1 After buying the video of my husband’s latest backseat rendezvous from the paparazzi for the 99th time, I dug out the written apology he wrote in high school. He’d been caught secretly holding my hand by the dean, and in his apology, Jackson Archer had scrawled in his determined, youthful handwriting: I know they say we’re too young for love, but I believe our love can conquer anything. Before I’m thirty, I’ll give Audrey a home. With a baby, and a cat. I’m twenty-nine now. There’s no baby, no cat. But he has given another woman and their fraternal twins a perfect home. I took a pen and pressed down hard on the yellowed page, adding a single, shaky line. Then, I drove the tip of the scissors into my own neck. You were wrong. You didn’t make her happy. You drove her to her death. … The pain was distant, a dull throb beneath the overwhelming wave of relief as the warmth drained from my body. Just as my consciousness began to drift, the bathroom door crashed open. Jackson burst in. His pupils shrank to pinpricks the moment he saw the crimson swirling in the bathtub. He stumbled forward, almost falling, snatching a towel and pressing it desperately against the gushing wound on my neck. “Audrey, are you fucking insane?” I looked at his panicked face and felt a strange urge to laugh. Was he afraid I would die, or was he afraid my messy death would tarnish his pristine reputation? “Don’t touch me, Jackson. Let go.” He tried to lift me from the water. I struggled, and the icy, pink-tinged water splashed all over him, soaking his expensive suit and shirt, clinging to his body and leaving him a pathetic, dripping mess. “Trying to kill yourself over something so trivial? When did you become so goddamn dramatic?” he snarled through gritted teeth. I just closed my eyes, too tired to argue. I remembered the time I’d begged Sylvie to get an abortion, threatening to slit my wrists if she didn’t. He had lied to me, telling me he’d sent her abroad after the procedure was done. He lied until she reappeared, two babies in her arms. That was the day I’d thrown myself from the balcony. Again and again, I hurt myself. And with each attempt, Jackson’s initial heartache had curdled into cold indifference. “You don’t have the guts to actually die, Audrey,” he’d said once. “You just pull these stunts to force my hand. Otherwise, how do you explain being saved every single time?” The car sped toward the hospital, a siren screaming through the night. The doctors were quick. Soon, I was lying in a private room. Jackson finally lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his agitated form. “Sylvie was an innocent girl when she came to me. She’s worked tirelessly for the company and for the children these past three years.” “I was drunk that night. I wronged her, and the children are innocent in all of this!” he said, his voice rising. He loomed over me, his eyes a mixture of exhaustion and utter bewilderment. “The title of Mrs. Archer will always be yours. Why can’t you just be a little more gracious?” “Is it so hard to accept two children? They’re my flesh and blood!” I stared at the man I had once loved with every fiber of my being. He was demanding I be gracious about the children he’d had with another woman. My heart didn’t ache anymore; it felt like it had been encased in ice, a suffocating coldness spreading through my chest. “Jackson, we’re getting a divorce tomorrow.” His brow furrowed. “How long are you going to keep this up? It was just some stupid video from the paparazzi!” “You won’t touch me,” he spat, “so what, I’m not allowed to get relief from her either?” A bitter smile twisted my lips. “You used to say that if you ever made a mistake, you’d let me go without a fight.” His breath caught. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes. “Audrey, we were just kids. You can’t take childhood promises seriously.” I closed my eyes, exhausted. “Then let the past stay in the past.” “You’ve already given your home to someone else. I don’t want it anymore.” Silence hung in the room for a long moment. He reached out, his hand hovering over my hair. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I turned my head away. His hand fell, and he slammed the door on his way out, his anger palpable. “Get some rest. The doctor said you’re emotionally unstable and need quiet,” his voice came, muffled, from the hallway. “We can talk about the divorce later. Just don’t do anything stupid again.” In his eyes, my hysteria, my breakdowns, were nothing but foolish theatrics. My pain was merely an inconvenience, disturbing the peaceful, double life he was so enjoying. Just then, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was the old apology note clutched in my hand. New words, blooming into existence on the blank space of the page! Who are you? Why are you scribbling all over my apology note! My heart hammered against my ribs. I stared, transfixed, at the words that had appeared from thin air. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen a nurse had left behind. Jackson, I’m your guardian angel. I’m here to protect you. Stay away from Audrey. I held my breath, my eyes glued to the paper. A few seconds later, a new sentence appeared, the handwriting youthful and angry: That’s bullshit! Why should I listen to you? I love Audrey, and I’m going to be with her! What the hell are you? It was him. It was really the eighteen-year-old Jackson. The boy who still believed love could conquer all, the boy who had sworn to give me a home. That boy and the cold, self-possessed man who had just left my room were two entirely different people. My mother had an affair. My father murdered her and her lover before being sent to prison. Everyone at school called me the bastard daughter of a killer and a whore. Everyone except for the eighteen-year-old Jackson. He held me and told me, over and over, how wonderful I was. Because I’d once said I wanted to see real snow, he secretly saved up his money to buy us bus tickets to go up north. He was the boy who, while reading his public apology in front of the entire school, lifted his chin in defiance and declared, “I did nothing wrong. I love Audrey, and I’m going to marry her one day.” We used to huddle together in a tiny walk-up apartment, making wishes over a cheap slice of leftover cake from his part-time job. Even after he became a ruthless titan of industry, his eyes had still been full of me. He’d let me pick his personal assistants, just to make me feel secure. Sylvie’s resume was unremarkable. Her English was colored by a thick, rural accent. But she reminded me of my younger self, with that same relentless drive to succeed. I treated her like a little sister, buying her clothes, teaching her the subtle arts of navigating high society. I even invited her to our home for the holidays. She would link her arm through mine, a playful smile on her face. “Don’t you worry, Audrey. I’ll keep a close eye on Mr. Archer for you. No other woman will get near him!” And yet, she was the one who betrayed me the deepest. The hospital room door swung open. Sylvie walked in, dressed in a Chanel suit and carrying a Hermès bag. There was no trace of the country girl she once was. “Jackson is swamped at the office. He couldn’t get away, so he asked me to check on you,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “Audrey, please stop hurting yourself. I know you’re upset.” “But the title of Mrs. Archer will always be yours. We would never try to take that from you.” I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch her performance. “Get out. Don’t make me say it again.” Sylvie clearly hadn’t expected such a blunt dismissal. Her smile faltered. “Audrey, you have trouble conceiving. You can’t hold Jackson back forever.” Her voice dropped, turning venomous. “You’re a barren wreck, Audrey. Jackson’s been sick of you for years!” She clicked her heels on the polished floor and left, her face a mask of displeasure. Who the hell cared about the title of Mrs. Archer? What I wanted was the boy whose world revolved around me, the lover who had promised me a home. And since the man he’d become had shattered that promise with his own two hands, I didn’t want this love, tainted with betrayal and lies, anymore either. A cold resolve settled in my heart. My hand was steady as I wrote: If you don’t listen, you will cause Audrey to try and kill herself over and over again until she loses the will to live. If you truly love her, then stay away from her. It’s the only thing you can do for her. I leaned back against the headboard, drained, and waited for his reply. Minutes ticked by. Just when I thought he wouldn’t respond, new words slowly bled onto the page. The boy’s handwriting was no longer angry, but hesitant. You’re lying. Audrey is perfect. How could I ever hurt her? I’ll spend my whole life taking care of her! Why should I believe you? You don’t have any proof. My life was the proof, written in blood and tears. But how could I explain that to the boy from eleven years ago? Should I tell him that after a business dinner, he would get blackout drunk and sleep with his adoring assistant? That she would get pregnant and give birth to his twins? That the girl he once treasured like a rare jewel would sink into a deep depression, haunted by his daily betrayals, and try to violently claw her way out of this world, again and again? The truth was too cruel for the eighteen-year-old boy to bear. After a moment’s thought, I added one more line: You have a small birthmark near your tailbone. It’s shaped like a tiny star. Jackson had told me that only he, the orphanage director, and I knew about it. Are you really my guardian angel? I smiled a little. The boy was so easy to fool. If you truly want to save Audrey, you have to be distant. Be cold to her. Let her live a life without you in it. A long time passed. When the words finally appeared, they were steeped in a reluctant, painful acceptance: Fine. I’ll listen to you, for now. But if I find out you’re lying, I swear I won’t let you get away with it. A teenager’s threat, fierce but naive. