I had kindly driven my neighbor’s son to and from school for a whole year. After his final grades came out, she showed up with her entire family, blocking my garage. She slapped a claim for fifteen thousand dollars into my hand, pointed a finger at my nose, and yelled, “My son was a genius! But your crappy car jolted his brain so bad, it’s ruined! You’re not leaving this garage until you pay up!” I stared at the familiar official seal on the claim form and let out a cold laugh. She had no idea that the owner of that assessment center was my uncle. Not only that, I also knew the real reason her son’s grades plummeted: she’d taken five thousand dollars meant for his tutoring and spent it all on tipping a sexy male streamer. Trying to extort me? I’m about to make you lose everything you have, and leave you with nothing. The underground garage was dimly lit, reeking of a musty smell that never saw sunlight. I’d just parked my car in my designated spot, and hadn’t even unbuckled my seatbelt when three figures suddenly darted out from behind a supporting pillar nearby. They surrounded my car, blocking the front and cutting off all my exits. Leading the charge was my dear neighbor, Brenda Hayes. She was wearing a full face of makeup today, her lipstick a dark, bold shade, her feet clad in four-inch stilettos, and in her hand, she clutched a stack of stark white papers. Trailing behind her were her husband, David Hayes, who usually greeted everyone with a smile but now had a grim expression, and her mother-in-law, Martha Hayes, notorious in the neighborhood for being an absolute pain. “Sophia Miller! Get out of that car right now!” Brenda’s shrill voice exploded in the empty garage, echoing piercingly and making my eardrums ache. I frowned, not getting out immediately. Instead, I lowered my window halfway and stared at her coldly. “Brenda, what the hell is wrong with you, yelling like this so late at night?” “What’s wrong with *me*?” Brenda let out an exaggerated, cold laugh, storming closer to my car window. She raised her hand and slapped the stack of papers against my windshield with a loud smack. “Open your eyes and look at what you’ve done! My perfectly fine son, you utterly ruined him!” Martha, seeing this, immediately scurried closer. Her bony fingers, dry like tree branches, almost poked through the window gap and into my nose. “You evil, cold-hearted woman! We trusted you so much, letting you drive our Leo every day! What were your intentions? Do you hate that you can’t have kids, so you’re jealous of our Leo’s intelligence and deliberately messed with him on the road?” I took a deep breath, suppressing the anger surging in my chest, pushed open the car door, and stepped out. On the windshield, the white A4 paper was almost blinding. The bold, enlarged title at the top screamed, as if desperate for attention: *”Compensation Details for Brain Nerve Damage and Intellectual Developmental Delay Caused by Prolonged Vehicle Jolting.”* I looked at that line of text and laughed, enraged. Reaching out, I yanked the paper off and scanned it under the garage’s dim light. The categories listed were even more detailed than a hospital bill. One-time compensation for intellectual damage: $7,000. Parental emotional distress: $3,000. Follow-up brain rehabilitation and nutrition costs: $2,000. Lost future prospects from failing to get into an elite prep school: $3,000. The last line was heavily circled in red: Total: Fifteen Thousand Dollars. I looked up at Brenda’s face, slightly twisted from extreme agitation. “Fifteen thousand? Brenda, are you trying to extort me, or are you just dreaming in broad daylight?” Brenda crossed her arms, chin held high, looking smug, as if she had me cornered. “Extortion? Sophia, don’t you dare make baseless accusations! It’s all in black and white. This is an official assessment from the most authoritative professional institution in the state! Our Leo used to get perfect scores on every test; he was an absolute prodigy! But ever since he started riding in your clunky car, getting jolted around every day… now his final exam results are out, and he got a D in math! A D! Can you believe it?! The doctor even said it’s because of long-term violent jolting, causing severe attention deficit and irreversible brain nerve damage! If you don’t pay up, you’re not taking another step out of this garage today!”

In the garage, quite a few neighbors who had just gotten home from work had stopped. Some rolled down their car windows, peeking out to watch the drama. Others simply turned off their engines and stood a short distance away, pointing and whispering. Brenda, seeing the crowd grow, seemed to gain instant confidence. Her voice soared even higher, turning into a full-blown, theatrical performance. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! I was kind enough to let her take my child along the way, and she, in turn, drove like a maniac, scrambling my son’s brain! Now his future is ruined, and she won’t even say sorry, trying to avoid paying!” A few hushed whispers immediately rose from the crowd. “Wow, can a car ride really mess up someone’s brain? Never heard of that.” “Who knows, kids these days are so delicate. But driving someone else’s kid, it really does seem like no good deed goes unpunished. You just can’t be a good Samaritan anymore.” “Fifteen thousand dollars, Sophia’s really unlucky to end up with a neighbor like this.” David chimed in at the right moment, his face stern, feigning reasonableness and concern for the bigger picture. “Sophia, we’re all neighbors in the building, we see each other every day. We don’t want to make things too ugly, and we definitely don’t want to go to court. But this situation, it’s clearly all your fault. Just pay the fifteen thousand dollars without a fuss, and we’ll pretend nothing happened. We can still say hello when we see each other.” Friends? Say hello? I looked at this utterly hypocritical trio, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. This entire year, how much had I helped their family? Rain or shine, if Brenda said, “I’m getting my hair done, I’ll be late, can you wait a bit longer?” I’d have to wait for Leo in the cold outside the school for half an hour. Leo would eat messy cookies and drink sticky sodas in my car, leaving crumbs and spills everywhere, and I never said a harsh word. I just quietly paid to get the car detailed myself. Now, because her son isn’t studying, his grades dropped, and they blame it on my car being too bumpy, damaging his brain? I lowered my gaze, looking at the so-called “Compensation Details” again. My eyes slowly moved down, finally landing on the blue stamp in the bottom right corner. Blue Sky Children’s Development Assessment Center. I paused. Then, an irrepressible cold smirk curved my lips. Blue Sky Assessment Center? What a coincidence. The big boss behind this institution was none other than my uncle, Richard Miller.

I had just been to his office last month, enjoying some excellent coffee. At the time, he was complaining to me that too many people were counterfeiting their institution’s official seal to scam people, severely damaging their reputation. Their legal department was about to team up with the police for a large-scale arrest. Brenda, seeing me smile at the stamp, thought I was stunned into silence. She advanced triumphantly. “What? What are you laughing at? Nothing to say, huh? Sophia, I advise you to pay up quickly. Otherwise, I’ll post this in the residents’ SnapChat group, and the school parents’ group! I’ll let everyone know what a cold-blooded, heartless person you are!” I slowly folded the paper and calmly slipped it into my designer bag. “Alright.” Brenda froze, seemingly unprepared for my reaction. “What did you say?” I looked at her, every word clear and forceful. “I said, alright. Post it wherever you want, go viral if you wish. But Brenda, I’m making myself clear right here and right now. I won’t give you a single cent, not a single dime of that fifteen thousand. Not only will I not pay, but I’ll make you pay a price you can’t afford for this worthless piece of paper.” With that, I turned, got back into my car, and slammed the door shut with a bang. I started the engine, shifted into gear, and floored the accelerator. The three-hundred-horsepower engine instantly let out a beastly roar, and the tires screeched against the epoxy floor of the underground garage. David and Martha shrieked, their faces pale, scrambling to hide behind a nearby pillar. Brenda, retreating too quickly in her high heels, twisted her ankle and fell hard on the ground, her perfectly made-up face instantly contorted in pain. I rolled down my window, coldly tossing out a warning: “If you’re not afraid to die, keep blocking my car with your body.” Then, I swerved the steering wheel, my car brushing past their clothes as I drove away. In my rearview mirror, Brenda frantically picked herself up from the ground, pointing and cursing at my taillights like a complete banshee. I activated my car’s Bluetooth and called Mr. Jenkins, the property manager. “Mr. Jenkins, underground garage, Zone B, spot 102. Someone was causing trouble and blocking my vehicle. Please immediately retrieve the last ten minutes of surveillance footage and preserve it exactly as is. If a single second is missing, I’ll hold you accountable.” Hanging up, I took a deep breath of the cool air in the car. The war had just begun.

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“You come here every single day; if I’m not annoyed, I’m certainly annoyed for myself! Haven’t you ever seen a decent spa before? You’re practically living here, trying to squeeze every last cent out of that card! Look at you, you pathetic cheapskate!” Those were Kyle’s exact words, the head technician at the ‘Dreamland Premier Wellness & Beauty Spa’, as he pointed his finger right in my face. I’d paid twenty thousand dollars for an unlimited black card. I’d only used it for less than half a month when he publicly humiliated me. That’s when I lost it. “Kyle, what do you mean by that?” I pulled out my phone to message him on SnapChat, but the message just sat there, stuck on “unsent”! He’d actually blocked me! Pure rage engulfed me. I was trembling, so I immediately stormed back to the spa to demand a refund from the owner. But Sharon, the owner, slowly pulled out a “special cancellation clause” I’d never seen before. “Sophia, according to our store policy, if a client voluntarily cancels their membership, the refund must be calculated based on the highest-tier single session prices for our facial anti-aging and full-body essential oil SPA treatments.” “You’ve visited us 15 times this past half-month. At fifteen hundred dollars per session, that’s twenty-two thousand five hundred dollars. Plus, there’s a two thousand dollar fee for imported oils, two thousand for the premium room service, and three thousand for equipment wear and tear.” “All told, you don’t get a refund; you actually owe us three thousand dollars more.” I almost laughed out loud from sheer anger. Oh, this is rich. This is really rich. Leaving the spa, I immediately called Mr. Davis, the property manager. “Hello, Mr. Davis? That ‘Dreamland Spa’ on the third floor of the mall? I’m not renewing their lease next month!”

The moment I realized I’d been blocked, a switch flipped in my brain. I couldn’t stand it for another second. I stomped in my heels straight to the spa on the third floor. Before I even pushed open the opulent glass door, the piercing sound of laughter spilled out. “That Sophia, she’s something else! Acts like she owns the place just because she got an unlimited black card. She practically lives here!” “Tell me about it! I’ve seen plenty of women like her. Probably blew her savings or maxed out all her credit cards just to afford that twenty thousand dollar card, all so she could pretend to be a socialite here!” “Fk! I’m sick of looking at her face! She has me massaging her all day, my hands are going to fall off!” That was Kyle’s voice, full of undisguised contempt and mockery. A few of the junior beauticians chimed in with snide remarks: “Kyle’s right. Her skin’s as rough as sandpaper; even the most expensive oils are useless on her! She should just stop coming and making a fool of herself!” “I bet she’s just desperate for attention, looking for a strong man like Kyle to pamper her!” “Hahahaha! Basically, just a cheapskate trying to freeload!” Their piercing laughter felt like needles pricking my ears. Rage surged through me, threatening to burst out. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I shoved the front door open violently and stormed inside. *Bang!* The laughter inside abruptly stopped. The air instantly dropped to freezing. Everyone stared at me as if they’d seen a ghost. “What right do you have to talk behind my back? Apologize to me, now!” I screamed, my eyes fixed on Kyle. The junior beauticians nervously lowered their heads, looking flustered. Kyle, however, only froze for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically and sneering. “Nobody was talking about you. What are you going crazy about?” “That’s a lie! I heard everything clearly from outside the door!” “No one else heard it, just you?” Kyle crossed his arms, wearing a defiant and arrogant smirk. “Are you crazy from all these treatments, hearing things?” As soon as he said that, a few junior beauticians couldn’t help but snicker, covering their mouths. Kyle puffed out his chest, smug as a general who’d won a battle. I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug deep into my palms, drawing blood. “Then why did you block me?” I demanded, grinding my teeth. Kyle eyed me dismissively, looking me up and down. “Look, lady! I’m so busy every day, I have to attend to so many real high-rollers worth millions of dollars!” “You keep sending messages to book appointments, it’s endless! I’m not your personal chat companion!” “Then what was that post you made about? What do you mean ‘pathetic cheapskate’?” “My card is unlimited! What right do you have to complain about how often I come?” “Didn’t you say today was fully booked? Why are you just standing here chatting if you’re so busy?” Kyle sneered, walking up to me and looking down. “Don’t I need a break? Get your facts straight, I’m a senior technician, not your slave!” “You bought a card and now you think you’re hot stuff? Who do you think you are, queen bee?” As he spoke, his chin was raised high, a disgusting look of superiority on his face. The other beauticians no longer bothered to hide their expressions, all casting looks of disdain and amusement. My temples throbbed with fury, and even my breath tasted of blood. I didn’t want to waste another second talking to this jerk. I turned and rushed to find Sharon, the owner, to get my refund.

Sharon’s office was at the end of the hallway. She was a woman in her forties with heavy makeup, reeking of cheap perfume and shrewd calculation. After I explained why I was there, she took a slow sip of her tea. Then, she leisurely pulled out a contract from her drawer, one I’d never seen before. “Sophia, calm down. But, you see, according to our store policy, if a client voluntarily cancels their membership, the refund must be calculated based on the highest-tier single session prices.” “You’ve visited us 15 times. At fifteen hundred dollars per session, that’s twenty-two thousand five hundred dollars. Plus, there’s a two thousand dollar fee for imported oils, a thousand for utilities, a thousand for equipment wear, and a thousand for service fees.” “All told, not only do you not get a refund, but you actually owe us three thousand dollars more.” I was so angry I laughed, then slammed that flimsy contract onto the table. “Sharon, are you serious? Is this a robbery? I never saw this contract when I bought the card!” Sharon’s face subtly changed, and her eyes hardened. “Sophia, it’s all in writing, our store policy. Go ahead and ask around, all the high-end places do this.” “Fine, then I’m not canceling. I want a different technician.” I said coldly. According to their store’s rules, if a customer demanded a different technician, Kyle’s commissions and bonuses for the month would be out the window, and he’d even get docked pay. Sharon’s face instantly turned ugly. “All our other technicians are fully booked, their schedules are packed.” “Kyle has always been our most outstanding head technician; no customer has ever complained about him. It must be a communication problem on your end!” “How about this, I’ll go talk to him for you later and ask him to continue doing your treatments. And you, well, you should try to control your temper and not always act so high and mighty.” My brain felt like it was about to explode from anger. So, it’s all my fault now? I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to smash up the office. Finally, I said nothing, just pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of that ridiculous contract, and turned to leave. Behind me, Sharon snorted disdainfully, “Who does she think she is, trying to act like a big shot when she’s broke?”

