I don’t want to share him with another woman. But what can I do, since you’re my own sister?” She then started crying, looking utterly pitiful. “If you agree to have a hysterectomy, I’m willing to let Brandon marry you after I’m gone.” Amber cried so pathetically that Brandon pulled her into his arms, like a pair of star-crossed lovers. Mom and Dad were shedding tears. “That’s right, Stella, your sister doesn’t have much time left. Just give in to her one more time. Mom knows Dad and I neglected you in the past, which made you so stubborn.” “How about this, you come home and live with Mom and Dad. Let us make it up to you properly. As for this new apartment, you can let Amber and Brandon have it for now.” “You can move back in after a year…” I looked at Amber. When no one was watching, she smugly raised an eyebrow at me. Like a victor. *Slap!* I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward and slapped Amber hard across the face. Amber shrieked. Mom, Dad, and Brandon froze.

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I’d been a ghostwriter for five years. Five scripts, and I’d taken my struggling actor boyfriend and turned him into a newly crowned Best Actor. Yet, at the awards ceremony, he declared his heartfelt devotion to his innocent junior mentee, whom he’d funded: “Thank you, my inspiration, my muse.” Daisy’s eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill. “Lucas, you shine so brightly. I only dared to hide in the shadows, quietly writing every word for you. I never thought…” The entire internet hailed them as a match made in heaven, while I, the real author, became his “burnt-out writer with no spark.” My agent, Brenda Jenkins, advised me: “Just bear with it. He promised to use your script for his next project.” I smiled. That night, I registered an account and posted on Ins. “Hello everyone, I’m Willow Hayes, the screenwriter for ‘Long Night.’” On the live broadcast of the awards ceremony, Lucas Thorne stood under the spotlight, handsome in his custom-tailored suit, his face displaying a perfectly measured excitement. He clutched the Best Actor trophy, a symbol of the highest honor. I sat in my dimly lit living room, the computer screen before me still showing the document of his acceptance speech. I had written it. Every word carefully chosen, every pause meticulously designed. For the script of his career-defining masterpiece, ‘Long Night,’ I’d pulled seven all-nighters. When I finally turned it in, my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, my breath catching in my throat. The doctor said I had severe myocardial damage, and if I continued like this, I could suffer sudden cardiac arrest at any moment. I hid the diagnostic report. In return, I got his ultimate glory tonight. “…Thank you to the committee, thank you to my team,” his voice came through the speakers, “But today, the person I want to thank most is someone special.” My heart skipped a beat. I instinctively straightened my back. On the sofa was the throw pillow he’d personally signed for me: ‘To my dearest Shadow.’ For five years, I’d stayed hidden behind the scenes, writing five scripts for him, elevating him from a nobody actor, step by step, to where he is today. We’d made a pact: once he won Best Actor, we’d go public. He’d take my hand in front of the world and tell everyone that I, Willow Hayes, was the architect of his success. On the live broadcast, his gaze, full of deep affection, swept across the audience. “She is my entire creative world. She is my muse. Without her, Lucas Thorne wouldn’t be standing here today.” My breath caught. These weren’t the lines we’d agreed on. The camera followed his gaze, finally settling on an inconspicuous corner of the audience. A girl in a white dress stood up, long hair flowing over her shoulders, her face innocent and sweet. It was Daisy Miller, his junior mentee from film school whom he often spoke about funding. Flashbulbs instantly focused on her. Her eyes were red, tears threatening to spill. Lucas extended his hand to her, his voice tender: “Daisy, come up. This honor is yours too, my dearest Shadow.” Gathering her skirt, Daisy stepped onto the stage that should have been mine. She took the microphone Lucas offered her, her voice thick with tears, her eyes glistening. “Lucas, you shine so brightly. I… I only dared to hide in the shadows, quietly writing every thought that crossed my mind for you. I never thought…” Her words were broken and halting, yet they were enough for everyone to imagine a grand romantic drama of a talented artist and his grateful muse, a perfect romantic narrative for the year. So, every word I’d tirelessly written became her quiet, unrecognized contributions, for which she never dared ask for credit. Every plot I’d meticulously crafted through sleepless nights became her and Lucas’s profound soul connection. I, Willow Hayes, on Lucas Thorne’s night of triumph, was completely erased from existence. I became a mere backdrop, not even worthy of a name, in his love story. Instantly, the entire internet exploded. #LucasDaisyPerfectMatch #BestActor’sGratitude #DaisyTheMuse My phone vibrated wildly. It was my agent, Brenda Jenkins, calling. I numbly picked up, her cold voice coming through the receiver: “Willow, you saw the live broadcast, right? For the sake of the bigger picture, don’t say a word right now.” “For the sake of the bigger picture?” My voice was dry. “Brenda, that script was mine!” “We know,” Brenda’s tone was laced with impatience, “But Daisy’s ‘innocent genius’ persona is far more beneficial to Lucas than your image as a ghostwriter holed up indoors. Willow, you need to know your place. To put it bluntly, your spark has long since faded. It’s your good fortune that Lucas even uses you.” My good fortune… So, my five years of exhausting contributions were, in his and his team’s eyes, just a tool that could be replaced at any moment. My fingers, gripping the phone, turned white from the pressure, my knuckles cracking faintly. Brenda seemed to sense my silence, then threw out the final bait: “Just stay quiet, don’t make trouble. Lucas promised. He’ll use your script for his next major project. This is an A-list production, don’t be ungrateful.” With that, she hung up. The living room fell into a deathly silence. I looked at the mountain of script drafts, professional books, and the screenwriting awards on the wall—awards that were mine, yet Lucas had never once mentioned publicly. My heart suddenly stopped hurting. When pain reaches its peak, it turns into numbness. I slowly stood up and walked to the computer. I opened the web browser, and using my ID, I registered an Ins account under my real name. In my bio, I typed out a few lines. “Hello everyone, I’m Willow Hayes, the screenwriter for ‘Long Night.’”

My Ins post caused a brief ripple in the early morning internet, but it was quickly drowned out by a torrent of mockery and abuse. “Who is this crazy woman? Desperate for fame?” “LOL, the biggest attention-seeking stunt of the year! Did she get jealous seeing our Best Actor win?” “Ex-girlfriend? Or a rejected stalker fan? Such a low-class move.” “Sweetie, if you’re trying to trend, please show some proof. Who believes you with just your word?” Lucas’s fans were terrifyingly aggressive. They quickly found my account, and the comment section and DMs were flooded with vile insults. I didn’t respond, just watched it all unfold calmly. Late that night, Daisy went live. She wore no makeup, just a simple white T-shirt, in a humble dorm room background. In the camera, her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale—a sight that would stir pity in anyone. “I don’t know why things turned out this way…” Her voice choked, and she bowed deeply to the camera. “I’m so sorry for taking up everyone’s time and attention. I actually… I’ve always admired Ms. Hayes. I’ve seen her early works; she’s incredibly talented.” She praised me first, then skillfully shifted her narrative, tears flowing perfectly. “But inspiration, it’s something you truly can’t control… When Lucas and I talked about scripts, so many ideas just naturally flowed out. We felt like we’d found kindred spirits. I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen… If my existence has hurt Ms. Hayes, I sincerely apologize.” Her speech was perfectly crafted, portraying her as an innocent, kind soul who adored her senior, a fragile, innocent flower swept away by her talent and love. At the same time, she subtly implied that my well of inspiration had run dry, that I only wrote soulless commercial tropes, and that she was the true creative spirit, sharing a soul connection with Lucas. Just then, Lucas’s call came in. “Willow, stop making a scene, it’s embarrassing.” His voice held a hoarseness from a hangover and obvious impatience. “I’ll have the finance department transfer the screenwriting fee for ‘Long Night’ tomorrow, double the amount. Delete your Ins post, behave yourself, and you’ll get your money for the next project.” He didn’t even bother to question or explain, just used money to command my silence. “What if I don’t?” I asked softly. His cold chuckle came from the other end of the line: “Willow, don’t test my limits. You can’t fight me, and you can’t fight the company. Don’t tear away your last shred of dignity.” With that, he hung up. I gripped the cold phone and laughed. Right, how could I fight him? He was the newly crowned Best Actor, adored by millions, backed by capital and a powerful PR team. And I, I was just a “ghostwriter,” stripped of my value, ready to be discarded at any moment. The next day, I returned to the apartment Lucas and I had shared for five years—which also served as my studio—to pack my things. As I carried a box full of manuscripts to the door, I bumped straight into Daisy. “Willow, thank you for taking care of Lucas these past five years. Now, he’s in my hands.” She smiled, her gaze falling on the box in my arms. “Speaking of which, I should thank you. A writer with no spark, who only knows how to bury herself in work like you, is really only good for ghostwriting, laying the groundwork for Lucas and my love story.” My heart felt a prick, but my face remained expressionless. My silence seemed to provoke her. She picked up a steaming cup of coffee from a nearby table, and pretending to “accidentally” let her hand slip, she splashed the entire cup of scalding liquid all over the box of precious manuscripts in my arms! They were the first drafts of ‘Long Night,’ my life’s work for five years, covered in dense revision notes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Willow, my hand slipped!” she shrieked dramatically. I could no longer maintain my calm. I abruptly grabbed her wrist: “Daisy!” That was the reaction she wanted. The moment I grabbed her, she let out a piercing scream, violently slammed herself against the wall behind her, then slid to the floor. “Ah—! Willow, please don’t hit me! I know you hate me, but you can’t hit people!” She clutched her arm, sobbing hysterically. The apartment door opened just then. Lucas rushed back, looking disheveled and worn. His gaze immediately landed on Daisy crying on the floor, and me, looking furious, gripping her wrist. Without a moment’s hesitation or a single question, he lunged forward, not even glancing at me, and violently shoved me away! Caught off guard, I stumbled back several steps, hitting the cold wall. The box in my arms fell, and the coffee-soaked manuscripts scattered across the floor. Lucas carefully pulled Daisy into his arms, soothing her gently: “Daisy, don’t be scared, I’m here.” Then, he turned, his eyes full of disgust and disappointment as he looked at me. “Willow, I truly misjudged you. I never thought you’d be so vicious and wicked, not just talentless!” Every word he spoke was like a knife, precisely piercing my already battered heart. “A newcomer, and you stoop to such tactics to suppress her? Are you really so resentful of others’ success?” I looked at him, then at Daisy, who was subtly smirking with victory in his arms, feeling only absurdity and ridicule. I opened my mouth, but found I couldn’t say anything. Explain? In this scene, any explanation would only sound more feeble and unconvincing. Seeing my silence, the disgust in Lucas’s eyes deepened. He pulled out his phone, dialed Brenda Jenkins, and put her on speaker. “Brenda, inform the legal department. Terminate Willow’s contract immediately. My team can’t afford to keep such a malicious and idiotic woman.” His voice was as cold as ice. “I never want to see her again. Willow, you’re fired!”