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a real smile touching my lips for the first time in ages. Please, eighteen-year-old Jackson, I thought. Be cruel. Be heartless. Push away the girl who loves you with her entire being. Push her as far away as you can. The day I was discharged, Jackson came to pick me up. His gaze darkened when he saw the fresh scar on my neck. “The passenger seat is a little messy. You should sit in the back,” he said. My eyes landed on a pair of torn pantyhose hastily stuffed into the side pocket. My heart clenched tight. But this time, I didn’t scream or demand answers. I just silently got into the back seat. Jackson seemed taken aback by my calmness. The driver raised the privacy divider. Jackson cleared his throat, trying to break the heavy silence. “Audrey,” he began, his voice laced with confusion, “how did we end up like this?” “It’s simple,” I said, my voice flat. “There was a time when you only had eyes for me. Now, I’m just one of your many options, and not even the most important one.” His voice immediately rose in defense. “That’s not true! You know you’ll always be the most important person to me!” A mocking smile played on my lips. “That’s an honor I can’t afford, Jackson.” His face hardened. “Audrey, do you have to be so damn aggressive all the time?” “I’m doing everything I can to make it up to you! I haven’t even officially added them to the family records. What more do you want from me?” He always had an excuse. Did that mean my pain was worthless? A profound weariness washed over me. I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the courthouse.” He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face him. “I told you, a divorce is not happening. You will be my wife for the rest of your life!” I looked at his handsome face, now twisted with rage, and he seemed like a complete stranger. “Jackson, the only thing that ever kept me here was my love for you.” “I don’t love you anymore. So you can’t keep me anymore.” His pupils constricted. He slumped back into his seat and, after a long moment, let out a cold laugh. “Your mind games are getting more sophisticated, I’ll give you that. I underestimated you.” The moment I stepped through the front door, I heard the sound of children laughing, followed by Sylvie’s gentle cooing. “Slow down, you two. Daddy will be home any minute.” The living room carpet was littered with toys. The twins were wrestling playfully while Sylvie, dressed in comfortable loungewear, watched them with a fond smile. The domestic scene was so perfect it stung my eyes. Hearing us, Sylvie naturally took the jacket from Jackson’s shoulders and smiled graciously at me. “Audrey, if you need anything at all, just let me know.” She sounded every bit the lady of the house. The little boy ran up and kicked my shin. “Bitch! Don’t you dare ruin my family!” The girl pouted. “Daddy, why did you let the mean lady come back to our house?” Jackson, however, didn’t seem to mind their hostility. His face was filled with doting affection. “Daddy will always love you two the most.” I was an outsider, watching this happy family of four. I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a desperate anchor to my composure. “I’ll take the guest room.” Jackson followed me into the room. “Are you really going to hold a grudge against the children? I was just placating them.” I laughed, a hollow sound. “What do your children have to do with me? Why should I have to consider their feelings?” My words left him speechless, his face turning ashen. “Audrey, I don’t even recognize you anymore!” I nodded, my voice light and airy. “And you have only yourself to thank for that.” I gently placed the old apology note on the nightstand. Just then, new writing appeared on it. To my future self: you’re a piece of shit! I can see what you’re doing right now! How could you let another woman and her bastard children into our home? How the fuck could you let Audrey suffer like this? I’m going to kill you! The words were a chaotic scrawl of pure rage. My heart pounded in my chest. And Jackson, standing in the doorway, seemed to sense something. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, zeroed in on the paper in my hand. His voice was low and dangerous. “Audrey, what is that you’re holding?” Jackson snatched the paper from my hand. “Stop playing these stupid games, Audrey. I think you’re having a psychotic break!” I stared at him, my voice sharp with alarm. “Don’t you touch that!” The disgust in my eyes seemed to ignite his fury. His gaze turned venomous. “This is my house. You are my wife. What is there that I can’t touch?” “Audrey, have I been too easy on you lately? What is this, a love letter from your new boy toy?” So, this was him being easy on me? Forcing me to accept his betrayal and his illegitimate children, ignoring my agony? A chill colder than death seeped into my bones. I shoved him out of the room with all my strength and locked the door. All I could do now was pray that the Jackson from eleven years ago would listen, that he could somehow change my fate. But the next few days passed with no change at all. My heart sank. Perhaps as a punishment for my disobedience, Jackson decided to throw a lavish party to formally welcome the twins into the family. Invitations were sent to half the city’s elite. Sylvie, radiant in a couture gown, stood with the two children, graciously accepting the congratulations and well-wishes from the crowd. When her eyes met mine, they were gleaming with triumph. Her smile seemed to say, This is just the beginning. The next party you attend will be our wedding. Halfway through the event, a slideshow of the children’s lives began playing on a large screen. There was Jackson, having a picnic with them and their mother; Jackson, taking them to a water park. The images were a beautiful, agonizing torture. Suddenly, the screen flickered. The children’s smiling faces were gone. In their place was a shockingly graphic scene. It was the video of my mother’s affair, the one her lover had secretly filmed and leaked online years ago. We looked so much alike. I could feel the guests’ scornful glares piercing my skin. Jackson was shouting at the technicians to shut it down, but something was wrong with the controls. My mother’s wanton moans echoed through the grand ballroom. My blood ran cold, freezing in my veins. Across the room, Sylvie’s lips curled into a poisonous smile. She mouthed the words silently: Like my gift? I lunged at her, slapping her across the face with every ounce of strength I had. Sylvie stumbled backward theatrically, colliding with her son who had run over to see the commotion. The boy fell to the ground and burst into tears. “Sylvie! My son!” Jackson roared. Before I could even react, I was kicked, sent flying like a rag doll. My head slammed against the marble floor. A sharp, searing pain exploded at the back of my skull as a warm liquid began to pool beneath me. I curled up on the ground, a wet heat spreading between my legs. I reached down with a trembling hand and it came away slick with blood.

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I came home from work and had just stepped one foot inside when strange text popped up in front of my eyes: [DON’T GO IN! Your obsessive ex-boyfriend is here to kill you. The second you’re inside, he’ll turn you into a human pincushion! RUN!] [Well, the side character brought this on herself. She knew the guy has major abandonment issues, but she still drained his wallet dry and then dumped him. Serves her right for being a gold digger!] I was terrified, but also completely bewildered. I’ve been single my entire twenty-five years of life. When the hell did I become a money-grubbing scammer?! While I was still frozen in shock, a pale, slender hand shot out from the darkness, clamped around my arm, and yanked me into the apartment. 1 The moment the door clicked shut, the cold edge of a blade pressed against my neck. A man’s voice, dark and unhinged, whispered in my ear. “Baby, wasn’t I good to you? Why did you break up with me?” I fought back the urge to scream, my voice trembling as I spoke. “Sir, I think you have the wrong person. I’ve been single my whole life. I’ve never even been in a relationship.” Not even online! He got angry. The pressure on the knife increased, its sharp tip piercing my skin. “What did you just say, baby?” [This girl is so dumb. The guy has been abandoned his whole life; it’s his biggest trigger. And she’s denying their online relationship? She’s practically begging him to kill her!] [Yeah, if she just begged him to take her back now, he might actually spare her.] Panic seized me. I decided to trust the pop-ups and started to cry. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t really want to break up.” A cold laugh echoed in the dark. “What was that, baby? I don’t think I heard you.” I choked back a sob and repeated, “I don’t want to break up.” “Do you really mean it?” I nodded furiously. “Yes!” His tone brightened instantly. “Alright then. I’ll give you one last chance.” I nodded like my life depended on it. But he didn’t let me go. He tied my hands and feet with a rope he’d brought with him and tossed me onto the sofa. Then he sat down on a low stool in front of me, staring at me in the pitch-black room without saying a word. His gaze sent shivers down my spine, and my body wouldn’t stop trembling. I knew what he was thinking: Should I kill her? When should I kill her? Even though I was certain he had the wrong person, I didn’t dare bring it up again. 