My sister took a picture of herself sitting on the hood of my Porsche. She posted it with the caption: “23 years old, driving a Porsche, but I still don’t feel happy.” This humble-brag post went viral, and she was flooded with DMs from suitors. One day, she showed off a million-dollar Birkin bag, a gift from one of her new admirers. “Sis, I hinted that I wanted a million-dollar car, but he sent me a million-dollar bag instead. Men are so clueless, right?” I offered a gentle reminder: “Is it possible the dealership just doesn’t sell fake cars?” She immediately blasted me on social media, claiming I was just a jealous older sister. Her army of male fans cyberbullied me until I had no choice but to delete my accounts. She accepted the “rich heir’s” proposal and flaunted hands full of gold jewelry, smirking at the camera: “Wait, you guys haven’t received gold from your boyfriends yet? Really? Just me?” But the internet sleuths were quick. They exposed her gold as fake. By then, she had already stolen my ID to marry the guy and was pregnant. There was no turning back. Our parents were scammed out of their retirement savings by this “perfect son-in-law” and tragically ended their lives. My sister blamed everything on me. In a rage, she pushed me off a 28-story building. “If you hadn’t lent me the Porsche for that photo, I never would have met that scammer! Mom and Dad would still be alive!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she took that photo. The day her fake life began. 1 “When will it be my turn to drive a Porsche at 23? I’m gonna fight you rich kids!” I blinked, staring blankly at the viral repost on my feed. My sister, Bella, was posing on the hood of my Porsche, duck lips and all. The comments were filled with envy, and the likes had already hit 100k. Top comment: “Wow, whose princess is this with the humble brag?” Bella replied: “No~ I’m just from a normal family. Can’t seem to find a guy who wants to spoil me~” In my past life, I discovered she was using my car for clout and advised her to be careful about flashing wealth online. Bella scoffed, calling me a busybody. “Sis, you don’t get it. This is content creation. It’s just a persona.” “You aren’t gonna be petty and expose me, are you?” Thinking I couldn’t protect her forever, I let her have her fun, simply warning her to stay safe. Bella brushed me off, too busy filming her next TikTok. “Got it! You’re so annoying!” A few days later, a gift box appeared at my apartment door. Before I could check the label, Bella rushed out and snatched it. “Don’t touch! That’s a gift from my admirer!” I realized then she had leaked my address during her livestream to get gifts. Ignoring the safety risk, Bella tore open the packaging, revealing a limited edition Louis Vuitton bag. A million-dollar bag. She posed in front of the mirror, admiring herself. Catching me staring, she feigned a sigh. “Sis, I hinted for a car, but he sent a bag. Men are so dense.” I looked at the bag. “Is it possible,” I said slowly, “that dealerships just don’t sell fake cars?” Bella froze. She dropped the bag and glared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re just a jealous old maid because no one sends you gifts! Have you ever even seen luxury goods? Who are you to call it fake!” Seeing she wouldn’t listen, I stayed silent. Bella huffed and stormed off, a flash of malice in her eyes. The next day, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. Bella posted a crying video, claiming I was jealous of her “blessed life” and her “doting boyfriend.” “Sob… I don’t know why my sister would say that. I just wanted to share my happiness.” She accused me of calling the bag fake to sabotage her relationship. Because I wanted to steal her man! I was branded a jealous shrew and a homewrecker. Her fans harassed me in real life until I publicly apologized and deleted my accounts. Bella won. And her victory led to our destruction. This time, I wouldn’t be so stupid. Back in the present, Bella was still preening with the bag. I smiled faintly. “It’s nice.” Bella smirked. “Of course it is. You wouldn’t dare touch a brand like this. Once I marry into money, I’ll have a closet full of these!” “Jealous? Too bad you’re just an unwanted spinster!” She hugged the bag and skipped back to her room, humming. 2 Bella, tasting success, doubled down on her “trust fund baby” persona. I used the excuse of not disturbing her to retreat to my room and plan. In my last life, that fake bag was the hook. Bella believed the guy was rich and started draining my money to maintain her image, desperate to land him. By the time I noticed, she had emptied the account I set up for our parents’ retirement. I immediately logged into my banking app and transferred every cent to a new account Bella didn’t know about. Not a penny for her this time. Sure enough, a few days later, Bella stormed into my room, shoving her phone in my face. “Why is the account empty? Did you spend it on something shady?” Her screen showed a failed payment for a $20,000 watch. I raised an eyebrow. She really had no concept of money. “That’s Mom and Dad’s retirement fund. Why are you touching it?” Bella rolled her eyes. “Retirement fund? That’s my dowry!” “I’m a mega-influencer now! My fans are watching. My dowry needs to be at least five million to match my status!” “If you don’t pay up, are you trying to ruin my career?” “Transfer the money now! I have a date with Oppa!” She threw down the demand and ran out in her heels. I watched from the window as she got into a luxury car downstairs. No money was coming her way. I wondered how long it would take her to realize her “prince” was a fraud without my cash to cushion her fall. 3 Bella didn’t come home that night. The next day, a new video dropped. It was blindingly gold. Gold bracelets up to her elbows, rings on every finger, layers of gold necklaces. She claimed they were “little trinkets” from her boyfriend. “Wait, you guys haven’t received gold from your boyfriends yet? Really? Just me?” “Money is just a number to me.” She then announced she had a five million dollar dowry, so she wasn’t greedy, just showing off their love. The video exploded. Envy poured in. Bella basked in it. “Just wanted to test his love. I’m so touched~” But doubts crept in. Jewelers in the comments pointed out the off-color and lack of hallmarks. People started questioning her “wealthy heiress” status. Bella panicked. She posted seven videos in a row, zooming in on the jewelry. “Seriously? Have you guys never seen real gold? Why would I buy fakes with my family background?” “Where is it fake? Just because your boyfriends are broke doesn’t mean mine is. Don’t be sour grapes.” “Wow, so many haters. I guess my life is just too good for you to understand.” To prove herself, she announced a “Century Wedding.” “This weekend! A luxury wedding at the Grand Hotel! Nothing too fancy, just a few million!” “Fans are welcome! Haters, watch and weep! I’ll prove who I am!” She swore it was happening. But I hadn’t given her a dime. Where was the money coming from? 4 I didn’t give her the five million. But I still took our parents to the “wedding.” We arrived at the grand ballroom. Bella stood on stage alone, in a wedding dress, livestreaming. I checked the stream. It was packed. But as the hour mark passed with no groom, the mood shifted. “What’s happening? Where is he?” “Did the groom run?” “Is this the ‘influencer capability’?” Bella was sweating, texting frantically. Mom and Dad looked worried. I comforted them quietly. The “rich heir” had definitely bailed. I watched Bella panic on stage, curious how she’d spin this. “No way! Oppa just got called to an international conference!” “Career men are the hottest! A good wife supports her man’s business!” She showed a chat screenshot. The guy claimed he had to fly out and sent a “520” (I love you) red packet. “Enjoy the food, everyone! I have plenty of money!” The guests looked confused. This hotel was insanely expensive. I checked the comments. The internet wasn’t buying it. “Left at the altar? Some ‘good boyfriend’.” “She’s definitely broke. Probably dating a loser.” Bella saw the comments and screeched. “You know nothing! I’m carrying the heir to his family! He’s transferring two houses to me tomorrow!” “And a yacht! Once I birth the eldest grandson, my husband is buying me a yacht for parties! I’ll invite my fans!” Mom and Dad grabbed my hands. “Is it true? Is she pregnant?” “We haven’t even met the guy!” Before I could speak, Bella sneered from the stage. “Stop being such dinosaurs! It’s modern love!” “Of course it’s true! I’m marrying into a dynasty!” She caressed her belly, looking proud. She was still flaunting her “million-dollar” dress. Did she really think a baby would secure a scammer? I shook my head and led my bewildered parents out. 5 After settling my parents, I went back to work. Two days later, I was ambushed outside my office. A cup of hot coffee hit me in the face. “How can you be so evil? Can’t stand to see your sister happy?” “Are you even human?” I wiped my face and had security remove the crazy fan. I called Bella. She hung up. I searched her online. She had started a smear campaign against me. “I never thought my own sister would swap my gold for fakes. I got so much hate because of her.” “She dropped out of school to work because she hated studying. Then she tried to force me to quit school too because she was jealous.” She twisted my sacrifice into a villain origin story. “She stole my real jewelry and hid my dowry! My boyfriend left because he thought my family didn’t respect him!” “What did I do wrong? Why do you hate me?!” She cried on camera, blaming me for ruining her life. Her fans attacked me, painting her as the innocent victim. “You never know who the snake is. Her own sister!” “I would hate a sister like that!” “Jealousy is ugly. What a witch!” 6 I shook with rage reading the comments. The fanatic outside was still screaming. “She doesn’t deserve this job!” “Justice for Bella!” I realized avoiding her only made her bolder. She wanted to step on my corpse to climb higher. Fine. If she wants a war, she’s got one. I went to the hospital to document my burns. Then I spent the night editing a video. A rebuttal. “Hi everyone, I’m Bella’s sister.” “Regarding her claims, I have a few things to say.” “First, I worked to support the family because we were poor. I gave up my education so she could have hers.” “Stealing her gold? Hiding her dowry? I run a successful business. I own the Porsche she poses with. Why would I steal fake gold?” “And the ‘five million dollar dowry’? That was the retirement fund I saved for our parents! She tried to steal it all for herself!” 7 I used my own money to boost the video. It trended immediately. The plot twist stunned the internet. Yesterday, I was public enemy number one. Today, the tide turned. I posted the deed to the Porsche (in my name) and screenshots of the comments calling out her fake gold from the start. I also proved I had been working at my company, nowhere near her. Bella had nothing. Just accusations. The netizens turned on her. “So the sister is the rich one?” “She was posing on her sister’s car? Embarrassing.” “It was all a lie!” “The sister is the real villain here! The ‘rich boyfriend’ is probably fake too!” Bella couldn’t handle the backlash. She stormed into my apartment. “Delete the video! Who gave you the right!” She grabbed my collar. “Who cares about your reputation? You’re a nobody! I’m a million-follower influencer! If they find out he ran away, I’m ruined!” “Do you know how many people are mocking me? Say you lied! Or you’re not my sister anymore!” I laughed. Did she think I needed her? I slapped her hand away. “Fine. I’m not your sister.” Bella looked shocked. “What? If I hadn’t gone to school, you wouldn’t have had the chance to work and get rich!” “You owe me!” She forgot she begged me on her knees to drop out so she could go to college. “I earned my money,” I said cold. “Don’t act like you did me a favor.” Bella gasped for air. “Fine! You’ll regret this!” “I already married Oppa! He’s a multinational CEO!” “When he finds out you bullied me, he’ll crush your little company! He’ll bankrupt you with a snap of his fingers!” She threatened me with her imaginary husband. I was dying to see how this “CEO” would destroy me.