The next day, a termination letter from the company’s legal department arrived at my temporary residence with lightning speed. The termination reason cited ‘leaking company commercial secrets and causing severe negative impact to the artist’s reputation.’ They demanded I return all project fees from the past year and pay a staggering eight-figure breach of contract penalty. Meanwhile, the studio registered under my name, which the company had funded, was forcibly reclaimed. This wasn’t just termination; it was total annihilation. They wanted me to leave with absolutely nothing, burdening me with lifelong debt I might never repay. Before I could recover from the shock of the termination letter, my phone dinged with a SnapChat message. It was from Lucas’s number. I opened it. The photo showed Daisy curled up lazily in his arms like a cat, the background our bedroom, the one we’d shared for five years. Lucas had an arm wrapped around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The scene was intimate, and blindingly painful. A line of text accompanied the photo: “Thank you for clearing your spot, Willow.” My stomach churned, and I felt sick to my core, almost gagging. Immediately after, there was a commotion outside the door. I pulled back a corner of the curtain and saw movers throwing my belongings out of the apartment, piece by piece. The sofa I’d personally chosen, the throw pillow I’d used during sleepless writing nights, even the cushion he’d once signed for me, “To my dearest Shadow Screenwriter,” were all roughly tossed onto the ground, covered in dust. Lucas didn’t even give me time to pack my own things. I drew the curtains, shutting out everything outside. Over the next few days, I experienced what it meant to be kicked while I was down. Lucas’s studio pulled every string they had, putting out word to all production companies and streaming platforms that anyone who dared to work with Willow Hayes would be going against the newly crowned Best Actor, Lucas Thorne. Dozens of resumes I sent out vanished into a black hole, no replies. Producers who used to greet me with smiles and called me ‘friend’ now ignored my calls and SnapChat messages. The blacklist came swiftly and absolutely. Even more terrifying was the online bullying. Daisy’s fans somehow dug up my address. My mailbox was stuffed with razor blades and hateful letters. Every time I opened the door, it required immense courage. I unplugged the internet, turned off my phone, and completely cut myself off from the outside world. I didn’t cry, nor did I wallow in self-pity. I just sat on the floor, amidst the scattered mess, and began calmly and methodically sorting through my ‘legacy’ of the past five years. I carefully wiped clean and smoothed out the coffee-stained manuscripts, page by page. Though the writing was blurred, they were the most original evidence of my creative process. I dug out all my old computers and hard drives. From the very first day I started working with Lucas, I had a habit of recording all important discussions. All script drafts, outlines, revised versions—every single iteration—I saved as digital files with precise timestamps. This was an instinct as a screenwriter, to protect my creative labor. In the past, I thought it was just a backup, just in case. I never imagined that one day, they would become my weapons of counterattack. As I organized an encrypted folder, my hand paused. It was a folder created two years ago, named ‘Daylight.’ I clicked it open. Inside were the complete world-building, detailed character bios, episode outlines for the first three arcs, and… complete scripts for the first three episodes of ‘Daylight.’ My heart began to pound violently. Something suddenly occurred to me. Before starting ‘Long Night,’ Lucas’s team had already urged me to begin conceptualizing the next A-list project, which was ‘Daylight.’ To protect this work, into which I had poured immense ambition, I had registered the complete script outline and core concepts of ‘Daylight’ under my personal name, before handing it over to the company. And in the contract I’d originally signed with the company, the clause regarding ‘Daylight’ was only a vague “adaptation authorization,” and did not involve the transfer of underlying copyright! They thought that by kicking me out, this project would naturally become theirs. They thought that by pushing ‘Daisy Miller’ as their new muse, they could legitimately steal my hard work. They were wrong. My hand, clutching the mouse, trembled slightly with excitement. This was the ultimate checkmate. Just then, my computer, now reconnected to the internet, popped up with a news notification. The headline read: **[Newly Crowned Best Actor Lucas Thorne Teams Up With Genius Screenwriter Daisy Miller, A-List Blockbuster ‘Daylight’ Project Launch Conference to Be Held in One Week!]** The news was accompanied by a close-up photo of Lucas and Daisy, both smiling brightly, looking confident and in high spirits. I stared at the blinding headline, at that photo of them in their moment of triumph, and I laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

One week later, at the ‘Daylight’ project launch conference. The biggest streaming platforms in the country live-streamed the event, and online viewership had already surpassed ten million. I sat in a dressing room backstage, watching the spectacle unfold on the monitor screen. On screen, Lucas Thorne stood confidently at the center of the stage, basking in everyone’s attention. Beside him, Daisy, in a pure white fairy-tale dress, her makeup exquisite, leaned shyly against him, already the industry’s rising star, the ‘Most Talented New Screenwriter of the Year.’ “…The story of ‘Daylight’ was born from countless late-night conversations between Daisy and me,” Lucas said, clutching the microphone, looking at Daisy with deep affection. “She’s like a fairy born for drama, her mind full of wild, unbridled imagination. She’s the one who gave ‘Daylight’ its true soul.” Applause thundered through the hall. “And here, I also want to announce some good news.” He paused, then knelt on one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket and opening it. Inside was an enormous diamond ring, sparkling blindingly under the lights. It was the design I’d once seen in a magazine and pointed out to him. I’d said, when we get married, let’s get this one. He’d said yes. “Daisy Miller, marry me. Let’s create our film and television empire together.” “Yes!” Daisy cried with joy, extending her hand to him. Flashbulbs popped wildly, capturing this “fairy-tale romance.” The entire hall erupted. The live chat was flooded with ‘locked it down’ and ‘happily ever after.’ The host stepped forward at the opportune moment, his voice playfully teasing: “It seems today we’re not only witnessing the birth of an epic project but also the beginning of a beautiful union! But Lucas, I heard ‘Daylight’ previously involved another screenwriter?” This was clearly a pre-planned segment, designed to completely nail me to the pillar of shame. Lucas stood up, a perfectly placed look of regret on his face. “Yes. But unfortunately,” he sighed, “when inspiration runs dry, some people resort to tired clichés and shortcuts. And even worse, when they see more talented newcomers emerge, they become jealous, they try to suppress them, and they resort to unsavory tactics…” He didn’t mention my name, but everyone knew who he was talking about. These words irrevocably sealed my fate. I, Willow Hayes, became the industry’s negative example—jealous of talent, suppressing newcomers, and utterly devoid of inspiration. The investor representatives walked onto the stage, beaming, ready for the signing ceremony. Now. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the dressing room. The click of my heels on the polished marble floor was sharp and resolute. As the heavy doors of the venue swung open, all eyes turned to me.