2 I’d needed to use the restroom when I got home, and after holding it for half an hour, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stammered, “Can I… can I please use the bathroom?” He didn’t answer at first. After about five seconds, he stood up abruptly without a word. I jumped, instinctively shrinking into the corner of the sofa. He loomed over me. My fear peaked. Just as a scream was about to tear from my throat, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. He set me down in front of the toilet, cut the ropes on my hands with his knife, and walked out, closing the door behind him before I could say a thing. I knew he was waiting right outside, but I had no choice. It was better than wetting myself. I briefly considered trying to fight back, but quickly gave up the idea. I didn’t have the skills to overpower him. Any sudden moves would just get me killed faster. After slowly washing my hands, I took a deep breath and called out, “I’m done.” He still didn’t bother to reply, simply pushing the door open and walking in. He carried me back to the sofa and tied my hands again. Just when I thought he would go back to his stool, he leaned over me once more. My heart stopped, my breath catching in my throat. He traced my lips with his thumb, the pressure gradually increasing. His heavy breathing was loud in the silent darkness. My scalp tingled with fear. I was terrified he was about to assault me, but then a twisted thought crossed my mind: if sleeping with him would make him spare my life, maybe I could accept it. Turns out, I was overthinking it. It wasn’t lust in his eyes. It was murder. “What have I ever denied you? Why did you have to break up with me?” My throat felt tight. “I’m… I’m sorry,” I managed to say. “It won’t happen again.” He let out a hollow chuckle, though whether it was at my expense or his own, I couldn’t tell. Thankfully, he didn’t torture me further and returned to his stool. I let out a long, shaky breath. [He came here ready to kill her, but now he can’t bring himself to do it. This guy is down bad.] [He’s always been pathetic. He knew she was a gold digger but still willingly threw money at her. He wouldn’t have snapped if she hadn’t suddenly broken up with him.] The pop-ups were right. He was pathetically devoted. But I wasn’t the one who scammed him! This was all a horrible mistake. With that thought, I decided to try one last time. I took a deep breath, mustering my courage. “Do you even know my name?” He looked up at me, his voice a slow, mocking drawl. “Thea. Twenty-five years old. Graduated from City University. Five-foot-four, about a hundred and ten pounds. Allergic to shellfish, hates snails…” The flicker of hope in my heart died with every word he spoke. All the information was correct. Unless I had amnesia, someone had stolen my identity and started a relationship with him. Someone who knew me very, very well. Who? Who would do this to me? 3 The room fell into a deathly silence again, so quiet I could hear my own frantic heartbeat. I couldn’t stand the silent torment. Despair began to creep in. “I’ve been single my whole life,” I sobbed. “I’ve never been in a relationship, not even online. If you don’t believe me, you can check my phone.” He turned his head, his gaze piercing through the darkness. Even though I couldn’t see his expression, I knew he was seconds away from killing me. [She’s really not afraid to die, is she? Still denying she ever dated him.] [I’m a little worried blood is gonna splash on my screen.] [Don’t say that, I’m scared he’s about to snap.] I didn’t dare say another word, my fear dissolving into quiet whimpers. He watched me for a moment, then looked away. He pulled my phone from his pocket, slipped on a pair of gloves, and demanded, “Password.” I blinked, a spark of hope igniting. “552233,” I said quickly. His goal was clear. He opened my forum app first, scrolling through my profile page. He was too far away for me to see what he was looking for. After two minutes, his frantic scrolling slowed to a stop. He stared intently at the screen. My heart leaped into my throat. Did he find… what he was looking for? A cold, sharp laugh cut through the silence. My stomach dropped. He exited the forum app and opened my chat history. After a single glance, he slammed the phone face down on the coffee table and pressed the knife to my neck again. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” I wanted to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. “I really… didn’t…” [Well, she asked for it. I can’t believe how dumb this girl is!] [For real. She’s so clueless I’m starting to wonder if she was set up lol.] [He was actually hesitating before. Great, now he’s dead set on sending her on her way.] I had been holding it together, but seeing the pop-ups, I finally broke down completely. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I swear I’ve never been in a relationship with you!” I wailed. “I’ve never dated anyone!” Whatever monster pretended to be me and did this, I swear I’ll haunt them for eternity! [You know, I’m starting to think she really doesn’t know what’s going on.] [I get that feeling too. The girl who was dating him online seemed way smarter than this.] [Wait, could someone have impersonated her to date him?] [Probably not. When he was checking her phone just now, he must have found proof that she was the one. Otherwise, why would he have flipped out like that?] [I’m confused. Is this some kind of parallel universe crossover?] [I’ve read the source material, there’s nothing like that in the plot. So probably not.] 4 In the end, he didn’t use the knife. My sobs gradually subsided into quiet sniffles. “I really didn’t date you online. If you don’t believe me, I…” Grrrrroooowwwl. My stomach let out an incredibly ill-timed rumble. I had worked until 7:30 and hadn’t eaten dinner yet. I was starving. This was so embarrassing. I instinctively tried to deny it. “I’m not…” Ruuuumble-rumble-rumble. I lost all will to argue. [Girl: I’m not hungry. Stomach: I BEG TO DIFFER.] [I bet he’s gonna go make her dinner now.] [No way.] [I’ll bet you a bag of chips he does. It fits his pathetically devoted persona.] After about ten seconds of silence, the man stood up and walked toward the kitchen. The pop-ups went wild: [Dude, come on. She dumped you, and now you’re making her noodles with a straight face? How is that any different from doing her laundry?] [I hereby declare you the Simp King of the Year!] For a second, I wondered if I really did have amnesia and had wronged him. But I was certain my memory was perfectly intact. Could it really be a parallel universe thing, like the pop-ups said? I had no idea. Half an hour later, he came out with a large bowl of tomato and egg noodles. He didn’t untie me. Instead, he picked up the chopsticks and held a bite to my lips. “Can I eat by myself?” I asked cautiously. “I promise I won’t try anything.” “No,” he said without hesitation. I didn’t dare ask again and let him feed me. It was awkward at first, but I slowly got used to it. The noodles were surprisingly delicious. But no matter how good they were, I couldn’t finish the whole bowl. After about a third of it, I shook my head. “I’m full.” He didn’t force me. He wiped my mouth with a napkin, then turned his back to me and started eating the rest himself. I stared, dumbfounded. The pop-ups started up again: [Seriously? Is there no limit to his devotion?] [The way he’s going, he’d probably kill her and then immediately kill himself to join her.] [He’s completely obsessed. He didn’t care when she scammed him out of all his savings, but the second she said she never liked him and wanted to break up, he decided on murder. He probably thinks eating her leftovers is a reward.] Despite everything, a shiver still ran down my spine. And even if I did have amnesia, I knew my own character. I would never scam someone or play with their feelings like that. So, who the hell pretended to be me and dated him online?!

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My husband’s friend from college has a “sports system,” and I’m the one it’s bound to. As long as I lie still, she can keep moving indefinitely, and all her fatigue gets transferred to me. So my husband ties me to the bed while she runs a marathon and wins. He slips sleeping pills into my milk so she can swim three thousand meters without getting tired. My body is deteriorating, but she’s racking up prize money and awards. My husband constantly belittles me. “Look at Lily, so young and full of energy. Then look at you, lying there until your limbs atrophy!” I rest, she moves? As long as I remain still, she can keep moving? Perfect. On New Year’s Eve, they made plans to “ring in the new year” together. I went straight to a medical research center, signed an agreement, and had myself cryogenically frozen for one year. I’m going to make sure your New Year’s celebration lasts the entire year. You can go break a world record. 1 William came toward me again, holding a wide strip of cloth. He always did this before one of Lily’s competitions. He would tie me up. Whenever I tried to struggle, he would whisper gently, “Honey, don’t talk. Just cooperate for a few hours. I’ll lie here with you.” I stared at him, bewildered. “William, what on earth are you doing?” He didn’t answer. He just held me down. I was pinned to the bed, unable to move. The TV was broadcasting a live marathon. Lily, my husband’s college friend, was running. I watched with a frown. Not ten minutes later, a sharp, aching soreness shot up from my calves, as if I had just run five miles myself. The pain was so intense I let out a groan. I tried to get up, but William held me down firmly. He cradled my head and smiled. “Just bear with it, honey. I’ll give you a massage.” He kneaded my aching muscles while his eyes, gleaming with excitement, were glued to the TV. On the screen, Lily ran with a steady, swift pace, not a drop of sweat on her face. She was a stark contrast to the panting, struggling runners beside her. She ran faster and faster, while the pain in my body intensified. With every step she took, the soreness grew, as if I were the one running. No, it was worse than if I had run it myself. Every time I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, William would press down on me, refusing to let me get up. After what felt like an eternity, the announcer’s excited voice shouted “Champion!” as Lily crossed the finish line and was immediately swarmed by a crowd. William let out a sigh of relief and untied me. Lily accepted the trophy and yelled into the camera, “William, did you see that? I won! I really have you to thank. Day or night, having you by my side gives me peace of mind.” I looked up at William. He stood by the bed, his face a mixture of pride, relief, and excitement. I trembled with a rage that consumed my entire body. 2 I lay on the bed, too exhausted to even lift a finger. “William,” I asked, my voice weak, “why did you tie me up?” He was in the middle of changing his shoes. He paused, and when he turned around, the excitement was gone, replaced by sheer annoyance. “I told you to cooperate. Why do you ask so many questions?” I managed a weak smile. The soreness hadn’t faded, and every word was an effort. “Cooperate? You tie me up like a mummy and make me lie here in agony, and you call that cooperating? And what about you? ‘Day and night’ with your little friend. What exactly are you doing with her?” William’s brow furrowed, his expression cold. “What are you thinking? Lily is just a friend. She’s under a lot of pressure preparing for her competitions. What’s wrong with me looking after her? She’s fit, she wins awards, she brings honor to our country. And you? All you do is lie in bed and let your imagination run wild.” I repeated the words “looking after,” my heart clenching. “Looking after her? You go look after her, and you tie me up? Am I just part of your game?