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While shopping with my best friend, I accidentally saw my husband, Caleb Vance, the billionaire “Prince of New York,” bidding a fortune for a necklace I had admired for months. I thought it was an anniversary surprise. But the next day, I saw it hanging around the neck of his stunningly beautiful intern. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I called my contact at the jewelry brand and ordered two hundred replicas of that exact necklace. I had them delivered to every single girl in the intern’s college dorm. Since he likes giving gifts, I figured I’d help him be generous. Let everyone have one. Oh, and I also had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and sent them directly to his office. That day, every girl in dorm 1A at NYU received a gift from the wife of the CEO of Vance Tech. Everyone, that is, except Luna. 1 The gala was in full swing when Caleb walked in with Luna on his arm. The girl was young, radiant, and clinging to him like a vine, smiling brightly at the room. The crowd around me parted like the Red Sea. I saw the pity and awkwardness in their eyes. I never thought Caleb would actually dare to bring her to a public event. We were a power couple, a union of two of the city’s biggest families. I thought he would at least have the decency to save face for me. I was wrong. “Why the long faces? Is everyone just stunned by Caleb’s new secretary?” I stepped forward, breaking the tension with a smooth explanation. The crowd relaxed, relieved. Caleb walked up to me as if nothing was wrong. “Serena.” His voice was gentle. Luna followed his lead, her voice sugary sweet. “Hi, sister.” I swallowed the urge to vomit and smiled back perfectly. We are adults. In this circle, the most important skill is pretending. Pretending to be happy when you’re furious. Pretending to like people you loathe. Besides, causing a scene here wouldn’t benefit anyone. But when my eyes landed on the necklace around Luna’s neck, my heart finally turned to ice. Ten minutes ago, I watched Caleb tenderly tuck a stray hair behind her ear and fix her slipping strap. Yesterday, when I saw him leave the auction house, I was so sure that necklace was for me. I felt a flutter of excitement, anticipating the surprise. I even went to the salon this morning to get my hair and makeup done. But the surprise never came. I called him earlier to fish for hints. The answer was nothing. But I did hear a girl’s voice in the background: “Mr. Vance, won’t your wife be upset?” “No. She’s always been generous and understanding. She won’t mind.” That was the moment I realized how naive I had been. Caleb was gone long ago. He was right. I am generous. Fighting with a pick-me girl? That’s beneath me. Luna stood behind Caleb, smiling sweetly, but the provocation in her eyes was unmistakable. I smirked internally. Just a naive college student thinking she’s special. I stared at her neck and said slowly, “Nice necklace. Was it a gift?” Luna wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what I was asking. 2 She was a student. She couldn’t afford that necklace. Luna looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, then shifted a fearful glance to Caleb. Caleb jumped to her defense, as expected. “Serena, don’t misunderstand. Luna had a hard time at the internship, so as her boss, I bought her a little something to cheer her up. It’s nothing.” I raised my champagne glass to him, smiling my understanding, then turned and called my assistant. A moment later, Caleb’s phone rang, and he stepped away to answer. A socialite friend sidled up to me, asking loudly who Luna was. It wasn’t a polite question; it was mockery. Everyone has eyes. Caleb’s protective stance was obvious. I didn’t mince words. “Probably some girl dreaming she can sleep her way to the top.” Luna’s face went white. She looked humiliated and wronged, tears filling her big, doe eyes. What a perfect, innocent white lotus. No wonder Caleb liked her. The woman asking the question didn’t expect me to be so blunt and awkwardly excused herself. I crossed my arms and looked Luna up and down. “Ms. Luna, right? At your age, you should be reading books, studying for exams, maybe applying for a government job. Don’t harbor unrealistic fantasies. You’ll lose your dignity and your heart.” She knew I was humiliating her. Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t say a word. I sneered internally. Just because I act generous doesn’t mean I’m a doormat. “Sister, I…” “Stop.” I cut her off. “My mother only had one child. I don’t have a sister. And this isn’t the 1800s; we don’t do the whole ‘sister-wife’ thing.” Luna’s tears fell faster. Just as I was about to dig in deeper, Caleb returned. He walked straight to me. “Did you order the necklaces?” My assistant was fast. “Yes.” “Why did you order so many? You don’t even wear jewelry like that.” I leaned against a pillar, smiling teasingly. “Helping you build good karma, of course. Interns have it tough these days. A little gift makes everyone happy.” Caleb’s mask finally cracked. But he recovered quickly. He smoothly wrapped an arm around my waist and whispered in my ear, “It’s just a necklace. If you like it, I’ll buy you another one. Don’t scare the new girl. I’d hate for you to get wrinkles from frowning.” His voice was low and husky, the same tone he used during our intimate nights. But now, he was using it to protect Luna. I leaned into him, playing the part of the loving wife, but my whisper was cold. “You know exactly what she’s doing. It’s not just about the necklace. Caleb, I don’t care how you play around outside, but remember, I am Mrs. Vance. If this blows up, it hurts both of us.” “This ends today. I hope this is the last time.” I said the last sentence through gritted teeth. 3 From the outside, it looked like we were flirting. The crowd cheered and teased us. I felt his body stiffen. I patted his back with a smile and walked away to grab another drink. When the party ended and guests started leaving, I thought I had made my point clear. But I underestimated how thick-skinned some people can be. Luna tried to get into Caleb’s car with us. “Luna’s dorm is far, and it’s hard to get an Uber this late. It’s on the way, let’s drop her off,” Caleb said to me. I scoffed. “We live in the Upper East Side. She lives in Queens. How is that on the way?” Caleb frowned. Luna looked at me with teary eyes. It made me look like the bully. Seeing I wasn’t budging, Caleb played the emotional card. “Serena, you’ve always been understanding…” I cut him off. “What if I say no?” Luna stepped forward, eyes red. “Sister, I shouldn’t have taken the necklace. It’s my fault. But I really can’t get a ride…” “I’ll trade you my favorite perfume for the ride, okay?” She held out a fancy bottle. Probably another gift from Caleb. I wrinkled my nose. “What scent is that? Eau de Desperation?” Luna turned bright red, holding back tears. Caleb finally snapped. “Serena, that’s enough.” I laughed. “That’s enough?” “Caleb, don’t forget who hosted this gala. Without my father pulling strings, your deal tonight would be dead in the water.” I pushed past the weeping Luna and got into the car. Businessmen always weigh the pros and cons. Caleb knew what I meant. He might be the golden boy, but I was the heiress who brought the connections. In our world, feelings come second to power. He got in the car. We drove in suffocating silence. I didn’t care about fighting a little girl, but I couldn’t have rumors spreading that the Mrs. Vance was left on the street. I noticed the passenger seat had been adjusted. I knew exactly who sat there. There was a sticky note on the dashboard: “Princess Seat.” Rage flared in my chest. I wanted to kick Caleb out of the car and slap Luna. Just then, his phone rang. Luna, sobbing. “Caleb… sob… I couldn’t get a car… someone is following me… I’m scared…” Caleb slammed on the brakes. “Okay, don’t move. Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” I stopped adjusting my seat and looked at him in disbelief. “Serena, you take the car. Luna might be in danger. I have to go back.” I laughed out loud. “We are in the middle of Manhattan. There are people everywhere. There’s a police station two blocks from where we left her. What danger?” “Are you her dad? If she’s in danger, she should call 911, not you.” 4 Caleb was speechless for a second, then sighed deeply. “Serena, can you have some empathy? She’s a girl alone at night.” “Are you seriously fighting me over a necklace right now?” I didn’t back down. “Are you blind, Caleb? She is provoking me. You can’t see that? And you’re going to dump me on the side of the road for her?” Caleb’s expression shifted from anger to cold disappointment. “Serena, when did you become so unreasonable? You weren’t like this before.” I laughed. I’m unreasonable? “Caleb, this is the first time you’ve ever argued with me over another woman.” Caleb turned to look out the window, refusing to engage. “Did you forget our agreement before we got married? Even if there’s no love, there’s respect. You don’t cheat, I don’t cheat. For the reputation of our families. Are you going to break the rules for her?” Silence filled the car. I knew I had won this round. That night, we slept in separate rooms. His excuse: I was too “domineering,” he felt suffocated, and we needed space. Fine. It gave me time to think. Lying in bed, I replayed the day. This was the first time Caleb had ever disrespected me for another woman. Our families were close, but Caleb and I didn’t know each other well before the arrangement. I thought he was just a spoiled rich kid. But three years ago, I fell for his charm. He was smart, funny, and capable. So when our parents suggested marriage, I agreed. It was a merger of empires. We respected each other. I thought we were the perfect power couple. Somewhere along the line, I thought he started to love me. The cold prince would cuddle me at night, warm my cold feet in winter, make me tea when I was sick. He recently told me, “Serena, you are always my first choice.” But Luna appeared, and everything changed. My phone buzzed. A text from Caleb: “Goodnight, Serena.” With a cute cat sticker.

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I’ve always lived as my sister’s shadow. I endured my parents’ cold neglect and the cruelty of school bullies. If it had been my sister, Emily, who was bullied, Mom and Dad would have believed her instantly. They would have burned the world down for her. But none of that matters now. In my next life, I’m going to pick parents who actually love me. 1 After writing those final words, I jumped from the sixth floor without a second thought. Thud. It hurt. Then, I was floating. I watched myself lying in a hospital bed, tubes snaking out of my body like vines. The heart monitor beeped weakly, and my face was the color of chalk. My parents, Professor Thomas Vance and Helen Vance, sat by the bed, looking haggard. Mom broke the silence with a complaint: “I just scolded her a little, and she jumps? I wasn’t wrong. She’s nothing compared to Emily.” True. I never measured up to my dead sister. Even my suicide attempt was messy, a waste of hospital resources. Dad lowered his voice to a harsh whisper: “Helen, stop it. Look at her. Is this the time for complaints? We already lost Emily. Do you want to lose Ava too? We’re getting old. It’s too late to have another one. Who’s going to take care of us when we’re senile?” So that’s it. I’m just a replacement and a retirement plan. They didn’t believe my note. They didn’t care why I jumped. I wish I had just died on impact. A doctor called them into his office. I floated after them. The doctor looked grave. “Professor Vance, your daughter’s condition is critical. Multiple organ damage, but the bigger issue is her will to live. It’s almost non-existent. You need to stimulate her brain. Talk to her. Read to her. Find something she cares about.” They nodded, went home, and returned with a stack of my old diaries. 2 Mom flipped open my elementary school diary with a look of impatience and started to read. June 1, 2010 My name is Ava Vance. My aunt says I was only born because my sister, Emily, said on her deathbed: “In my next life, I want to be Mommy’s baby again.” Emily died in a car crash at seventeen. Except for a beauty mark under my eye, I’m nothing like her. Emily loved pink. I love blue. But to make Mom and Dad love me, I wear pink. Always pink. Even if the love they give me is really meant for Emily, I take it. Because they are all I have. Today was Children’s Day. My deskmate, Mia, wore a beautiful blue dress. I couldn’t stop staring at it. Mia saw how much I loved it and offered to switch clothes with me after the school performance so I could wear it for a bit. I was too scared to go outside, so I hid in the bathroom stall to put it on. Mia said I looked pretty, that blue was my color. She was taking pictures of me when Mom found us. She went berserk. She ripped the blue dress off my body and slapped me across the face, over and over, screaming curses. It hurt. I felt humiliated. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. Mia tried to stop her. Mom lost her mind and hit Mia too, boxing her ear until it bled. Mia’s mom came to our house to demand an explanation. My mom screamed back: “Your daughter deserved it! Who told her to trade clothes with mine? Trying to stop me from disciplining my own child? If she hadn’t interfered, I wouldn’t have hit her! My daughter cannot wear blue!” Mia never spoke to me again. She went partially deaf in one ear. I lost my only friend. The whole class knew. They stayed away from me like I was contagious. Dad sighed after Mom finished reading. Mom defended herself, her voice hard. “When I saw that blue dress… I thought of the day Emily died. She was wearing blue. Our Emily was only seventeen. Seeing that color… it scares me.” Scared of blue? No. It’s just because Emily didn’t like blue. But even wearing pink, I was never as smart as Emily. 3 The next day, Dad read. April 25, 2010 We got our math tests back. I got an 87. The teacher sighed, looking disappointed. “If it were Emily, she would have gotten a perfect score.” But I really tried. After school, I was too scared to go home. No perfect score means no dinner, and probably a beating. I wandered around the neighborhood, waiting for it to get dark. A strange man tried to talk to me. I ignored him. He got angry, grabbed me, and started dragging me into an alley. I screamed and fought. A teenage boy shouted: “Hey! Put my sister down! I’m calling my dad!” The boy pointed at a man walking in the distance. The stranger dropped me and ran. The boy comforted me. I told him why I was afraid to go home. He said: “87 is a great score! Your parents are probably worried sick. Even if they loved your sister more, they can’t love you zero. Maybe they’re just bad at showing it. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” His words gave me hope. Maybe he was right. How could they not love me at all? He walked me to my door. I felt a mix of fear and hope. 4 Mom was waiting at the door. When she saw me, her face crumpled with worry. She pulled me into a hug. “Ava! Where have you been? I was worried sick!” Was this a dream? Mom really worried about me? The boy was right! Tears filled my eyes. Her hug was so warm. “This nice boy walked me home,” I said. Mom thanked him profusely, looking at me with what seemed like love. The boy left, happy he had helped. I closed the door gently. I turned around. Mom’s face had instantly transformed into a mask of rage. She was holding the long wooden ruler. She snatched my backpack, ripped out the test paper, and saw the score. “87?! I told you, perfect scores only! You useless waste! Is it that hard to get 100? When will you be like your sister? You aren’t my child!” It was all fake. The love was a performance for the neighbor boy. The ruler came down on me, harder and harder. I screamed, begging for mercy. A neighbor knocked to ask what was happening. Mom charmed them away, then came back and beat me harder. “Shut up! Stop crying! You want the whole world to know? You think that will save you?” She tied my hands and feet and taped my mouth shut. She switched to a bamboo cane. Pain wracked my body. I twisted on the floor like a worm. She didn’t stop until I had a nosebleed and she was exhausted. I limped to my room and curled up in the corner, licking my wounds. I hugged myself. Maybe I really wasn’t her child. That’s why she beat me so hard. Where was my real mom? When would she come save me? 5 Dad finished reading. Silence filled the room. “Helen,” Dad said slowly. “Although Ava isn’t Emily, you promised me you wouldn’t hit her anymore. The neighbors asked questions. I had to explain… it’s embarrassing for a family like ours.” Embarrassing. His reputation mattered more than my pain. Mom huffed. “I did it for her own good! Spare the rod, spoil the child. Emily got perfect scores, so Ava has to get them too! That’s the only way she’ll be like Emily. Besides, her grades went up after that, didn’t they? And I haven’t hit her since!” Haven’t hit me since? She hit me so often she forgot. 