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Severe weather was rolling in, heavy rain. I was stuck in the classroom, waiting for Caleb to pick me up. After half an hour, I couldn’t wait any longer and walked downstairs myself. But as I turned the corner, I overheard Caleb on the phone: “I get it, I’ll bring her back! It’s not like I asked her dad to save me, I don’t owe her anything!” “Why is she trying to emotionally manipulate me?!” My heart clenched painfully. If I could, I’d wish my dad had never saved him. Then I wouldn’t be stuck living under their roof. That night, I submitted an application to teach in a remote area, putting as much distance between Caleb and me as possible. It was an hour later when Caleb’s car finally pulled into the driveway. He stomped upstairs, fuming. “Harper, why didn’t you wait for me tonight?!” Caleb’s voice boomed from outside the door. I quickly put away my dad’s photo and replied calmly, “I waited for half an hour.” Caleb stood in the doorway, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “It was raining, traffic was backed up – couldn’t you have waited a little longer?” “What’s so great about interning at that rundown school? You can work for our company instead!” I didn’t agree. “Got it.” I wasn’t ready to tell him about the teaching application yet. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. If there’s nothing else, you can go back to your room.” I stood up and pushed him out of the room. Caleb’s face darkened, and he braced himself against the doorframe. “Harper, there’s a high school reunion the day after tomorrow. Come with me!” A high school reunion. Just thinking about that crowd sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. Before I could reply, he typed my name into his phone. “I signed you up.” “I’m not going.” For the first time, I refused, snatching his phone and deleting my name. “Caleb, I won’t go. Those are your buddies, your friends. They have nothing to do with me!” “I don’t need you telling me how to live my life!” Caleb froze at my words, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine! I guess I’m just wasting my breath on you!” “I don’t need it!” I took a deep breath. “I don’t need you to look after me, not anymore. I’m not a burden to you, and I’m not your responsibility!” His slamming door was my only answer. Looking at my dad’s photo on the table, my heart was a mix of emotions. When I was six, Caleb fell into the water. There was a flash flood at the time, and his family was camping by the river, with no time to escape. Caleb was swept away. My dad happened to be passing by and jumped in without hesitation to save him. But my dad ran out of strength and was carried off by the flood. By the time they found him, his body was so swollen and disfigured from the water. I lost my father that day. Caleb’s family heard I was an orphan and took me in. Caleb always looked out for me. We grew up together, inseparable. Even his friends used to call me his little girlfriend! Now, he was saying I was emotionally manipulating him. If I could, I’d wish he had died in that flood. Then, I wouldn’t have to go to sleep every night looking at my dad’s photo. As for the reunion he mentioned, I’d already seen the buzz in the group chat. Those people, back in school, they spread rumors that my dad knew we were poor and sacrificed himself so I could latch onto Caleb’s family. I’d rushed up and beaten one of them until they were bleeding and crying hysterically that day, ready to be disciplined rather than apologize. Caleb was the one who got the surveillance footage to prove the truth, and the rumor-monger apologized to me in the end, but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. Because he was one of Caleb’s good friends. When they were saying those things, Caleb must have agreed with them deep down, right? I left the group chat, reread my application materials, and clicked send. Soon after, Megan called me. “Harper, you agreed? And Caleb agreed too?” Megan had met Caleb before. Hearing her words, I smiled. “Megan, he’s not my guardian or anything. I make my own decisions; it’s fine.” Megan sighed silently on the other end of the line, then finally said, “Okay, everything goes well, see you the day after tomorrow.” “Mm, thanks, Megan.” I hung up, scanned the room, and packed my luggage. Since I was going to teach in a remote area, I hadn’t planned on coming back. Some things, if I couldn’t take them, I’d just throw them away. That night, I slept poorly. One moment, I dreamt of my dad staring at me from the water; the next, Caleb was stepping on my dad. I woke up crying. When I woke up, it was almost dawn. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and went downstairs. Vivian was already downstairs.

“Morning, Harper. You’re up early. Any plans for today?” “Yes, I’m going to school. My internship is almost over.” Vivian brought over a bowl of oatmeal, her face gentle. “Any plans after graduation?” “You and Caleb are the same age. After spending so long in that academic bubble, once you enter society, you should make more friends, so you’re not alone.” I understood Vivian’s words: she wanted me to stop clinging to Caleb. Richard had said more than once that he hoped Caleb and I would marry someday, but Vivian disagreed. Richard got angry, saying that would be ungrateful. That day, I was standing outside the study, eavesdropping on their argument. I understood Vivian’s point. At the time, I felt a pang of sadness. Any girl’s feelings are easy to see, and I had a crush on Caleb. Not just because my dad saved him, but also because Caleb had genuinely been good to me back then. Alone in the unfamiliar Caleb’s house, Caleb was the one who helped me through that dark period, walking to and from school with me. When my grades were initially poor, Caleb patiently taught me. Later, hearing Vivian’s words, I understood. In her eyes, Caleb’s family had raised me all these years, and all the kindness they’d shown me had been repaid. There was no need to treat me the way they used to. But I wanted to say that I didn’t need them at all. What “kindness” was there to repay? I just wanted my dad back. If they hadn’t ignored warnings and insisted on camping there, Caleb wouldn’t have been swept away. Now, with Vivian saying this, I smiled. “Vivian, actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Caleb’s family has raised me all these years, and I’m already an adult. I want to move out.” Vivian froze. “Harper, you…” “My dad always said, ‘rely on yourself. Mountains crumble, rivers run dry. Your own strength is all you truly have.’” “Caleb’s family has taken me in for so long; you’ve all given a lot these past ten years. I can’t repay your kindness with ill will, so I’ve decided it’s time to live independently.” “Last night, I also wanted to tell Caleb, but I figured he was too upset. I’m only telling you, Vivian. Please keep it a secret for me. I have to leave the day after tomorrow.” Vivian looked surprised. “So soon!” She didn’t use any grand-sounding excuses, just “so soon,” which told me she wanted me to leave too. Perhaps sensing her attitude, Vivian quickly added, “I mean, isn’t it a bit too rushed? You haven’t even packed everything.” “Caleb might make a fuss if he finds out.” “Then I’ll trouble you to explain it to him, Vivian, after I’ve left.” Vivian’s expression softened. “Okay, Harper, you’ve always been a sensible girl. Have you found a job? And a place to live?” “Yes, I’ve found a job as a teacher. I report for duty the day after tomorrow. I haven’t found a place to live yet.” “That’s wonderful, truly wonderful.” Vivian’s mood perked up immediately. She quickly went upstairs and came back down with a property deed. “This apartment is right in the city center, with a subway station right outside. It’s convenient for everything.” “Here, Harper. Even when you live alone, you need to be careful. Don’t go for a shared apartment.” I accepted it. My dad’s life was worth all their years of care, and this apartment. I wasn’t stupid. Teaching in a remote area would be tough and would require money. With this apartment, I’d at least have a place to stay if I ever came back. I accepted.

After breakfast, Vivian took me to complete the transfer of ownership. Seeing my name on the property deed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I put the deed into my bag, finished packing my luggage, and then glanced at the ornaments on the bookshelf. They were all gifts from Caleb. I collected them one by one, put them in a box, sealed it, and prepared to take them to the storage room. As I came out, I ran into Caleb. Seeing the box in my hands, he frowned. “What’s that?” “Just some unused things I’m taking to the storage room!” “I’ll help you.” Without a word, he snatched it and walked towards the storage room. I had no choice but to follow. “Harper, why aren’t you going to the reunion? Are you still holding onto those old grudges? That’s all in the past!” “Chloe’s back. Let’s all get together!” At that, I stopped. So, Chloe was back. No wonder Caleb was so insistent on me coming. “I told you, I’m not going. Caleb, if you like her, that’s your business. Don’t use me as a shield!” “I’m not just *anyone* to you, and I certainly won’t emotionally manipulate you!” “Come to think of it, you don’t owe me anything either!” Caleb’s face instantly turned ashen. “You!” I snatched the box from his hands, put it inside, and turned to leave. Caleb, fuming, kicked the box violently, then stormed away. For two days straight, I was decluttering. Caleb didn’t come back, and Richard was away on a business trip. Vivian saw I was serious about leaving and packed me several bags, which I mailed off. On the day I left, Vivian was reluctant. She looked upstairs. “What’s that boy always so busy with?” “It’s fine, Vivian. He’s busy with work, don’t disturb him. I can manage on my own. Please take care!” I dragged my luggage away. Before I left, I sent Caleb a SnapChat message: “Caleb, goodbye.” He didn’t reply, and I didn’t think much of it. I left Caleb’s house and headed straight to the station, embarking on a long journey. That night, as I sat on a sleeper train, he added me to a group chat. The moment I joined, Chloe and the others posted many photos. She and Caleb were sitting together, fingers intertwined. “Going in circles and meeting again! Everyone’s still so great!” The classmates in the group chat congratulated them. “Are they together? Congrats!” “You two are the perfect couple! When’s the wedding? Let us know!” “Harper didn’t come today, is she mad? If you two are together, what about Harper?” Someone tagged Caleb. After a long pause, Caleb replied, “Whatever. She means nothing to me anyway!” Reading that, I could almost see Caleb’s cynical, impatient face. I thought back to high school, when he’d fought for me, chased away those bullies, and gently ruffled my hair. “Harper, you’re mine. I’ll protect you for life!” “Harper, you’ve lived in my house for so long, you’ll stay here forever!” I’d been so naive then. “How can I live here forever? I’ll have my own little family someday.” But Caleb had clutched my wrist possessively. “No way. Everyone says a life-saving kindness must be repaid in marriage. I’m yours. You can only marry me and have our own little family!” Caleb’s words back then had made me blush furiously. I thought it was a promise. Now, I realize it was just a whimsical joke. Only I took it seriously. The group chat was still lining up to congratulate them. When someone brought me up, Caleb only bad-mouthed me. “Don’t mention her. I don’t owe her anything. She’s lived and eaten in my house for so many years; any debt of kindness has been repaid in full!” Chloe even posted an emoji. “Yeah, Caleb has his own life. You can’t emotionally manipulate him, can you?” I let out a cold laugh and typed out a message: “I wouldn’t have had to live dependent on others in the first place. It was you, Caleb, who made me lose my family.” “If I could turn back time, go back to the past, I’d definitely pull my dad back and tell him not to save you!” I sent it, then left the group and blocked all of them. Caleb, goodbye forever! The group chat fell silent at my message. “Harper’s words are so nasty. She’s cursing you!” Chloe said, ready to argue in the group, but Caleb stopped her. “Forget her. Let’s drink!”