For the next few days, I deliberately didn’t cancel the card and kept booking appointments. Since it was unlimited, I wanted to see what other tricks they had up their sleeves. Kyle outwardly resumed giving me treatments, but in reality, he was maliciously retaliating. Under the guise of a “deep detox,” he put me in the hottest sauna room. Normally, I’d steam for twenty minutes at most; he kept me in there for a full hour. I was also forced to drink scalding “detox tea.” I couldn’t stand the heat anymore and got up to leave. But then I discovered the sauna door was locked from the outside! I pounded on the glass door, shouting for help. Kyle stood just outside the door, watching me through the glass, sipping iced watermelon juice and smiling maliciously. “Sophia, you have too many toxins in your system; you need to sweat it out more!” “Didn’t you insist on coming for treatments? Take it or leave it!” He mouthed an insult at me. My head was spinning from the heat, my vision started to blur, and my heart pounded uncontrollably. He gave me the middle finger from outside. “You pathetic cheapskate, I’m doing this for your own good! To cleanse you of your poor vibes!” I finally endured until the time was up. When the door opened, I was completely drained, collapsing onto the damp floor, unable to get up. Just then, a few VIP clients walked in. I weakly tried to ask them for help. They were all Kyle’s regulars and had always resented me for “coming every day to take advantage.” They watched me coldly, making no move to help, instead covering their mouths and snickering. “Oh, isn’t that Sophia, the one who’s always clinging to Kyle? She really knows how to take advantage. Just because she bought a year pass? She has no sense of propriety!” “Exactly! Because of her, Kyle was upset, and he wasn’t even in the mood to chat when he was giving us our SPA!” “Heh heh! Serves her right! Must be crazy with poverty!” After that, they disdainfully walked past me, strolling smugly into the changing room. I bit my lip until it bled, forcing myself to stand up. Good. Very good. You all just wait.

One evening, Kyle, claiming he was too busy during the day, deliberately scheduled my appointment for ten p.m. That was almost closing time. After the treatment, I was completely exhausted. I dragged my wobbly body to the shower. I had just lathered shampoo into my hair when, suddenly, the water stopped! Then, *click*, the bathroom lights went out. The entire space plunged into dead silence and darkness. I yelled for a long time, but no one answered. I had no choice but to haphazardly wipe the soap off my body with a towel, fumble in the dark to put on my clothes, and rush out. The huge spa was completely dark and empty. Kyle stood outside the glass front door, illuminated by the faint corridor light, grinning chillingly at me like a demon. A bad feeling instantly washed over me. I hurried towards the front door. Suddenly, my foot slipped! I fell hard onto the unforgiving marble floor. “Ah!” A piercing pain instantly shot through my entire body. I cried out in agony, tears streaming from my eyes. In my panic, I reached out to feel the floor, only to discover it was covered in slippery massage oil! Not only that, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my palm. I used the faint light from my phone to see: the oil was scattered with countless thumbtacks! My palms and knees were covered in blood from the punctures! Furious and in pain, I trembled as I looked up. Kyle stood outside the door, watching me with a smug, gloating expression, and mouthed, “Serves you right! Go to hell!” The next second, he cruelly pulled down the rolling shutter, locked it, and walked away, completely satisfied. My insides trembled with rage. Enduring the intense pain, I forced myself to get up. I shouted for help, but after a long time, only dead silence echoed back. I wanted to call the police, but when I picked up my phone, I realized there was no signal! They had installed a jammer! Desperate and helpless, I used my phone’s flashlight, limping to the front desk, and grabbed a heavy metal bar stool. I swung it violently at the expensive tempered glass door. Once! Twice! Three times! *CRASH! BANG! SMASH!* Glass shards flew everywhere, and the sound of shattering echoed throughout the entire floor. Dragging my injured body, I scrambled out of the spa in a mess, ran outside the mall, and immediately called 911 and an ambulance. The process of removing the pins at the hospital was agonizing. The doctors looked at my multiple injuries, shaking their heads with sighs. By the time I left the hospital, it was already dawn. Without even changing my clothes, I went straight to the police station. “Officer, I want to report a crime! Someone illegally detained me and intentionally harmed me!”

Half an hour later, Kyle arrived at the police station, his face tight. The moment he saw me, he pointed his finger at me and started yelling curses, his tone arrogant and vicious. “Are you sick? Reporting the damn police in the middle of the night! You fell down yourself by accident, and you’re blaming me? Don’t you sleep, but everyone else does!” Sharon, the owner, also arrived. She looked bleary-eyed, her hair disheveled, and her words were full of bias and blame. “Sophia, you’re aggressive in your speech, and you deliberately make things difficult for our Kyle. He’s already being generous by not bothering with you!” “And what about you? Reporting the police in the middle of the night over a trivial matter, causing trouble for people, it’s too much! I haven’t even charged you for smashing our store door yet!” I coldly swept my gaze over them. I pointed to the injury report on the table, then rolled up my sleeves, revealing the dense pinpricks and bruises on my arms and knees. “Trivial matter?” “Just because I bought an unlimited year card and came a bit more frequently, he got resentful and maliciously subjected me to physical punishment, locking me in a high-temperature sauna!” “Last night, he was even more insane, locking me in the store and deliberately pouring oil and scattering thumbtacks on the floor to harm me!” “You call this a trivial matter? This is attempted murder!” Sharon looked at me indifferently, a mocking smirk even playing on her lips. “Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?” “The surveillance footage is proof! Officer, I demand you check their store’s surveillance cameras!” I shouted. Sharon rolled her eyes and spread her hands. “Oh, how unlucky, our store’s surveillance system just happened to break yesterday afternoon. It’s still being repaired.” “You…!” A vein throbbed on my forehead, and I trembled with anger. Kyle, hiding behind Sharon, defiantly raised an eyebrow at me, flashing an extremely irritating smile. The next second, he pulled out his phone and, right in front of me, started fabricating stories in the VIP client SnapChat group, whining about what happened. He sent a voice message: “Ladies, you all see how it is every day, please speak up and clarify things for me! That Sophia went crazy, smashed up the store, and even called the police to arrest me!” The few wealthy clients in the group who had bought session cards and always disliked me quickly replied: “She’s lying! She clearly had malicious intentions towards Kyle, touching him inappropriately during her oil massage. She held a grudge after Kyle firmly rejected her, and that’s why she’s trying to frame him!” “Exactly! She clearly hid in the store on purpose, trying to prevent Kyle from leaving work, that’s why she got locked in. Those thumbtacks? She must have deliberately pricked herself, it’s a sympathy ploy! The whole thing is her own doing, that woman is truly evil!” “Kyle has always been so good to her, often sending her fruit and snacks. Not only is she ungrateful, but she’s also turning on him! She’s an absolute ungrateful wretch! They should arrest her instead!” Listening to those voice messages, my blood rushed to my head. I wanted to smash the phone in their faces. Sharon patted my shoulder, her tone full of a victor’s mockery. “Sophia, be a decent person! Stop causing trouble! You *will* pay for that door!” Kyle leaned close to me, speaking in a low, biting voice that only I could hear: “This is just a small warning! If you don’t learn your lesson and keep coming here every day, I’ll make sure you’re bedridden for life! And I’ll ruin that face of yours!” I glared at him. If looks could kill, he would have been sliced into a thousand pieces. Because of insufficient evidence — the surveillance was indeed broken, and I had destroyed the scene by smashing the door — the police could only temporarily not file a case. They treated it as a regular dispute, offered some admonishment, and sent us all home, telling me to compensate for the damaged glass door. Outside the police station, Kyle and Sharon walked arm in arm, like a victorious pair of scoundrels. They smirked at me, then got into Sharon’s BMW, embracing. I stood in the cold morning wind, hurting physically and raging inside, having been awake all night, my eyes bloodshot. But I didn’t cry. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Mr. Davis? That ‘Dreamland Spa’ on the third floor of the mall? I’m not renewing their lease next month!”

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The dawn of my surgery, Ethan signed the consent form. Not to save me – but to take my bone marrow. After his sister, Chloe, was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia, he and my stepmother, Victoria, conspired to trick me into the hospital. My bone marrow saved Chloe. I, on the other hand, developed a post-op infection and never left my bed again. I was barely twenty-six, and my immune system had completely crashed. The day the infection spread, he told me our entire marriage was for Chloe’s illness, that he’d checked my genetic match before marrying me. He said, “Your bone marrow saved a life. It was worth it.” Perhaps my very bones were screaming for justice on my behalf. When I opened my eyes again, I’d moved out of that city before he could find me. As for Chloe’s illness, this time, let’s see how you protect her. “Skylar, your dad’s last words, the night he left us, were for me to take good care of you.” My phone screen lit up for three seconds. Incoming call, my stepmother, Victoria. I answered. “What do you want?” “I’ve been looking for you for two years, and you haven’t returned a single call. If your dad knew how you were treating me—” “He won’t know now.” A few seconds of silence on her end. “Skylar, there’s someone who wants to meet you. He says you’re fated to meet.” “His name is Ethan.” The name drilled into my ear like an ice pick stabbing the back of my neck. “He says you two are a good match to get to know each other. His family is in pharmaceuticals, he’s a good person, I’ve vetted him for you—” I hit End Call. Turned off my phone. Threw it in the drawer. Two years. New city, new number, new company. I thought I’d run far enough. The next day at work, a bouquet of white Eustoma flowers sat on my desk. Harper poked her head over from the next cubicle. “Who sent them? A delivery guy came up specially early this morning.” I flipped open the card at the bottom of the bouquet. Printed text, one sentence. “Hello, Skylar.” No signature. But I recognized the flowers. In my last life, at our wedding, he personally chose white Eustoma as the main flower. Their language was unchanging love. I tossed the card and the flowers into the trash. Harper nearly spat out her coffee. “That’s decisive, even for you.” “The sender isn’t a good person.” “An ex?” “Worse than an ex.” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth opened, but she didn’t press for details. At noon, I went out for coffee. A black car was parked outside the shop. The window rolled down halfway, revealing a face I’d seen repeatedly in countless nightmares. He had high brows, a straight nose, and a sharp jawline. The first time I saw him in my last life, my heart skipped a beat. Now, seeing him, all I felt was a sour twist in my stomach. “Skylar.” He called my name the exact same way as in my last life, with a slight upward lilt at the end. “Who are you?” “Ethan. Your stepmother should have mentioned me.” “She’s mentioned a lot of scammers.” He gave a small smile. The kind that was gentle, disarming. He used to smile like that, making you drop your guard instantly. “I’m not a scammer. I just wanted to buy you a coffee.” “No thanks.” “Five minutes is all I need.” He looked at me, utterly sincere. “There’s something I absolutely have to tell you in person. It’s about you.” About you. That’s how he started last time. A hook impossible to refuse, luring me willingly into his cage. “You checked my genetic match.” His pupils contracted. But quickly returned to normal. “What match? I don’t understand.” “If you don’t understand, why are you looking for me?” “Just to get acquainted.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out. “I’m working on a rare disease charity foundation—” “New packaging, same old trick.” His hand froze in mid-air. “Last life, you used a class reunion.” The moment those words slipped out, I knew I’d said too much. “Last life?” His brows subtly furrowed. “I meant the last time. The last time you contacted Victoria, you made up an excuse then too.” No one took the business card. He retracted his hand and looked at me for a few seconds. “Skylar, you’ve misunderstood me.” “No. I understand you perfectly.” I turned and walked three steps before his voice caught up from behind. Not rushed or annoyed, even carrying a hint of a smile. “Skylar, my sister is dying.” I stopped. Not out of softness. But because he’d never said those words in my last life. Back then, he’d wrapped the truth in ten layers of sugar coating, waiting until I was married, on the operating table, to tear off the paper. “Her name is Chloe, she’s twenty-three, and she has severe aplastic anemia. No one in our family is a match. The national bone marrow registry can’t find a suitable donor either.” His voice was as calm as if he were reading a medical chart. “Only you. Your HLA match is perfect with hers. Ten out of ten loci, a complete match. That’s a one in a hundred thousand probability.” The wind blew. My coffee grew cold. He stood in the late autumn light, smiling gently, like a kind-hearted person asking for help. “What does that have to do with me?” “Your genes can save her.” “They’re my genes. Not your tools.” His smile finally cracked. “I never thought of you as a tool.” I turned and walked into the office building. The moment the glass doors closed, I saw the expression on his face in the reflection. It was no longer gentle. “Skylar, if you don’t help her, can you live with yourself?”

“What did you say to him yesterday?” Victoria’s call came in again. This time, I didn’t hang up. I needed to know what cards she still held. “I didn’t say anything.” “He told me you mentioned a genetic match. How would you know about that?” I leaned against the tiled wall in the restroom, my voice steady. “He let it slip himself.” “He also said you said some very strange things. Skylar, have you been listening to rumors?” “What rumors?” “Some people say the Victor family is using you. That’s nonsense. Ethan is a respectable man, his family runs a pharmaceutical group—” “So, how much did you take?” Silence on her end for two seconds. “Skylar, why do you always think that about Mom?” “Just tell me.” Her tone sharpened a little, like I’d stepped on her tail. “Skylar, after your dad passed, I was left to shoulder everything! You ran off for two years, leaving me to handle the mortgage and utilities alone. The Victor family is just being charitable—” “You call selling my medical report to someone else ‘charitable’?” “Who sold it? Who sold it!” Her voice became shrill. “Your dad asked me to keep it for you! Ethan came asking about you, and I was just showing concern—” “You even told him which hospital I had my check-ups at.” “That was—” “Thyroid function, complete blood count, full immune panel. And HLA typing. Victoria, ordinary people don’t get HLA tests unless it’s for an organ or bone marrow transplant.” The breathing on the other end caught. A long silence followed. She switched her tone, softening, easing, like she’d put on a different mask. “Skylar, even if I did something wrong, that girl is really dying. I saw her photos, she’s only twenty-three, just skin and bones—” “It has nothing to do with me.” “Can’t you just go for a match confirmation? It’s just a simple blood draw—” “That’s what you told me last time.” The words slipped out, and I immediately clamped my mouth shut. “Last time? What last time?” “Nothing.” “Skylar, you’ve been talking stranger and stranger lately. ‘Last life,’ ‘last time’—” “I’m hanging up.” I turned off my phone and stood at the sink for two minutes. My knuckles were turning white. I’d let it slip again. Every time I faced these two, memories from my last life surged out, uncontrollable. In the afternoon, Harper returned from outside, her face troubled. “Skylar, there’s a woman downstairs. She says she’s your mother.” “She’s not.” “She was crying really hard. Security asked if she wanted them to call the police, and she said her daughter hadn’t come home in two years, and she just wanted to see her.” I walked to the window. Victoria stood at the office building entrance. Plain dress, no makeup, red-rimmed eyes, clutching an old worn bag. A forty-seven-year-old woman, her hair perfectly neat, her scarf tucked into her collar, exposing only a sliver of her collarbone. Light makeup, simple clothes—a perfect picture of a wronged, devoted mother. She adjusted her glasses, borrowed a tissue from a passerby to wipe her tears, and thanked them three times as they handed it to her. Such a good performance. “Keep an eye on her for me,” I told Harper. “See who she contacts.” Harper hesitated. “She really isn’t your mom?” “My mom died nineteen years ago.” Harper didn’t ask again. I slipped out the back door of the office building and hid in the convenience store across the street. Through the glass, I saw Victoria pull out her phone. The call lasted less than thirty seconds. After hanging up, she glanced up at the office building, and her lips curved slightly. Not the kind of smile someone genuinely crying would have. Ten minutes later, the black car appeared at the intersection. Ethan got out of the car and walked to her side. They exchanged a few words. He handed her an envelope. Victoria took it, looked down at it, and smiled. She accepted the envelope much faster than she’d wiped away her tears. I pulled out my phone and took a photo. Time, location, both their faces. Harper sent me a message: “She left, with another guy. Do you know him?” “Yes.” “Should you call the police?” “Not yet.” Back at the office, a brown envelope sat on my desk. Not a delivery. Someone had placed it there directly while I was out. I tore it open. A hospital report. Not mine. Chloe’s. Her white blood cell count was alarmingly low. Platelets almost zero. A note was attached at the end. “Skylar, she only has two months left. You are her only hope.” On the back was another small line: “If you don’t come, her blood is on your hands.” Harper leaned over. “What is it?” I flipped the note over and showed her the last line. She stared at it for five seconds. “Is that a threat, seriously?”