6 Dad didn’t argue. He acquiesced. I wasn’t excellent like Emily. I couldn’t bring him glory. No one praised Professor Vance for his parenting anymore. Instead, family friends would look at me and sigh. “Such a pity about Emily. So talented.” “Ava just isn’t as sharp as her sister.” “Emily was accepted to Harvard early. A tragedy.” I became obsessed with the ghost of my sister. I wanted to know the person who cast such a long shadow. I wanted to see her room. Mom kept it locked. She cleaned it herself. No one was allowed inside. One afternoon, she forgot to lock it. 7 Dad drank some water and tossed the diary to Mom. She picked it up. September 27, 2013 The door was unlocked. I finally went inside Emily’s room. It was pink, just like mine. It was pristine. Not a speck of dust. In the corner, a beautiful ballet tutu hung on a mannequin. One wall was covered in awards. Trophies piled up on the desk. Sister was amazing. I don’t have any trophies. There were framed photos everywhere. Emily solo. Emily and Mom. Emily and Dad. The three of them, laughing. They looked so happy. They never smiled at me like that. Mom came home early. She found me. 8 She stormed in, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me out. She screamed like a banshee: “Who said you could go in there?! You are unworthy of stepping foot in Emily’s room! Look at her honors! She is my pride, my treasure! You are a waste of space! A disgrace! I should never have given birth to you! You will never be her!” I hugged her legs, crying. “I know I shouldn’t have gone in, but I just wanted to know what I had to do to make you love me! I wear pink because she liked it! I do everything like her! Mom, I’m your child too! Can’t you love me just a little?” Mom shook me off, looking at me with cold disgust. “Emily is my only daughter. My love is hers. Even if she’s dead. You should be grateful you’re alive and enjoying her things. If I knew you’d turn out like this, I would have strangled you in the cradle.” She grabbed my hair again, trying to smash my head against the wall. Dad came home and stopped her. 9 Mom cut off my lunch money. “You think you’re grown? Go earn your own money then!” Dad said nothing. For a week, I watched my classmates eat lunch. My stomach growled. I lied and said I wasn’t hungry. One afternoon, I fainted from hunger. The school called Dad because Mom refused to come. Dad was furious—because he lost face. A professor’s daughter fainting from hunger? He yelled at Mom at home. Mom yelled back, blaming him for not noticing. They fought. I got my allowance back. Reading this entry, Mom showed no remorse. “I was teaching her a lesson! Rules are rules! Starving a couple of meals never killed anyone. She needed to learn obedience!” So I stopped asking for love. I learned to lie.

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Six months into marriage with my best friend’s brother, and we still haven’t consummated the relationship. In a fit of rage, I called my best friend. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m divorcing your brother.” To my shock, she wailed back from the other end: “I can’t do this either! I’m divorcing your brother tomorrow!” 1 I froze. I almost forgot—my best friend and I married each other’s brothers. Thinking about it, her situation might be even more tragic than mine. Married six months, and she hasn’t even seen her husband shirtless. At least I’ve seen the goods. I sighed, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie with my fellow sufferer. “Babe, meet me at The Velvet Rope. Let’s go look at some hot bartenders.” … I arrived before Chloe and got a booth. I ordered a bottle of tequila and waited. Five minutes later, Chloe strutted in wearing four-inch heels and a full-on “revenge makeup” look. She waved her hand and downed a shot immediately. I leaned in for the gossip. “What happened with my brother?” That’s the thing about best friends. As soon as I asked, she raised an eyebrow at me. “What about you? What happened with my brother?” Neither of us was backing down. I sighed deeply. “He won’t sleep with me!” Chloe and I got our marriage licenses one day apart. Initially, I only knew she had a doctor brother; I didn’t know what he looked like. Until my boss gave me a panic attack that felt like a heart attack, and I went to the ER. Chloe, afraid I’d get a creepy old doctor, specifically called her “young, hot” brother. I was skeptical about how hot he could be. Then reality slapped me in the face. When I saw Dr. Ethan Vance, my heart raced like a teenager’s. Even with a mask on, revealing only a pair of cold, beautiful eyes, I knew every inch under that white coat was dancing on my aesthetic preferences. After the checkup, I demanded his number from Chloe. She warned me he was “high-maintenance” and “aloof.” I confidently declared that no man could resist my charm. Then, reality slapped me again. During the “chase,” I texted him flirtatiously: [Dr. Vance, what did you have for dinner?] He replied a day later: [Steak.] Me: […] Frustrated, I moved to an offline offensive. I made Chloe set up a movie date. In the theater, watching a horror movie, Ethan watched calmly while I “accidentally” shrieked and buried myself in his chest. When he looked down, I blinked, my voice dripping with vulnerability: “My chest still hurts a little. Dr. Vance, could you check it for me?” I thought my tone was perfect—soft, helpless, irresistible. But he just stared at me. Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes were deep pools that made my heart flutter. The atmosphere was perfect. I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he stiffly pushed me away. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ms. Hart, watch the movie. Don’t waste your money.” “…” 2 How do I describe my expression at that moment? Total defeat. I never thought I’d strike out this hard! “I can’t do it. I really can’t. Your brother is either asexual or… broken!” I poured myself a drink, planning to get wasted. Chloe howled, clinking her glass against mine in frustration. “I can’t deal with your brother either! A handsome face wasted on a toxic mouth!” “I bought that dress the other day, the one you said looked great? I sent him a photo, and he said it was so tight it looked like it was made for a praying mantis! Has he ever seen a mantis with curves like this?!” I snorted with laughter. Chloe is also superficial. She fell for my brother at first sight. We basically forced them together. We thought married life would be sweet. Instead, it’s blander than a monk’s diet. “And I don’t get it. Is your brother really that busy as a lawyer? He lives in his study! We talk more on WeChat than in person. I suspect he’s seeing someone else!” Chloe’s voice rose. I stared at the swirling liquor and nodded in agreement. “I think your brother has someone too. I walk around in skimpy lingerie, and he doesn’t even flinch! Last time, I asked him what flavor of… protection… he liked, and he seriously said, ‘No rush’!” “If a man has no desire for a woman, he’s just not interested. I hate it! Married and still starving!” “Two dog men.” Chloe slapped my shoulder with conviction. “Divorce. I’m filing tomorrow, you file the day after. We’ll take half their assets and go live our best lives.” My thoughts exactly. 3 Chloe and I are women of action. The next day, we went to get the family registry books (Hukou). Since she was filing first, I went with her to the Vance family estate in the neighboring city. We didn’t tell anyone we were coming. We expected an empty house, but walked in on a group of wealthy housewives playing Mahjong. I whispered to Chloe, “Didn’t you say your mom was traveling?” She looked confused. “She posted from Paris yesterday! Crap, what if she catches us?” Me: “Be sneaky. Do you know where the book is?” “Yes!” She swore she did. Mrs. Vance noticed us, her eyes lighting up. “Haley! What a surprise!” Chloe nervously mumbled an excuse and dragged me into the elevator. However, after searching for ages, we couldn’t find the book. I couldn’t sit still, so I got up to help her look. Just then, Ethan texted me. [Mom said you’re at the estate?] I thought about it and sent a “Yeah” sticker. Ethan: [Have fun. I’ll pick you up after work. I told the chef to make your favorite sweet and sour ribs.] I stared at the message. What the hell? Ethan is in a good mood today? But last night, he rejected me again… Thinking about it made me angry. Last night, Chloe and I got drunk. He and my brother came to pick us up. One for each. Chloe was screaming and crying; I was quiet as a mouse. I wanted to bring up divorce, but I fell asleep in the car. I woke up to Ethan removing my makeup. His face is a huge plus for me. In my drunken state, I was dazzled by his long, pale fingers. I grabbed his hand and put it on my chest, trying my old trick. “Dr. Vance, my heart beats so fast when I see you. Can you soothe it?” I mumbled, leaning into his arms. His breath hitched. He told me to lie down; he’d be done soon. His warm breath on my ear made my heart tingle. So I started stripping. He pulled off my coat, leaving me in a slip dress, one shoulder strap falling down. Water droplets from my face rolled down my collarbone, soaking the silk. I didn’t care. I felt free. I looked at him with hazy eyes and pounced. “Dr. Vance, did we skip the wedding night?” We were close enough to burn. Ethan was sitting on the carpet. I straddled his waist, thinking this was it. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His large hands stopped me from unbuttoning his shirt. “Haley, you’re drunk. Be good. Stay here, I’ll go make you some hangover soup, okay?” I froze. I didn’t register the gentleness in his voice. I only saw those deep, clear eyes, devoid of any lust. Ethan really feels nothing for me. I burst into tears. “…” Thinking of that humiliating scene, and seeing his text now, I angrily turned off my phone. Just then, the door opened. Mrs. Vance poked her head in. “What are you looking for?” Chloe, frustrated and frantic, blurted out: “The family registry book!” “…” 4 Chaos. The Mahjong game ended. The guests left. In the living room, Mrs. Vance sat us down and looked at Chloe warily. “You want a divorce?” Chloe knew the jig was up. She nodded with the resignation of a martyr. “Yes. It’s pointless.” Mrs. Vance gritted her teeth, looking at her daughter with disappointment. “Who was it that cried and screamed she couldn’t live without Liam? What is this nonsense now?” I felt a pang of guilt. Technically, I also pursued Ethan aggressively. Who knew he was a monk? I wished I was a man so I could just marry Chloe! “Mom, you can’t force love,” Chloe said, pouting. “Liam doesn’t love me.” “I’m staying in Shanghai. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and the models here are way better than that dog Liam!” As she spoke, a tall figure appeared. My brother, Liam, the elite lawyer who is usually meticulous, rushed in with his tie askew, looking panicked. “Chloe.” He walked to her, his voice stiff. “You want a divorce?” “Why? Out of nowhere?” The family group chat blew up. Everyone rushed over. Seeing Ethan stride in, I pursed my lips. He looked cold. He walked to my side, and I subtly moved away. “Not feeling well?” Seeing my face, he leaned down to ask. I didn’t speak. Seeing you makes me unwell! The atmosphere was tense. Liam frowned, trying to hug Chloe, but she shook him off. “Save it. I’ve made my decision.” She glared at Liam. “Go spend your life with your case files! Toxic lawyer!” She grabbed the registry book and tried to drag me away. Ethan caught my arm, his voice deep. “Chloe, marriage isn’t a game.” “And don’t drag Haley into your mess.” Chloe looked at her brother, speechless. “Why are you advising me? You’re getting divorced too.” “…” Silence. Everyone turned to stare at me. … 5 “He… he doesn’t love me.” Facing the barrage of questions, I could only bury my head and twist the hem of my shirt, whispering. Damn it. I couldn’t exactly say, Ethan has a delicious body but won’t let me taste it, and my vibrator is more fun than him, could I? It would make me sound desperate. As soon as I explained, Mrs. Vance produced a cane from nowhere and whacked Ethan on the back. Thwack! It sounded painful. She yelled at him: “What did I tell you? I told you to be proactive, you straight-laced idiot! Now look, your wife is leaving!” Mrs. Vance scolded Ethan thoroughly, then came over to comfort me. She insisted Ethan had never dated before, that there wasn’t even a female mosquito around him before me, and begged me to reconsider. If the brat didn’t change, she’d introduce me to other men herself. Chloe wasn’t having it. “Mom, your son doesn’t act like he’s never dated; he acts like a cold robot! He’s living like an eighty-year-old man. Our Haley is suffering!” I silently gave my bestie a thumbs up. Ethan’s thin lips pressed together. A look of guilt I’d never seen before appeared on his aloof face. He tried to take my hand to say something, but I dodged. No touching without payment! The room fell silent again. Liam couldn’t help but cough. I glared at him. “Bro, honestly, if Chloe doesn’t want you, you need to reflect! With your sharp tongue, you’d kick a passing dog. You’re destined to be single.” “…” Chloe secretly gave me a thumbs up. Mrs. Vance clutched her chest, sighing. “Ethan, it was a blessing that Haley even looked at you, and you treated her so harshly. Too much!” My mom was also on the phone, screaming at Liam. “…” An hour later, Ethan and Liam were still standing there, getting scolded. Dignity? Male pride? Shattered on the floor. I thought they had compromised. But they both decided that even a divorce needed a 30-day cooling-off period. They pulled out black cards, asking us to give them a month to make amends. Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose, walked up to me, and said seriously: “Haley, I neglected you because of work. That’s my fault. I promise to correct my mistakes this month and treat you well.” “That Hermès Himalayan bag you liked will be delivered soon. Take this card. Use it at the Bulgari jewelry salon next week.” I blinked. Before I could process Ethan’s flawless speech. My brother straightened his tie and looked at Chloe: “Ahem, Chloe. I admit I have some occupational hazards. I’m used to being sharp-tongued, but I didn’t mean it. I’m just bad at expressing myself.” “Take this card for pocket money. Didn’t you post about wanting a Steinway piano? I’ll arrange it. Just please, calm down.” “…” Then. They looked at us with deep affection, as if pouring a lifetime of love into this moment. “We absolutely do not agree to a divorce!” “…” Those two cards gleamed with temptation right in front of us. Chloe and I looked at each other. We saw the gold reflection in each other’s eyes. Everyone was waiting for our reaction. My heart itched. Not wanting to lose the upper hand, I spun my brain and snatched my brother’s card. “You think Chloe cares about this little compensation?” Chloe instantly understood and snatched Ethan’s card. “This little money isn’t even enough to fill Haley’s teeth!” Clutching the cards like they might be revoked, we linked arms and speed-walked out. We walked in sync, turning back every two steps to maintain our stance. “Heh, we can’t be bought with a few bucks!”