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My husband had this one cherished possession: an old, beat-up mug he’d used for twenty years. Coffee, tea, water – it was always in his hand, rain or shine. For two decades of our marriage, that mug was a constant… until last week. I found it tossed in the trash. It was at my dad’s seventieth birthday dinner that I dropped the bombshell: I wanted a divorce, right in front of all our relatives. Everyone froze. My mom grabbed my arm, her voice laced with disbelief. “Evelyn, are you out of your mind? You want a divorce just because Daniel replaced a mug?” My husband, Daniel Brooks, was livid, his face a mix of anger and wounded innocence. “Evelyn Hayes, I haven’t cheated, I haven’t been abusive. I just threw away that old mug you hated so much!” “You used to complain about it every single day, telling me to get a new one!” I scoffed, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “Exactly. That’s *precisely* why I’m divorcing you.” “Evelyn, are you feeling alright today? Did you take the wrong pills?” Daniel snatched the divorce papers from my hand, his face turning beet red with fury. The entire banquet hall fell into a stunned silence. My parents, my younger brother Kevin and his wife Ashley, all his relatives – every pair of eyes was glued to me. My mom pointed a trembling finger at me, her lips quivering. “Evelyn, what on earth are you doing?” “Today is your dad’s seventieth birthday! Don’t you dare make a scene!” My father-in-law, Daniel’s dad, Mr. Brooks Sr., slammed his wine glass onto the table, his face ashen with rage. “Nonsense!” I took a deep breath, my voice cutting through the tension, cold and clear. “I’m not crazy. I’m perfectly sane.” “Daniel, we’re getting a divorce.” “Why?” He took a step closer, almost a roar. “Because I f\*cking threw away an old mug?!” His veins bulged in his neck, his face contorted in anger. The guests immediately erupted into whispers and gasps. “What?” “Divorcing over a mug?” “What’s gotten into Mrs. Brooks?” “That’s the most ridiculous reason I’ve ever heard.” “Seriously, that old mug was an eyesore. It’s a good thing he threw it out, isn’t it?” “Daniel’s doing so well now, he got a new mug, and *she* wants to leave him?” My mother-in-law clutched her chest, looking ready to faint, and started crying at me. “Evelyn, what have we, the Brooks family, ever done to wrong you?” “Daniel has treated you like a queen for twenty years! Is this how you repay him?” “For twenty years, you put up with that mug, didn’t you?” “Now he finally decided to throw it out himself, and you’re making a fuss? What do you actually want?” Seeing his mother cry, Daniel became even more enraged. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn, you better explain yourself!” “If you don’t give me a reasonable explanation today, this isn’t over!” He yanked me, making me stumble, a sharp pain shooting up my wrist. I raised my other hand and slapped him hard across the face. *Smack!* The sharp sound echoed through the silent hall. Everyone was stunned speechless. Daniel froze, clutching his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You hit me?” “Wake up.” I shook off his hand, rubbing my reddened wrist. “The divorce papers are right here. You have three days to sign them.” “Three days from now, I’ll see you at the lawyer’s office.” With that, I didn’t spare him another glance and turned to leave. The entire banquet hall remained in a state of shock. “Evelyn Hayes, you stop right there!” Daniel’s furious roar came from behind me. My sister-in-law, Ashley, who always looked down on me, rushed forward, blocking my path, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sister-in-law, don’t be so impulsive!” “My brother has been so good to you, our whole family has seen it! You can’t break his heart like this!” “Yeah, Evelyn,” A friend from my card group, who I usually got along with, also tried to persuade me. “All couples have their arguments, you make up after a spat. Don’t let a small fight turn into something so ugly.” “Exactly! It’s your dad’s birthday today, you’re just ruining his big day!” Each “well-meaning” piece of advice only made me seem more heartless, more unreasonable. I stopped, but didn’t turn back. “My affairs are none of your business.” “Evelyn!” My mom’s shrill voice pierced the air. “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” I let out a cold laugh and walked out the door without looking back.

Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. I wasn’t crazy, and I wasn’t being unreasonable. That old mug Daniel had used for twenty years was his most cherished possession. It was an old-fashioned olive green enamel mug, chipped in several places, revealing the dark metal beneath the enamel, with one spot even showing rust. I’d tried countless times to get him to replace it – with a delicate porcelain cup, a sleek ceramic one, even just a simple glass. He’d stubbornly refused every single time. He used to say it was the only valuable thing he owned back when he was dirt poor, a testament to his struggle, a reminder of his humble beginnings and ambitions. Whenever he caressed that chipped old mug, his eyes held a tenderness and nostalgia I could never quite understand. I always thought it was a tribute to his difficult past. I had no choice but to tolerate it. But last week, he just threw it away. Without any warning, the mug he called his “humble beginnings” was tossed into the kitchen trash can. When I asked him about it, he just said, indifferently: “Didn’t you always complain about it being old and broken?” “Now that I’ve thrown it out, why are you still making such a fuss?” My heart sank at that moment. Something was definitely off. How could he just throw away something he’d guarded for twenty years, something he called his “humble beginnings,” just like that? This change was too sudden to be innocent. That night, while he was showering, I secretly searched his briefcase. His phone, which he used to let me browse freely, now had a complex password. My small seed of suspicion instantly multiplied a thousandfold. Over the next few days, I paid close attention to everything. I noticed he started smiling at his phone a lot, a kind of smile I’d only seen twenty years ago when he was trying to win me over. He also spent more time talking on the phone on the balcony, always sneaking around. At that moment, I was almost certain: he was hiding something. Then, three days ago, I followed him. I watched him walk into an upscale coffee shop. Through the glass window, I saw the woman sitting opposite him. I knew her. Chloe Miller. Daniel’s college classmate, the one that got away, the unrequited love of his youth. I’d heard she married a wealthy businessman right after graduation and moved abroad. Now, she was back. And what made my blood run cold was the brand-new enamel mug sitting next to Chloe’s hand. It was identical to the one in our trash can. Daniel was looking at her with eyes full of doting affection, just like he used to look at that old, chipped mug. It wasn’t his “humble beginnings” he was guarding all these years. He was clearly guarding his unattainable old flame. *Ding-dong—* The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I peeked through the peephole: it was my mom, along with a furious Daniel. I didn’t open the door. “Evelyn, open the door!” “I know you’re in there!” “You better explain yourself!” Daniel pounded loudly on the door. “Evelyn, please open the door. Let’s sit down and talk this through, alright?” My mom’s voice was tearful. I leaned against the door, saying nothing. “Evelyn, don’t push your luck!” Daniel’s patience ran out. “What do you think you are?” “You’re nothing but my pet!” “Think you can fly now that your wings are strong?” Listening to his cruel insults, I felt nothing but disgust. I pulled out my phone and sent Daniel a text. “Want to talk?” “Fine.” “Send your mom away first.” Soon, the noise outside the door subsided. About ten minutes later, Daniel called, his voice barely concealing his rage. “She’s gone. Open the door.” I opened the door, and he stormed in like an enraged lion. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing? Are you losing your mind?” He shoved me against the wall, placing his hands on either side of me, trapping me between his chest and the cold surface. “Have I been too good to you all these years, made you forget who you are?” I looked at his face, so close to mine – the face I had loved for twenty years, but which now looked utterly alien and menacing. I smiled, a bitter laugh that threatened to bring tears to my eyes. “Daniel, aren’t you tired?” He froze, not understanding what I meant. “Aren’t you tired, pretending to be loving with a woman you don’t care for, day in and day out?” I raised my hand and gently touched his cheek. His face instantly changed.