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, his tone hardening. “I told you not to overthink it. She’s like a sister to me. Lily winning the championship is a huge honor. If you’re not going to be happy for me, at least don’t be so jealous. It’s pathetic.” I opened my mouth to say more, but my throat tightened, and no words came out. It was always like this. Whenever Lily had a competition, he always had some excuse to make me stay in bed. He’d say I was tired and needed rest, or he’d come up with some bizarre reason to keep me from moving. I used to think I was just being paranoid. But this time, the pain of being tied down, the bone-deep exhaustion, and the sight of Lily running so effortlessly on TV—it was all like a series of needles, forcing me to wake up. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. My body was getting weaker and weaker. The slightest movement left me breathless. But Lily was becoming more and more energetic, winning award after award. There had to be a connection I wasn’t seeing. A knock on the door broke the silence. William’s face lit up as he rushed to open it, his voice filled with a warmth I hadn’t heard directed at me in a long time. “Lily! You’re here! Come in, you were amazing. I almost cried when you won.” Lily bounced into the room, her eyes landing on me. A mocking smile played on her lips. “Still in bed, are we? Why don’t you get up and move around a bit? It’s not healthy to lie around all day. Look at me, you have to exercise to have energy.” She waved the trophy in her hand, its gleam stabbing at my eyes. William looked at her with doting affection, then turned to me, his voice cold. “What are you waiting for? Get up and make Lily something to eat. If you keep lying there, your limbs are going to atrophy!” 3 Of course I wasn’t going to cook. William ended up making instant noodles for dinner. As I drifted in and out of sleep, I overheard them whispering. They must have thought I was completely out, because even though their voices were low, the words drifted into the bedroom. “William,” Lily said with a giggle, “I’m definitely going to win the three-thousand-meter swim tomorrow. After I get the prize, can we celebrate New Year’s Eve together tomorrow night? You know you’re my New Year’s wish!” William sounded a bit shy. “Lily, your stamina is incredible. You just ran a marathon, and tomorrow you can swim three thousand meters. But… about celebrating together… I’m not sure I can keep up with you.” Lily laughed softly. “Oh, William, I don’t mind. I just want to make you happy. Let’s spend the whole night together, okay?” After a brief silence, William’s voice was hesitant. “But… I still feel guilty. Maybe I should just divorce her. It feels wrong to do this to her.” Lily paused. “William, you can’t divorce her now. My sports system is bound to her. I can only compete without a care in the world if she’s lying perfectly still. All the fatigue gets transferred to her, and that’s how I win all these championships.” I froze. Lily has a system? And it’s bound to me? I held my breath, pressing myself against the headboard, and fumbled for my phone to start recording. Lily’s voice softened, coaxing him. “William, if you divorce her, how will you control her? If she runs off and stops cooperating, my system will be useless.” “Just wait a little longer, William. After I compete in a few more major events next year, the prize money and endorsements will be enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.” “By then, she’ll be completely broken down anyway. A cripple who can’t even walk. No one will suspect anything if she dies. And when she’s gone, we can finally be together, officially. I’ll marry you, okay?” William hesitated for a moment, then chuckled. “Okay, I’ll listen to you. You focus on your race tomorrow. I’ll make sure she behaves. And tomorrow night, we’ll celebrate New Year’s Eve together. I’ll even take something if I have to, just to keep up with you.” Lily giggled. “You’re the best, William. But you have to time it right. You have to let her get up after my race is over, otherwise I won’t be able to stop either.” “Don’t worry,” William replied softly. “I know what I’m doing. I won’t let her stay still for too long, otherwise you’ll keep moving. I get it.” I lay in the darkness, my body ice-cold, my blood frozen in my veins. So that was it. That’s why I was getting weaker, why Lily was always a bundle of endless energy, why William was always finding ways to make me lie down. I wasn’t paranoid. I wasn’t being ridiculous. I was a pawn in their game. A stepping stone for Lily’s success. A tool to be discarded when I was no longer useful. 4 The next morning, the TV in the living room was blasting. The sports channel was broadcasting the pre-race preparations for the three-thousand-meter swim. I was propped up against the headboard, the soreness from the day before still clinging to my muscles. William walked in, holding the same strip of cloth from yesterday, his face blank. “Honey, lie down. Time to cooperate.” I frowned, my voice hoarse. “No, William. I’m not doing it.” He stopped, his brow instantly furrowing. “What’s your problem? It’s just for a few hours. Just bear with it.” He reached for my arm, but I yanked it away. He stared at me for a few seconds, then, as if an idea had struck him, he turned and left the bedroom. He returned a moment later with a glass of milk, his voice softer, coaxing. “Alright, alright, no ropes. Just drink this milk, it’s good for you. You didn’t sleep well last night.” He held the glass out to me. A faint, chemical smell mingled with the scent of milk. My heart turned to ice. Sleeping pills. That was his game. I turned my head away. “I’m not drinking it.” William’s patience finally snapped. His face twisted into a snarl. “Honey, are you determined to fight me on this?” The commentator’s excited voice boomed from the TV, announcing that the swimmers were in position and the race was about to begin. William grew even more agitated. His eyes were locked on me. Suddenly, he pointed out the window. I instinctively turned to look. A sharp, searing pain exploded at the back of my head. I whipped my head back around and saw him holding an ashtray, its edge stained with my blood. I gasped. “William, you’re insane!” Then, everything went black. I don’t know how much time passed before he shook me awake. The back of my head still throbbed, and a wave of dizziness made it hard to open my eyes. “Wake up! Stop playing dead!” It was William’s voice, sounding cheerful. I struggled to open my eyes. Through my blurred vision, I saw the awards ceremony on the TV. Lily was holding up another trophy, a triumphant smile on her face. William stood by the bed, his own face beaming with pride. “Lily won again! See? I told you she could do it.” I tried to move, to push myself up, but I felt something sticky on my cheek. I reached up and my hand came away covered in blood. William’s eyes were still glued to Lily on the screen. He didn’t even turn around. “You’re bleeding. Should you go to the hospital?” I gritted my teeth and summoned every last bit of my strength to crawl out of bed. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull, and my vision kept blacking out. I stumbled to the doorway and looked back at William. He was still standing there, transfixed by the television, without the slightest intention of even helping me to the door. “I’m celebrating New Year’s Eve with Lily tonight. I won’t be back,” he said, still not looking at me, his voice filled with anticipation. I leaned against the doorframe, a chilling cold seeping deep into my bones. You’re celebrating New Year’s Eve together? I rest, she moves? She can keep moving… indefinitely? Perfect. I will give you a New Year’s celebration you will never forget. 5 Before I left the house, I slipped a small recording device into William’s bag. Then I went to the hospital to get my head wound treated. After I was bandaged up, I walked straight to the hospital’s research wing. I had once seen an ad on my phone for volunteers for a long-term cryogenic freezing experiment. It was for one year, and during that time, no one had the authority to terminate the experiment. I’d thought it was just a strange piece of news back then. I never imagined it would come in handy. The head researcher’s office was simple, her desk piled high with files. When I walked in, she was organizing some documents. She looked up at me. “Here to inquire about the cryo-freeze experiment?” I nodded and asked if it could start tonight. She pushed up her glasses and handed me a contract. “Yes, that’s possible. The rules are, once the experiment begins, you will be frozen for one year. There will be no contact and no early termination. Are you sure about this?” I took the pen and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. Just before midnight, my phone buzzed. It was a video call from Lily. I stared at the screen for a second before answering. The screen showed the balcony of a high-end hotel room. In the distance, the colorful lights of an amusement park glowed, the Ferris wheel a glittering circle in the night sky. Lily was wearing a bathrobe, her hair damp, a pill in her hand. She leaned into the camera, a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “Sorry about tonight, sis.” She panned the camera around to show a large bed behind her. “William’s in the shower,” she chirped. “And he’s agreed to be my New Year’s gift. Tonight is going to be unforgettable. I won’t live-stream the rest for you, though. Wouldn’t want you to overthink things, hehe.” Just then, William’s voice called from the bathroom. “Lily, can you grab me a towel?” Lily bit her lip and whispered to me, “William’s calling me. Got to go.” The phone screen shook as she laughed. “I’m coming, William!” The call ended. At that moment, the head researcher informed me that everything was ready. I stood up and walked to the cryogenic pod. Then, I took the recording device from William’s bag and activated its live-streaming function. I’d read that this model had low power consumption and could last for a month on a full charge. If only it could last a whole year. That would be even better. I lay down inside the pod and gave the doctor a thumbs-up. She nodded and pressed the start button. A cold mist began to fill the chamber. I closed my eyes, waiting for my consciousness to freeze, with only one thought in my mind: Have a happy New Year, Lily. And you too, William. Enjoy every single second of it.