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After I died, I discovered my husband, Caleb Vance, could see my ghost. He wept with joy, saying we could be together forever. Later, he started staying out late. Even later, I saw the girl who followed him around. She looked exactly like I did when we first met. One day, that girl suddenly fell ill with a strange, incurable sickness. The psychic said a “dirty thing” was haunting her. Caleb suddenly turned his gaze to me, the ghost floating helplessly in the corner. 1 I didn’t react at first. I shook my head at him desperately. No one else could hear us or see me. “Caleb, it’s not me. You know me best.” On the bed, Sophie began to whimper. “Caleb… I feel so sick…” Caleb didn’t speak. He just stared at me, floating in mid-air. His eyes were filled with suspicion and resentment. I remembered what the psychic had just said: “This young lady is being haunted by a dirty thing.” Sophie looked terrified, shrinking into Caleb’s arms. “Caleb, I haven’t done anything bad. Why is a dirty thing haunting me?” Caleb comforted her. “Sophie, it’s not your fault.” I didn’t understand what that meant at the time. Now I do. It turns out it was my fault. I am the “dirty thing.” Sophie asked the psychic, “Is there any way to suppress this thing?” The psychic pulled out several talismans and a wooden sword. Sophie took the wooden sword, waving it around in fear. Whether intentionally or not, the tip pointed straight at me. Almost instantly, I felt my soul tearing apart. I couldn’t dodge. I was pinned in the air. Even without a body, the pain made me feel like I would dissipate the next second. Caleb watched me, unmoved. Sophie threw down the sword and looked at Caleb with the talismans. “Caleb, can you help me put these up?” I watched Caleb walk over and take the talismans. Then he smiled and patted Sophie’s head. “Okay.” When the talismans were placed in the four corners of the room, I was blasted out of the house, exhausted. This was my marital home with Caleb. The home where we lived together for seven years. I crawled up from the ground, trying to pass through the door, but it was useless. The pain from the wooden sword lingered. After failing to enter, I collapsed in the corner. The door opened. I scrambled up in surprise. “Caleb…” Caleb looked at me, his expression complicated. “Haley, don’t come in anymore.” “Maybe you didn’t mean to.” “But her health is really bad. Don’t hurt her anymore.” I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to describe how I felt hearing those words. The man in front of me seemed nothing like the Caleb who promised to love me forever. A year ago, when I died, he cried so hard. Why has everything changed? “But this is my home. Our home. Why can’t I go in?” “Because you’re dead!” “Because you are a wandering spirit now. You aren’t afraid of anything, but she is. She gets sick because of you.” “Haley, you weren’t this unreasonable before.” As Caleb turned to go inside, I murmured to myself. “I didn’t hurt her.” He paused, then closed the door. And I… I’m not afraid of nothing. I wonder if he noticed that my soul has started to fade. 2 I used to watch horror movies where ghosts had cool powers. They weren’t afraid of anything. They could scare people. But after I died in an accident, I realized I wasn’t one of them. I have no powers. Except for Caleb, no one can see me. In the beginning, I felt like I would disappear at any moment. My body would suddenly turn transparent. Whenever Caleb noticed and cried, begging me not to leave, I would stabilize. Today, he probably didn’t notice. I curled up in the corner, laughing bitterly. There are other things in this neighborhood besides me. Strange things. I can barely hold my form together now. I don’t know how I’ll survive tonight. When did things change between us? Probably when he started staying out all night. Before, I could go wherever he went. That night, I suddenly found I couldn’t follow him. Maybe because of what he said when he left: “Don’t follow me today.” I remember his friends tricked him into seeing a psychiatrist. They thought he lost his mind after my death because he often talked to the air. Later, paparazzi snapped photos of Caleb Vance, CEO of Vance Corp, visiting a psych ward. The reason: talking to himself. It caused a stir. Caleb felt people were laughing at him. I still remember how devastated he was when I died. When he first realized he could see me, he wept with joy. He said heaven was moved by our love and let us stay together. Now, this “earth-shattering” love has become his burden. He doesn’t want to be seen as crazy. So he minimized our outings. He even stopped talking to me. Soon, he brought Sophie home. I don’t know who she is. I only know she calls him “Caleb” sweetly, and they can talk openly. And I can’t. Before she got sick, it had been a long time since Caleb had a real conversation with me. “Well well, isn’t this the canary from the big villa?” “Kicked out?” “I told you, the living and the dead don’t mix. Come play with me instead—” There aren’t many ghosts here, but the few that exist are vicious. I once saw a wandering spirit torn to shreds by him. I stood up in terror, shouting for Caleb. “Caleb! I’m scared!” A pale hand grabbed me. “Your man is busy loving that new girl. I saw them making out in the car. Tsk, men.” “You’re dead. Why bother him? Let him find true love!” I refused to believe him. Caleb swore he would never betray me. But the harder I banged on the door, the louder the music inside became. They were dancing. Sophie was laughing in his arms. Maybe he’ll post it on Instagram. Maybe his friends will congratulate him on moving on. Then he’ll be a normal person, not the madman haunted by his dead wife. 3 When dawn broke, the things left. I’m not afraid of the sun. But I was so weak I couldn’t move. They like to tear souls apart for fun. But I’m different. Every time I’m torn, I miraculously recover. They think it’s fascinating. I used to spend every night in Caleb’s bed, where they couldn’t reach me. But now… I don’t know how to survive the nights anymore. The door opened. Caleb rushed out holding Sophie. I curled in the corner, watching him quietly. I felt myself fade a little more. “Hospital! Now!” He didn’t look at me. After putting her in the car, he glanced back with a frown. That look held many emotions. Mostly blame. But I didn’t even know what I did wrong. I wanted him to ask if I was hurt. Maybe that’s impossible now. When Caleb returned from the hospital, I was still in the corner. “Haley, let’s talk.” My voice was raspy. I laughed softly. “Here?” He didn’t invite me in. “Let’s talk here. If you go in, she might get sick again.” “We need to clear things up.” Before he could continue, I interrupted. “I didn’t hurt her.” Caleb exploded. He punched the wall behind me, his fist passing through my body. “Then tell me why she gets sick every time she stays here!” “Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence! Haley, I’m not an idiot!” His eyes were red. “You know people think I’m crazy. She risked her reputation to help me.” “Only she believes I can really see you.” I sat up. “You told her you can see me?” Caleb didn’t think that was the point. “If she didn’t believe me and stay with me, my reputation and the company’s stock would tank!” “Everyone would think I’m a lunatic!” I looked at him calmly. I felt helpless. “Caleb, you love her, don’t you?” I just stated a fact. He got more agitated. “Why are your thoughts so dirty?” “I said I would never betray you, and that hasn’t changed. Is this why you’re hurting her?” I didn’t want to repeat myself. “So what do you want me to do?” He exhaled. “Leave for a while. Stay away from me.” I asked, “If I leave and she still gets sick, proving it wasn’t me, will you let me come back?” He was silent. He didn’t speak. I knew the answer. 4 If I’m going to leave, I have to go now. When those things come out tonight, I won’t be able to escape. I know begging Caleb is useless once he’s made up his mind. I won’t beg. Avoiding his gaze, I stood up with difficulty. “Leaving so easily?” “You were bored of me anyway, right? I just gave you an excuse.” He wasn’t happy that I left without a fight. I didn’t want to say more. My soul felt heavy. Every step was hard. But I didn’t want to stay another second. I heard footsteps behind me. Then they stopped. Followed by violent coughing. “Mr. Vance? Are you okay?” “We need to go to the hospital to see Miss Sophie anyway. You should get checked too.” “Do you think… that dirty thing hurt Miss Sophie and now wants to hurt you?” I wouldn’t defend myself anymore. It’s useless. I didn’t care what Caleb said after that. Since he chose to believe that, nothing I say matters. Leaving the villa, I felt lost. This was my first time being a wandering ghost. I didn’t know why I became like this—dead but unable to move on, unable to leave Caleb until he told me to go. Was it really as he said? Did his love move the heavens? Thinking about it now, it’s laughable. Where can I go? I don’t know. I only know I’m getting more transparent. It hasn’t been long since I died. But I’ve already forgotten so much. Suddenly, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was in a temple. I had no memory of it, yet it felt familiar. There was no one else. Just me and a lamp. The flame was weak. The light was dim. But even when the wind blew, the flame didn’t flicker. Memories flooded back. “I ask for nothing else. I only hope my wife recovers and returns to me.” “If I can, I want to live and die with her.” “I don’t want to live alone.” A man kowtowed every step, climbing to the top. His forehead was swollen and bleeding. I remembered. That was the year Caleb loved me the most. At the company gala, a chandelier fell. I pushed him out of the way and got hit. I was in a coma. I occasionally heard Caleb whispering. He said if I didn’t make it, he would die with me. In my unconscious state, I learned that because of Caleb’s piety, a Lamp of Eternal Life was lit in the temple. Fueled by our souls. If one soul left the other, the other would die. I thought, I can’t let him die. The will to live woke me up. I thought the lamp was a good thing. As long as we loved each other, nothing could separate us. Today, floating here, I learned another secret. I stayed not because Caleb’s love moved the heavens. But because I, newly dead, begged the Judge to let me return.