Daniel’s pupils constricted violently, his eyes flashing with panic, but it was quickly replaced by explosive anger. “What the hell are you talking about?!” He grabbed my hand and violently threw it away. “Evelyn, I think you really *are* crazy!” “Whether I’m crazy or not, you know best.” I looked at him coldly. “Daniel, stop acting. It’s disgusting.” He stared at me intently, his chest heaving. After a long moment, he suddenly laughed, a cruel, mocking edge in his voice. “Fine. So what if I still think about Chloe? What are you going to do about it?” He spread his hands, a defiant, ‘what can you do to me?’ look on his face. “Evelyn, we’ve been married for twenty years. Do you have any proof?” “Without proof, you can scream it to the high heavens, it won’t matter.” “As for money, you won’t get a single penny.” “And Leo? He’s certainly not going with a crazy woman like you.” This was the man I had shared my bed with for twenty years. I looked at him, my heart growing colder with each passing second. “Proof?” I let out a soft laugh. “You’ll have it soon enough.” My phone rang just then. It was an unknown number. I answered it in front of Daniel, putting it on speaker. A soft, somewhat delicate female voice came from the other end. “Is this Evelyn? Evelyn, dear?” Daniel’s face turned ashen the moment he heard the voice. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him. He avoided my gaze, unable to meet my eyes. “This is Evelyn. Who is this?” I asked, feigning calmness. “It’s Chloe Miller.” The woman on the phone giggled. “Daniel hasn’t mentioned me to you?” “Oh?” I drew out the word, asking with feigned interest. “How should he mention you to me?” “Are you his white moonlight, or the one that left an indelible mark on his soul?” Chloe seemed surprised by my directness, paused for a second, then laughed even harder. “Evelyn, you’re so funny.” “I’m not calling for any particular reason, just wanted to give you some advice.” “Daniel is a sentimental man, he’s been through a lot.” “If my family hadn’t had problems back then, we would have been married years ago. You wouldn’t have even been in the picture.” “Honestly, you were just… a substitute.” “Now that I’m back, it’s time for him to get back on the right track, back to me.” “Evelyn, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you know what to do, right?” “Holding onto something that doesn’t belong to you can be quite difficult.” “Oh, and by the way,” She said, as if suddenly remembering, her voice dripping with triumph. “That old mug Daniel threw away? It was the first gift I ever gave him.” “He said that looking at that mug was like looking at me.” “Now that I’m back, of course, he had to throw out the old one and replace it with the new one I bought him.” “He said it’s ‘out with the old, in with the new’.” I could clearly see the vein throbbing in Daniel’s forehead. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. “Chloe! What the hell are you talking about?!” Daniel finally couldn’t hold back and roared into the phone. “Daniel, don’t be mean to me.” Chloe’s voice turned wounded and resentful. “I’m just helping you say what you’re too afraid to say.” “Aren’t you tired of this old and boring wife?” “You told me she was dull and uninteresting, like plain tap water, and that I was the fiery liquor that made you feel alive.” “Daniel, will you choose the plain water or the fiery liquor?” With that, she hung up. I folded my arms, watching Daniel, composed and at ease. “Now, do I need to find evidence?” His face cycled through red, then white, a truly spectacular display. He suddenly lunged forward, snatching my phone and slamming it to the ground. The screen instantly shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. “Crazy!” “You’re both crazy!” He paced the room like a caged animal, agitated, before stopping in front of me, his eyes bloodshot. “Evelyn, that woman is insane!” “She just wants to destroy our family!” “You can’t believe her!” “Oh really?” I countered. “So ‘out with the old, in with the new’ and ‘plain tap water versus fiery liquor’ – she made all that up too?” Daniel’s body froze. “That was… that was just her trying to get a rise out of you…” Daniel’s gaze darted around, concocting a lie that wouldn’t convince even himself.

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While waiting for Blake to order, I scrolled through a post. The poster asked: “My boyfriend loves me in stockings, but his girlfriend isn’t a fan. How can I subtly get my stockings into his place?” She also posted a picture of her long, slender, pale legs, which had netizens drooling. I secretly scoffed, *Poor girl, what a scumbag she’s dealing with.* But then I saw the tattoo on the poster’s right leg, and I froze. It was identical to my boyfriend’s. And I, well, I definitely don’t like wearing stockings. I zoomed in on the picture, and my breath hitched. That tattoo… how could I not recognize it? Blake has an identical one on his right ankle. He told me it was his lucky charm, with the letter ‘B’ for ‘Blake’. I was with him last year on his birthday when he got it. He was grimacing in pain, squeezing my hand tight. *How could it be… such a coincidence?* I abruptly looked up at Blake, who was sitting across from me. He had just finished ordering and flashed me a tender smile: “Babe, I ordered your favorite cod. Make sure you eat up later.” His smile was as warm and gentle as ever. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady, and turned my phone screen towards him: “Blake, check out this post. Pretty funny, right? This person’s tattoo looks just like yours.” His smile instantly froze. It was only for a split second, but I clearly caught the flicker of panic in his eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, barely even looking at the screen, his voice stiff: “Huh? What tattoo? There are tons of similar ones online. Must be a coincidence.” He reached out to push my phone away, his movement carrying a hint of barely perceptible urgency. My heart sank. Normally, if he saw a similar tattoo, he’d be excited to discuss it, maybe even brag about the special meaning his tattoo held. Not avoid it like the plague. “Really?” I pulled my phone back. “But it really looks so similar, even the little ‘B’ is in almost the same spot. Do you think it’s from the same parlor? Or… maybe it’s the exact same person?” I added, half-joking, half-testing him. “Chloe…” Blake’s voice suddenly rose, making a nearby table of customers glance over. He seemed to realize his outburst, lowering his voice, his brows furrowed, “What are you implying? You’re accusing me? A random post, some random picture from the internet, and you’re suddenly so suspicious?” His tone was full of accusation: “I knew something was off with you today. So this is what you’ve been obsessing over? Can’t you stop being so sensitive? Just trust me for once, okay?” Sensitive? Suspicious? If it weren’t for that tattoo, I might actually have doubted myself, wondered if I was overthinking things. But now, his reaction, his gaslighting, only solidified my suspicions. I didn’t say anything, just quietly watched him. My silence seemed to provoke him, or rather, made him even guiltier. “Forget it. Looks like dinner’s ruined. You can just sit here and stew in your suspicions.” His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment, his eyes darting, unwilling to meet my gaze. “I can’t stand you like this. Every single day, I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours.” With that, he turned and walked out. Blake, what are you so guilty about?

I tried to go to the poster’s profile, but the post had vanished. My heart sank. Undeterred, I exited and re-entered the app, even trying the search function. I found the username, but clicking it led to that suffocating blankness. Not only was the profile inaccessible, but the scandalous post itself now showed “[This post has been deleted]”. That was fast. Only a mere ten minutes or so had passed since Blake left. Did he contact her immediately after walking out? Or was “she,” the one who posted, keeping an eye on the comments, saw my questioning, and, knowing she was guilty, quickly hid everything? Either way, it pointed to the same undeniable fact. Blake is hiding something. I dialed my best friend, Skylar. “Skylar, I need a favor. Urgent.” Skylar heard the urgency in my voice and immediately dropped her usual banter: “Tell me, what’s wrong, Chloe? Your voice sounds off. Did you argue with Blake?” That’s my best friend. We grew up together. Her intuition is spot on. I briefly told her what happened. I heard Skylar’s furious gasp from the other end of the line: “Blake, that bastard, how dare he?” “Don’t curse yet, I need your help.” I quickly cut her off. “Skylar, you have connections. Help me find all the reputable tattoo parlors in the city that can do complex designs like this. The key is to check if, in the last year, there’s been a female client with a sun totem tattoo on her ankle, with the letter ‘B’ in the center. Anonymous forum info is too vague; we need solid leads.” “Got it.” Skylar immediately agreed. “Leave it to me. I’ll dig through hell and high water to get you those clues. That scumbag, he’s got a death wish.” Just as I hung up, my screen lit up again. I frowned and answered. “Hello? Is that Chloe? It’s Dustin.” Loud music blared from the other end. It was Dustin, Blake’s so-called ‘best friend’ who was really just a party buddy, his voice urgent: “Oh, Chloe, you gotta come quickly. Blake’s totally drunk. He’s really upset because of you and he’s making a scene here. None of us can stop him.” Because of me? Making a scene? I scoffed inwardly. How long had it been since he left the restaurant? And he’s already drowning his sorrows? He’s really putting on a show. “Address.” My voice was cold. Dustin rattled off the name of a KTV and a room number – one of the most expensive places in the city. Before hanging up, he ‘kindly’ added: “Chloe, when you get here, maybe say a few soft words to Blake? He’s really upset today, keeps talking about you, saying you don’t trust him enough. We can’t talk any sense into him.” Every word was a veiled accusation that I was being unreasonable, forcing my boyfriend to drink himself senseless. I said nothing, just hung up. My rational side told me not to go, but a gut feeling drove me to see it for myself. I wanted to see how they planned to play out this drama.