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On New Year’s Day, eighteen bodies washed up in the downtown river. My girlfriend, a forensic pathologist, dropped her half-eaten dinner and disappeared into the precinct for the autopsy. She was buried in work, completely off the grid for seven days straight, and our wedding had to be postponed for the ninety-ninth time. When I heard the case was finally solved, I went to the precinct to bring her home. But when I pushed open the door to the morgue, I found her on the autopsy table, tangled in the arms of her junior colleague. “Sera… the case is closed,” the young man murmured, his voice laced with possessiveness. “Does this mean you have to go back to him?” She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “What are you worried about? Even if I marry him, I’m always available whenever you want me.” “Then… can we postpone the wedding? Just one more time? I don’t want to let you go.” Before the last word left his lips, my phone buzzed. A new message lit up the screen: “Another case just came in. We’ll have to push the wedding back again.” A bitter, hollow smile stretched across my face. I turned away and dialed a number. “Dad,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m ready to come home and take over the family business. The arranged marriage… I’ll do it.” … Not far from me, Wyatt and Seraphina were still wrapped around each other. “I’m so jealous of Cole, Sera,” Wyatt whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Why does he get to marry you? I should punish you for it.” Seraphina’s cheeks were flushed. “Why would you be jealous of him?” she purred. “What I give you… is so much more than he’ll ever get.” “I’ll let you have me any way you want. Any position you can dream of. But him? He still thinks I’m some kind of germaphobe. He wouldn’t even dare to touch me…” My blood ran cold. Seraphina was right. In the seven years we’d been together, she’d always claimed to have a severe aversion to physical intimacy. Because I loved her, I never pushed. I thought that as long as I could be with her, a lifetime of platonic love would be worth it. But the scene unfolding before me was a knife twisting in my gut. “But you’re still going to marry him,” Wyatt pouted. “Sera, can’t you just leave him?” “I can’t.” Seraphina sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. “He did three years in prison for my father. I have to repay that debt.” She leaned in, pressing a placating kiss to his lips. “But don’t you worry. I’m yours.” “These past seven days? I took a leave of absence. I went home with you, met your parents, had New Year’s dinner with them. We had a wedding. We even signed the marriage license.” “As for Cole Donovan? He’ll never touch me. He’ll be the fool living out his life with a fake marriage certificate.” “A sham marriage. That’s how I’ll repay my debt to him. Anything more… he can forget about it.” The words struck me like lightning. I was frozen to the spot. So that’s what she thought of me. Years ago, her father had committed a serious crime. She had come to me, crying, begging me to take the fall for him. Seeing her so heartbroken, I’d agreed. My father, one of the wealthiest men in the country, was so furious that he disowned me. I became a pariah, my name and face dragged through the mud online. I spent three excruciating years in prison, and when I got out, I had lost everything. But Seraphina had promised she would be eternally grateful. She said she would always love me, that she would marry me. I thought it was all worth it. But then, every time we were about to get married, she’d get a call from the precinct. A new case, an emergency. She had to go. And now, after the ninety-ninth postponement, I finally understood. I had been a fool to think she was just a dedicated professional. She was lying to me. She never wanted to marry me. She was postponing our wedding for Wyatt. In fact, while I thought she was consumed by a major case these past seven days, she had secretly married him. She had been playing me from the very beginning. My body trembled, my vision blurring with rage. My heart, piece by piece, turned to ice. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Seraphina stumbled through the door, her steps unsteady. When she saw me sitting there, not immediately jumping up to get her slippers as I usually did, she frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” “You saw my text about the wedding, right?” Her words were a fresh stab of pain. Seeing the look on my face, her voice sharpened. “Cole, don’t tell me you’re getting mad again!” “Every time I mention postponing, you get like this! Do I owe you something? Can’t you be more understanding? My job is demanding! You think I want it to be this way?!” Her face was a mask of irritation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “I’ve been doing autopsies all day. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy for your drama.” I glanced at the fresh, angry red marks on her neck and let out a cold snort. “An autopsy, huh? You must have had a very… strenuous day.” A flicker of unease crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by righteous indignation. “Exactly! Cole, just look at yourself!” “You don’t have a job. You live in my apartment, eat my food, and all you do is obsess over this stupid wedding! You’re like some bitter, neglected housewife!” Her words were a thousand tiny needles, piercing my heart. She was right. I didn’t have a job. But that was her doing. After my release from prison, her father, who had attempted suicide to evade justice and ended up paralyzed, was moved from a care facility into our home. She’d taken my hands, tears in her eyes, and said: “Cole, you probably won’t find a good job with your record. Why don’t you just take care of my dad?” “You know how much he sacrificed to raise me. I can’t trust him with anyone else.” “Don’t worry about work. I can support you. I don’t want you to struggle.” “You took the fall for him for my sake. You can take care of him for my sake too, right?” Looking into her tear-filled eyes, I had agreed. Seraphina seemed to think my days consisted of simple caregiving. The reality was a living hell. Her father, bitter and broken, took out all his humiliation on me. He would hit me, scream at me. He was completely dependent, and I was the one who had to clean him, feed him, deal with his bedpan. On top of that, every household chore fell to me. I was on my feet from dawn till dusk. Because I loved her, I endured it all. I never once complained. And now, she had the audacity to call me idle. “You should think about it, Cole. Without me, you’d have starved to death by now.” “Yes, you did a few years in prison for my dad, but that was your choice! Stop holding it over my head!” “I let a useless freeloader like you take care of my father. You should be grateful.” “So I’m warning you, stop throwing these tantrums. If you actually manage to piss me off and I leave, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Listening to her arrogant, self-righteous tirade, I started to laugh. What Seraphina never knew was that the “useless freeloader” she looked down on was the sole heir to the Donovan family fortune. Countless heiresses were lining up for a chance at an arranged marriage with me. In fact, I had recently reconciled with my father. He had agreed to let me inherit the family business and to welcome Seraphina into the family. I had been planning to surprise her on our wedding day. But now, I realized, there was no point. I looked up at her. “You’re right. I do need to think things through.” “Seraphina, we’re done.” She stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing. “Getting bold, are we, Cole? You’re so desperate to get married you’re actually threatening to break up with me?” “Go on then. Get out. Without me, you won’t even have a roof over your head.” The disdain in her eyes was a cold hand, squeezing the life from my heart. “Sera? Are you guys fighting?” Wyatt’s voice suddenly drifted from the doorway. “Did I come at a bad time?” He shot me a provocative grin and held something out to her, his voice dripping with insinuation. “You’re so careless, Sera. You left this… in my car.” My eyes followed his hand. For a few seconds, my mind went blank, then a wave of violent nausea washed over me. It was a piece of her lingerie. Seraphina blushed, giving him a playful glare. “Why didn’t you just give it to me at work tomorrow?” “I was worried you might need it tonight. I mean, being with Cole… it’s not like being with me…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking to me with malicious amusement, feigning a slip of the tongue. “Oh, sorry, Cole. I didn’t mean it like that…” My fists clenched. A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. “You don’t have to worry about my performance.” “Seraphina,” I said, my voice flat, “I’m being serious. We are over.” With that, I turned to leave, not sparing either of them another glance. “Cole!” Seraphina lunged, grabbing my arm, her face a mixture of exhaustion and a flicker of something that looked like panic. “Stop this, okay?! It’s the middle of the night! Where are you going to go?” She took a deep breath, her tone shifting to one of placation. “I know, you just want to get married. Fine. I promise. We’ll do it next week. No more postponements, okay?” She pulled out her phone, showing me a chat history. “Look. All the arrangements, the guest list, I’ve already booked everything.” “I was going to surprise you, too.” “Let’s just talk about this tomorrow. Don’t cause a scene in the middle of the night.” I looked at the photos on her screen, and another wave of pain washed over me. I had made all the wedding arrangements myself, months ago. I didn’t need her to lift a finger. The photos she was showing me… they were probably from the secret wedding she’d had with Wyatt just a few days ago. The audacity of her, to use that to lie to me now. But she had a point. It was late. It wouldn’t be convenient to have my father send a car. I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage, and went back to my room. Seraphina must have thought I’d given in. She didn’t even bother to follow me.