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1 I was at the airport to pick up my husband when I ran into him: Preston Zhou, the man who’d left me at the altar two years ago to go see elephants in Africa with his adoptive sister. Even with my sunglasses on, he spotted me in the crowd instantly. “Arabella, I’m back. I’m here to marry you.” I feigned a moment of confusion. “I’m sorry, you are…?” He let out a weary, indulgent smile. “Come on, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to run out for so long. After Mary saw the elephants, she wanted to do a whole photography project. She’s the only sister I’ve got, I had to spoil her a little.” “But look,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “the two-year shoot is done, and I came straight back to fulfill our engagement!” It was only then, seeing the flash of his startlingly white teeth against his sun-darkened skin, that I recognized the gaunt, skinny man in front of me. It was my ex-fiancé. Except… did no one tell him? The day he jilted me was the day I married his uncle. … The airport terminal was a river of people. Preston pushed a luggage cart with one hand while the other clutched a Chanel bag. Mary, several shades darker herself, was perched on top of a suitcase, letting Preston wheel her around. After two years in Africa, they looked less like they’d been on safari and more like they’d been working in a coal mine. They were both positively grimy. The Preston I remembered had been handsome, fair-skinned, and in great shape. Otherwise, I never would have agreed to the arranged marriage. But this version of him… Thank God he wasn’t my husband. I slid my sunglasses off and offered a polite, distant smile. “My apologies. It’s been a long time. You’ve both changed so much, I didn’t recognize you for a moment.” Mary, as always, dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognize him. You’re obviously here to pick Preston up, aren’t you?” she sneered. “If we hadn’t tossed our SIM cards and cut off all contact with home, you probably would have chased us all the way to Africa!” She huffed and turned her head away. “I really don’t know what he sees in you. A woman who’s nothing but a pretty face.” Preston just ruffled her hair and tapped her nose with a fond, exasperated sigh. “Once Arabella and I are married, she’ll be your sister-in-law. You need to show her some respect. Otherwise, I won’t take you to Europe for your art tour next year.” After placating Mary, he turned to me with an explanatory smile. “She’s just got a childish temper. You know her father, my uncle’s driver, died in the car crash that almost killed me. He saved my life, but she lost her dad.” “When we’re married,” he continued, his tone earnest, “we’ll be a team. I hope you can help me look after her. Treat her like your own sister.” Did he hear the absolute nonsense coming out of his own mouth? I gave him an elegant eye-roll and flashed the wedding band on my left hand. “Preston, I can’t thank you enough for jilting me. It allowed me to marry a man a thousand times better than you. And please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m here today to pick up my husband.” Preston froze. He squinted at me for a long moment, then a smirk spread across his face. “Arabella, do you take me for a fool?” he scoffed. “Our families arranged this marriage. The wedding two years ago was the event of the season, the whole of the city’s elite was there. Everyone knows you’re my fiancée. I was wrong to run off and embarrass you, I admit it. But with your reputation ruined, what other family would possibly have you?” So that was it. The reason he’d felt so comfortable abandoning me was because he was sure I’d be a social pariah, a “jilted woman” with no choice but to take him back. He had seriously overestimated himself. And underestimated me. To clean up his son’s mess, the Zhou family patriarch had lost a son and a significant portion of company shares. To appease my family’s fury, the old man had offered to transfer the shares originally meant for Preston directly to me. Clearly, Preston had no idea. It made sense. He’d spent two years completely off the grid for Mary, not even a single phone call home. Of course he was out of the loop. I almost couldn’t wait for him to get back to the family estate tonight. I wondered if he’d still be smiling then. 2 When our marriage was first proposed, Preston had fought it tooth and nail. But the moment he met me, it was supposedly love at first sight, and he declared he would marry no one else. He pursued me shamelessly for over half a year. Seeing that he was clean-cut and didn’t play around, I finally agreed. Not long after, Mary, his new adoptive sister, entered the picture, and he treated her like a princess. On our wedding day, Preston got a call from her. “Preston,” she’d wailed, “remember your promise? To take me to Africa to see the elephants? I’m at the airport waiting. If you don’t come, I’ll jump off the terminal roof!” Preston had given me one apologetic look, dropped my hand without a second thought, and sprinted away, leaving me and a ballroom full of guests behind. I received two texts from him, and then his phone went dead. [Her father saved my life. Mary is his only daughter. I can’t let anything happen to her!] [Don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as she sees the elephants. A week at most. We’ll finish the wedding and then go to the Maldives for our honeymoon.] The Zhou patriarch was incandescent with rage. To make it up to my family, he’d made me a promise. “Arabella, this is our family’s failure. Name your compensation, anything you want!” I had pointed to his youngest son, the current head of the Zhou family enterprise, Damian Zhou. “Then give me him,” I’d said. “This wedding is still short one groom.” And just like that, I married Preston’s uncle. Lost in thought, I glanced at the time. Damian’s flight should have landed by now. Just as I was about to check, a message popped up on my phone. [Sweetheart, flight’s delayed. Just boarded. Going to be very late. Don’t wait for me, just have Leo pick me up.] [Love you.] A huge heart emoji followed. A small smile touched my lips, and the tension in my brow eased. Even looking at my infuriating ex-fiancé-turned-nephew became a little more tolerable. Preston crossed his arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he eyed my phone. “Oh, who’s the actor you hired? ‘Hubby’? Flight delayed? Really creative.” He leaned in closer. “Arabella, don’t joke like that. You know I get jealous.” As he reached out to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, I took a sharp step back. His hand froze in mid-air. “I told you, I’m married. If you continue to harass me, you might find yourself with a broken leg when you get home tonight.” Preston laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke. He pointed to my neck. “That emerald pendant you’re wearing… Grandfather said that was to be passed down to the Zhou family brides. You’re wearing it right now and still trying to tell me you married someone else?” The pendant was indeed a gift from the patriarch. Except it wasn’t for his granddaughter-in-law. It was for his daughter-in-law. “I married—” Before I could finish, Mary interrupted. “Is that the Phoenix Emerald?” She hopped off the luggage cart and wedged herself between us. The moment she saw the pendant around my neck, her eyes reddened. She grabbed Preston’s arm, her voice trembling. “Preston, I’ve wanted that pendant for so long. Grandfather would never even let me touch it, and now he’s given it to an outsider. Does… does he not even think of me as part of the family?” Her voice cracked. “But what can I do? I’m just a driver’s daughter. I can’t compare to a blue-blooded heiress like Arabella. Even Grandfather plays favorites.” Preston’s face softened with guilt. He looked at me, a pleading expression in his eyes. “Mary’s young, and she’s had a hard life. She’s always insecure. Just… let her have this one.” “She likes the pendant, so give it to her. I’ll buy you a new one, imperial green jade, I promise. It’ll be even more beautiful, much better quality.” 3 I laughed. An actual, honest-to-god laugh of disbelief. “Preston, I suggest you get your head checked. If I remember correctly, Mary is twenty-five this year. A few months older than me, isn’t she?” “There are two things I can’t stand in this world: giant babies and manipulative little thieves who steal other people’s things. Coincidentally, she’s both.” At my words, Mary’s eyes welled up, tears streaming down her face on command. “Preston will spoil me no matter how old I am! You’re just jealous!” she shrieked. “You haven’t even married him yet! What right does an outsider like you have to wear a Zhou family heirloom? You’re the shameless one!” Technically, Mary was the family’s ward, but she had never been formally adopted, nor was her name in the official family records. Strictly speaking, she was the outsider living in the Zhou home. Preston had once thrown a tantrum, demanding she be made a true Zhou heiress, but the patriarch had flatly refused. Preston had felt guilty about it ever since. Seeing her cry now, his heart ached. He frowned at me. “Mary isn’t like you. She has no parents, only me. Grandfather wouldn’t let her be formally adopted, that’s why she’s so insecure…” I cut him off with a suggestion. “You want her in the family records? That’s easy.” “Marry her. If you do, I will gladly give her this pendant as a wedding gift. As the bride of a Zhou grandson, she would finally deserve to wear it.” I unclasped the emerald from my neck and held it out to Mary. Her eyes went wide with shock, then filled with an unconcealable, ecstatic glee. She reached for it immediately. “Don’t!” Preston snatched the pendant from my hand, his fist closing tightly around it. “What nonsense are you talking about? Mary is just… she’s my sister. You’re the one I want to spend my life with!” His gaze was intense, pleading. “You can be jealous of anyone, but not her.” “She is my family. You are my love. Stop saying things you don’t mean. Anymore of this, and I’ll actually get angry.” Being stared at by those supposedly deep, soulful eyes didn’t move me in the slightest. In fact, it made me want to gag. Done with the conversation, I turned and walked away, ignoring Preston’s voice calling after me. As I stepped out of the terminal, a discreet black Maybach pulled up to the curb. The driver, Leo, got out and opened the door for me. “Ma’am. Sir said he’ll be late and asked me to pick him up later. Should I take you home first?” Damian had been on a business trip for half a month. The patriarch knew he was returning today and had arranged for a family dinner at the estate. Suddenly, someone pushed past me and slid into the car. Mary settled into the leather seat and smirked. “I thought you were married? Still mooching rides from the Zhou family? Shouldn’t you be taking your husband’s car?” Mary recognized the Maybach. It belonged to Preston’s uncle, Damian. Preston recognized it too, and a flattered look crossed his face. After all, his uncle rarely bothered with such trivial matters. He sat down next to Mary, buckled her seatbelt, and then turned to me. “You can sit in the front. Mary’s used to sitting next to me. I’ll have the driver drop you at your family’s home first.” “No need. I have my own car. Leo, just take them to the estate. I have other plans.” I pulled out my keys and hit the unlock button. Across the lot, the headlights of a Lamborghini Veneno flashed twice. As I drove away in the supercar, I saw a flash of raw envy in Mary’s eyes. Preston sighed dramatically. “She came all this way just to pick me up. She must be angry I didn’t ride with her.” Then he turned to the driver. “Did my uncle send you to get me?” Leo answered truthfully. “No, sir. I was sent to pick up my boss.” The air in the car hung thick and silent for a few seconds. “…What a coincidence,” Preston finally said. “Where is my uncle, then?” “His flight was delayed.” I treated myself to a spa day, and then, seeing it was almost dinnertime, I drove to the family estate. The moment I got out of the car, I saw two figures kneeling ramrod straight at the main gate like a pair of wooden posts. Apparently, when Leo had dropped them off, the patriarch had heard it was Preston and Mary, and he’d thrown his cane in a rage and refused to let them in the door. “Get out! Why didn’t you just die in Africa? What did you come back for?” Preston, banking on his grandfather’s soft heart, had dropped to his knees at the gate. Mary, to show solidarity, knelt beside him. When he saw me, Preston scrambled to his feet, his dejected expression vanishing, replaced by a triumphant glow. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t stay away.” His voice was filled with smug satisfaction. “Did you hear Grandfather was punishing me and rush right over?” I turned my face away in annoyance and tried to walk around him. He blocked my path again, his face a mask of faux concern. “Don’t go in. Grandfather’s still furious. I’m afraid he’ll take it out on you.” Mary had somehow appeared at his side. She pointed a finger at my nose. “You’re still holding a grudge because Preston left you for me, aren’t you?” she accused. “You’re the one who stirred this up! Grandfather adores Preston, he would never refuse to let him in!” “You just came here to laugh at us!” With a shriek, she lunged at me. I sidestepped, and she went sprawling, landing face-first on the gravel. Mary lay on the ground, her knee scraped and bleeding, tears instantly flooding her eyes. Preston’s lips thinned. The smile vanished from his face as he knelt to check her injury. Seeing it wasn’t serious, he scooped her up in a practiced princess-carry and cooed at her until her sobs turned into a watery smile. Only then did he remember me. He sighed. “Arabella, I hardly recognize you anymore.” His voice was laced with disappointment. “Mary never means what she says. If you’re going to marry me, you have to learn to be more forgiving.” “For now, just apologize to her and we’ll forget it. But in the future, I hope you’ll try to change that temper of yours.” What? My vision went dark for a second. “Should I offer some compensation, too?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “To soothe her fragile, glass-like heart?” A flicker of greed crossed Mary’s face. “I could use a new run-around car. That one you were driving today was… barely acceptable.” A Lamborghini Veneno. One of only three in the world. Worth twenty-three million dollars. The sheer audacity of it. Preston, of course, made the decision for me. “Since Mary likes it, just give it to her. Consider it compensation for her injury.” I stared at him. “When pigs fly.” “What?” he said, not understanding the idiom. “I said, not a chance in hell!” I shoved him aside and walked straight towards the house. “Stop right there!” Preston, realizing he’d been played, turned beet red. “Arabella, I’m telling you right now,” he threatened, his voice sharp with fury. “If you don’t apologize to Mary, you can forget about marrying me! You won’t take a single step into the Zhou family home!” WHACK! Suddenly, a dragon-headed cane flew through the air and connected squarely with Preston’s skull. From several yards away, the patriarch’s voice, clear and booming with rage, echoed for all to hear. “You little bastard! That’s your aunt!”