I pushed the door open to find about seven or eight people, a mix of men and women, lounging on the sofas. Blake was sprawled in the middle, mumbling incoherently, definitely playing the part of a drunk. Empty liquor bottles were scattered everywhere, on the table and on the floor – a complete mess. Dustin saw me and immediately came over, his eyes darting: “Chloe, you finally made it! Come see Blake.” I ignored him and walked straight to Blake. He seemed to sense someone, struggled to open his eyes, and seeing it was me, instantly put on a pained, wronged expression, reaching out to pull me: “Chloe… you came… you don’t know how upset I am… why don’t you trust me…” Over-the-top acting, reeking of alcohol. I avoided his hand and asked coldly, “How much did you drink?” A girl nearby cut in, her tone flirtatious: “Oh, come on, Blake’s heartbroken today, he’s in a bad mood, so he drank a bit more. Don’t be mad, Chloe. It’s normal for guys to let loose once in a while.” Dustin quickly chimed in, rubbing his hands together, looking awkward: “Yeah, Chloe, Blake was hosting today, he ordered all the good stuff, and everyone was having such a great time that… well, we drank a bit much. See here…” He gestured to the table full of empty bottles, his intention crystal clear. Sure enough, another guy piped up: “Chloe’s here, perfect! Blake just said he’d cover the whole bill today. Why don’t you settle up, Chloe? So Blake can rest easy?” “Yeah, yeah, pay the bill!” A few others chimed in, their eyes glinting with calculation and eager anticipation for the show. My gaze swept over the empty red wine bottles on the table. I noticed fake empty bottles mixed with real ones. Probably scrounged from some recycling bin to make it look like a bigger party, right? Did they really think I’d never been to a place like this? My eyes finally landed on the bill, which had a shocking total. *Huh.* I let out a mirthless laugh. So, this is what they were waiting for. They wanted to treat me like a sucker, call me here to pay this exorbitant bill? Using my money to boost his ego, soothe his ‘wounded’ heart, and let his ‘friends’ enjoy a free night out? What a clever scheme. I looked at Dustin, who was eagerly waiting for me to pull out my card, and then at Blake, who was seemingly passed out but whose eyelids subtly twitched as he peeked at me. I scoffed: “Whoever ordered the drinks, whoever promised to pay, should be the one to settle the bill.” “Do I look like a sucker to you?” The words had barely left my mouth when Blake, who was supposedly ‘dead drunk’ on the sofa, suddenly sat bolt upright. 3 Blake sat bolt upright, with no trace of drunkenness on his face. “Chloe!” He roared, his face mottled red and white, whether from holding his breath or genuine anger, I couldn’t tell. “What are you doing? My friends are here! You’re going to embarrass me like this?”

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Three years later, my husband taught me to be a mean girl. He always said, “True love doesn’t involve money; it’s about pure feelings.” I believed him. Until the [Absolute Fairness AA System] bound to me. He promised his “platonic friend,” Chloe, a fifty-thousand dollar designer bag? [Ding! Account balanced: $25,000!] He bought my mom two hundred bucks worth of fruit? [Deducted $100!] He secretly used my streaming subscription to watch a movie? [Double compensation: $20!] Every single double standard, the system ripped his facade to shreds. Our marriage became a laughingstock across the entire internet. Liam screamed during a livestream: “What else can you do besides scheme for money, Jade!” [Ultimate Mission: Divorce. Reward: Stripping Liam Carter of marital assets worth $120 million. Compensating Host for three years of domestic labor, emotional labor, and reproductive value.] “Jade, let’s not talk about money, just feelings.” On our wedding anniversary, Liam handed me a prenuptial agreement for shared expenses. I looked at his handsome face and agreed. Three days later, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Absolute Fairness AA System successfully bound.] I thought it was an illusion. Until his “platonic friend,” Chloe Davis, called, crying. “Liam, that fifty-thousand dollar limited edition bag… I can’t afford it.” The speakerphone was on. Chloe’s voice was syrupy sweet. Liam gently cooed, “Why are you crying? Forget fifty thousand, I’d buy you a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bag, sis!” He was using the phone I bought him, wearing the white shirt I’d ironed. Chloe’s tears turned to laughter: “Liam, you’re so good to me!” Liam hung up the phone and smiled at me: “Chloe’s family isn’t well off. As her ‘big brother,’ I should take care of her a little more.” I scoffed inwardly. In three years of marriage, he’d never given me a gift worth more than a hundred dollars. For me, it was always AA: “You pay the HOA fees.” “Let’s split the dinner bill.” “Jade, you need to be independent!” Now, he was ready to splurge a fortune on another woman. I didn’t even have the right to question him. My phone screen lit up: [Your account has received $25,000.00.] The system’s voice simultaneously chimed: [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter promising to spend $50,000 on a third party, Chloe Davis. This expense constitutes a non-essential emotional investment and should be jointly borne by both parties. The system has automatically balanced the account, transferring $25,000 from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] I looked at the bank message, then at Liam. He was still engrossed in texting Chloe, a wide smile on his face. Completely oblivious that his account had just been drained. This was absolute fairness. I put down my fork and stood up: “I’m full.” Liam didn’t even lift his head: “Hmm, remember to do the dishes.” I walked out of the dining room. Soon, I heard a furious “Damn it!” from behind me. He probably thought it was a scam? No. Every penny of his money should be his to control. Mine too. Wait, sometimes my money was supposed to be his. He’d drink my water but never buy me any. Now, the system was here. It would calculate everything. I went back to the bedroom and closed the door. A notification popped up from Chloe’s SnapChat story: [Best big brother ever. So much love!] The picture showed the fifty-thousand dollar bag. Liam was the first to like it. My phone screen glowed faintly, a silent judge. This marriage, finally, was going to be precisely measured.

The next day was Saturday. Liam offered to drive me to my mom’s place. He even bought two hundred bucks worth of fruit downstairs. He handed them to me with a flourish, playing the perfect son-in-law. “Jade, tell our mom I said hi.” For three years, he’d called my mom “Ma’am.” Now he was playing Mr. Perfect Son-in-Law. Just as I was about to go upstairs, my phone rang. [Ding! Detected Host and partner jointly spending $200 to honor Host’s mother. According to the principle of absolute fairness, this expense should be jointly borne by both parties. $100 has been automatically debited from your account and transferred to Liam Carter’s account.] I looked at the debit message, silent. Liam hadn’t driven off yet. He rolled down his window and waved: “Jade, come back early to make dinner.” I nodded and turned to go upstairs. Absolute fairness. Fair to the point of absurdity. That evening, I got home to find Liam lying on the sofa, on the phone. “Mom, Dad, I’ve transferred ten thousand dollars for your living expenses.” “If you need more, just tell me. Don’t be shy about spending it.” “Work’s going smoothly, and Jade’s doing great.” He hung up and glanced at me. I waited for a moment. The system was silent. I asked in my mind: “He transferred ten thousand to his parents, why no reaction?” [The system replied: Supporting a partner’s parents is considered a unilateral legal obligation and falls outside the scope of shared marital expenses. Therefore, it is not factored into the AA System.] I understood. The system only cared about *us*. And the money he spent on anyone *other* than me. As for his own family, that was his obligation. Nothing to do with me. That was fair. I went into the kitchen to make dinner. Liam followed me, hugging me from behind. “Jade, you worked hard today. Let’s watch a movie tonight and relax.” I felt a bit uncomfortable. After the AA system, we hadn’t been intimate in a long time. After dinner, he smoothly logged into my streaming subscription account. It was an annual subscription I’d bought during the Black Friday sale. He never asked for the password; he must have just tried my birthday. He picked the latest pay-per-view movie, ten dollars. He clicked play without hesitation, paying with my account. I watched the screen, expressionless. The movie had just begun when my phone rang. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter misappropriating Host’s personal asset (streaming subscription) and incurring a $10 expense. This act of misappropriation constitutes malicious infringement. He has been forced to pay double compensation, totaling $20. $20 has been transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] Almost simultaneously, Liam’s phone received a debit message. His face instantly changed. He turned sharply to look at me. “Did you mess with my money again?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was full of accusation. I looked at him calmly: “I didn’t.” “Bullshit!” He slammed his phone onto the coffee table. “How did twenty bucks just disappear from my account?!” “Yesterday it was twenty-five thousand, today it’s twenty! Jade, what are you trying to do?” He stood up, towering over me: “We agreed to split everything, no interfering with each other’s finances. What are you doing now?” “Secretly scheming against me? Is that fun for you?” Every word was a jab, sharp as a knife. I didn’t say anything, just quietly opened my phone and showed him the system’s transaction log. Every single entry, crystal clear. [September 15th: Spent $50,000 on Chloe Davis, balanced $25,000.] [September 16th: Spent $200 to honor mother-in-law, balanced $100.] [September 16th: Misappropriated membership and incurred $10 expense, compensated $20.] Liam’s breath hitched. He stared fixedly at the screen, his expression shifting from anger to shock, then to utter incomprehension. “What is this thing?” “The Absolute Fairness System.” I took back my phone. “It automatically calculates all our financial interactions and forces a balance.” “Didn’t you want pure feelings? The system is helping you.” Liam was speechless. The muscles in his face twitched, looking utterly ridiculous. His beloved AA system, the one he was so proud of, was now being executed with ruthless precision by the system. Every double standard and selfish act was quantified into numbers. He couldn’t argue. “Fairness” was *his* idea. After a long silence, he ran an agitated hand through his hair: “What the hell is this damn system? I bet you’re behind this whole twisted thing!” He turned and stormed into his study, slamming the door shut. I was left alone in the living room. The TV was still playing the movie, with the main characters making a romantic confession. Liam and my marriage had become a farce under data surveillance. He was the one orchestrating this entire spectacle. I picked up his phone, which he’d thrown onto the coffee table. The screen was on, displaying his chat with Chloe. The last message was from him: “Jade’s throwing another one of her tantrums today, it’s so annoying.” Below it, Chloe’s reply had just popped up: “Is Sister Jade misunderstanding something? Maybe I should explain it to her?”