“Miss Skylar, someone’s here to see you. In the conference room.” The receptionist’s voice carried a subtle peculiarity. Colleagues along the hallway were all secretly glancing in that direction. I pushed open the conference room door. A thin, frail girl sat in a chair. Her face was sallow, her lips almost bloodless. Her hands showed bruised marks from IV lines. Chloe. She looked even more gaunt than I remembered from my last life. She saw me, and her eyes immediately reddened. “Miss Skylar.” Her voice was so weak it sounded like a puff of wind could scatter it. “I know I shouldn’t have come to you directly.” Next to her sat a middle-aged woman. Her makeup was meticulously applied, but beneath it was an undisguised scrutinizing gaze. “And who are you?” The woman stood up, extending her hand. “I’m Chloe’s mother, Eleanor. Thank you for agreeing to see us.” I didn’t take her hand. Eleanor’s hand hung in the air for two seconds, then retracted. The smile on her face didn’t falter. Chloe lowered her head, a tear falling onto her oversized cardigan. Beneath the cardigan, the blue and white stripes of a hospital gown were visible. “I’m not here to beg you. I just wanted to see what you look like with my own eyes.” “Why look at me?” “Ethan said your genetic match is perfect with mine.” “I didn’t know about this before. I looked up a lot of information, and bone marrow donation usually causes minimal harm to the donor—” “Usually.” She paused. “You said usually.” I looked at her face. “Did you also look up the probability of post-op infection? Did you read about cases where donors’ immune systems crashed?” Chloe’s lips moved, but she didn’t respond. Eleanor interjected. “Miss Skylar, medical conditions are very advanced now. The post-op infection rate in large hospitals is less than one percent. We will hire the best specialists—” “Your daughter’s life matters, but mine doesn’t?” The conference room fell silent for two seconds. Eleanor’s expression shifted subtly, then quickly morphed into a more polished smile. She took a bank card from her bag and pushed it across the table. “Miss Skylar, you’re right. So we want to talk to you properly. Compensation-wise, just name your price.” I glanced at the card. “You think bone marrow can be priced.” “It’s not pricing! It’s gratitude—” “Your gratitude involves first buying my genetic information, then having Ethan approach me under the guise of a charity foundation. What’s next? Is the next step arranging a blind date?” Eleanor’s hand froze on the table. Chloe looked up. “Miss Skylar, what are you saying? Ethan wouldn’t—” “Chloe, do you know how Ethan found me?” Her lips trembled. “He said… it was through the bone marrow registry.” “I’ve never registered with any bone marrow registry.” Her eyelashes fluttered. The conference room door was pushed open. Ethan walked in. His gaze swept over Eleanor and Chloe, finally landing on me. “Mom, I told you not to bring Chloe.” There was restrained annoyance in his voice. He then turned to me, his expression switching to that infuriatingly gentle one. “Skylar, I’m sorry. They’re just too desperate.” He was always playing the good guy. “Skylar, I know you’re wary of me.” He sat opposite me, hands clasped. “But this isn’t just between you and me. There’s a twenty-three-year-old life at stake.” “That life has nothing to do with me.” “Your genes can save her.” “Those are my genes, not your pharmacy.” His jawline tightened for a moment. Chloe suddenly began to cough violently. Eleanor quickly supported her. She turned to me and yelled, “Look at her! Look at what she’s become—” “Mom!” Ethan said in a low, sharp voice. Chloe pressed her hand to her mouth, her fingertips stained with blood. She looked up and gave me a faint smile. “Miss Skylar, it’s okay. If you don’t want to, I don’t blame you.” That sentence was more effective than all the pleas and accusations. Because when she smiled, there was something in her eyes. Not pleading, but certainty. She was certain I would compromise, just like in my last life. “Conference room time is up. Please leave.” When I walked out the door, everyone in the hallway was watching. Someone whispered, their voice not too loud, not too soft, just loud enough for me to hear. “That girl is so pathetic, dying of leukemia, why won’t she save her…” “It’s just a little bone marrow donation.” My steps paused, then I continued walking. Ethan’s voice followed me from behind, gentle, considerate, for all my colleagues to hear. “Skylar, whenever you change your mind, contact me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Skylar!” Harper grabbed me as soon as she arrived at the office, her palms cold. “You’re trending.” She handed me her phone. A post. Over three thousand shares. The title: “My sister can save me, but she refused.” The profile picture was a blurry hospital photo. The text was long. The gist was—she had severe aplastic anemia, and her entire family was a mismatch. She finally found the only perfect donor in a vast sea of people and gathered all her courage to meet them. The other person refused. The post didn’t mention my name. But it listed the city, the industry, and the specific building and district where my company was located. The comments section was flooded. “It’s just a bone marrow donation that can save a life, how can she refuse?” “It might not be illegal, but what about her conscience?” “This kind of person should be dragged through the mud online.” I handed the phone back to Harper. “What do we do?” she whispered. “HR has already inquired. Asking if you’re the person in the post.” “It’s me.” “Skylar—” “Don’t panic yet. Help me find something out. This post was made yesterday at 11:47 PM. Can you trace the IP address?” “I’ll try.” At ten o’clock that morning, my supervisor called me into his office. “Skylar, the company is facing a lot of public pressure right now. Clients have seen it too.” He pushed up his glasses. “Can you take a leave of absence for now? Come back after things have settled down.” “How long?” “It depends.” I didn’t argue. Arguing was useless. The post was precise down to the floor number. Anyone who could do that either had been to the company or had an insider. While packing my things, my phone rang. It was Victoria. “Skylar, you saw the online situation, right?” There was a prickle of smugness in her voice. “I think that girl has a point—” “Did you help her post it?” “Not me. But running away like this isn’t a solution.” “How much money did you take, exactly?” “Skylar!” I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. “How much did the Victor family give you? Name your price.” She fell silent for three seconds. Then her voice dropped, as if she finally gave up pretending. “Five hundred thousand. They gave me five hundred thousand upfront. Said they’d give another five hundred thousand once it was done.” A million. My bone marrow was worth a million. She probably got the same price in my last life. Only, I died then without ever knowing. “Skylar, just do me a favor—” “You’re not my mom.” I hung up. At noon, the office door was pushed open. Two people in white coats stood at the entrance. “Excuse me, are you Ms. Skylar? We’re the medical check-up agency that partners with your company, here for the annual employee check-ups today.” My supervisor stood behind them, nodding at me. “Since you haven’t left yet, you might as well get your check-up done.” I looked at their faces. I’d been to the company’s partnered check-up agency twice before, and I’d never seen these two. “There’s no check-up scheduled for today.” “It’s a last-minute addition.” The man in the white coat smiled. “Just a blood draw, it’ll be quick.” Blood draw. One of the ways to confirm HLA matching is a blood test. “I’m not doing it.” “Miss Skylar—” “I said no.” I picked up my bag and started to walk out. The man moved half a step, blocking the doorway. “It’ll take three minutes.” He already had a blood collection tube and tourniquet in his hand. Harper’s voice came from outside. “Which medical agency are you from? Show me your ID badge.” “This colleague—” “Are you going to show me? If not, I’m calling 911.” A commotion erupted outside the door. I squeezed past the man, Harper grabbed my arm, and we both rushed into the elevator. The moment the elevator doors closed, I saw Ethan’s figure in the lobby. He leaned by the reception desk, hands in his pockets. Seeing my gaze, he subtly tilted his head. A slight curve of his lips. Not an apology, but a silent “you can’t escape.” Harper shoved me into her car. She drove for ten minutes before stopping in an underground parking garage. “Those two people’s ID numbers were fake. I already called the check-up company, and they said there were no plans scheduled for today.” She handed me a bottle of water. I twisted it open and drank half. “Skylar, what exactly is going on? Tell me everything, from the beginning.” I looked at her. There weren’t many people left in this world I trusted. In my last life, I didn’t even have a single friend. “You’ll be scared if I tell you.” “Just tell me.” I recounted everything. Except for the part about being reborn. Harper listened, silent for a long time. “He used your stepmother as an insider to get your genetic data. After confirming the match, he looked for you for two years. Now his sister can’t wait any longer, and he’s even faking medical check-ups, trying to forcibly take your blood.” “Yeah.” “That’s a crime.” “I know.” “Then why aren’t you calling the police right now?” I looked out at the dark parking garage. Call the police. I had in my last life too. The police came, he pulled out our marriage certificate and called it a domestic dispute. Victoria stood next to him, nodding along. No one spoke up for me. “Let’s wait.” “Wait for what?” “Wait for him to think I’m truly at my wit’s end.” Harper stared at me for a long time. “Skylar, are you playing chess?” “Something like that.” “Then what do you need?” “Someone to set up cameras for me.”

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After Christina, my girlfriend, saw her massive garden wither overnight, she sued me, Ethan, Ashworth’s top florist, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. While inside, I heard about her ninth engagement to her ex, Raphael. A reporter asked her: “Ms. Christina, the first thing you did after sending Mr. Ethan to prison was to get engaged to this gentleman. Is there a connection between these two events?” “Don’t make wild guesses. Raphael and I are just pretending to be engaged to punish Ethan for his floristry mistake. I’ll wait for Ethan to get out of prison, then I’ll marry him!” Christina faced the reporters with an annoyed tone, her words clearly defending me. Everyone present couldn’t help but marvel at the wealthy heiress’s love for me, bizarre as it was, it seemed profound. Everyone at Ashworth knew Christina loved flowers more than anything. So, a mandatory condition for her future husband was exquisite floristry skills, someone who would meticulously care for her sprawling estate garden. To ensure I passed her endless tests, whenever I made a mistake, she’d punish me with a ‘fake engagement’ to her ex. I never expected that this time, the punishment would include sending me to jail. I watched the poor quality news footage, finding it dull and hypocritical.

After three years of torment and my release from prison, Christina actually knelt before me, her eyes full of eagerness and remorse: “Marry me, Ethan? The past is the past. I forgive you.” “Forgive me?” I replied, stunned. I looked at the once imperious Christina, now kneeling before me in a heavy, elaborate wedding dress and high heels. I admit, I was somewhat disoriented, but mostly, I felt the exhaustion from three years of relentless torment. “Hey! What are you staring at? Don’t you see what Christina is doing? Just say yes!” Seeing the wealthy heiress so eager to marry a disheveled ex-con, the onlookers, who were just there to gawk and applaud, couldn’t help but scold me, the male lead. The swarming media and crowds created an oppressive atmosphere, forcing me to bend down, intending to help Christina up first. Just as I extended my hand, ready to push away the ring and refuse, Christina suddenly handed the ring to Raphael, who was beside her, and burst out laughing at me: “Look at you, still so clueless. You haven’t even passed my test yet, and you’re already dreaming of marrying me? What are you thinking?” “Right, Raphael? This ring was custom-made for your size. A birthday surprise for you! Happy?” Her gaze towards Raphael was full of girlish anticipation. Before Christina’s words even faded, the roar of laughter from the crowd became deafening. “So funny! Doesn’t he take a good look at himself? Still fantasizing about marrying a rich heiress.” “Why does Christina fall for a guy like him?” “I don’t think Ms. Christina is infatuated. It’s Ethan who’s willing to grovel like a dog for Ms. Christina.” “Ms. Christina is used to charming millionaires, but a lapdog? That’s new.” As the background music swelled to a climax, my head buzzed, and I couldn’t hear anything clearly. All I saw were faces sneering at me, and Christina and Raphael wrapped intimately together. Yes, what illusions was I still holding about Christina? It had been nine years. She had punished me countless times with similar methods, always citing failed assessments. This was the tenth time I witnessed her ‘marry’ herself off to Raphael. Everyone mocked me, saying all I had was my floristry skill; my background and looks were nothing next to Christina’s.

In the past, whenever I faced these rumors, she would always stand in front of me, scolding the gossipers, then turn, lean down, cup my face, and console me: “Ethan, when I got together with you, I knew you were the one. I don’t care about your background; your talent is all I value.” Her constant reassurances made me fall for her again and again. But after three years in prison, I finally understood that rumors don’t just appear out of nowhere. It was Christina herself who repeatedly humiliated me and turned me into Ashworth’s biggest joke, slowly eroding all the passion I had for this relationship. The crowd finally dispersed, but the excitement in Christina’s eyes hadn’t completely faded. When her gaze landed on me, it dimmed considerably. “Are you angry about earlier? All the flowers in my garden died that year, and I still haven’t gotten over it. Come back and explain it to me properly.” She said, feigning shyness, her hands casually resting on my shoulders. This was her usual way of flirting. I felt no stirring. In fact, she reminded me. I also wanted to uncover the truth behind my innocent three-year imprisonment, especially since those flowers withering overnight had absolutely nothing to do with me. Back at the mansion, all the staff seemed to have received special instructions. Their attitude towards me was no longer disdainful like three years ago, but overly solicitous and attentive. Massages, fresh clothes, a lavish dinner—everything was arranged for me. “Well? Ethan, are you satisfied? Those three years weren’t just hard for you; waiting for you was tough for me too~” Christina looked at me eagerly, wearing a skimpy swimsuit. “If you thought I’d have a tough time, why did you send me to prison?” I took the opportunity to ask, genuinely confused. “The day after we argued, all the flowers in my garden died. You know how much I loved those flowers. How could I not doubt your sincerity after you did something like that?” “I told you many times, I didn’t do it!” “You still won’t admit it. Raphael was right; you were only with me for the money! That’s why you weren’t sincere with me!” As she said this, the anger and contempt in Christina’s eyes were almost overflowing. I knew that look all too well. In her mind, she would never believe my words. But she’d believe every word Raphael said, no matter how absurd, but never mine. “Since you’re still unrepentant, then our engagement will be postponed indefinitely. The assessment continues!” Christina indignantly wrapped a towel around herself, one corner sweeping sharply across my face. With the stinging pain on my cheek, I stood frozen, like I’d swallowed a fishbone. My throat felt raw and bloody, my every breath tasted of iron. I opened my mouth but couldn’t manage a single word. I wanted to tell Christina that our engagement should have been called off long ago, that I no longer wanted to marry her. I’d find the truth, then I’d leave. After staring blankly by the pool for several hours, I dragged my tired body back to my room, only to find the master bedroom locked. I asked Brenda, the housekeeper, but she just gave me a cold stare. “Ms. Christina said you can’t sleep in the master bedroom tonight. Your things have been moved to the storage room.” Brenda gestured towards a tiny storage room, barely big enough to turn around in, then turned and gave me a sneering, contemptuous look. She seemed to be waiting to see my reaction to her humiliation. I curved my lips, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Serving Christina must feel great, huh? You even get to play with me, her ‘dog,’ now and then!” Brenda quickly feigned a look of fear and made a hollow excuse, “Oh, no, sir, I wouldn’t dare.”