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1 Wyatt’s little canary was throwing a tantrum again. He slid the divorce papers across the table to me. “Sign them. It’s just for show, to keep the girl happy.” My fingers tightened on the fabric of my skirt, but I nodded, quietly signing my name. As I was leaving, I heard one of his friends laugh. “Man, your wife is way too agreeable. You could probably ask her to get the marriage license for you and your new girl, and she wouldn’t make a peep.” Wyatt lit a cigarette, a smirk in his voice. “Wanna bet?” They made a wager. That in one month, at City Hall, I would be sobbing my eyes out, but I would still do as I was told. I would trade our marriage certificate for a decree of divorce. I clutched my phone, saying nothing. I just replied to the message that had just come in: Just marry me. Can’t you? “I can.” 2 ? The reply was almost instantaneous. I switched off my phone screen. The sound of laughter still spilled from the office. “Alright, it’s a deal! If she’s really that obedient, drinks for the next month are on me!” “Make it three months,” Wyatt said. “Done, done!” A chorus of laughter and jeers. I fled, stumbling out of the office building and into the sharp, blinding sunlight. Only then did the tears begin to stream down my face. Wyatt had his eyes on a college girl. He bought her a sprawling condo in Seabrook City, filling it with a king’s ransom in luxury goods. But the girl wouldn’t let him kiss her, wouldn’t let him hold her. She lived in a 4,000-square-foot penthouse, draped in haute couture that cost more than a car, and yet she’d jut out her chin and declare, “I will not be a homewrecker!” Wyatt found it endlessly amusing. This was the third time he’d put on a show for her. The first time, he’d staged a grand display of affection with me. I didn’t know about Sadie then. I’d wrapped my arms around him, giddy with joy as we took dozens of photos. When he posted a whole carousel on Instagram, my heart swelled with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. But no matter how many times I refreshed my feed, I couldn’t see it. I found out later he’d set the post’s privacy to ‘Visible only to Sadie.’ The second time, he picked a fight with me. He left me stranded on a street corner and sent Sadie a picture of me crying alone in the rain. See? I’m stuck. She can’t live without me. And the third time, he was divorcing me. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Are you serious? You really mean it? Josephine. I wiped away my tears and managed a small, bitter smile. “I’m serious.” 3 That afternoon, Wyatt took me to City Hall, just as he’d planned. He was in a fantastic mood the entire way, chattering about where I wanted to go for our third anniversary. Wyatt and I had grown up together. This was our third year of marriage. “How about Prague?” he suggested. “You’ve been begging to feed the pigeons in the Old Town Square since you were seven.” He got out, walked around to my side, and unbuckled my seatbelt. His brow furrowed as he noticed my face. “Hey, have you been crying?” He gently brushed a thumb under my eye. “I told you, it’s just an act. She’s just a little bird in a cage. I’m just curious to see how long it takes for her to finally give in.” As he spoke, something fell from his pocket. A box of condoms. Wyatt cleared his throat and rubbed his nose, offering no explanation. He led me into City Hall. It all went smoothly. I have selective mutism. When I’m around strangers or under stress, the words just won’t come out. But I can nod and shake my head. “Is this divorce voluntary?” “Yes.” I nodded. “Do you confirm the irretrievable breakdown of the marriage?” “Yes.” I nodded again. “There’s a mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. You’ll need to return in one month to finalize.” Wyatt took the receipt. He snapped a picture of it before we’d even left the building and tapped out a message. My phone buzzed in sync. It was from Sadie, as usual. A forwarded image of the receipt from Wyatt, with his message attached: Satisfied? Now go get ready for me tonight. I tapped her profile picture and blocked her. A moment later, a flight confirmation email arrived, followed by a text. Flight booked. See you in a month. Paris is waiting. 4 That night, my dreams were full of Wyatt. The Wyatt from our childhood, his words as sweet as honey. “Josie, your eyes are so pretty. Can I look at them whenever I talk to you?” “Josie, you play the piano so beautifully. Can I come listen to your concert every day?” “Josie, I like you the most! When we grow up, I’m going to marry you!” And I loved him, too. We had to be desk partners at school, had to play together after class. I was even in his family’s car when my parents got into their accident, playing rock-paper-scissors with him. The two cars had been so close. I saw it all. The semi-truck barreling through the intersection. BOOM— My father, my mother, my older brother, even the little dog I’d had since I was a puppy… all of them, swallowed by an inferno. For a long time after that, I couldn’t make a sound. I needed Wyatt beside me just to fall asleep. He was so patient back then. He helped me practice speaking, read me stories all night long. If anyone dared to call me a “mute,” he’d meet them with a clenched fist. Marrying him felt like the most natural thing in the world. The day after I got my college diploma, he was leaning over my bed at dawn. “Josie,” he whispered, “let’s go get another certificate.” That day, we became husband and wife. In my dream, our new home was buried in a sea of crimson roses. He knelt on the bed, kissing me with such tenderness. He promised we’d be this happy for the rest of our lives. But when I woke up, the world was pitch black. I fumbled for my phone. Another text from Sadie. It was a photo. Messy, tangled sheets, and on them, a single, damning smear of crimson. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I bolted to the bathroom, retching until only bitter tears came out. I ended up curled on the cold tile, hugging my knees. I don”t know what I pressed on my phone, but in the dead silence of the night, a low, deep voice suddenly spoke. “Josephine?” My heart leaped. I snatched the phone. “Sebastian…?” 5 Sebastian was a fellow patient. After three years of therapy, my selective mutism had improved significantly. It only flared up when I was deeply upset or anxious. During the first two years of my marriage to Wyatt, I was almost completely cured. With time on my hands and a lighter heart, I had joined an online support group. My assigned partner was Sebastian. For two years, I genuinely thought he was a girl. His avatar was a pink bunny, and his screen name was “Angel.” At first, “she” barely responded to me. But I understood. People like us, burdened by years of silence, are often dealing with deep-seated trauma. We might not be able to speak, but we need someone there. So I kept sharing. My daily life, my thoughts, my small joys. I sent texts, then voice notes. Photos, then short videos. Over time, it felt like we were old friends. So much so that the first time we spoke on the phone and I discovered “she” was a man, the shock nearly triggered a relapse. “I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, clutching the phone. “Did I… wake you?” “No,” Sebastian said. “It’s nine p.m. here.” He spoke so fluently now. This was only our second phone call. After learning he was a man, I had deliberately kept my distance. The last time we’d spoken was nearly a month ago. It was pure coincidence. The moment Wyatt handed me the divorce papers, a message from Sebastian had popped up, asking what I was doing. My mind was a blank canvas, wiped clean by the words “divorce papers.” I replied with a single word: Divorce. After signing, I hid in the hallway outside Wyatt’s office, my body wracked with tremors. Sebastian, I think… I think I’m about to lose my home. No father, no mother, no brother, not even my sweet little dog. And now, no Wyatt. What was I going to do? I never expected his reply. Then just marry me. Can’t you? The mocking laughter from inside the office grew louder. “Get real. Josephine wouldn’t know how to function without Wyatt. She’d never actually go through with it.” “Yeah, if she actually had to get a divorce, she’d probably flood City Hall with her tears!” “Is that so?” Wyatt’s voice was a low sneer. He tossed his lighter onto the coffee table. “She could be sobbing her eyes out, and she’d still be my dog. If I tell her to go east, she’ll crawl there on her hands and knees.” I stared through the crack in the door at the man who had become a stranger. Yes. 6 Sebastian sent me a checklist. Things to do within the month. Applying for a visa and finding a lawyer were on it, of course. But it also included a surprisingly long list of must-try restaurants. The Chinese food abroad is terrible. Seriously. I gratefully accepted his advice, eating my way through his list, one restaurant at a time. Being alone wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. My days were filled with food, shopping, and packing. The day I moved out of our marital home, Wyatt sent me a text. Not even a phone call? Don’t you miss me? He’d taken Sadie on a trip. To “show the girl the world,” he’d said. Naughty, he sent next. Then, a photo. This place is nice. Maybe I’ll bring you here for our anniversary? I wanted to block him, just like I’d blocked Sadie. But I still had to go back to City Hall with him to finalize the divorce, so I held back. Over the next two weeks, I sold off my smaller pieces of jewelry and handbags. I went to the doctor for a check-up and confirmed I wasn’t pregnant. Finally, I gathered all the financial assets Wyatt had entrusted to my care over the years. The night before our appointment at City Hall, Wyatt came back. He called me. “Josie, you moved out?” 7 He was used to my silence on the phone and just chuckled to himself. “Josie, you’re so adorable. I told you it was just an act.” His voice was bright, clearly in a good mood. “Tell you what. Let’s take this act all the way. How about you come with me to City Hall tomorrow and we get the final papers?” I held the phone tightly. “Josie, don’t worry, it’s just…” “Okay,” I said. “Woooooah!” A wave of whoops and hollers erupted from his side of the call. I hung up and texted him the time. The next day, I was up early. Wyatt, however, was late. A faint, but deliberate, bite mark was visible on his lip, no doubt a parting gift from Sadie. He pretended not to notice. I did the same. The process was even quicker than the first time. In and out in five minutes. “Josie, I have a surprise for you tomorrow,” Wyatt said, gently nudging my leg with his foot. I tucked the divorce decree into my purse. “Wyatt, are you free tonight?” I looked at him directly. “There are some things I need to talk to you about.” Wyatt froze. Ever since we were married, I had only ever called him “honey.” A moment later, his charming eyes curved into a smile as he tapped the red document in his hand. “Sure.”