The Livestream Incident. Liam was a moderately famous finance influencer. He had millions of followers, cultivating a persona of being “woke, independent, and a strong advocate for women.” Three days after the initial incident, he started a livestream. He called it a discussion about “modern, independent relationships.” Chloe Davis was there as a special guest, sitting beside him. Today, she looked especially innocent, in a white dress with her long hair flowing over her shoulders. On her wrist, she wore a watch. It was the limited-edition couple’s watch from a certain brand that I’d given Liam for Valentine’s Day last year. My matching watch was still in my jewelry box. In the livestream, Liam spoke eloquently: “A good marriage is one where both partners are independent and not reliant on each other.” “Especially financially, the AA system is the best way.” “It filters out material impurities, allowing feelings to return to their purest form.” Chloe nodded vigorously, her eyes full of adoration. “Brother Liam is so right.” “Like Brother Liam and I, we’re the best of friends, with the purest brother-sister bond.” As she spoke, she casually brushed her hair back, revealing the watch on her wrist. “Just like this watch, Brother gave it to me, representing our indestructible friendship.” The comments section instantly exploded: [Wow, couple’s watch?!] [Liam is so sweet to his ‘sister’!] [Isn’t that Liam’s wife’s watch?] [Don’t talk nonsense, up there! It’s a brother-sister bond! Liam said so!] [Where’s the wife? Why isn’t she doing anything?] [She probably can’t control her man, otherwise why would Liam be with her?] [Exactly, independent women understand boundaries. Only women who nitpick drive their men away.] I sat in front of my computer, my fingers icy cold. Liam glanced at the comments. Instead of explaining, he draped his arm over Chloe’s chair, a gesture of intimate familiarity. “Chloe and my relationship doesn’t need to be explained to anyone.” “Those who understand, understand.” Chloe shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t help the slight smirk playing on her lips. It was an open provocation and humiliation. They were using the token of our love to stage a show of “deep platonic friendship.” Then they stood on their moral high ground, implying I was “too nitpicky” and “didn’t understand.” At that moment, my phone suddenly emitted a loud alert. The sound was so loud that it passed through my computer microphone and clearly entered the livestream. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter unilaterally gifting a marital asset (couple’s watch, purchased for $32,000) to a third party, Chloe Davis. This action constitutes an infringement on Host’s property. Account automatically balanced: $16,000 transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] The mechanical, emotionless electronic voice echoed in the livestream watched by tens of thousands of people. Liam and Chloe’s smiles froze. The comments section, silent for three seconds, then absolutely erupted! [Holy cow! A system voice?!] [Marital asset? Sixteen thousand? The wife bought the watch?!] [Hahahahahahaha, epic public humiliation! One second it’s pure sibling love, the next it’s slammed by a system!] [What is this system? So smart! “Absolute Fairness System”?! I’m dying!] [So Liam’s persona was all fake? Using his wife’s money to buy things for a ‘tea-girl,’ then calling his wife nitpicky?!] [Chloe’s face just went green, hahahaha, is that stolen watch comfortable to wear?] [“Millionaire Mr. AA,” Liam Carter! I’ve seen it all now!] Liam’s face flushed from red to white. He frantically tried to end the livestream but couldn’t tap the button. Chloe fidgeted, the watch on her wrist now burning like a branding iron. Eventually, the livestream was forcibly terminated by the platform. On the black screen, the last few comments still lingered. [Wife is awesome! Share the system link!] [This is what a truly independent modern woman looks like! No shouting, just transferring money!] [Liam, apologize now!] I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair. On my phone screen, the bank deposit message and the system notification lay side by side. Outside the window, night deepened. I knew that the war between Liam and me had just begun. He wouldn’t let this go. Sure enough, not long after, my phone rang. It was Liam. I didn’t answer. He called again and again. Finally, a text message popped up: “Jade, you’re going to pay for this.”

The livestream incident turned Liam and Chloe into a nationwide laughingstock. “The Millionaire Mr. AA” and “The Watch Girl” trended on social media for a whole day. Chloe was barraged by online hate. Her social media was flooded with ridicule and curses. She called Liam, crying, saying she’d been fired by her company and her career was ruined. Liam was devastated. He believed it was my fault. It was my “damn system” that had ruined his image and dragged down his “most important” platonic friend. He swore he would teach me a lesson. A lesson I’d never forget. He used all his knowledge and connections as a finance influencer. I ran a small online store selling handmade jewelry. It was my passion project from college, my only emotional outlet and source of self-worth. The shop was on a niche e-commerce platform. Liam teamed up with several investment firms to maliciously short-sell the platform. Three days later, the platform’s servers, under a surprise attack, crashed completely. All data, completely wiped. My online store, overnight, vanished into thin air. All my design drafts, customer information, order history, years of hard work… gone. I stared at the 404 page on my computer, feeling utterly hollow. It wasn’t just a store. It was my only escape from this suffocating marriage. My only way to prove my worth. Now, it had been personally destroyed by the man I was closest to, my husband. Liam came home, his face alight with vindictive satisfaction. He threw a news article about the platform’s bankruptcy liquidation in front of me. “Jade, do you see this?” “This is what happens when you cross me.” “I told you long ago, don’t test my limits.” “That pathetic little shop of yours means nothing to me.” He expected me to cry, to become hysterical. But I didn’t. I looked at him calmly, eerily so. My heart, at that moment, utterly died. My phone rang at that inopportune moment. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter maliciously destroying Host’s personal business, causing direct economic loss and emotional distress to Host. Loss assessment in progress… Assessment complete. Comprehensive evaluation of store revenue, brand value, future earnings, and emotional damages totals $200,000. Forced account balance executed: $200,000 transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] A bank deposit message followed immediately. [Your savings account ending in 6688 received $200,000.00 on September 20th at 21:05. Current balance: $231,265.00.] Liam also received a debit notification. He glanced at his phone, his triumphant expression instantly vanishing, replaced by furious rage. “It’s that damn thing again! Jade! You freaking…” His curses abruptly stopped. He saw my expression. I looked at the $200,000 deposit information, my heart felt utterly calm, eerily still. What could money possibly compensate? It couldn’t compensate for the countless nights I’d toiled. It couldn’t compensate for my shattered dreams. It couldn’t compensate for the dead silence in my heart right now. Liam seemed to sense something was off with me. My calmness disturbed him more than any violent reaction would have. “You… what’s with that expression?” I didn’t answer him. My only emotional outlet had been crushed by his own hands. The last thread connecting us had completely snapped. Just then, that cold mechanical voice in my mind rang out again. Unlike any time before, this electronic voice seemed to carry a hint of… excitement? [Detected Host’s emotional link to partner is completely severed.] [Hate value has accumulated to peak.] [Resilience has reset to zero, initial expectation value has turned negative.] [Ultimate Mission: Trigger Conditions Met.] [Generating Ultimate Mission…] The mechanical voice in my mind carried an unprecedented solemnity. [Ultimate Mission: Divorce.]

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My father-in-law, Rick, woke from his afternoon nap. I brought him a freshly brewed tonic broth. “Dad, give this a try. I made it especially for you.” I was about to turn back to the kitchen when Rick suddenly slammed the bowl onto the table with a crash. The scalding hot broth splashed all over my hand, but he just pointed at the bowl and spat, “The number of berries in here is odd! Odd numbers bring bad luck, you wicked woman! Are you trying to curse me to an early grave?” “I watched you put them in! Don’t even try to deny it!” “Son, listen to your dad. Divorce her! Our family has no room for such a vicious woman!” I looked at my husband, Brandon. Not only did he not stand up for me, but he frowned in disgust. “Then let’s get divorced. Marrying you was the worst luck imaginable.” Suddenly, a system notification popped up before my eyes: [Filial Duty Audit System detected divorce intent. Calculating in-marriage filial duty contributions…] My hand was bright red and throbbing with a fiery pain. Brandon’s words, though, burned even hotter than the scalding broth. Three years of marriage, and I’d spun around this family like a top, waiting on my in-laws, supporting my husband. And all I got in return was “the worst luck imaginable.” My father-in-law, Rick, was still stirring the pot. “See? She’s not even apologizing! This kind of woman should just get lost!” I was trembling with rage, a knot of fury tightening in my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Just then, those cold, blue lines of text slowly unfolded before my eyes. [Contributions being calculated…] [During your marriage, you provided Filial Duty Contributions to your father-in-law, Rick, a total of 2,358 times, equivalent to $1,179,000 USD.] [During your marriage, you provided Filial Duty Contributions to your mother-in-law, Carol, a total of 3,102 times, equivalent to $1,551,000 USD.] [Your support and contributions to your husband, Brandon, are not included in Filial Duty Contributions and have been automatically converted to marital assets, to be divided separately upon divorce.] [Total Filial Duty Debt: $2,730,000 USD.] [Please select settlement mode: A. Private Settlement B. Public Settlement (requires a $100,000 activation fee)] I froze. What was this? A hallucination? I blinked, but the lines of text remained clearly suspended in mid-air, visible only to me. Two million seven hundred thirty thousand dollars. Had my three years of effort truly been worth so much? Brandon saw me standing there, speechless, and grew even more impatient. “Eleanor, are you mute? Tomorrow, we’re going to the lawyer’s office to file. The house and cars were bought by my parents, so you won’t get a single cent. Now get out!” Rick crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. “Hear that? Our family isn’t a charity.” I looked at their tag-teaming faces, and the last shred of warmth in my heart flickered out. I took a deep breath and lightly tapped a finger in the air. I chose A. Private Settlement. I wanted to see the expressions on their faces when this bill landed squarely in front of them. Almost simultaneously, Brandon’s and Rick’s phones rang sharply. They impatiently pulled out their phones. The next second, their expressions froze. Brandon’s eyes widened, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg. “W-what is this thing?” He shoved his phone screen in my face. It was an official text message from a Bank Notary Office. [To Mr. Brandon Chen and Mr. Richard Chen: Pursuant to the In-Marriage Filial Duty Audit Agreement, you collectively owe Ms. Eleanor Lin $2,730,000 USD. Please settle this amount within 72 hours, or forced enforcement procedures will be initiated.] Rick snatched the phone, squinting to read, his presbyopic eyes repeatedly confirming the long string of zeroes. “Two million seven hundred thirty thousand? Is she crazy? This must be a scam text!” Brandon also snapped out of it, glaring at me fiercely. “Eleanor, is this your doing? Did you hire someone to fake this to extort money? I’m telling you, no way!” As he spoke, he lunged to grab my phone. I stepped back, watching him coldly. “Whether it’s a scam or not, you both know deep down.” “How many times did I cook tonic broth for your dad, how many times did I rush him to the ER in the middle of the night, how many times did I act as your mom’s personal shopper and ATM on her shopping sprees? You may deny these, but the system won’t.” Rick’s face flushed crimson with anger. He pointed a finger at my nose and yelled, “You ungrateful wretch! We’ve wasted three years feeding you! Every cent you spent came from our family!” Just then, the door opened. My mother-in-law, Carol, walked in, laden with shopping bags. “What’s all the shouting about? I could hear you all the way downstairs.” The moment she entered, she saw our tense standoff and immediately pointed her accusations at me. “It’s you again, you jinx! Always making my old man angry?” Brandon looked like he’d found a savior and quickly handed her his phone. “Mom, look! Eleanor’s gone crazy. She hired someone to send scam texts, claiming we owe her over two million dollars!” Carol took the phone, glanced at it, and scoffed. “Two point seven million? Why doesn’t she just rob a bank?” She tossed the phone onto the coffee table and walked up to me, her eyes filled with scorn and calculation. “Eleanor, I know you don’t want a divorce, and you’re trying to use these cheap tricks to cling on.” “Let me tell you something straight: a divorce is happening. I’ll be generous and give you fifty thousand dollars as compensation for your three years of hard work.” She paused, her tone dripping with condescension. “Take the money and leave gracefully. Don’t play these ridiculous games that make everyone laugh at you.”