But I had only taken two steps when I heard her and the other staff laughing. Looking at the bed in the storage room, barely two feet wide, I clutched my head, overwhelmed, trying my best to suppress the surging emotions within me. Perhaps triggered by my terrible mood, an old injury from prison flared up. My entire lower body suddenly went numb. I dragged my heavy frame, painfully crawling to the door, yelling for help outside. “Help! Can someone please get me my medication!” I used all my strength, banging on the door and screaming desperately. No one responded. It wasn’t until half an hour later that Christina’s voice, laced with amusement, drifted up. “Ethan, do you think acting pitiful like this will make me forgive you sooner?” “Raphael, look at him. If you had been more like him back then, maybe we wouldn’t have broken up.” Christina gently opened the door, peered through the crack, looking down at me playfully, then coyly nudged the man beside her with her finger. “Christina, my leg injury flared up. Please send me…” I ignored their mockery, enduring the intense pain as I looked at Christina with pleading eyes. But before I could finish, Raphael cut me off. He kicked me on the floor, laughing loudly. “I’m not going to be a lapdog.” “Alright, let’s stop looking at the chihuahua. Christina, didn’t you want me to come back with you to get that expensive custom-made sexy lingerie? Let’s not waste any more time!” Hearing this, Christina’s smug expression froze. After a moment, she looked at me with a slightly apologetic gaze. “Uh… Ethan, don’t misunderstand. I just booked a private photoshoot, and since we argued, I just asked Raphael to come with me.” “We… there’s nothing going on. You… you should rest well. Don’t stay on the cold floor.” Christina’s explanation was weak and unconvincing… but I no longer had the energy to care. When I tried to raise my head again, reaching out to Christina for help, she abruptly shut the door, almost catching my hand. I lay on the floor, wailing in desperate pain, only hearing Christina’s coy, chiding voice fading into the distance. The next time I woke, I was in a hospital. “You’re awake?” Christina’s slightly anxious voice actually reached my ears. “Why didn’t you make it clear yesterday? Brenda said you called for help for a long time.” Before I could reply, Christina continued, feigning urgent concern. “Didn’t you tell Brenda to ignore me?” I looked at her coldly. “I told her to just give you a small punishment, not to let you die! Don’t worry, I’ve fired Brenda. Is that enough?” She angrily picked up her phone, quickly typed a few words, then looked at me with an imperious expression. As if any emotion from me was now my fault. She always played dumb, never realizing that the one who constantly hurt me was always herself. I closed my eyes in despair, not saying another word. Just then, Christina’s phone rang, and her voice immediately reverted to its sweetest tone. “Okay, tonight we won’t go home until we’re smashed. Wait for me at our usual spot.” “The doctor said you’re fine. You rest well. I’ll come back to see you later.” After hanging up, she hastily grabbed her bag and left, leaving me with only her retreating back. Because it was an old injury, the doctor gave me the usual specialized medication, and the immediate effect was significant.

I could move freely now, truly no different from a normal person. But when I was discharged, the doctor looked worried. “Mr. Ethan, you need this surgery soon. The injury has affected the foundation. If you delay it further, it will spread to your limbs, and potentially… full paralysis.” Even though the prison doctor had told me similar things, hearing the words “full paralysis” again still left me stunned for a long time. Full paralysis… what a devastating outcome for a top florist… Christina, all this is thanks to you. Are you satisfied? I sat blankly on the sofa, looking at the follow-up recommendations on my medical record, suddenly feeling utterly pointless. I wiped away a tear, booked the earliest flight to France, departing tomorrow afternoon at three. Just then, my phone rang. The words ‘My Love’ on the screen flashed, stinging my eyes. I didn’t answer. After the tenth call, I still couldn’t resist hitting the answer button. Christina’s sobbing voice came through the phone. “Ethan, I’m drunk. Please come pick me up. I’m so sorry for everything lately. I know I was wrong.” “Just come get me and take me home. You can do anything you want. We’ll be good together from now on, okay?” Christina’s sobs grew more pitiful, almost breaking down. Hearing her fragile state, my heart still gave an involuntary tug. Almost as soon as I hung up, I rushed to the garage. By the time I regained my senses, I had already floored the accelerator. I told myself, this is the last time. Let it be… a farewell. Inside the decadent club, laughter of indulgence filled the air. I was wearing a stuffy old suit, completely out of place in the environment. Ignoring the cold, mocking stares, I gasped for breath and rushed towards the VIP room at the end of the corridor. Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw Christina in a sexy, low-back dress, dancing intimately with Raphael. As the music entered a more intimate rhythm, they embraced and kissed, Christina clearly enjoying herself, lost in the moment. “Hey, Ethan, you made it!” Others in the room noticed me, and the music abruptly stopped. Christina looked at me, her expression calm, even a little smug. “Ethan, I knew you’d come. These guys didn’t believe me, insisting I call you.” “Don’t misunderstand, I just lost a game earlier and was doing a dare.” Almost simultaneously, deafening laughter erupted in the room. Raphael looked at my embarrassment, a mischievous, provocative thought sparking in his mind. “Since you’re here, why don’t you join us? Let me introduce you to some of your old friends.” As I stood there confused, three burly men emerged from another room in the VIP suite. Recognizing their faces, I started trembling uncontrollably, a cold sweat instantly breaking out on my back. “Remember them? You should be quite familiar, right?” Raphael said with a smile. I wanted to ask him what he meant, but my throat felt filled with lead; I couldn’t make a sound. “Ethan, Raphael said you two had some past grievances. Why don’t you take this opportunity to settle things here?” “Just apologize to them sincerely. Then this matter will be resolved, right, Raphael?” Seeing my lack of response, Christina feigned trying to mediate. “Bullshit feud! It was one-sided abuse!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Anger finally triumphed over fear, and I retorted sharply.

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The SATs were over when someone found a love letter Stephen Hayes had written to me. Everyone started chanting, asking if I’d say yes. Young and shy, I was too embarrassed to admit it, missing the dejection in his eyes. Years later, he used me as inspiration for a coming-of-age movie that swept the film awards. When reporters asked if he regretted not being more proactive back then, Stephen Hayes wept on camera, hoping to find me through the media. Suddenly, the whole city was buzzing. But by then, I was no longer able to respond… Reborn, back to that summer when I was eighteen. I snatched up the love letter first and walked straight up to him: “Stephen, do you want to be with me?” He lowered his eyes, a cold smile playing on his lips. “No.” As his words hung in the air, a suffocating awkwardness filled the room. Some people tried to comfort me, others were just enjoying the spectacle. I ran a hand through my hair, taking two steps back with a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh, I see. Alright then.” The whispers around me threatened to drown me: “Who is she? So bold!” “I think she’s from Class 3? I heard she got into our school on an athletic scholarship. Otherwise, with her grades…” “So where does she get the confidence to confess to Stephen? He’s a top student, accepted to Harvard University…” “Who knows. Aren’t all jocks like that? Reckless airheads…” I squeezed my palm, forcing a smile to keep myself from looking too awkward. “It was just a dare. Don’t take it seriously.” Just as I was about to turn and leave, Stephen suddenly spoke. “That letter… you shouldn’t take it seriously either.” In my previous life, I didn’t take it seriously either. That day, after the graduation ceremony, everyone was eagerly clearing out their desks and lockers. Papers and textbooks cascaded out of drawers with a whoosh, fluttering through the air between the school buildings. It was then that Stephen’s love letter fell out of my drawer. The guys who usually treated me like one of them snatched the letter, yelling: “Holy crap! Someone wrote a love letter to Farmar Davies?!” Stephen’s exam papers were always passed around and studied by the entire grade. My name was written on the envelope in elegant, strong handwriting. It wasn’t hard to recognize the sender. “There are words in here I don’t even know! Am I illiterate?” “Who knew the school’s genius would go for a jock like her — Ouch! Not the face!” I blushed furiously, grabbed the letter back, and shoved it directly into my pocket. “Stop messing around. How could he ever be interested in me?” My friends laughed, asking if I had feelings for him. Back then, my teenage crushes were secrets kept in a diary. In my friends’ eyes, I was always the outgoing tomboy. My hidden feelings were suddenly exposed, and instead of joy at receiving the letter, shame was the first thing I felt… At that time, I blurted out: “No way! We’re not even in the same league.” Too embarrassed to admit it, I completely missed the dejected figure in the corner. The next time I saw him was ten years later, live on a awards show. Stephen Hayes cried on camera during a media interview. I stared at the hospital room ceiling, my eyelids growing heavy. I heard the host ask, “What kind of presence is the female lead’s inspiration to Director Stephen Hayes…” Unfortunately, I didn’t get to hear the answer… When I opened my eyes again, it was back to that summer when I was eighteen. This time, I walked towards him, but he took a step back. “No, I don’t think so.” What came next was even more humiliating than a gentle rejection… “Sorry, I put it in the wrong drawer.” The room fell silent, as if the world had pressed pause. “Oh, well, you can have it back then.” I heard myself force myself to speak calmly. Then I fumbled in my pocket for the crumpled letter, suddenly at a loss. “Uh, I accidentally wrinkled it…” I desperately tried to smooth the letter flat— A button came out of my pocket and rolled to Stephen’s feet. My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Stephen looked down at his collar. The second button was missing, as if it had been forcefully torn off. At that moment, the mocking gazes from everyone felt silently directed at me. It was indeed Stephen’s button. I had spent a month bringing water to the basketball team, begging his teammates, just to get my hands on it. It was easy for guys to snag a button while playing basketball, without drawing attention. Now, my carefully hidden secret was exposed, like the punchline of a cruel joke. I bent down to pick up the button, but it seemed to grow legs, rolling all the way into the depths of a nearby flower bed. I didn’t care how prickly the freshly trimmed branches were, reaching out to get it— A pair of sneakers stopped in front of me. “Don’t bother looking, I don’t want it.” I stood up, wiping the sweat from my face. “Oh, alright.” After Stephen left, I also pretended nothing had happened and left. Then I found an empty classroom and finally couldn’t hold it in, bursting into tears. It shouldn’t be like this… Why is it completely different from what I imagined? I had caught up with time, only to be harshly pushed away by the person within that time.

I originally didn’t want to go to the graduation party that night. Because I knew Stephen would definitely be there. After all, he was the top student in our graduating class, and a good person, so everyone had invited him. My friends started teasing, saying if I didn’t go, it meant I was giving up, giving in. They even said if I didn’t go, they’d go confront Stephen and demand an explanation, backing me up no matter what. I was too proud to let that happen, so I collected myself and headed out. The graduation party was scheduled at an upscale karaoke bar near the school. When I arrived, someone was already singing. I quickly scanned the room but didn’t see Stephen. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Since I hadn’t figured out how to face him, I found a corner to sit in. A moment later, someone sat next to me. I didn’t think much of it until Ramon Garcia nudged me, signaling me to look back. That’s when I noticed the excessively beautiful girl sitting next to me, who also looked familiar. Wasn’t she the prettiest girl from the next class? I asked, “Can I help you?” She lowered her head, her long lashes trembling slightly, and spoke timidly. “Um… about this morning, I wanted to apologize.” I was confused: What? “That letter, I think… it was probably meant for me.” “My friend said Stephen asked her this morning where my classroom was.” “My friend gets her left and right mixed up and pointed to your classroom by mistake. She later realized that you and I both happened to be in the fourth row, third column of our respective classrooms…” “I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding. I apologize on his behalf!” I set down my iced soda and spoke calmly. “Are you sure?” She probably hadn’t expected me to ask back and immediately flushed crimson. “Of course! My friend wouldn’t lie to me, and…” She shyly lowered her head, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her skirt on her knee. “Stephen even specifically asked me about college applications before the SATs…” I said, “I see. I understand.” The air conditioning in the room was too cold, and the food was awful. I wanted to leave. “Well, I wish you two the best.” With that, I picked up my jacket from the sofa and stood up to leave. Someone pushed the door open just then, and I almost walked right into them. “Woah! Who’s that?!” Stephen Hayes and his friends had just walked in. I paused slightly, and then I heard a soft voice from behind me. “Stephen, what took you so long?” Oh, she was calling someone else. Stephen’s gaze fell on me, tinged with a hint of inquiry. I turned my head away, moving past them. I heard someone talking to Stephen behind me, mentioning my name. He immediately cut them off with a cold voice. “Don’t mention her.” His tone was impatient. I quickened my pace, leaving everything behind. The summer of June was like a steamer. Stepping out of the karaoke bar, a wave of heat hit me, but I was breaking out in a cold sweat. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and my lower belly felt heavy. …Damn, I’d completely forgotten about that since I was reborn. My period was coming. I found a convenience store nearby, bought a heat pack, and stuck it on my stomach. While I was at it, I bought some chicken nuggets. Living two lives, the pain of my period still plagued me. I first met Stephen because I suddenly got my period during P.E. class and got my athletic shorts dirty. My friends usually treated me like one of the guys, so no one noticed my embarrassment. Only he, from the next class, noticed. He took off his jacket and covered my thighs. “Here, hide it for now.” Seeing my face turn pale and me unable to stand steadily from the pain, he immediately left the basketball court and carried me to the school nurse’s office. After that incident, I started to notice him. I regretted not being more honest back then. I never thought that given a second chance, when I pursued him, he would deny anything happened. My gaze vacant, I stared at the ground, thinking for a long time. Perhaps his love letter wasn’t for me at all.