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On our third wedding anniversary, I came home early to find my husband, Donovan, in bed with another woman. It was the tenth time. But I didn’t scream or cry. I just quietly closed the door for them. A month later, he threw the divorce papers on the table in front of me. “What have you ever done for the Ashford family besides produce a son?” he sneered. “The girl wants a real home with me. Sign it.” I looked into his cold, indifferent eyes, my own voice betraying no emotion. “Fine. But I get our son. I don’t want a dime of your money.” In the end, I gave up everything, walking away with nothing but my son. Everyone said I was insane to walk away from the Ashford fortune. Even Donovan asked contemptuously, “You’re a fertility specialist. How in the world are you going to support him?” What none of them knew was that Donovan Ashford had a severe case of male infertility. And that I, with my unusually high fertility, was the only woman in the world who could ever bear his child. The Ashford family’s century-old empire would have only one heir: my son. 1. Twenty minutes later, the master bedroom door opened. A girl emerged, wrapped in nothing but Donovan’s white dress shirt. It was Sophie, Donovan’s newest mistress, a scholarship student he was sponsoring. She froze when she saw me, then lifted her chin, her posture radiating the arrogance of a woman who believed she was the true lady of the house. I just nodded. “Use the side door. The paparazzi are camped out front.” She bit her lip and shot me a glare before scurrying away. Donovan appeared a moment later, a towel slung loosely around his hips. He glanced at our son, Noah, asleep in my arms, then back at me, a playful smirk touching his lips. “So well-behaved today.” I gently placed the sleeping Noah back in his crib, tucking him in. Donovan lit a cigarette. “Vivienne, you should always be this sensible.” His face was a blur in the smoke. For a second, I was transported back four years, to a night just like this. He had stood drenched on the street below my apartment, holding takeout from that little place I loved. Rain dripped from the ends of his hair. “Dr. Rowe, I’ve been pursuing you for three months. Give me a chance?” His eyes were so bright then, filled with a sincerity I would never see in them again. Donovan’s voice pulled me back to the present. “You haven’t forgotten why we got married, have you?” he said coolly. “I was drunk that night, forgot to take precautions. You got lucky, hit the jackpot on the first try.” He stepped closer, his fingers tilting my chin up. “The Ashfords value bloodline above all else. Otherwise, a little doctor like you… how would you have ever married into this family?” “I know,” I said, turning my head to escape his touch. His eyes hardened. He pulled his hand back and took another drag from his cigarette. “Good that you know. Just be Mrs. Ashford, raise our son well, and I won’t treat you poorly.” He paused. “But Vivienne, don’t ever expect me to be faithful to just one woman.” “I understand,” I murmured, lowering my gaze. He smiled, satisfied. As he turned to leave, he added, “Oh, and my parents’ anniversary party is tomorrow. Wear the champagne-colored dress.” The door clicked shut. I stood frozen for a long time. Only when my legs began to feel numb did I slowly walk back to the crib. Noah rolled over, his little lips puckered in a sweet dream. There was so much Donovan didn’t know. For instance, I was the one who altered his pre-marital medical report. As his primary physician, I had the highest level of access. His semen analysis clearly stated: “Severe Asthenospermia. Probability of natural conception is extremely low.” I quietly deleted that page. I loved him then. Loved him so much I couldn’t bear for him to know he was flawed. It was only later that I learned from my mentor that I had a rare condition myself: hyper-fertility. Without me, Donovan Ashford would have likely died childless. I gained forty pounds during the pregnancy, and that’s when he stopped coming home. The first time, it was the scent of unfamiliar perfume on his shirt. I confronted him, and he shoved me away in irritation. “Vivienne, can you stop being so neurotic?” Then came the lipstick stains, then the long hairs, and finally, he just started bringing them home. I cried, I screamed, I fought. Until six months ago, when I caught him with his third mistress. He had pulled on his pants, bored, and grabbed my chin. “Vivienne, you need to know your place. You got through the doors of this family because your womb did its job. Beyond that, you are nothing.” In that instant, something inside me shattered completely. After that, I stopped fighting. I stopped making scenes. I would even make myself scarce when he brought women home. It wasn’t resignation. It was the sudden, chilling realization of the rules of the game. I leaned down and gently kissed Noah’s soft forehead. He smelled faintly of milk, the only clean scent left in this house. I whispered against his ear, my voice as soft as a sigh, “Patience, my love.” “Everything the Ashfords own will be ours one day. It’s only a matter of time.” 2. For my in-laws’ seventieth birthday, they booked the entire top floor of Bridgewater’s most exclusive hotel. I wore the champagne dress Donovan had specified. But the place by his side, where I should have been standing, was occupied by Sophie. When she walked in wearing the white couture gown I had admired but never dared to buy, every eye in the room turned to her. “Donovan, sorry I’m late,” she cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet. Donovan kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. The star of the show always arrives last.” My in-laws frowned but said nothing. A few of his uncles exchanged glances, a mixture of mockery and malicious glee. I was seated at the far end of the long table, with distant relatives I barely knew. After a few rounds of drinks, Sophie sauntered over, holding a wine glass. Her voice was sharp enough for the entire room to hear. “Mrs. Ashford, could you get me a glass of hot water? I’m not feeling well.” Everyone looked at me. Donovan continued cutting his steak, not even lifting his head. I put down my glass. “The waiter is right behind you.” Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered. “But I want you to get it for me.” I met her gaze calmly. “Miss Miller, if you want water, you can ask your boyfriend to get it for you.” A few stifled laughs rippled through the nearby tables. Sophie’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Donovan…” she turned to the head of the table, her voice trembling. Donovan finally stood up. “Vivienne, it’s just a glass of water. Why do you have to be so petty?” I looked at his cold, hard eyes, then stood, poured a glass of water, and pushed it across the table toward her. Sophie didn’t take it. Tears streamed down her face. “Donovan, I was just trying to be friendly with her…” Donovan’s expression darkened completely. “Apologize.” The room fell silent. My mother-in-law turned her face away. My father-in-law sighed. I just stood there. The eyes of everyone in the room were on me, a mix of pity, scorn, contempt, and morbid curiosity. I remembered this same ballroom, one year ago today. Donovan had held my hand and introduced me to everyone. “This is my wife, Vivienne.” There had been pride in his eyes then, even if it was just a flicker. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “I shouldn’t have told you to call a waiter yourself.” The party ended on a sour note. Late that night, Donovan came home smelling of alcohol and slammed the divorce papers on the table. He lit a cigarette. “Sophie wants a home. She’s had a hard life. Just sign it.” I stared at the document, and my mind drifted to the night he proposed. He had arranged roses in the shape of a heart on the lawn below my apartment, the hand holding the ring trembling. “Vivienne, marry me. I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life.” There was sincerity in his eyes then, even if it was just for a moment. “Noah has to come with me.” Donovan laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “You can’t afford him.” I stood up. I was a full head shorter than him, but my spine was straight. “Then I’ll see you in court.” The smile vanished from his face. He stared at me, his expression a complex mix of emotions that finally settled into a sneer. “Fine. If you insist on humiliating yourself, I’ll indulge you.” He turned at the door. “Vivienne, you can’t win against me. Do you really think a single doctor stands a chance against the Ashford family’s legal team?” The door closed. Rain began to fall outside, drumming against the windowpanes. In the garden, the roses Donovan had planted himself before we were married were being battered by the storm. “Roses for my rose,” he had said. Now, the roses were dying. I walked back to Noah’s crib and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Don’t worry, my love,” I whispered. “Mommy won’t lose.” From the study, I heard the sound of something shattering. The war had begun.

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My wife Abi is the world’s top physician. She claimed love at first sight and chased me until I married her. Her rival Silas hated this. Years ago, they vowed never to marry, staying rivals till old age—breaking it meant a cursed end. Silas took his anger out on me. First, he stranded me in the wild for three days; I returned scarred. Abi healed me with top care. Second, he trapped me in a derelict building; I fell, breaking bones everywhere. Abi nursed me back. This cycle lasted five years: him hurting, her healing. Last time, Silas tricked me into eating a deadly allergen. I nearly died. Waking up in hospital, Abi sighed while writing my chart. “Don’t blame Silas,” she said. “His dad was a war hero. Fighting me is his only comfort.” “He knew you’d live. Just messing around.” A call from Silas sent her rushing out—she missed writing the correct allergy drip prescription. The nurse had the wrong bag ready. Then the System appeared: “To return home, you must die by the heroine. This wrong infusion is fatal. Consent?” I smiled at the nurse. “Go ahead.” … When Abi returned, the IV bag was already half empty. The warm, yellow light of the room softened the cool, sharp lines of her face. Dressed in her white coat, she walked to my bedside, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “I just finished up. Is that drip almost done already?” she murmured. “Let me see how my husband is doing.” She reached out to feel my forehead, then gently checked under my eyelids, her every movement precise and tender. I just stared at her, a storm of emotions swirling inside me. After all these years, I could finally go home. My gaze must have been too intense, because the corners of her eyes lifted in a slight smile, and her voice grew even softer. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Did the IV hurt?” I shook my head. She smiled and ruffled my hair, pulling a pill organizer from her bag and placing it on the nightstand. “Flynn, this allergic reaction was severe. You’ll need to continue these nutrient drips for another seven days.” “I’ve also put your allergy medication in here. Make sure you take it after every meal.” I slowly pushed myself into a sitting position, my voice calm. “That won’t be necessary. I won’t need them anymore.” She froze, her head tilting as she studied me. “Why so cold? Are you still angry with Silas?” She let out a soft sigh and reached for my hand. “Silas is just a bit extreme, that’s all. He didn’t really mean to hurt you. You’re fine now, so just let it go, okay?” I pulled my hand away. “What if I had actually died this time?” She blinked, then a helpless smile touched her lips. “With me here? How could I ever let that happen?” Right. My wife was the greatest doctor alive. There was no injury she couldn’t heal. Lately, Silas’s attacks had become more frequent. Sometimes it was minor, something that would give me a rash or an upset stomach. Other times, it was far more serious, like tricking me into consuming poison. But every single time, Abi would fix me, effortlessly. So this time, she probably figured there wouldn’t be any surprises. She looked at me, her captivating eyes, usually so full of affection, now held that familiar, indulgent expression. It was as if my brush with death was nothing more than a trivial drama in her eyes. When did things get like this? In the beginning, she did care about me. I was sure of it. I remember our wedding day. Before the ceremony even started, Silas, who had just flown back into the country, maliciously ran my wedding car off the road. The car slammed into a guardrail. I broke my ribs and was bedridden for over two weeks. Abi was furious. She stayed by my side at the hospital the entire time. Later, she went to confront Silas, telling him she was cutting ties with him for good. But just three days later, she gave in. Silas had slit his wrists. He was lying in a bathtub, his skin ghostly pale against the blood. Abi rushed him to the hospital, her heart torn between pain and guilt. When she came back, she rubbed her temples, her voice weary. “Flynn, he’s the son of a war hero. He’s not a bad person at his core. He’s just hurting and needs an outlet. He wasn’t targeting you on purpose.” “He has no family left. I’m all he has. For my sake, can you just let it go?” It was only then that I learned they weren’t just rivals. They had grown up together. That vow to “never marry and fight until they were old” was a pact they made as kids. But then, while Silas was studying abroad, she met me. She fell hard and fast, insisting she would marry no one else. When Silas found out, he lost control, a storm of tears and accusations. Abi ignored him and married me anyway. “Flynn, I know this is my fault,” she’d said. “We’re husband and wife. We should be a team. Can you just be the bigger person for me? Please?” Because of those words, I spent five years backing down, giving in, over and over again. Until this time. Until he nearly killed me. The System’s voice broke through my thoughts. [Host, the heroine does have feelings for you. If you can’t bear to leave, you just need to let her discover the incorrect medication. The guilt will consume her, and she will spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to you, loving you desperately.] I shook my head softly. What good was her guilt? It wasn’t worth anything. [But Host, didn’t you give up on going home?] I sighed. It was true. When I first found myself transported into this world, into this story, I had seriously considered staying. Back then, Abi treated me so well, so well that the mission objective, to “die by her hand,” seemed impossible. Besides, I was an orphan in my own world. It seemed better to stay with someone who truly loved me. But I forgot one crucial thing. People change. “No,” I said to myself. “I’m going home.” Only seven days left. I could wait. After Abi left, I was alone in the room. Not for long. The door was thrown open with a bang. Silas strode in, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit. A sense of alarm shot through me. “What are you doing here?” A vicious smile twisted his lips. “Came to see you off. Since a severe allergic reaction couldn’t finish the job, I figured I’d have to do it myself.” I reached for the call button. But he was already at my bedside, his hands wrapping around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. I struggled, but my body, still weak from anaphylactic shock, was no match for him. Soon, black spots danced in my vision. Just as my consciousness began to fade, a nurse on her rounds burst in and screamed. “What are you doing? Somebody help! Security!” In the chaos, I used my last ounce of strength to grab her hand. “Call… the police…” When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was Abi’s icy expression. “Flynn, why did you call the police?” It took me a moment to find my voice, which came out as a dry rasp. “Silas broke in and tried to strangle me. I called them to press charges.” Abi’s brow furrowed. “Flynn, Silas told me he was coming here to apologize to you. Why would he try to hurt you?” I stared at her, my voice quiet but firm. “How many times has he hurt me, Abi? Don’t you know by now?” She faltered for a second. Of course, she knew. But even if she believed me, she would never let Silas get a criminal record. A moment later, Abi gestured to her assistant, who stepped forward with a legal document. “Flynn, Silas’s situation is special. If this gets out, it will be bad for him.” “I’ve already punished him. He’s on lockdown and knows he was wrong. Just sign this forgiveness waiver, and we can put this behind us, alright?” I turned my head away, ignoring her. “Flynn.” Her tone hardened, laced with a new edge of compulsion. “Sign it. I promise Silas will never come near you again. Just listen to me.” She tried to force the pen into my hand, to make me sign. But before she could touch me, I raised my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. The crisp sound echoed in the silent room. The ward fell utterly silent. Abi cradled her cheek, her usually composed and elegant face a mask of shock. Maybe it was because I knew I was leaving. I was done swallowing the bitterness of the past. I looked her straight in the eye and said, each word deliberate, “Abi, believe what you want. I don’t care. But I am not signing that paper. It’s impossible.” Abi didn’t say another word. She snatched the document from her assistant, turned, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She was truly angry. For the next few days, she didn’t show her face. That evening, a nurse came to change my IV as usual, her expression hesitant. “Mr. Dawson,” she said, “Dr. Vance hasn’t been here in person, but she calls every day to check on you. She keeps telling me how severe your allergy was and that you can’t miss a single day of these nutrient drips. She wants me to make sure you finish every bag.” Seeing my silence, the nurse added, “She really does care about you, Mr. Dawson.” A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. So, she was that afraid of me dying. I wondered what her face would look like when she finally discovered that the prescription she personally wrote was the very thing that was killing me. “Cough, cough!” A violent cough wracked my body. I spat blood onto the white sheets, a stark crimson stain. The combination of the incorrect drip and the damage from the allergic reaction was taking its toll. My body was deteriorating faster than I expected. I might not even make it the full seven days. When I woke up, it was already dark outside, the room filled with a warm glow. Abi was sitting by my bed, her face etched with worry. She looked like she’d rushed here, her white coat still smudged with dust. Her hand was just reaching for my IV line, likely to check its status, when her eyes met mine. She froze, instantly snatching her hand back. Her voice was sharp with annoyance. “Flynn, are you resorting to these kinds of tricks now?” “I knew my treatment plan couldn’t be failing.” “If you wanted me to come back, you could have just said so. Did you really need to fake being unconscious to get my sympathy?” I turned my back to her, my voice flat. “If you don’t want to be here, then don’t. No one’s begging you.” But inside, a wave of relief washed over me. That was close. A moment longer, and she might have noticed the problem with the IV. My retort left her speechless. After a few seconds of silence, her expression softened. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, and her voice became gentle again. “Alright, are you still sulking? It’s not a big deal. I know you can’t stand Silas. I promise, I won’t let him near you again.” “You’ve been talking about visiting your friends, haven’t you? I’ll clear my schedule in a few days and take you, how does that sound?” Something stirred in me. I nodded. My closest friends lived in the next city over. Before I left this world for good, I had to see them one last time. Having her with me would make the trip easier. But in the end, she didn’t come with me. The day we were supposed to leave, we had just reached the hospital entrance when her phone rang. She answered, and her expression changed instantly. After hanging up, she looked at me, her face full of guilt. “Flynn…” I managed a knowing smile. “It’s fine. Go do what you need to do.” The nurse traveling with me tried to explain. “Mr. Dawson, there’s an emergency in the ER. As a lead physician, Dr. Vance has to be there.” I didn’t say anything, just turned and got into the car. A few passing doctors and nurses saw the exchange and gave me looks of approval. “Dr. Vance’s husband is so understanding.” Abi was a top-tier doctor. Being called away for emergencies like this was nothing new. It was a matter of life and death, and I had never held it against her. I always believed that saving lives should come before me. That was only right. What I never realized was that everything could come before me. And Silas… Silas came before everything else. I found her at the hospital’s affiliate branch in the next city. She was in a lab, frantically trying to formulate an antidote. Seeing me, she looked startled. “Flynn, what are you doing here?”