Fifty thousand dollars. To dismiss a housekeeper who had served their entire family for three years. I looked at Carol’s mouth, painted with exquisite lipstick, and felt nothing but profound irony. “What if I don’t?” I asked. Carol’s face instantly darkened. “Ungrateful.” She turned to Brandon: “Son, don’t waste your breath on her. She just wants more money. I’ve seen plenty of women like her. Ignore her for a few days, and she’ll cave.” Rick chimed in, “Exactly! Don’t bother with her! Let’s see what tricks she can pull!” The three of them reached a consensus, completely ignoring me and the audit text, and began watching TV as if I were invisible. The noisy chatter of the TV show mingled with the burning pain on the back of my hand. Oppression, rage, humiliation. I clenched my fists, turned, and went back to my room, slamming the door shut. I stared at the system panel before me. The line “Total Filial Duty Debt: $2,730,000 USD” was my only leverage. I couldn’t just let this go. I clicked on the system and found that besides the settlement modes, there was also an “Information Inquiry” function, which required a $1,000 system credit fee. I didn’t hesitate to pay. [Information Inquiry function activated. Please enter the content you wish to inquire about.] I tentatively typed in “Mother-in-law Carol, health supplements.” I remembered last month, I had spent twenty thousand dollars to get premium quality health supplements for Rick’s health. But he only took them once, claiming they tasted weird, and Carol packed the rest away. The next second, a string of information popped up on the system interface. [Query Results:] [Date: Xth of X month. Event: You purchased premium health supplements valued at $20,000 USD.] [Fund Flow Tracking:] [X+1th of X month, Carol contacted second-hand supplement resale dealer “Mike’s Resale” via SnapChat, selling the supplements for $8,000 USD.] Attached were clear screenshots of their SnapChat conversation. Carol: “Mike, got another batch of good stuff. Premium grade, and that idiot daughter-in-law bought it.” Mike’s Resale: “Carol, you’re amazing! Same price as before?” Carol: “Yep, just transfer the money directly to my card.” My heart sank a little further. Following this was the bank transfer record. $8,000, not a cent missing. But that wasn’t all. The system continued to display. [X+1th of X month, 3:30 PM, Carol transferred $8,000 USD to bank account ending in XXXX. Recipient: Tiffany Chen.] [Memo: Tiffany, a little spending money from your aunt. Buy whatever you like.] Tiffany Chen. Brandon’s cousin, Carol’s niece. The princess who was doted on by the entire family, who would order me around every time she visited, while my in-laws and Brandon would only tell me to “be more accommodating” to my “sister.” My $20,000 act of filial devotion was sold by my mother-in-law for $8,000, which then became her niece’s spending money. I felt a chill run from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head. I continued to enter keywords. “Mother-in-law Carol, high-end organic supplements.” “Father-in-law Rick, massage chair.” “Brandon, startup fund.” One by one, shocking query results appeared. The $8,000 high-end organic supplements I bought were exchanged by her for $3,000 worth of cheap alternatives, with the difference going into Tiffany’s pocket. The $30,000 full-feature massage chair I bought for Rick was deemed too space-consuming by him and sold to a neighbor for $10,000. That money went to Brandon for “business expenses.” The most ridiculous part was that I had given Brandon my emergency savings that my parents had given me, $200,000, to support his “startup.” The system showed that the money was transferred to a gambling website account that very day and lost completely. But Brandon had told me it was an investment failure, a total loss. He had even held me, swearing, “Don’t worry, darling. When I get back on my feet, I’ll make sure you live a good life.” A good life? My efforts, my sacrifices, my heartfelt devotion – in their eyes, I was nothing more than an ATM to be freely used, a recycling station for resources. And all the value harvested flowed to the people they truly cared about. Me, I was nothing. I leaned against the cold wall and laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Eleanor, Eleanor, you’re truly the biggest fool.

The next morning, I calmly packed my suitcase. As I wheeled my luggage out of the room, the Chen family was sitting at the dining table, eating the bagels and drinking the coffee I’d prepared last night. They didn’t even glance at me. Carol spoke in a passive-aggressive tone, “Oh, so you’ve come to your senses? Ready to get lost?” Brandon took a sip of his coffee and snorted, “Good, she knows her place.” I ignored them and walked straight to the door to change my shoes. Seeing my silence, Carol assumed I’d caved, and a hint of smugness entered her voice. “Eleanor, that fifty thousand dollars? You’ll get it after you sign the divorce papers. Don’t try any tricks, or you won’t get a single cent.” My back to them, I quietly hummed in acknowledgment. This response completely put them at ease. Carol even feigned concern, “After you leave, find a decent job. Don’t always think about shady ways to make money.” I finished changing my shoes, opened the door, and looked back at them one last time. The three of them were sitting together, seemingly happy, as if they were about to get rid of a huge problem. Their faces held undisguised relief and pleasure. I smiled, then closed the door. Goodbye, my foolish three years of youth. I didn’t go back to my parents’ house. Instead, I used the last bit of money in my account to rent a small studio apartment near my company. After settling in, the first thing I did was send Brandon a message. “A divorce is fine. I’ll leave with nothing. But I have one condition.” Brandon replied almost instantly, his tone wary. “What condition? I’m telling you, no money!” “Don’t worry, it’s not about money.” I typed, “Tomorrow is your company’s Family Day, right? I want to come and see it, since I won’t have another chance. Think of it as a final farewell.” Brandon’s company held an annual Family Day event, inviting employees’ families. It was an important occasion to showcase the company’s humanistic care and employees’ family happiness. He was always concerned about appearances. In previous years, he would force me to dress up and play the loving wife in front of his colleagues. Sure enough, he hesitated. If I caused a scene today, and he showed up alone tomorrow, his colleagues would question him, and he’d lose face. If I cooperated with him for this last act and we parted ways amicably, it would be the best outcome for him. A few minutes later, he replied. “Fine. But remember this: don’t try anything funny, or I’ll make you regret it!” “Don’t worry.” I put away my phone and looked out the window. The calm before the storm. Brandon, Carol, Rick, and Tiffany. What you owe me, I will collect, every single cent, with interest. And this Family Day is the first stage I’ve meticulously prepared for all of you. I opened the system panel, looking at the “B. Public Settlement (requires a $100,000 activation fee)” option. The money in my account wasn’t enough. But I knew it would be soon. I clicked on “Information Inquiry” and typed “Brandon, secret stash.” The system quickly provided results. A bank account I’d never heard of, with $153,000 quietly sitting in it. His secret savings. The system even thoughtfully added a small line of text. [These funds in this account are marital assets.] I smiled. Perfect. The activation fee for the public settlement. I had it. Brandon’s company’s Family Day was held on a massive lawn. The sun was shining, and balloons, streamers, and laughter filled the air.

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