I was lost in thought when I looked down and jumped in surprise. When did I order so many chicken nuggets?! The box was overflowing, completely full. I stopped the guy at the counter, who was about to ring me up. “Wait a minute! I didn’t order this much, did I?” He pressed down on his cap and muttered, “It’s fine, just eat.” I can’t just accept this for nothing… No, something was definitely off. A thousand things felt wrong. Before he knew it, I reached out and flipped his cap off. “It’s you?!” Stockton Miller, Stephen’s rival on the basketball court, a friend I’d met while bringing water to the team. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What is this supposed to be?” Stockton grabbed his cap back, awkwardly putting it on. He mumbled, “I heard about what happened earlier today…” “Stop right there!” I paid for the extra food. “Don’t do this. I told you it was just a dare.” He pressed down his curly hair that escaped from under his cap. “It’s better if it’s fake. I was actually pretty happy…” His voice was too low at the end; I couldn’t hear him at all. After eating my fill, I was browsing the shelves for tampons. Stockton kept rearranging the shelves next to me. Ten minutes later, I snapped, “How long are you going to keep rearranging?” “Huh?” He suddenly realized he’d been lingering in the women’s hygiene aisle for ages, and his face immediately flushed crimson. Stockton suddenly stood in front of me and asked in a low voice, “How about you go out with me?” “Are you crazy?” His expression became unusually serious. “I’m not kidding. I like girls with your personality.” I took two steps back. “I’m not kidding either. I don’t like how dark you are.” He glanced at his tanned arms, looking a little troubled. “Then I’ll get fairer. I can also—” The bell above the door chimed. “Go help the customer.” After sending him away, I continued to bend down, looking for my usual pads. A hand reached over my head, palm open. “Is it this one?” Yes, it was my usual brand. Luckily, it was the last pack left on the shelf. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” I instinctively reached out to take it, but the person pulled their hand back. I looked up, meeting a pair of deep-set eyes. Stephen Hayes stood behind me, very close. He turned and handed the last pack to the girl behind him. “Stephen, I can buy it myself… Farmar Davies, you’re here too?” Oh, he was getting it for someone else. A strange pang of bitterness welled up in my chest, my throat suddenly dry and constricted. Someone patted my shoulder. Stockton casually put his arm around me. “Let’s go. My shift’s over.” Stephen looked at the person behind me, his gaze lingering on Stockton’s hand on my shoulder. His expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything more. Torian Stone tugged on his sleeve and said softly, “See? She has a boyfriend. So don’t worry about this morning’s misunderstanding—” “Boyfriend?” Stephen interrupted. Upon hearing that, Stockton rested his chin on my shoulder, looking like he was leaning half his body weight on me. “You can have a girlfriend, but I can’t?” He glanced at the girl standing in front of Stephen and warned her coldly, “Torian! Keep your boyfriend in line, and don’t cause trouble.” I suddenly stopped short. “Wait.” I looked at Stockton. “What did you just say?” Stockton replied, “I told her not to cause trouble.” No, not that. I stared fixedly at the girl close to Stephen, asking word by word: “You called her… what?” Stockton realized. “Oh, you mean Torian? She’s my neighbor, we’ve known each other for a long time.” Stephen and Torian left quickly. I leaned against the shelf, my head felt heavy, my legs a little weak. It felt like a huge hole had ripped open in my chest. The reason I was so sure Stephen’s movie was based on me… Was because during that interview, Stephen cried silently on camera, and finally revealed the name of the female lead’s inspiration. The subtitle displayed: Farmar. Anyone who knew us would immediately think of me. During the toughest times in my previous life, I watched Stephen’s movie countless times from my hospital bed, including every behind-the-scenes clip, every roadshow, and every interview with the cast and crew. The female lead, Maya, was by then a globally renowned A-list actress, and she starred without pay, reportedly to repay a favor. At twenty-eight, she played an eighteen-year-old girl without any awkwardness, even looking far prettier than my eighteen-year-old self. And Maya’s former stage name before her debut was the same as mine.

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I was touching up my lipstick when Nathan walked into the private suite of our engagement party, bringing that financially struggling college classmate with him. “Chloe accidentally got her dress dirty. Could you lend her yours for a bit?” He said, and after I froze for a few seconds, he added, “Everyone knows you’re the star today. It doesn’t matter what you wear.” A girl stood by the door, her canvas shoes worn white from washing, timidly saying hello. Tara stepped in front of me. “This is Summer’s engagement party! She went to thirty stores to find this dress!” Nathan glanced at me. It had been five years. Every time he looked at me with that gaze, I’d give in. I gently pushed Tara back, slowly closing my lipstick cap. “Let her wear it.” Nathan patted my head, satisfied. “I knew you’d be the most understanding. On our wedding day, I’ll buy you the best gown.” Chloe changed into my engagement dress. Nathan knelt down to adjust her hem. He whispered to Chloe, “You look beautiful.” I’d seen that gesture before. During our wedding photo shoot, the photographer asked him to do it, and he said it was “too cheesy.” I slipped off my engagement ring. This time, I wasn’t going to be “understanding” anymore. “She does look beautiful,” Nathan’s aunt said from a nearby table, taking Chloe’s hand and looking her up and down. Chloe lowered her head, a slight smile on her lips. Before she could speak, Nathan chimed in from beside her. “Chloe is a classmate of mine. Her family isn’t well-off. She got her dress dirty, and Summer felt bad for her, so she offered her own dress.” His aunt nodded, then cast a glance at me. “Then why is Summer dressed like that today? It’s her engagement party, she looks a bit plain.” “She doesn’t care about these things,” Nathan answered for me, casually putting an arm around my shoulder. “Summer is the most generous person.” As his hand landed, I took half a step back, and his arm fell short. “What’s wrong?” I lowered my eyes. “Nothing.” Tara grabbed my arm from behind, pulling me to the corner of the hallway. “Are you just going to let it go?” “What else can I do?” “You go out there and tell everyone that’s your dress, and that woman isn’t his fiancée—you are!” I looked at her reddened eyes. “Tara, you’re more upset than I am.” “How can I not be upset?” Tara’s voice was hoarse. “Do you know what the people at his table were saying just now?” She pulled out her phone and played a video. It was taken by Nathan’s college classmates. In the video, Chloe, wearing my dress, stood to Nathan’s right, his hand resting on her lower back. Someone cheered, “So beautiful!” Chloe lowered her head, blushing. She didn’t deny it. Nathan didn’t deny it either, just smiled and waved his hand. Below the video was a comment: “Nathan’s fiancée is so pure.” Thirty-plus likes, no one objected. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, turned off the video, and handed the phone back to Tara. A new round of laughter erupted from the ballroom. Chloe was being pulled around for toasts, handling herself gracefully, leaning slightly as she held her glass. I had taught her that posture. Last month, she said she was nervous about attending a formal event for the first time and asked me how to hold a glass. I practiced with her all afternoon. “Could you call me a ride, Tara?” “You’re not going back in?” “There’s nothing left to go in for.” I went back to the guest book table and placed my ring beside the guestbook. A thin layer of dust covered the table, and the ring made a soft clink as it landed. My phone lit up. It was Nathan’s Ins post. “Thanks to everyone for coming tonight.” He attached three photos. One was a panoramic view of the ballroom, one was him toasting with friends, and the last one… Chloe, wearing my dress, smiling with crescent eyes. He tagged Chloe. The caption read: “Thanks, Chloe, for helping entertain guests. You worked hard.” The entire post didn’t mention me. Not even my name. I turned off the screen. When I reached the other side of the road, the lights of the ballroom were still bright. Even from far away, I could faintly hear music and laughter. Before getting into the car, I looked back once. Nathan stood on the steps of the hotel entrance, looking down at his phone. Chloe walked out from behind him and gently draped a jacket over his shoulders. He raised a hand to adjust his collar. The movement was natural.

“Summer, you left your ring at the guest book table.” Nathan’s call came at 2 AM, his voice unhurried. “I know.” “I’ve kept it for you. I’ll put it on you tomorrow.” He paused, then softened his tone. “I know I put you in a tough spot today. Chloe’s dress getting dirty really was an accident, and everyone saw how kind you were to lend her yours.” “Nathan, let’s break up.” Silence for three seconds on the other end. Then he chuckled softly. “Summer, I know you were hurt today, but breaking up? Is it really that serious?” “I’m serious.” “You always say we should break up when you’re upset.” He lowered his voice, with his usual patience. “Alright, when you’ve cooled off, call me. I’ll come pick you up.” “Nathan…” “Summer, be a good girl. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to that Japanese restaurant you wanted to try last time.” I didn’t continue speaking. After a few seconds of silence, his voice deepened. “Summer, it’s been five years. When will you ever really be able to leave me?” His words were soft, but I couldn’t answer. He truly didn’t believe it, didn’t believe I would leave. I hung up. Tara came out of the kitchen with a glass of water and sat opposite me. “What did he say?” “He said he’s coming to pick me up.” “Are you going?” “No.” She started to say something, then saw my expression and swallowed it back. I stared at my phone screen. At the top of the call log was his name, saved five years ago as “Nathan,” with a little sun emoji next to it. We had just started dating then. He waited for me by the college gate, holding a box of fried chicken. The November wind was cold, and the steam from the chicken scattered several times. He said, “Your roommate told me you take the long way every day just to pass a fried chicken place.” I said, “It’s too expensive, $10 a piece.” He laughed and pressed it into my hand. “From now on, tell me whatever you want to eat, whether it’s $10 or $100.” His eyes were so bright back then, they made me feel safe. Tara suddenly spoke. “Do you remember when he started changing?” I thought for a long time. “I don’t.” Maybe it was the first day Chloe appeared, her eyes red, saying she couldn’t afford her tuition. Maybe it was the first time he told me to “go easy on her.” The change was too slow. Just a little bit less each day, until I looked back, and there was nothing left. Tara tucked the blanket around me. “Don’t go back. Just stay here.” “Okay.” At 3 AM, another call came from him. The screen lit up for three seconds, then went dark. He didn’t call again. Because in his world, I’d be mad for one night, and when the sun rose, I’d go home willingly. Just like every time before. I pressed ignore on that call. This was the first time in five years.

“Tara, let me in.” The next evening, Nathan stood at Tara’s doorstep, holding a white paper bag. Tara blocked the door. “She doesn’t want to see you.” “I know she’s angry.” He smiled. “Just let me in to say a couple of words, then I’ll leave.” “Say what? That you didn’t even mention her name in your Ins post?” Nathan’s smile faltered for a moment. “Tara, this is between Summer and me.” “You two have already broken up. Don’t bother Summer anymore.” I walked to the door and pressed down on Tara’s arm. “Tara, let him in. I’ll talk to him face-to-face.” Tara stepped aside, her gaze cold as she looked Nathan up and down. He changed his shoes and placed the paper bag on the table. It was a box of cake. “Your favorite chestnut cake. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you yesterday.” I didn’t open it. He sat opposite me. “Summer, what exactly do you want me to do?” “I told you, break up.” His brows furrowed. “You’re breaking up over a dress?” “It’s not about a dress.” “Then what is it about?” He clasped his hands on the table, a posture identical to every time I’d thrown a fit before, cooperative and patient, waiting for me to finish speaking. “Last year, for your birthday, I booked a restaurant two months in advance. Before we left, Chloe called saying she had a stomachache, so you drove to her place first.” “She was alone then. What if something happened?” “You got there and found out she’d just eaten too much, and then you spent the whole evening watching TV with her, while I waited alone at the restaurant until closing time.” He paused. “Didn’t I apologize for that? I even bought you a necklace.” “You bought her the same necklace, didn’t you?” “She was just feeling down at the time…” “She’s always feeling down.” My voice was low, yet strangely steady. “When is she not feeling down?” Nathan fell silent. “Last month, on your business trip, you made me take a taxi to the airport by myself. Because you had to drive Chloe to move into her new apartment.” He opened his mouth. “She had a lot of bags…” “You gave her the special blanket from our home. The one my mom sent from back home.” “That one was old. I’ll buy you a new one.” “That was my blanket! My mom spent a week knitting it with her reading glasses on, and she packed it in three layers when she sent it, afraid the stitches would get damaged on the way.” The room grew quiet. Tara stood by the kitchen door, her knuckles white. I didn’t cry. Before, I would cry, my eyes red, asking him why, then choosing to forgive him after he said, “I was wrong.” But this time, I was just so tired. “Summer.” Nathan’s voice deepened, tinged with subtle disappointment. “I always thought you were different from them.” “Them?” “Those who fuss over every little thing.” He frowned, looking at me earnestly. “I thought you understood me. Chloe has no one else to rely on. You have me, you have your family, you lack nothing… What’s wrong with me taking care of her a little more?” He spoke sincerely, every word from the heart. “You have everything, can’t you just let someone who has nothing have a little something?” I looked at him. For a long time. There was even an expectation in his eyes, expecting me to nod as usual, to say yes. But among the things I had, one was called Nathan. He was slowly moving himself, piece by piece, to someone else, yet he asked me why I felt like something was missing. “Nathan, you’re right. I have everything.” He visibly relaxed. “So you, I can do without too.” The smile vanished from his face. “Summer.” “You weren’t like this before.” I didn’t answer. He stood up, pulled open the door, and walked out. My gaze fell on the cake box on the table. Chestnut cake. He didn’t remember anymore. My favorite flavor had changed since last year.

The wedding dress in the mirror suited me well. My mom from behind me adjusted my veil, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening with her smile. “When will Nathan be here? I haven’t seen him in over half a year.” I looked at my phone screen. Ten minutes ago, Nathan had replied to my message. “Chloe lost her graduation thesis data and is crying in her advisor’s office. I need to go help her sort it out.” “You go ahead and try on the dress. Explain it nicely to your mom. She’s always been fond of me, she’ll definitely understand. Tonight, I’ve booked your mom’s favorite upscale restaurant to make it up to her.” My mom had just had minor heart surgery last month, so I hadn’t told her about Nathan and me. I turned off the screen and turned around. “Mom, he has an urgent company meeting and can’t make it.” My mom paused, then smiled and patted my hand. “Work is important. It’s good for a man to be ambitious. You just need to look good in the dress. Come, let Mom take more pictures of you.” Click. In the photo, I was wearing a white wedding dress, smiling, but there was no light in my eyes. After putting her on the train back home, I went to Tara’s place. Sitting on the couch, I called the wedding planner. “Hello, I’d like to cancel my reservation for the Clear Lake Chapel.” The person on the other end paused. “Ms. Smith, that venue is booked eight months in advance, and the $12,000 deposit is non-refundable. Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure.” “You came here over a dozen times before, always so meticulous. Our designer said you put so much thought into it…” “Please cancel it. Thank you.” I hung up. Tara sat at the other end of the couch. “Are you really sure?” “Yes.” That chapel was forty miles outside the city. There was no direct subway; you had to transfer two buses and then walk for twenty minutes. I chose it because there was a lake nearby. Five years ago, the first time Nathan took me out, it was to that lake. He spent an entire afternoon taking photos of me by the lake. He said, “This is our secret spot.” The decoration plan was something I had worked through, draft by draft, with the designer. For the table flowers, I chose white magnolias… his mom liked simple elegance. The song played during the ceremony was the one we heard at a coffee shop on our first date. I drew the seating chart myself, coloring it with markers: blue for his guests, pink for mine. His college roommate had a fear of heights, so I specifically arranged a window seat for him on the first floor. Nathan had never asked about any of these details. “Summer, if you want to cry, just cry,” Tara said. I shook my head. I really felt like I couldn’t cry anymore. Tara received a call from Nathan while she was revising a proposal at work. “Summer’s phone is off. Could you tell her something for me?” Tara put down her pen. “What is it?” “Chloe needs to take her graduation photos next month and wants to find a unique location.” His tone was casual, as if discussing a minor chore. “I remembered the chapel Summer booked. The lakeside view is nice. Could she put in a good word for me to borrow it for a day?” Tara gripped her phone, her knuckles slowly tightening. “Nathan. That venue has already been canceled…”

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My cousin, Ivy, is thirty, but every holiday season, she’s still made to perform for our older relatives in ridiculous costumes. I’ve told Ivy more than once, “You’re thirty, you’re an adult. You don’t have to act like a kid and do everything the elders say.” But every time, Ivy never dared to defy them. Until this year, when she prepared another monkey costume for a performance. I originally planned to just let it go. But then she directly put the monkey costume on my six-year-old daughter, Lily. “This year, it’s our little Lily’s turn to show respect to the elders!” I stared, aghast, at my cousin, who was acting like a minion serving her masters by dragging others down, and at all the smug-faced elders in the room. A wave of sorrow and anger washed over me. Without hesitation, I ripped the monkey costume off Lily, took her hand, and walked out. “A room full of people, hundreds of years old combined, and you still love watching others act like monkeys.” “Whoever wants to play the monkey can do it. But my daughter and I are done with it.”