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The day my husband brought his assistant to her OB-GYN appointment, his eighteen-year-old self had me pinned against the wall, kissing me senseless. “How are you still so sweet, so damn kissable at thirty, baby? I love you so much.” He pulled back for a breath, his eyes sparkling. “Speaking of which, where’s the thirty-year-old me? Why isn’t he here to pick you up from work?” I sighed, gently pushing him away just as my thirty-year-old husband, Jackson, fixed his cold, hard gaze on me from across the hall. “Already got yourself a boy toy, have we? And you still can’t bear to sign the divorce papers?” He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Seraphina, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” As I watched him wrap an arm around his young assistant and walk away, the eighteen-year-old Jack started thrashing in my arms again. “Who does that asshole think he is, talking to my wife like that?” he fumed. “I swear, I’ll bite my tongue off and make him disappear from existence!” 1 The eighteen-year-old Jackson was just as I remembered him: proud, possessive, and nearly impossible to calm down once he was worked up. It wasn’t until I pulled out the old Nintendo I’d kept tucked away in a drawer that he finally settled down, his eyes glued to the screen. I locked him in my office and went downstairs to grab us some dinner. I’d just stepped into the diner when a chilling voice sounded behind me. “Twenty-eight minutes.” I froze, turning to meet the icy stare of the thirty-year-old Jackson. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be with Penelope.” He ignored my question, his eyes scanning me with a cold appraisal. “Don’t play dumb. You were in your office with that kid, alone, for a full twenty-eight minutes.” He practically spat out the last few words. A cruel smirk played on his lips. “He looks young. Guess the kid doesn’t have much stamina, huh? At his age, I could go for at least forty minutes, easy.” It took a special kind of venomous wit to come up with a line like that. I shot him a weary look, not bothering to tell him that the “kid” was literally a younger version of himself. I turned back to the counter to order. “A spicy beef chili, no cilantro. A side of steamed greens and a mushroom omelet. And a slice of cherry pie.” Hearing my order, he let out another cold laugh from behind me. “Seraphina, that’s everything I like to eat. Not even trying to cater to your new boy toy’s tastes? Or is he just a temporary distraction, not a permanent replacement?” His barbed words were starting to get under my skin. “Jackson,” I said, my voice tight with frustration, “not everyone is like you, lining up a replacement before the marriage is even over.” That shut him up. He opened his mouth, a reflexive denial on his lips. “I told you, I’m not…” “You used my name to book her appointment. Don’t tell me that wasn’t deliberate.” I cut him off, my voice turning to ice as I picked up the takeout bags. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to disgust me yet again.” “I’ll agree to the divorce. See you at the courthouse next Monday. Don’t be late.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I brushed past him and walked out of the diner. The moment I stepped outside, the bitter winter wind hit my tear-streaked face like a razor blade. As I fumbled blindly for a tissue, a warm cup was pressed into my hands. It was the hot chocolate I used to love as a teenager. “Silly girl,” a soft voice murmured. “Still so clueless. You’re crying from the cold and you didn’t even think to wear a coat.” Eighteen-year-old Jack gently wiped my tears, then shrugged off his own heavy coat and draped it over my shoulders. The familiar, comforting scent of pine and his body heat wrapped around me, and for a moment, I was completely lost in the past. 2 “So, you’re telling me that even though the thirty-year-old me got his dream of marrying you, he didn’t cherish you at all,” eighteen-year-old Jack said, his eyes wide with horror, a grain of rice still stuck to the corner of his mouth. “Not only did he knock up his assistant, but he’s been pushing you to get a divorce?!” He looked genuinely terrified. “How could I do something so stupid? Did I get swapped with an alien? Or maybe I was in a car crash and got amnesia, totally fried my brain?” I stared down into my coffee, slowly stirring it as a bitter smile touched my lips. “No. There was no accident. You’re perfectly healthy.” “We got married right after graduation,” I continued, my voice hollow. “Things were perfect at first. We were inseparable, just as in love as we’d been for the past decade. But everything changed when Penelope showed up.” Penelope was hired five years into Jackson’s company. It was also the year we hit our seventh anniversary, the infamous seven-year itch. I was on the cusp of a promotion to become the youngest attending physician at the hospital, and Jackson’s business was exploding. The corporate dinners became endless, the meetings ran late into the night. After I turned down his requests to accompany him to a few events, he blew up at me for the first time. “Everyone else has their partner with them, and I’m the only one who looks like a lonely bachelor, even though I’m married!” he had yelled. “My partners are starting to mock me, asking if I’m whipped or if I’m just not making enough money to convince my own wife to support my career!” It was the first time he’d ever spoken to me that way. I was stunned, hurt. He had always treated me like a princess, never raising his voice. But even though I loved him, I couldn’t abandon the medical career I had spent more than a decade building. Neither of us would apologize, and so began the cold war. He moved out of our home and into a luxury penthouse overlooking the river, closer to his office. In a year, I could count the number of times he came home on one hand. Once, on his birthday, I missed him so much that I went to his penthouse unannounced. When I knocked, the door was opened by Penelope, wearing nothing but a slinky slip dress. “Mr. Archer had a bit too much to drink tonight,” she said, looking down shyly. A constellation of faint red marks bloomed on her neck, just visible beneath her hair. “He’s not really available for guests.” She didn’t seem to recognize me. “Can I take a message? I’ll pass it along when he wakes up.” I fought back the tears stinging my eyes and pushed the gift bag into her hands. “I’m Seraphina,” I said, each word a shard of glass. “Tell him to call me the second he wakes up. It’s important.” Penelope nodded sweetly, wished me a good night, and closed the door. I waited for two weeks. He never called. Hearing this, eighteen-year-old Jack slammed a glass on the table, shattering it. “That’s impossible! I would never cheat on you with another woman! It’s not true! There has to be a misunderstanding!” I wiped a tear from my cheek and shook my head silently. No one wished it was a misunderstanding more than I did. But soon after, Penelope got pregnant. Jackson doted on her, both in public and in private. He even brought her to my hospital for a check-up. No matter how much I tried to lie to myself, I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. The eighteen-year-old Jack was clearly having an even harder time accepting it than I was. He chugged down glass after glass of whiskey, curling up on the sofa like a wounded puppy, his face wet with tears. “How could I, Sera? How could I ever hurt you…?” he sobbed. I sighed and draped a blanket over him. Before I could straighten up, the front door opened. I turned, and my eyes met the gaze of the thirty-year-old Jackson. 3 “Seraphina, you just keep surprising me, don’t you?” Seeing me hovering over the younger Jack, my husband’s face contorted into a mask of fury I’d never seen before. “Messing around in your office wasn’t enough? You had to bring him into our home?” His voice rose, cracking with an emotion I couldn’t place. “So inseparable. No wonder you’re in such a hurry to divorce me.” The raw volume of his voice made me flinch. “Keep it down,” I whispered, glancing at the sleeping figure on the couch. “You’ll wake him.” Given the boy’s explosive temper, the last thing I needed was a confrontation between the two of them. I was just trying to avoid more drama, but in Jackson’s ears, my words sounded like something else entirely. He let out a choked, bitter laugh. A glint of moisture appeared in his eyes. “Do I need to remind you, Seraphina, that this is our home? You’re telling me to be quiet in my own house for the sake of your little homewrecker? What do you take me for?” Seeing the boy on the couch begin to stir, I acted on instinct. I grabbed Jackson’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “Not here. Let’s go. We can talk at the coffee shop downstairs.” I held his hand tightly, afraid he would pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his fingers instinctively curled around mine. He didn’t let go, not even as we stepped out of the elevator. I felt a pang of awkwardness and tried to gently pull my hand back, but he only tightened his grip. “What’s the matter? He can touch you, but I can’t?” he said, his voice laced with acid. “You had no problem betraying me, Seraphina, but you’re saving your fidelity for him?” I couldn’t stand his sarcasm. I ripped my hand from his grasp. “Don’t you dare project your own filthy behavior onto me. Especially when you’re the one who isn’t clean!” He stumbled back a step, a wounded look flashing across his face. Before he could say anything else, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, his expression shifting, and turned away to answer it. I didn’t need to guess. It was Penelope. I tried not to listen, but in the dead quiet of the late-night courtyard, his voice carried clearly. “What’s wrong? … You’re bleeding?! Okay, don’t cry, just lie down on the sofa and stay still. I’m on my way!” He hung up and started to leave, but after a few paces, he spun around, grabbed my arm, and started pulling me with him. “You’re coming with me!” Caught off guard, I stumbled along, trying and failing to break free. “Jackson, are you insane? Why would I go with you?” “Because you’re the best damn OB-GYN at Metropolitan General! The youngest attending physician they’ve ever had!” He forced me into his Maybach, strapping the seatbelt across me himself. “It’s a life-or-death situation, Seraphina. You wouldn’t want to violate your Hippocratic Oath, would you?” As the car sped off, all I could think was that I would rather be in a car crash than deliver my husband’s mistress’s baby. The Maybach didn’t head toward his penthouse, but to a chic apartment building in the next district. After a moment of surprise, I understood. With his company about to go public, he couldn’t risk a scandal. His little mistress would have to be kept hidden away for now. As I suspected, from the moment we parked to navigating the elevator to the correct apartment number, Jackson moved with a fluid ease that spoke of countless previous visits. He even pulled out a key and unlocked the door himself, rushing inside. A moment later, a soft, coquettish voice drifted out. “Jax, you’re finally here! I was so scared…”