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The entire kindergarten class was taken hostage. The kidnapper’s voice boomed through a speaker: “No cops! The kid whose parents pay the most gets released first!” In my last life, I paid double the ransom, desperate to get my daughter, Maria, out of danger first. But my husband, Richard, the captain of the rescue team, insisted on avoiding any appearance of favoritism. He moved our daughter to the very end of the line. The kidnappers, enraged by the delay and perceived trickery, killed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that moment. One of Richard’s team members was bowing to me. “Ma’am, you’re an inspiration. To avoid any conflict of interest, you willingly swapped your own child’s spot with the one at the very end.” On the list, Maria’s name was crossed out. Another name was written in its place. Tears streamed down my face as I screamed, “Change it back! Put my daughter’s name back!” Richard slapped me, his voice a vicious hiss. “I’m the captain of this team! I can’t have people thinking I’m using my position to save my own kid first!” 1 I was on the verge of collapse. “What if something happens to her?” He was unmoved. “Nothing will happen. Stop being so dramatic.” I trembled with rage. “Richard, you don’t deserve to be Maria’s father!” “She’s only five years old! Can you imagine how scared she’ll be, watching every other child get rescued while she’s left for last?” “If the kidnappers get agitated, have you even thought about what will happen to her?” The memory of her pleading eyes as she died in my last life made it hard to breathe. But he was resolute. “I’m the rescue captain. Maria is my daughter. It’s my duty to avoid favoritism.” “If Maria walks out of there first, what will people say about me?” “Richard!” I tore my arm from his grasp and slapped him hard across the face. “Our daughter’s life is on the line, and all you can think about is your reputation? Are you even human?” The sharp crack of the slap made his team members turn their heads. It also ignited Richard’s fury. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and threw me to the ground. “You have no sense of the bigger picture!” he roared. “If we save Maria first, what happens to my reputation?” I froze. For the first time, I saw the real man behind the mask. From the very beginning, Maria’s life had never been as important to him as his own damn reputation. I scrambled to my feet and turned to the other team members, my voice choked with sobs but every word clear. “I paid double the ransom! I did it so my daughter could be safe!” “But my husband secretly changed the list. He swapped Maria’s place with the little boy whose parents paid the least!” Everyone stared, stunned. After a moment of silence, an older team member finally spoke, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Ma’am, we really overestimated you.” “The captain is doing this for the greater good!” Another man immediately chimed in, his brow furrowed. “He’s sacrificing his own daughter for the honor of the team. That’s integrity. Why can’t you understand that?” “Yeah, seriously,” a younger team member scoffed, his tone dismissive. “You’re making a scene. If you piss off the kidnappers, it’s not just Maria who’s in danger. You’ll be risking all the other kids too! How can you be so selfish?” “Selfish?” I stared at them, my body shaking with disbelief. “So I’m supposed to be so noble that I’ll let you use my daughter’s life to polish your reputation? Is that it?” “That’s enough!” Richard barked. “Get her out of here! I don’t want her causing a scene and interfering with the rescue!” His men immediately moved to obey, closing in to grab me. 2 “Get off me!” I fought back with everything I had. “Richard, you cold-blooded monster! You’ll pay for this!” The kidnappers heard the commotion. A rough voice crackled over the loudspeaker: “What’s all that noise? You shut the hell up, or nobody’s leaving here today!” Richard’s face paled. He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up! Are you trying to get everyone killed?” I was so consumed by rage that I bit down hard on his hand. “Bitch!” He kicked me square in the stomach. “Ugh! You… you actually hit me!” I curled into a ball, pain radiating through me. The man didn’t hesitate for a second, looking down at me with cold eyes. “That’s a lesson for you. If you cause any more trouble, don’t expect me to show any mercy.” He then turned and shouted toward the loudspeaker, “Sorry about that! My wife’s just worried about our kid, she’s not in her right mind! I’m handling it now!” The kidnapper’s voice came back, laced with contempt. “Well, handle it! If you don’t, her kid gets moved to the back of the line!” His words sent a shockwave through the crowd of parents. “What is wrong with that woman, Amelia? Her kid’s life is precious, but ours aren’t?” “Exactly! She’s delaying our children’s rescue! So selfish!” The accusations and insults flew at me like daggers, piercing my heart. I tried to fight back, my voice desperate. “No, the order is wrong! My daughter is supposed to be the first one released—” Someone cut me off. “They already announced the list! The highest bidder goes first. It’s not up to you!” “If you keep wasting time and piss off the kidnappers, what happens if they kill all the kids?” I tried to explain, but a large man grabbed me by the throat. “Listen to me, bitch. If anything happens to my son, I will hunt you down and bury you.” I couldn’t breathe. I looked to Richard, silently begging for help. He stood there, completely unmoved, as if I weren’t his wife of six years but a total stranger. A cold, bitter tear rolled down my cheek. The pressure on my neck tightened. I was about to pass out when I heard it. My daughter’s voice. “Mommy! Mommy, help me!” My eyes shot open. I saw Maria being pushed to the front of the line of children. The lead kidnapper held up the loudspeaker, his face a mask of fury. “Just in case any of you tried to call the cops, the kid at the end of the list is now our hostage!” It was just like last time. I could almost see the cold steel of the kidnapper’s knife slicing across my daughter’s pale throat— “No!” 3 A raw, agonizing scream tore from my throat as I fought free from the crowd. The murmurs started again. “Oh, so she’s the hostage’s mother. No wonder she’s hysterical.” “Tch. Serves her right for not paying enough. Just don’t let her drag our kids down with her.” “Her daughter dies, and our kids live? I’d say that’s a fair trade.” Shaking with fury, I lunged at the onlookers, clawing and scratching. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded across my back. Richard, who had been watching with cold indifference, had finally decided to act. He struck me with a heavy baton, knocking me to the ground, then turned to the crowd with a somber apology. “I’m so sorry, everyone. My wife is just overwrought. I’ll take her away now.” The crowd’s anger seemed to subside. “At least her husband knows how to prioritize.” “If your child really dies, we’ll all be sure to send flowers.” Richard put on a mask of deep sorrow. “If my daughter’s death can buy a chance for the other children to live, then her life will have had meaning.” I lay on the ground, my consciousness fading, silent tears tracking through the dirt on my face. “Tie her up,” Richard commanded his men. “Take her to the back room.” His team moved instantly to find rope. I thrashed wildly, my voice a raw scream. “Let me go! Richard, you bastard! You’ll regret this! Maria is your daughter!” But what could I, a weak and broken woman, do against several strong men? The rough rope bit into my wrists, the pain so sharp I nearly fainted. “Take her away!” Two men hooked their arms under mine and dragged me away like a broken doll. I stared at the closed kindergarten doors, imagining I could hear Maria’s heart-wrenching sobs. “Maria… Mommy’s so sorry…” I choked out, the taste of blood filling my throat. I was hauled into a dark room, and the door slammed shut. My wrists were raw and bleeding. I twisted my body, fighting against the ropes. “Let me go! I have to save Maria! Richard, you monster!” The pressure on my wrists suddenly intensified. Richard himself stepped forward, snatched an electric stun baton from one of his men, and jammed it into my side without a moment’s hesitation. Electricity convulsed through my body. Every bone felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I collapsed to the floor, twitching, foam bubbling at my lips. But my eyes remained fixed on the closed door, in the direction where Maria was being held. 4 “Amelia, I suggest you cooperate,” Richard said, his voice like ice. “If you keep this up, you won’t just fail to save Maria; you’ll destroy the entire team’s reputation.” “Reputation?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “Is your reputation worth my daughter’s life?” His eyes flashed with fury. He raised his hand and slapped me again, a vicious, stinging blow that made my cheek swell instantly. “Shut her up!” he ordered his men. “Beat her until she doesn’t have the strength to make another sound!” The team members exchanged uneasy glances. They saw me, covered in blood, yet still glaring at Richard with pure hatred. A few of them instinctively took a step back. “Captain, if we keep going, she might…” “What are you waiting for?” Richard snapped. “She’s a madwoman! I’m her husband. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility.” That was all they needed to hear. All hesitation vanished. Fists rained down on my back, my legs, the pain so intense I almost blacked out. I bit down on my lip, my mind filled with the image from my past life: Maria, lying in a pool of her own blood. I can’t pass out. I can’t! If I go down, there will be no one left to save my daughter. I forced my head up and spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the face of the man closest to me. “You’re all accomplices! If Maria dies, I’ll haunt every last one of you!” Enraged, they hit me harder. Someone grabbed a steel pipe from the corner and brought it down hard on my knee. A sickening crack echoed in the small room. The pain was blinding. I saw black spots. Richard stepped forward and grabbed my chin. I summoned every last bit of my strength and bit down on his finger, hard enough to hear the bone snap. “Ah—you bitch!” he screamed, clutching his hand and kicking me away. “I’m telling you now,” I gasped, “I will make sure everyone knows what you did today. I’ll show the world that this rescue team is nothing but a pack of animals.” Richard just sneered and turned to his men. “Get it.” One of them pulled a glass bottle from a tool bag. It was filled with a pale yellow liquid that gave off a sharp, acrid stench. My pupils contracted. A terrifying chill shot through me. “Richard! What are you doing?!” “What am I doing?” He laughed coldly, advancing on me. “You love to scream, don’t you? Let’s see how you talk when your throat is burned out.” His men swarmed me, pinning my arms and legs, clamping a hand over my mouth. I struggled, tears and blood mixing on my face, but my strength was pathetic against these men.

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