The faces of everyone in the room immediately darkened. My uncle, Michael, slammed his hand on the table. “What kind of attitude is that?! It’s the holidays, you have no respect!” I looked at him, speaking calmly and clearly, “If your ‘respect’ means preying on children for your amusement, then I’m sorry, but I have my own rules.” With that, I led Lily out the door. Lily’s small hand was clenched tightly in mine; I could feel her unease. Since my parents passed away, I rarely brought Lily home for the holidays. Maintaining superficial contact all these years was purely out of respect for my parents, to save them face. And also to inquire about Lily’s kindergarten enrollment. But if they thought they could use that to control me, they were gravely mistaken. Just as we reached the doorstep, Ivy ran after us. She grabbed my arm. “Sarah, don’t be like this. It’s the holidays, let’s not make everyone unhappy.” Her tone was gentle, but I could see calculation in her eyes. I knew her too well. Thirty years old and still clinging to mommy’s apron strings? All because Uncle Michael promised her an old house, right? “Sarah…” I cut her off directly. “Ivy, if you want that old house, if you want to play dumb and be a ‘filial’ daughter, that’s your business.” “Even if you’re fifty and still haven’t cut the cord, I won’t care. But you’re dragging my six-year-old daughter into this? Are you seriously acting like a minion now, trying to find new victims?” Hearing “cut the cord” and “minion,” Ivy’s face flushed instantly. I couldn’t be bothered to waste any more words on her. I picked up Lily and headed for her car seat in the back. But Ivy quickly followed, her voice rising, sharp and shrill. “What are you trying to prove, acting so high and mighty? You only came back because you’re hoping Uncle Michael will help your daughter get into that elite elementary school, right?! Now you’re pretending to be some independent modern woman!” I buckled Lily into her seat, gently stroked her head, and prepared to drive off. I was truly too lazy to argue with someone so foolish. But Ivy wouldn’t give up. She still clung to my car window, gritting her teeth. “Sarah! For that school spot, I don’t believe you won’t back down!” I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Family help is just a backup plan. If I really want my daughter to get in, I can just buy her a spot.” “I don’t need to be like you, thirty years old, and can’t fight for anything yourself except acting like a monkey.” Ivy’s face turned from green to white; she was clearly deeply stung. “What’s so great about you?! You just married a good husband, your parents died early and left you an inheritance. You just got lucky with where you were born!” I stepped on the gas, and before the window fully closed, I threw her a final line. “If you can’t stand me, you can go get yourself a better life, then. It’s not too late to try again.” The window closed. In the rearview mirror, Ivy stood frozen. Then she suddenly squatted down, covering her face and weeping. Lily, in the backseat, peered through the window at her aunt getting smaller in the distance. She quietly asked me, “Mommy, Aunt Ivy is crying. Aren’t we going to help her?” I took a deep breath, offering Lily a gentle smile through the rearview mirror. “Honey, she’s not crying because she’s sad. She’s crying because her designated victim was gone. And that victim was supposed to be us.” Lily nodded, seeming to understand and not understand at the same time. “Then, Mommy, we won’t be a designated victim.” “That’s right, we absolutely won’t.” By the time we got home, darkness had completely fallen. My husband was back in his hometown for the holidays, so it was just Lily and me at home. The house felt empty, but free of the fake and ridiculous family drama, which brought me a sense of peace. After tucking Lily into bed, a flurry of abusive messages from relatives popped up on my phone. I scrolled through them emotionlessly, but then a new message caught my eye. It was from Principal Davies of the elite elementary school. “Lily’s Mom, Happy Holidays.” “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need to inform you about something. Our Lily’s admission assessment wasn’t approved. You might want to look into other schools.” I stared at the screen. It was the evening of New Year’s Day, nine o’clock. The principal of an elementary school personally messaging me during the holidays to reject my daughter’s admission. There’s no such thing as coincidence in this world.

My mind flashed with the smug faces of Uncle Michael and Aunt Brenda, and Ivy’s shouting. So, this was their plan. To use what I cared about most to force me to humble myself. I gave a cold laugh. They had definitely messed with the wrong person. To avoid misdirected retaliation, I politely replied to Principal Davies, “May I ask, specifically, what aspect of Lily’s application wasn’t approved?” He quickly replied, “Lily’s Mom, our elite elementary school values not only a child’s inherent qualities but also places great importance on evaluating the family environment.” “After our background check on your family elders, we found that there might be some disharmony and lack of filial piety within your family. Therefore, overall, it’s deemed not very suitable.” Reading those lines, I almost laughed in anger. It was them, all right, using the excuse of family disharmony. So, “disharmony and lack of filial piety” meant that Lily and I didn’t perform monkey tricks for a bunch of old geezers on New Year’s Day, like Ivy did? Were we supposed to be obedient, act like clowns, and maybe even bow down to them? I took a deep breath and immediately called Ethan. I recounted everything that happened tonight, word for word. On the other end of the line, Ethan’s breathing noticeably deepened. “They’re using Lily’s admission to threaten you?” His voice dropped, but his tone was resolute. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about this. I’ll handle Lily’s admission.” “Elite elementary school, right? Perfect. Our group has a major cooperation project with the city council recently. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll have my assistant contact the director. “I want to see who dares to block my daughter, Lily’s, admission review when all her paperwork is in order.” My heart settled quite a bit, but I still cautioned, “Don’t be too impulsive. We have the moral high ground, so just follow proper procedures.” “Don’t worry, your husband here is the most reasonable man. But if someone isn’t reasonable, then I’ll make sure they know what they’re up against.” After hanging up, I felt much more at ease. But then, group messages started popping up again. I opened the “Happy Family” SnapChat group, and it was already in an uproar. Ivy was wailing and crying, sending many photos of her torn clothes and scarf. “I know Sarah doesn’t like me, but during the holidays, to lay hands on me in front of a child, how can I bear it…” She was acting so sincerely, crying real tears. Uncle Michael directly tagged me, cursing me for having no upbringing. Aunt Brenda also complained tearfully, demanding I apologize. I looked at the family of drama queens, at their familiar tactics and accusations. I typed out a reply and sent it, “She was clinging to my car window and wouldn’t let go, she ripped her own clothes. What does that have to do with me?” After my reply, the accusations in the group became even more intense. They even started to escalate, cursing my deceased parents for not raising me properly. I clenched my fists, then sent one last reply, “Is your ‘upbringing’ conspiring with outsiders to use a child’s school admission to force a junior to bow down? Fine, then I’ll find some ‘outsiders’ to judge fairly as well.” After sending it, without waiting for their reactions, I directly left the group. Once the world was quiet again, I immediately opened my phone’s photo album and found all those videos accumulated over the years. They were videos of Ivy, over the years, wearing ridiculous floral jackets and various weird costumes, wiggling her butt and making the elders clap and laugh. And also the chat logs from the family group just now. I bundled them all up and sent them to the most popular local news exposé account. With the caption, “Feudal elders force junior to act like a fool every year for ‘filial piety,’ threatening a child’s future if they don’t comply.” “Videos and chat logs as proof, asking for exposure.” I tapped my finger, and it was sent successfully.

The next day, the second day of the holidays. Lily and I woke up naturally, watched TV together, and did crafts. With no fake relatives and no drama, the house was filled with joyous laughter. Around noon, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Notifications from various social media apps rang like mad. I tapped on the notifications and saw a trending topic at the top of Ins’s local feed: “Thirty-Year-Old Daughter Forced to Act Like Monkey for Elders’ Filial Piety” I clicked on it, and the pinned post was the full video and long screenshot of the chat logs from the news exposé account. In the video, Ivy, wearing that ridiculous floral cotton jacket and monkey costume, twisted and contorted amidst the elders’ laughter. Scene after scene, like loud slaps, landed squarely on Ivy and those old folks’ faces. The comment section was even wilder: “It’s 2026, and we still have these feudal relics? Seriously laughable. How empty must a house full of old people be to need to humiliate juniors for validation?” “Sucking the life out of juniors, trampling on their dignity—is that what these people want?” “That woman is also a minion. She’s been kneeling for so long, now she wants to drag others down too, disgusting!” “Am I the only one who noticed the six-year-old girl? If her mom wasn’t tough, she would have been the next one forced to wear the monkey costume!” As the trending topic’s popularity exploded, insiders also started to come forward with information. “This family’s surname is Davies, locally known as a supposedly refined and educated background. But their ancestral home was strictly passed down only to male heirs. The daughter in the video probably wants to fight for the family property so badly it’s driven her crazy.” The netizens went even wilder. “Monkey family,” “patriarchal,” and other keywords were repeatedly mentioned, spreading like a virus. The family’s good name, which they had boasted about for decades in the local area, was completely ruined within a few hours. My phone started being bombarded by unknown numbers. I randomly answered one, and it was Ivy’s hysterical wailing. “Sarah! Are you crazy?! My reputation is utterly ruined because of you, take the video down right now! Hurry!” “Now all the netizens are calling me a joke, saying such awful things, it’s all your fault! All your fault!” I listened to her screaming calmly. Only when she was tired of cursing did I speak, calmly. “Ivy, you wore the outlandish costumes yourself, you agreed to let them film the video yourself, and you willingly performed. What does that have to do with me?” She immediately acted as if she’d been wronged, crying even harder. “But I was forced! You think I wanted to?!” “So, you came to force my daughter?” Without waiting for her to wail again, I hung up. Looking at the torrent of abusive messages flooding my apps—things like calling me an unfilial descendant, saying I’d ruined the family. Some even threatened that my daughter and I would die horrible deaths. My heart remained unmoved. I sent one unified reply, “When you put that monkey costume on my daughter, you should have known this day would come. If you touch my daughter again, I’ll show you what hell on earth truly means.” Then, I blocked every number and account I could. The world was quiet once more. Over the next two days, Lily and I waited for Ethan to come home, enjoying the most peaceful New Year we’d ever had. However, early on the morning of the fourth day of the holidays, Lily and I were woken by a rough banging and smashing sound. I comforted Lily, then peered through the peephole. Uncle Michael and Ivy stood outside, looking furious and menacing. “Sarah, you get your ass out here! You’ve gone too far, you have to take that video down today! Otherwise, I’ll smash this damn door down!” Behind him was a dark mass of relatives. “Sarah! You ungrateful wretch! How can you still hide like a coward after airing such dirty laundry?” Ivy also cried out, “Cousin, how could you ruin me! Are you satisfied now that you’ve ruined the whole family?!” Then she theatrically slumped to the ground. “You take the video down right now, or I’ll die right here at your door!” I watched her exaggerated performance, and the last shred of pity in my heart dissolved. She had been completely assimilated by the elders, willingly becoming part of this rotten system, even trying to drag my daughter into it. But since this was her choice, she shouldn’t blame me for showing no mercy when I dealt with her.

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Ever since my mom, Brenda, became single, she turned terrifyingly obsessive. She envied her neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, who was a high-ranking executive at a big company, so Brenda started imposing strict rules at home, indulging her own power trip. She demanded I submit a formal request and wait for her approval for everything I did. One time, just because I yawned without raising my hand and yelling “Request!”, she slapped me across the face. When I had a high fever and was throwing up, she forced me to write a medical leave application, over and over again. Eighteen years by her side left me with countless psychological scars. But I also learned from her, developing my own twisted obsession with control. Later, when she was so fed up she wanted to pull out her own IV to die, I held down her arm. “Hold on.” “First, write an application.” When I was two, my dad, Robert, cheated. The woman he was with, Sarah, was a self-made businesswoman. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but she was loaded. When they divorced, Sarah even offered Brenda twenty thousand dollars, saying it was her way of buying Robert. Brenda was too proud to accept it. She threw the two stacks of cash right back at them on the spot. But two hours later, she started complaining about her unfortunate life, how she was utterly helpless without money. She kicked me, and my small body stumbled backward, hitting a table, and I started to cry. “What are you crying about?” “Your dad ran off, this family is falling apart because of you! If it weren’t for you, this dead weight, would I have to struggle like this?!” From that day on, I became her sole punching bag. I thought beatings were just a normal part of life, something I just had to endure. But then, when I was seven, a family moved in next door. They all dressed impeccably, left a trail of expensive perfume wherever they went, and always drove nice cars. I heard Mrs. Henderson, the neighbor, was a senior executive at a big company, managing a whole team of employees. Brenda’s gaze was fixed on Mrs. Henderson as if drawn by a magnet. It was hard to tell if it was envy or resentment. After that day, the air at home changed. She found an old binder somewhere, wrote “Household Management Binder” on the cover, and hung it in the most visible spot in our living room. Mimicking Mrs. Henderson’s air of authority became the most important thing in her life. And I was her only subordinate, the sole subject for her to practice these absurd rules on. When I was ten, Brenda got a new boyfriend, Gary, but he left less than a year later, leaving behind my pregnant mom and me, forced to bear all the responsibility. “It’s all because of you, you dead weight, ruining my happiness!” That day, she hung me upside down from the doorframe, lashing me with a whip, strike after strike. The louder the pleas from outside, the harder she hit. She said it was to teach me how to succeed. She only stopped when Mrs. Henderson threatened to call the police on her. But her blame towards me didn’t lessen. Brenda threw down the whip, pulled out the house rules, and flung them at my face. “Rule number three: No crying without prior notification. Your crying just now exceeded 20 decibels. As per the rules, two months of your allowance are deducted.” So for those two months, I was the class beggar. She was too busy gambling to cook for me or give me money for food. I could only scavenge leftovers from classmates to fill my stomach. Some kids, as a cruel joke, mixed dirt and spit into their leftover food. But I was too hungry. Even so, I swallowed it bite by bite. When I was twelve, the school organized a field trip, and every student had to pay fifty dollars for the activity fee. She made me submit a report beforehand. Every night after finishing my homework, I’d start writing the application. Each one was eight thousand words, and I’d write it over and over, while she tore them up one after another. It wasn’t until the field trip bus had already left the city that she finally signed the application form. Brenda, using the formal language she’d picked up from Mrs. Henderson, spoke stiffly: “Next time, make sure the format is standard. Indent the first line by two characters, and include a concluding statement at the end.” Later, my homeroom teacher noticed I’d been wearing the same frayed school uniform for an entire semester. After hearing about my situation, she secretly slipped fifty dollars to my desk-mate, telling her to “find” the money and give it to me. But when Brenda found out, she stormed into the school and made a huge scene, accusing the teacher of “inducing students to lie and undermining family rules.” She caused a fuss over a dozen times, eventually forcing the school to transfer the teacher. After that, the way all the teachers and students looked at me changed. What I didn’t realize then was that my own mindset had also subtly begun to shift.