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1 On New Year’s Eve, the police came for me. Outside, fireworks lit up the night sky. My father’s star protégé, Liam, had just posted online: “Thank you, Professor Redding. For choosing justice over family, for not shielding your own daughter.” I thought it was a joke. In the holding cell, bruised and desperate, I gripped the bars. “Dad, I didn’t push her. I was framed. You’re the best lawyer—can’t you defend me?” A cold voice came through the glass. “Aurora, you’re grown. Face what you’ve done. The victim is Liam’s mother.” My father spoke calmly, without warmth. “I am a leader in law. As my daughter, I cannot appear to favor you. If I defended you, what would people think?” He paused. “I’ve already agreed to serve as Liam’s counsel. I will ensure you face the consequences and reflect on your actions.” I looked down at the indictment. “I understand. I won’t trouble you any longer.” My voice was empty. “I’ll confess. Then you won’t have to worry about appearances.” In the interrogation room, I signed the confession. This time, I didn’t tarnish the gavel of his justice. … New Year’s Eve. Two officers escorted me from the house. The front door of our villa stood open, my father, Arthur Redding, framed in the doorway. Liam stood beside him, clutching his sleeve. “Professor, I’m sure Aurora didn’t mean it,” Liam pleaded, his voice thick with false concern. “It’s New Year’s Eve, don’t let them take her away like this…” Arthur shook Liam’s hand off and looked at me, his face a mask of stone. “That is precisely why she needs to learn a lesson she won’t forget.” He gave a sharp wave of his hand. “Take her away.” An officer shoved me forward, and I was bundled into the back of the police car. Just before the door slammed shut, I saw my father clap Liam on the shoulder and turn back into the warmth of the house. Thirty minutes earlier, Liam’s mother had lunged, her head cracking against the corner of a table. I had reached out to catch her, but Liam screamed that I had pushed her. My father didn’t even look at the security footage. He just called the police. As the car pulled away, I looked back. The lights of our home vanished into the darkness. In the detention center, I curled into a corner, a searing pain in my chest. My congenital asthma flared up, each breath a blade scraping against my ribs. The other inmates were gossiping about the trending topics online. “Check this out. The great Arthur Redding, turning in his own daughter.” “Yeah, wouldn’t even shield his own kid. Sent her to prison himself.” “Justice? Sounds more like cold-blooded to me.” “What do you know? That’s what you call a pillar of the law.” Someone held up a phone. “Liam just posted again.” She read it aloud. “‘Thank you, Professor, for choosing justice over family. My mother was harmed by my senior, but the professor’s impartiality has shown me the true warmth and strength of the law.’” The comments were a flood of praise for Arthur Redding’s integrity and unwavering principles. A tickle started in my throat, and I coughed up a spray of bloody foam. I grabbed the bars and shook them with what little strength I had left. “Guard… I need a doctor.” The guard ambled over, nightstick in hand. “You again? Trying to get special treatment?” “My ribs are broken… cough… asthma…” The guard sneered. “We just got a call from Mr. Liam.” I froze. “He said you’re good at playing the victim. Told us to ignore you,” the guard continued. “Mr. Redding’s orders are to let you ‘reflect.’ A little hardship will teach you a lesson.” He turned and walked away. “Stop faking it. Any more trouble and it’s solitary for you.” I slid to the floor. Liam. The pain in my lungs was excruciating, my breathing ragged and shallow. I pulled out my necklace, opening the locket to the tiny photo of my mother inside. “Mom…” I whispered. “Dad… for the sake of his reputation, for Liam… he’s really abandoned me.” My consciousness started to fade, replaced by a desperate, rasping struggle for air. The next day, Arthur came. He sat on the other side of the glass, immaculate in his tailored suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. A document lay on the table before him. I was half-carried, half-dragged to the chair by two guards. I lifted my head, my prison uniform soaked in cold sweat, my hair plastered to my forehead. “Dad… I didn’t push her. There’s security footage at the house.” My voice was a broken whisper. “Just look at the camera… in the living room…” Arthur’s brow furrowed, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Aurora!” The sharp sound from the receiver was like a spike in my eardrum. “You are a grown woman! Have the courage to admit what you’ve done! Liam’s mother is still in the ICU. He’s collapsed from grief multiple times. And all you can think about is saving your own skin?” He pointed at the document. “I am a pillar of the legal community. I despise deceit. You are my daughter, which means I must be even more scrupulous! If I defended you, if I went looking for footage, what would people say? That I fabricated evidence for my daughter? If I showed favoritism, how could I maintain my standing?” He pressed the document against the glass. “I have accepted the prosecution’s request to act as Liam’s legal counsel. I will personally see to it that you have time to reflect. This is a confession. Sign it, and you might get a lighter sentence. Don’t force me to testify against you in open court.” I stared at the confession form. Every word on it had been drafted by my own father. To avoid impropriety, he was nailing the crime to his own daughter. “Dad.” I tried to smile, but a trickle of blood ran from the corner of my mouth. “If I sign this, your reputation is safe? You won’t be in a difficult position anymore?” His jaw tightened. “That’s not your concern. You made a mistake, and you will pay the price. That is the principle.” “Fine.” I picked up the pen, my hand trembling as I wrote my name: Aurora Redding. As the last stroke fell, a sudden emptiness hollowed out my chest. A mouthful of blood erupted from my lips, spattering the confession and the glass partition. Arthur recoiled, his face a mask of disgust. “Stop the theatrics. Save that act for the judge.” He collected the blood-stained document, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, adjusted his tie, and turned to leave. “Reflect on what you’ve done. Don’t contact me before the trial.” I watched his retreating back as my vision faded to black. That night, the heating in the detention center was shut off. I curled up on the cot, clutching my locket. I heard a guard’s voice outside the door. “Mr. Liam said a little cold would clear her head.” The chill seeped into my bones. The broken ribs felt like they were piercing my organs. My breathing stopped. I remembered when I was a child, being bullied in the schoolyard. Arthur had stood in front of me, a towering shield. “Don’t be afraid, Aurora. Daddy is a lawyer. I will always protect justice, and I will always protect you.” Liar. You protected justice. You just murdered me to do it. My hand went limp. The locket slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the concrete floor. Dad, this time, I won’t make things difficult for you. You don’t have to worry about appearances anymore. My consciousness sank into darkness. And then, I was floating. I saw the girl named Aurora, curled up on the cot, completely still. Her eyes were open, staring at the door. I tried to close them for her, but my hand passed right through her body. Oh. I’m dead. It wasn’t cold anymore. It didn’t hurt. I floated in the air, watching as the guard kicked my corpse. “Hey, get up! Stop playing dead!” He checked for a pulse, then scrambled back, falling to the floor in terror. “She’s… she’s dead!” I watched the scene unfold with a strange sense of calm. See, Dad? I wasn’t acting. The first day of the New Year. The lights were bright in the legal news channel’s studio. I floated behind Arthur as he walked onto the set. He sat under the spotlights, his expression grave. The host began. “Mr. Redding, on New Year’s Eve, you personally handed your daughter over to the authorities. It caused quite a sensation. Did you struggle with that decision?” Arthur adjusted his glasses. “Before the law, all are equal. Even if she is my daughter, she must be punished for her crimes. As a legal professional, I cannot undermine the integrity of our justice system. That is a line I will not cross.” The audience erupted in applause. I hovered above his head, watching him bask in their admiration, the irony a bitter taste in my non-existent mouth. Liam was sitting in the front row, wearing a new navy-blue suit. It was a New Year’s gift I’d bought for myself with three months of internship savings. I’d never even had a chance to wear it. Now it was on him, a perfect fit. After the interview, Arthur walked out with Liam. Liam smoothed the cuffs. “Professor, this suit is a perfect fit.” He sighed dramatically. “Aurora always had good taste. It’s a shame that now she’s…” Arthur snorted. “Don’t mention that ungrateful girl. The suit looks much better on you. If only she were half as sensible as you are.” I stood there, watching my father adjust Liam’s collar. A sour feeling churned inside me. I used to ask him to fix my collar, but he would always push me away. “Don’t be so familiar. We must maintain a professional distance. I can’t have people thinking I spoil my child.” I see now. He didn’t hate spoiling a child. He just hated spoiling me. Back at the house, Arthur called for the housekeeper. “Clear out Aurora’s room. Make space for Liam.” The housekeeper hesitated. “Sir, what about Miss Aurora’s law books, her trophies… where should I put them?” Arthur loosened his tie and sank onto the sofa. “That was all for show. She’s in prison now, what’s the use of keeping them? Throw them in the basement.” A triumphant smirk flickered across Liam’s face. The housekeeper sighed and returned with trash bags. I followed her into my room. Liam was already there, rifling through my bookshelf. A copy of Criminal Law Theory fell to the floor, a bookmark slipping out. It was a gift from Arthur ten years ago. On the flyleaf, he had written: “May my daughter, Aurora, always be a partner to justice.” Liam picked it up, glanced at the inscription, and sneered. “A