My first strange rebellious thought came on the night Brenda’s water broke. She screamed so loudly it woke me from my sleep. She told me to call an ambulance, but I paused. I turned and picked up the house rules hanging on the wall, flipping to the third page. “But Mom, the house rules say I can’t touch a phone without submitting a request beforehand.” The consequences of breaking the rules were too severe. I couldn’t even imagine, and I was terrified of being whipped and forced to kneel again. I hated the pain. Brenda clutched her stomach, not speaking. I figured she must have implicitly agreed to the rules. “Mom, wait for me. I’ll go write the report right now.” I put down the rules, pulled a blank sheet of paper from the drawer, and started drafting: [Application for Phone Use] As soon as I wrote those seven words, I crumpled the paper and threw it away. The words weren’t centered. The second time, my handwriting wasn’t neat enough. Brenda said the font for reports had to be perfectly neat, or she’d hit my palms. So I tore it up and rewrote it. The third time, I finished the whole thing, but the format at the end wasn’t quite right… “Enough!” Brenda, with her last bit of strength, stopped me from tearing up that application. “Hand it over! I’ll sign it!” I nodded, taking tiny steps to Brenda’s side, and handed her the application. Just as she was about to sign, I pulled the pen from her hand. “Mom, the house rules specify that only a fountain pen can be used for signatures.” For my eighth-grade final exams, I needed to arrive early at school, so I wrote an application for early departure the day before, and Brenda signed it. But at the time, she claimed the pen wasn’t up to standard, hitting me for half an hour and forcing me to write a confession for two hours. By the time she finally agreed to let me leave, the morning exams were already over. I was so sure I could have gotten first place, but because I missed the exam, I ended up in the bottom ten of my class. She wasn’t happy about it. “Kevin, Mrs. Smith’s son, got second place, so how did you, this good-for-nothing, end up at the bottom?!” She beat me from our house all the way downstairs to the apartment complex. Whenever someone tried to intervene, she’d change her story. “This brat stole my money to go on a date with a guy, shouldn’t I hit her?!” But I hadn’t. I watched Brenda in excruciating pain and slowly said, “I’ll go get it from your room.” “But Mom said I’m not allowed to go into your room without permission, so just wait a little longer. I’ll just write another application to enter the room.” Brenda told me to bring the house rules over, and she tore them to shreds. “Call!” Brenda gave birth to another daughter, Chloe, which meant an extra job for me. The shredded house rules were meticulously taped back together, with a few new additions. The last one read: [These house rules apply only to the eldest daughter, Lily. Chloe is exempt.] My high school was boarding, but Brenda insisted I become a day student. She’d rather have me bike home at ten every night after evening study than let me miss cleaning up their dinner forks. “Why are you using water without an application?!” Along with Brenda’s curses, the whip in her hand landed on me, instantly tearing open my skin on my back and drawing blood. I explained, “Chloe peed on the floor, and I just got some water to clean it up.” The still-damp mop was even sitting nearby. Hearing this, Brenda grabbed the mop, pressed the wet, urine-stained mop head to my face, and forcefully shoved me against the wall, making it hard for me to breathe. The moment I could breathe again, I looked at my six-year-old sister, Chloe. She gave me a smile identical to Brenda’s. From childhood, Brenda had always been hands-off with my studies. She didn’t care about my grades. Even if I wrote applications that perfectly met her requirements, she wouldn’t give me money for workbooks, let alone any tutoring. Despite this, I was still in the top ten by my senior year. When the college entrance exam results came out, I was still in the bathroom washing Brenda’s clothes. When I learned my score far exceeded expectations, I instantly burst into tears of joy. I thought Brenda would be happy for me, but she coldly slapped me. “No report, who gave you permission to smile?” My scores were good enough for any top university in the country. Calls from prestigious universities, like Harvard and Yale, came in several times, but Brenda ignored them all. So I chose my own schools and filled out my own applications. But the result was— “The third-highest in the school and seventeenth in the city was accepted into a vocational school.” “I heard the vocational school not only waives all tuition but also offered a forty-thousand-dollar scholarship.” “With such good grades, she should have been a top student at Harvard, is it really worth going to a vocational school just for the money?” I only learned about my vocational school admission from others. Because Brenda wouldn’t allow me to use electronic devices, she arranged an incredibly busy summer job for me, leaving me no time to check my application information, giving her the opportunity to change it without my knowledge. I lost my temper with Brenda for the first time. “How dare you change my university choices? That will ruin my whole life!” “A whole life, my ass! What good is a degree now?!” Brenda kicked me and rolled her eyes. “I raised you for all these years, that forty thousand dollars is rightfully mine. Don’t think you can change your fate through studying, it won’t work with me.” “Go to vocational school, and I’ve already arranged your marriage after you graduate.” “Later, you’ll work hard to earn money and support the family. Chloe still needs you to buy her a house and a car. I don’t want Chloe to be weak and useless like you, it’s just sickening to watch.” I stormed out. Brenda’s words echoed in my ears. She had raised me for eighteen years, given me life but never an ounce of care. We were both daughters, but I was just a tool for her to exchange for benefits, while Chloe was her cherished darling. Was I going to let them exploit me for the rest of my life? Thinking these thoughts, I unconsciously walked onto a bridge with endless traffic. Reaching the edge, I stood on tiptoes and peered down at the rushing river below. Maybe I should just jump and end it all. No! The thought of suicide was quickly dismissed, replaced by another idea.

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My vacation home. At the dinner table, the elders in my family started asking about my job in the city. “Just running a small business,” I answered casually. Hearing that, my cousin, Tiffany, sitting across from me, let out a snort. “So, selling yourself counts as a business now?” “I even saw your price list online. Quite the menu of services you’ve got there.” After getting everyone’s attention, she feigned magnanimity. “Every job has its dignity. We wouldn’t look down on you just because your profession is… humble.” Egging them on, she turned me into the target of everyone’s accusations. Without missing a beat, I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Pull the funding. I want her completely bankrupt.” Every time I came home for the holidays, I had to face another interrogation from my relatives. I’ve never liked sharing details about my life, so when Aunt Sarah asked about my job in Metropolis City, I just brushed her off. “Oh, just running a small business in the city.” “A business? That’s great! Not like your cousin Leo, who works for someone else, pulling all-nighters just to make a few grand.” “Ashley, you’re so capable, why don’t you help your cousins find jobs?” I felt a wave of awkwardness. But my dad jumped in before I could speak. “No problem! Leave it all to Ashley!” I immediately put down my forks, just about to explain that my “business” was just selling stuff at a flea market, when Tiffany, who had been quietly scrolling on her phone across the table, suddenly burst into laughter. “Seriously, the world is falling apart. Anyone can claim to be a businesswoman now. By that logic, back in the day, wouldn’t all the call girls have been entrepreneurs?” “Tiffany, what are you implying?” “How can you compare your cousin to… well, to *that*? That’s so disrespectful, apologize to Ashley.” I thought the elders were reasonable, that they would side with me. But I quickly realized I was wrong. “I’m not making things up. I’m not the one selling myself in the city, so why should I apologize?” Tiffany said, opening a photo and shoving it in front of Uncle Robert, who had spoken up for me. “Uncle Robert, look, isn’t this Ashley Miller in the picture?” I couldn’t see what was on the photo, but the sudden, strange looks from everyone made me realize the seriousness of the situation. The phone started passing from Uncle Robert’s hand, to Aunt Emily, then to Aunt Carol, and finally landed in my dad’s hands. Before I could say a word, a stinging slap landed on my face. My dad pointed at me, spitting as he yelled, “You shameless brat!” “Don’t hit our daughter!” My mom rushed to shield me, but no sooner had she spoken than my dad handed her the phone. “See for yourself what Ashley Miller is doing out there!” My mom took the phone, skepticism on her face, but her expression instantly turned serious, then morphed into fury. If I hadn’t ducked quickly, the cup in my mom’s hand would have shattered against my head. Slapped and almost hit with a cup for no reason, and then publicly cursed out by so many relatives, I was still completely bewildered. It wasn’t until Tiffany feigned concern, stepping forward to intervene, and said, covering her mouth, “I’m so sorry, so sorry. It’s all my fault for speaking up. I just assumed you all knew about Ashley’s… activities.” “What activities?!” “Don’t pretend. I’ve seen your price list.” Tiffany glanced at me, then finally handed me the photo. [5’7”+ Milf, Cool & Elegant Vibe, Sweet & Sassy] [Online Chat Companion: $80/hour (Text/FaceTime)] [Overnight Escort: $250/night (Local, by appointment)] [Full-day Companion: $500/day (Includes city outings, overnight additional)] [Special requests and long-term arrangements by DM. Serious inquiries only.] [Contact: 132xxxxxxxxxx (State purpose, direct price inquiries will be blocked)] Looking at the content on the poster, I was dumbfounded, especially when I saw the sexy swimsuit photo in the upper right corner. A surge of confusion washed over me. This wasn’t me. “Ashley, I’m not trying to criticize you, but there’s no shame in struggling when you’re out on your own. However, a girl should cherish her body. This line of work you’ve chosen is just… too far out.” “But hey, every job has its stars, right?” “We won’t look down on you just because you’re selling yourself. To each their own, I guess.” Noticing the confusion on my face, Tiffany continued to fan the flames, explaining where she supposedly got the poster. “When my boyfriend and I were out for dinner, someone slipped a little card into our car. I didn’t pay attention at first, but then I saw the photo, and I immediately recognized you.” “I only scanned the QR code out of concern, and I never expected it was actually you offering these services.” The more Tiffany spoke, the uglier my parents’ faces became, especially my dad’s. He turned beet red with rage, grabbed a chair, and was about to throw it at me, only to be held back by the other curious relatives. The relatives and elders who had greeted me warmly upon my return were now standing with their hands on their hips, sneering at me. “Such a disgrace. And to think you even finished grad school. You just wasted all that education.” “I don’t know how David raised his daughter. So shameless for money, she became a prostitute.” Some weren’t satisfied just yelling at me. Taking advantage of the noisy crowd, someone intentionally reached out and pushed me, making me lose my balance and fall to the floor.

When I looked up, I met Tiffany’s smug gaze. She and I had been at odds since we were kids. Being around the same age, we were always compared. I was a straight-A student, always in the top three of my class, while she consistently scraped by, ending up in the worst schools. She always felt she couldn’t measure up to me, and she was desperate to catch up. The constant comparisons had driven her crazy; she started seeing me as her sole rival. Two years ago, it was because I started a job at a financial company in Metropolis City that she quit her job back home and rushed there herself. “That poster has nothing to do with me! The person in that photo isn’t me!” I yelled with all my might, but no one listened. Not even my parents wanted to hear my explanation, they were too busy fawning over Tiffany with the other relatives. “Tiffany, I heard your boyfriend is a big company CEO. He must be super rich, right?” “We always knew Tiffany was capable and successful. She really is the most impressive girl in our family, unlike Ashley Miller, who’s just disgracing us.” Tiffany basked in the attention, and her parents joined in, laughing heartily with their hands on their hips. I got up and took my mom’s hand. “Mom, believe me, it’s all fake.” But she forcefully pulled away from me, then turned and clasped Tiffany’s hand. “Tiffany, your cousin has gone down the wrong path. Please, give her a hand, help her find a decent job.” Then, my mom yanked me hard. “Come here, get on your knees and apologize to your cousin, beg her to find you a job.” Me? Kneel to *her*? “Aunt Karen, it’s not that I don’t want to, but Ashley graduated with a master’s degree. She wouldn’t look at any job that pays less than six figures. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken… shortcuts.” “Tiffany Brooks, why are you spreading these lies everywhere?” I pushed past a few relatives and confronted her directly. “You’re spreading baseless rumors with a photo from who knows where. Don’t you know that’s illegal?” Tiffany just gave me a helpless look. She sighed. “Ashley, why are you still so stubborn? You did it, what’s the point in denying it?” “To be honest, I have a lot more evidence. You know I’m in sales; I meet a lot of people. And it just so happens that some of them are your clients.” “You really weren’t careful, letting people take photos while you were… working.” “If those photos from your bed got out, who would ever marry you then?” Tiffany’s words immediately turned the tide again. The judgmental elders started spewing insults at me, each one righteous in their anger. But I wasn’t a lamb to be slaughtered. When someone reached out to push me again, I shoved them back. They hadn’t expected me to retaliate, stumbled, and hit a chair behind them, letting out a cry of pain. That really stirred up a hornets’ nest. Aunt Emily shrieked, “She’s out of control! Doing disgraceful things and now hitting people?!” Uncle John pointed his finger at my nose, about to start yelling, but I cut him off. “If you say you have evidence, then show it to me.” I looked at Tiffany. “But if you can’t, then it’s defamation, and I will pursue legal action.” Tiffany clearly hadn’t expected me to say that; a hint of shock flashed across her face, but she quickly recovered with a smile. “Since you have no shame, then I’ll find them and let everyone judge for themselves.” She turned and sat on the sofa, pulling out her phone and scrolling through it. But after nearly ten minutes, she found nothing. “Well? Can’t find it, can you?” “Finding stuff takes time!” Others also started defending Tiffany. I was about to snatch her phone when I was interrupted by a commotion at the door. My brother, Ben, rushed in, looking disheveled, and after a quick scan of the room, walked straight toward me. I hadn’t even gotten out a “Ben” before his hand swung, connecting with my cheek. “We paid for your education all these years, and you have no shame left?! Your damn promotional poster even got sent to my phone! Are you that desperate for money?!” My cheek stung, but seeing the look on my brother’s face at that moment, I felt an even colder pang in my heart. No one believed me. “I’m saying it again, that has nothing to do with me. It’s all malicious photo manipulation and rumors.” “Then are you going to claim this is fake too?” Tiffany sneered, walking over. “Who wants to see photos of Ashley Miller with her clients? But I’ll warn you, some of them are pretty explicit, so any elders who don’t want to see should look away.” Filled with anger, I snatched the phone from her hand and immediately saw the offensive images on the screen. A naked woman, her hair disheveled, lay on a bed. The background was blurry, but her face was clearly visible, and it was mine. My great-aunt leaned over to look, then recoiled with a disgusted expression. “That’s disgusting, Ashley! You actually do that kind of stuff!” “Enough!” I roared, taking a step back. But I quickly composed myself, showing no anger, only a relieved smile. I pulled out my phone, slowly tapping the numbers on the dial pad, and after connecting, I spoke clearly for everyone to hear, “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” “Someone maliciously Photoshopped my image to spread explicit rumors about me. Could you please send officers over?”

As I called the police, everyone else looked at me with expressions of utter disbelief, perhaps thinking, *Why would she call the police when she’s the one who did something wrong?* Only Tiffany’s eyes began to flicker nervously. She suddenly spoke up, trying to smooth things over. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal. Everyone makes their own choices, you know. Aunt Karen, Uncle David, please don’t scold Ashley anymore. She’s not stealing or doing anything truly harmful; as long as she can support herself in the big city, that’s all that matters.” How grandly she spoke, without considering who started this whole mess. “Tiffany is so sensible, unlike Ashley. Not only is her behavior immoral, but she stubbornly refuses to admit her mistakes.” “How respectable is Tiffany’s profession? Can Ashley even compare? She’s a professor at Commonwealth University, you know!” I had been furious at my relatives’ words, but hearing that, my interest was suddenly piqued. “A professor at Commonwealth University?” I turned to Tiffany. “Commonwealth University is one of the top-ranked universities in the country. Its professors usually have at least a Master’s or a Ph.D. Even with relaxed requirements, they’d be specialized talents, often from abroad. Tiffany Brooks, which of those criteria do you meet?” “I…” Tiffany choked, but still insisted on her story. “Why do you care so much about my business? You haven’t even sorted out your own mess!” The others also chimed in to support Tiffany, until I proposed: “Commonwealth University’s official website lists all faculty and staff information. Since you’re officially employed there, your name should be searchable on the website, right?” Tiffany tried to stop me, but her mom and other elders held her back. “Just let her search. We have a clear conscience, after all.” Really? I opened the Commonwealth University website, browsed for two minutes, then showed them the blank search results page. “How come there’s nothing?” “Huh, what’s going on? Didn’t Tiffany say she’s been teaching at Commonwealth University for two years now?” “Yeah, she even sent me photos from her classes. Could it all be a lie?” I knew the truth: she’d spun a massive lie just to save face. But Tiffany still wouldn’t admit it. Instead, she put on a conflicted expression, then lowered her head and shyly began, “Actually, I didn’t want to say anything, but since Ashley has pushed me to this point, I have no choice but to admit it. I’m not an official full-time professor at Commonwealth University because…” “Because my boyfriend pulled some strings to get me in. My boyfriend is an entrepreneur, the sole heir of the Stone Group. He just wanted me to have an easy job.” At this, the relatives suddenly burst into laughter, but it wasn’t mocking laughter; it was full of fawning. They crowded around Tiffany and her mom, showering them with compliments. “We knew Tiffany’s boyfriend was successful, but we never knew he was *that* powerful! The Stone Group! That’s a huge company! Tiffany, you’re truly bringing honor to our family.” Tiffany deliberately looked at me, saying proudly, “Even though my boyfriend is influential, I don’t want to depend on him. I just want to focus on my career and be a strong, independent woman. How long can you bank on your youth to make money, right, Ashley?” Before I could speak, she continued her tirade. “We are sisters, after all, and we grew up together. I can’t bear to see you debase yourself.” “How about this: you cancel the police report, and I’ll have my boyfriend find you a job. Whether it’s cleaning toilets or sweeping floors at the corporation, it’s still much more respectable than selling yourself.” As soon as my parents heard Tiffany’s offer, they lunged for my phone. I dodged, but my brother charged forward with all his might and shoved me. While I was on the ground, he snatched the phone. He fumbled with it and said to me, “Are you calling the police because you think your reputation isn’t bad enough? I’m not asking you to find a good job, but please, stop disgracing yourself.” Just at that critical moment, the private room door was opened by the police. “Who called the police?”

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On Christmas Day, my best friend, Sarah, had just popped open a bottle of champagne. Then my husband’s call came in: “Olivia, hurry home! Sophia’s depression flared up, and she’s threatening to jump!” “She won’t listen to anything we say. She insists she’ll only come down from the balcony if her mom comes back.” Sarah’s hand, reaching for the champagne, instantly dropped. She turned to grab her car keys from the table. I pressed down on her hand, a soft smile on my lips as I replied: “If she wants to die, let her.” Then I hung up, ignoring my phone as it buzzed relentlessly. Sarah looked frantic. “You’ve loved Chloe so much since she was little! You can’t play games with her life, even if you’re mad at her!” I looked at her, and softly spoke a single sentence. The next second, Sarah’s expression changed. “It wouldn’t be too much if that whole family dropped dead!” Seeing that my call wouldn’t go through, Ethan called Sarah’s phone instead. Sarah turned her phone towards me. Only after I nodded did she hit “answer.” As soon as the call connected, Ethan’s furious voice came through the speaker: “Olivia Hayes, what was that supposed to mean!” He aimed the phone’s camera at Sophia on the balcony, gasping for breath as he spoke: “Look at your daughter! Her life’s hanging by a thread right now. How could you say something like that?” Sophia, in the video, sat on the balcony railing, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She looked as though she could fall at any moment. Dressed in a thin shirt, her hands and face were chapped and red from the biting cold wind. The camera shifted, and Ethan roared at the screen: “Get back here from Sarah Miller’s place immediately, or if anything happens to Sophia, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” I watched Ethan’s frantic face and chuckled. “Impossible.” Ethan’s eyes on the screen instantly widened. “I’m not coming back. As for whether Sophia jumps or not, it has nothing to do with me.” With that, I hung up. I lowered my head and started preparing holiday dinner with Sarah. Just as I finished peeling a potato, my “emergency contact” ringtone echoed from the living room. Seeing “Mom” on the screen, my heart sank. “Olivia, Ethan just called me. He said Sophia’s acting up again and demanding you come home.” Her voice was laced with worry. “Ethan was crying, saying you’d rather let Sophia die than come back. What’s going on?” Ever since Chloe was born, my mom had doted on her, treating her like the apple of her eye. After Chloe developed depression and was constantly threatening to commit suicide, Mom’s heart ached even more. Mom’s voice choked as she pleaded: “Please, for your mother’s sake, will you go back?” “Mom loves Chloe the most. If something really happens, how am I supposed to live the rest of my life…?” Hearing her words, I spoke with difficulty. “Mom, I really can’t go back.” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Mom’s voice turned cold. “Olivia Hayes, how can you be so heartless? She’s your own flesh and blood.” “If you don’t come back today, don’t bother calling me your mother!” I gripped the phone, sighed, and slowly began to explain everything to her. … When I finished, Mom gasped in disbelief. “What!” After a long silence, she spoke again, her voice filled with unconcealed rage: “I’m blocking all contact from that Ethan guy right now! To crush his plan of using me to threaten you!” “Don’t worry, Olivia, Mom will always be your strongest backup.” Just as that call ended, Sarah’s gasp rang out from beside me. Sarah’s hand trembled as she handed me her phone. “Olivia, this is bad! Ethan went live…” “The live stream title is—” She looked up, her eyes wide with panic: “To Save My Depressed Daughter, Crowdsourcing Help to Find Her Mother.”

I clicked into the live stream. Thanks to the trending Christmas buzz, the viewer count in the top right corner soared. “What kind of father is this? His daughter’s about to jump in the background, and he’s got time to go live?” “He can’t find his wife himself, so he asks strangers for help? Are we his free labor?” “If she’s going to jump, call the police and firefighters! What’s the point of a live stream? Is he just trying to go viral?” Ethan ignored the screen full of doubts and spoke, sobbing: “My decision to go live today truly comes from a place of desperation…” “My daughter, Sophia, developed severe depression after experiencing a period of intense bullying in middle school.” He pointed the phone at Sophia, still on the balcony. Sophia was now sitting even further out, her face smeared with tears and hair sticking to her cheeks. She wildly waved away Ethan’s mom, who was trying to approach her: “I don’t want you! I only want Mom!” “If I don’t see Mom before midnight, I’m jumping!” Sophia’s words were clearly recorded by the live stream camera. “My daughter ran out to the balcony around nine PM and has been repeatedly saying she won’t come down unless she sees her mom. If anyone gets close, she threatens to jump.” “It’s been over an hour now, and she’s still sitting there…” Ethan placed his phone back on the stand, covering his face in anguish. “But, but… no matter how much I pleaded with her mother, she still refuses to come back.” “I know she thinks Sophia’s depression is a burden, but watching your child die, it’s just too cruel.” I typed a comment, intrigued: “You say her mom won’t come back. Do you have proof?” My comment influenced others below me, who also began to question: “Yeah, yeah, internet trends change too fast these days. Just saying her mom won’t come back isn’t credible enough.” “I just can’t believe a mother would be so heartless as to abandon her own daughter. Mothers love their children most of all!” Ethan caught sight of the comments’ skepticism and pulled another phone from his pocket. “I understand everyone’s doubts, but thankfully, I always record my calls.” My heart sank. Sure enough, as his finger pressed play, my words from an hour ago were repeatedly broadcast in the live stream. That line, “As for whether Sophia jumps or not, it has nothing to do with me,” was played a full five times by Ethan! Only when he saw the live chat comments completely turn to condemnation of me did he contentedly lower his phone. With red-rimmed eyes, he looked into the camera. “I truly couldn’t think of any other way, which is why I resorted to this and bothered everyone…” He clasped his hands together and knelt before the camera. “Please, everyone, help me with any clues to find her, so my daughter can have a peaceful New Year.” The comments were swayed by his emotion: “Don’t worry, buddy. Give us some clues. With so many of us, how can we not find her?” “I’ve never failed to find someone online. Don’t worry, man, your daughter will have a good year.” “I’m also a mother of a child with depression. How could this woman be so malicious? She doesn’t deserve to be a mother!” Ethan pulled out a photo of Sarah and me from his phone. “On the left is my wife, Olivia Hayes, and on the right is her best friend, Sarah Miller.” “They’re together celebrating the holidays now, but I don’t know where her best friend lives…” In the background, Sophia’s cries grew louder. Ethan pleaded earnestly, “Please, everyone, you must help me find her.”

At the same time, my phone was immediately bombarded with messages. My boss, colleagues, and old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in years all sent me texts inquiring. The content was nearly identical, mostly “Olivia, is it really true what your husband is saying?” Or “I can’t believe I know such a despicable person, I’m truly terrible at picking friends!” Ethan’s live stream had completely ignited a storm on the internet. Sarah’s and my information were quickly doxxed by netizens. Twenty minutes later, a highlighted comment appeared in the live stream: “That Sarah Miller is my neighbor! She lives at Parkview Apartments, Building 11, Apartment 302.” I looked at that comment, my body shaking uncontrollably. Because Sarah and I were currently staying at Parkview Apartments, Building 11, Apartment 302! Sarah’s face was even whiter than mine. She pointed at the comment. “Olivia… I don’t have neighbors.” The warm air from the AC blew on me, but Sarah’s words left my back drenched in a cold sweat. If she didn’t have neighbors, then who could this person be? As our address was dug up, the live stream comments plunged into complete frenzy. Everyone was eagerly anticipating how “they” would “deal with” a villain like me after the daughter was rescued from the balcony. Just then, Sarah’s phone suddenly rang with an urgent alarm. Afraid she’d be startled, I took her phone and first saw the content on the screen. With just that one glance, my grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. Someone had dug up Sarah’s car license plate number. Then, using the leaked apartment complex name, they went specifically to the building’s parking garage. They found Sarah’s car, parked in the underground garage. And maliciously splashed it with a bucket of animal blood and guts! Pig lungs and liver were hung on the car windows, leaving disgusting smears. It was her brand-new car, bought just last month. A wave of fury consumed my mind. I looked at Ethan on my phone, still endlessly thanking the comments. I scrolled to the bottom of the screen and initiated a “request to join live stream.” I knew that if I didn’t appear soon. They dared to vandalize the car this step, next they’d dare to smash the apartment. Ethan quickly accepted my live stream request. By the time my face appeared in the live stream, the viewer count had reached 100,000! A hint of apology was on his face. “Wife, I didn’t mean to use such an extreme method to force you to appear…” “It’s just—” He aimed the camera at Sophia again. Sophia’s appearance was even more terrifying now than before. She’d gotten a razor blade from somewhere, and her right arm was already gashed and bloody. She was surrounded by police officers and medical personnel, but no one dared approach her. If this standoff continued, she’d die from blood loss even if she didn’t jump. “If you don’t come back, our daughter is really going to die.” My gaze only lingered on Sophia for a second before immediately returning to Ethan. My voice was almost flat as I spoke: “Ethan, give Sophia the phone.” Ethan looked hesitant. “I can give it to her, but wife, can you promise not to say anything to upset Sophia? Her state is really fragile right now…” “I’m giving you a choice.” I adjusted my glasses. “You can also choose not to give her the phone. But if Sophia does something because she doesn’t see me, that won’t be my fault.” Ethan was enraged by my indifferent attitude. But fearing something might truly happen to Sophia, he reluctantly slid the phone across the ground to her. Before sliding it, he threatened: “Olivia Hayes, I’m warning you. If Sophia really dies because of you.” “I won’t let you get away with it!”

As soon as Sophia picked up the phone, the frantic look on her face vanished instantly. Her complexion was pale, tears still clung to the corners of her eyes, and her lips trembled as she murmured: “Mom, why won’t you come back to see me?” “I just wanted you to hug me… will you come back?” I looked at her pitiful appearance, but my heart felt no ripple of emotion. Instead, I turned and asked a seemingly unrelated question: “Sophia, do you still remember why you got depression?” A flicker of confusion crossed Sophia’s face. “Mom, does that matter?” I looked at her sternly. “It matters.” She tightly shut her eyes, her expression instantly becoming one of profound pain, as she shook her head wildly: “Mom, I don’t want to remember, I feel so awful.” Ethan, seeing Sophia like this, roared at me from a distance: “Olivia Hayes, what are you doing? Didn’t I tell you not to upset Sophia!” “Are you deliberately trying to force our daughter to die?!” I cut him off loudly, hardening my face as I emphasized to Sophia: “Sophia, if you don’t tell me why you have depression, I will not come back.” The comments scrolled furiously across my screen: “My God, is she even human? Her daughter’s in this state, and she still wants to upset her.” “My heart aches watching this. Sophia just wants a hug from her mom, why treat her like this…” “I’m a psychology student; patients are already emotionally agitated, and forcing her to recall the cause of her illness—she’s trying to force her daughter to die!” “Can someone arrest this mother? She’s disgusting, how is this any different from intentional murder!” Sophia’s eyebrows furrowed, and she painfully opened her mouth, speaking with great difficulty: “It’s because, in eighth grade, some girls in my class started ganging up on me.” “They forced me to give them ten dollars every day. If I didn’t, they’d find people to corner me in an alley after school.” As she spoke, her body trembled even more violently. “One day, they even… in the alley…” At this point, Sophia was utterly overcome with pain and lost her voice. But I wasn’t satisfied and pressed on: “What did they do to you in the alley!” Ethan couldn’t bear to listen, yelling furiously from the perimeter, his voice distorted: “Enough, Olivia Hayes!” “We both saw the surveillance footage from that day in the alley; we both know exactly what happened! Why do you insist on asking?” “Didn’t you yourself propose a pact that day? This incident, it would disappear from our home, and no one would ever mention it again.” He shrieked: “Are you only satisfied if you force Sophia to die today…?” “Is this how you’re a mother? I truly misjudged you!” Sophia opened her eyes, raised the phone, and asked me pleadingly: “Mom, I’ve told you everything. Can you come back now?” “Normally, if I just got a cut, you’d be so worried, looking everywhere for bandages. How have you changed now…” I stared at her coldly, and the words I spoke made everyone’s faces change. “No.” I added: “Even if you die here today, I will not come back.” Then, silently, I mouthed something to her. After seeing what I mouthed, Sophia’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with shock. In an instant, before anyone could react. She threw the phone away, swayed backward, and with a decisive fall, plunged towards the ground below.

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