partner to justice? How ironic.” He tossed the book carelessly into a trash bag. I stood beside the bookshelf, watching him throw my life away, piece by piece. I wanted to scream, to push him away. But my hands passed through him, creating only a faint breeze. He shivered. “Why did it suddenly get so cold?” On the sofa, Arthur’s phone rang. The caller ID was the detention center. He glanced at the screen and declined the call without a second thought. “It’s from Aurora’s facility again,” he said to Liam. “She’s probably demanding to see me, or faking an illness to get medical parole.” He shook his head. “Ignore it. She was spoiled rotten. A little hardship is what she needs.” At that exact moment, at the City Third Detention Center, an ambulance had arrived. A doctor examined my body and shook his head. “Time of death is over four hours ago. Cause of death appears to be a tension pneumothorax from a rib fracture, leading to asphyxia and cardiac arrest.” The warden was sweating. “Mr. Redding isn’t answering his phone… The inmate is dead, the family has to be notified!” “Keep calling!” the chief guard roared. “And call Liam! He’s a party to the case, call him!” Liam’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and stepped out onto the balcony to answer. I floated after him. “Hello? What? In shock? Sent to the hospital?” Liam’s voice was low, then he deliberately raised it. “Officer, my professor is in the middle of a major case. He’s very busy. Please don’t bother him with trivial matters. There’s no need to send her to a major hospital, she’s just faking it. She faked fainting during her last physical assessment, too. Just splash some cold water on her face, she’ll wake up.” He hung up and deleted the call from his history. Returning to the living room, he poured Arthur a cup of tea. “Who was that?” Arthur asked. “A telemarketer,” Liam said smoothly. Arthur nodded and took a sip of tea. Then he dialed his financial manager. “Freeze Aurora’s supplementary credit card and her study abroad trust fund. All of it. Not a single cent. I want her to learn that without me, she is nothing.” Yes, Dad. Without you, I really am nothing. But it’s okay. I don’t need any of those things now. Outside, firecrackers popped and fireworks bloomed across the sky. And I was lying in a cold drawer in the city morgue. Dinner was served. Dumplings. Liam placed one in Arthur’s bowl. “Professor, have a dumpling. Happy New Year.” Arthur smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in days. “Happy New Year.” I watched, numb, and whispered to the empty air. Happy New Year, Dad. Liam moved into my room. He found the box in my drawer. Inside was my mother’s last gift to me: a vintage, leather-bound law codex. It was a family heirloom Arthur had entrusted to my care. Liam took it out, snapped a picture, and posted it. “The master passes the torch. I will cherish it. The responsibility of justice is now mine to carry.” The likes poured in. “Liam, you’re incredible!” “Looks like Professor Redding sees you as his successor!” Half an hour later, our family friend, the lawyer Mr. Davies, burst into Arthur’s office. Arthur looked up from a brief, annoyed. “Frank, you’re old enough to know better than to barge in here.” Mr. Davies slammed a phone on the desk. Then he pulled a thermos from his bag and slammed that down too. “Arthur, are you insane? Sending Aurora to jail is one thing, but you’re giving away her mother’s keepsake to an outsider?” He pointed to the thermos. “Do you even recognize this? Aurora bought it for you with her first month’s internship pay! She said you had a sensitive stomach and went all over town to find it!” “She texted me saying her ribs hurt! I tried to visit, but you signed a ‘no visitation’ order! I couldn’t get in!” Arthur glanced at the thermos, his gaze flickering for a second before hardening again. He stood up, smoothing his cuffs. “You don’t understand. When I was young, I was accused of favoritism in a case involving a relative. It nearly destroyed my career. I will not allow the same thing to happen a second time. Especially not because of my own family.” His voice was like steel. “To avoid impropriety. I am Liam’s counsel. Letting Aurora’s friend visit her? What would the media say?” Mr. Davies was trembling with rage. “To hell with your impropriety! Arthur, you’re a murderer! Aurora would never push anyone! Did you check the dashcam? Wasn’t your car parked in the driveway?” Arthur froze. His car had been parked facing the living room window. The camera would have captured everything. But he’d never thought to check. Liam had already provided the “video evidence.” I floated behind him, screaming into his ear. Check it! Dad, I’m begging you, check it! The truth is right there! Just press the button and you’ll know I’m innocent! Arthur’s fingers hovered over his car keys, rubbing the fob. “The evidence is conclusive. Frank, please leave. If you persist, I’ll call security.” Mr. Davies pointed a trembling finger at him, his eyes red. “Fine. Arthur, you remember this day. Don’t you dare come crying to me when you’re on your knees.” He stormed out, slamming the door. Arthur sat back down, staring at the ceremonial gavel on his desk. He picked up his keys and went to the garage. Inside the car, his finger rested on the button for the dashcam footage. One press, and the truth would be revealed. I sat in the passenger seat, my entire being focused on that finger. Liam’s call came through the car’s speaker. “Professor, I’ve revised the indictment. Is there anyone else we need to add to the guest list for the celebration dinner tonight?” Arthur’s finger paused mid-air. He pulled his hand back and started the car. “No, that’s everyone. I’m heading back to the firm now. Let’s not talk about unpleasant things anymore.” The car rolled out of the garage. In that moment, my heart turned to ash. The fourth day of the New Year. The chief medical examiner, Dr. Peterson, was an old classmate of Arthur’s. The moment he saw my body on the autopsy table, his scalpel clattered to the floor. “Aurora?!” He immediately called Arthur. No answer. He tore off his white coat and raced to the villa. After ten minutes of ringing the bell, Liam opened the door. Dr. Peterson grabbed him, his eyes bloodshot. “Where’s Arthur? Get him out here! Don’t you know someone is dead?!” Liam averted his gaze. “Uncle Pete, the Professor is preparing for a major case and isn’t seeing anyone. What’s wrong?” “Aurora is dead! In the detention center!” Dr. Peterson’s voice shook. “Get your professor and come with me to identify the body!” Liam’s face paled, but he quickly composed himself. He leaned in close. “Uncle Pete, that’s not a funny joke. My senior just called and screamed at me a little while ago. She sounded full of energy.” “Impossible! The body is at my morgue…” “It must be someone with the same name,” Liam insisted, pulling out his phone and playing a recording. My voice filled the air. “Liam, you just wait! When I get out of here, I’ll kill you and your mother!” It was a line from a play we had rehearsed years ago, which he had secretly recorded. Liam sighed. “You hear that? Does that sound like a dead person? My senior is just trying to force the Professor to see her. If he finds out you were fooled, he’ll be angry.” Dr. Peterson listened, stunned. He let go of Liam. “Alright. As long as she’s okay. Just have your professor call me back.” Liam closed the door and sagged against it, gasping for breath. He ran upstairs and knocked on the study door. “Professor, Uncle Pete was here. He said Aurora sent a message with him. Said she’s dying in there and wants you to save her.” Arthur was writing a closing argument. The nib of his pen tore through the paper. He took off his glasses, rubbing his temples. “Pete is falling for her games too? I knew she was faking it. She’s been using that trick since she was a child. Now she’s using death to manipulate me? Outrageous!” he fumed. “Ignore her. Let her stay there until she learns her lesson.” He took a fresh sheet of paper and continued to write, adding another line to the list of my alleged crimes. I floated in the corner of the study, watching him. A laugh almost escaped my lips. Dad, even in death, you won’t believe me, will you? The fifth day of the New Year. Unclaimed bodies are cremated after the legal deadline. Dr. Peterson looked at the tag on the morgue drawer that read “Aurora Redding” and sighed. If Arthur said it was a fake, then it must be someone with the same name. “Proceed with the cremation,” he said, signing the form. I was wheeled towards the incinerator. The flames roared to life, consuming my body. It was so hot. But I felt nothing. I was Aurora, but I wasn’t her anymore. I was just a wisp of consciousness, attached to a package that had just been mailed. At a grand hotel, Arthur was hosting a charity gala for his legal aid foundation. Liam, wearing my suit, adjusted his tie in the mirror and smiled. “Don’t blame me, senior. You’re ‘dead’ anyway. It would be a waste to let these opportunities go.” A package arrived at the front desk. The sender was me. I had mailed it three days before I died. Inside was a backup of the dashcam’s memory card and a letter for my father. Liam glanced at it and tossed it into the pile of corporate gifts. At 7 p.m., the ballroom was filled with guests. Arthur entered with Liam on his arm, graciously accepting compliments. The large screen behind the stage lit up, ready to play the promotional video. Deep within the pile of gifts, my package lay in waiting. I floated above it, watching everything unfold. Dad, this is the last gift I’ll ever give you. You’d better be ready to receive it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389714”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was my thirtieth birthday party, and my husband’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Babe, can you give me a hand with the soup?” Before I could even stand up, my cousin Stella was already gliding past me. She reached around him from behind, her hands taking the heavy tureen from his. Seeing my frozen expression, she quickly stammered an excuse. “Sorry, my mom’s always ordering me around at home. It’s just instinct. Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t let my emotions show. I smiled, I mingled, and I saw the last guest out, completing the performance of a perfect hostess. After the door closed, I turned to my husband, who was clearing the table. My voice was calm, almost serene. “Let’s get a divorce.” Sebastian dropped a handful of cutlery with a clatter. His eyes widened, fixed on me in disbelief. “Are you serious? All because she helped me with a bowl of soup?” … “Ophelia, we’ve been married for five years,” he began, his voice rising with indignation. “Five years, and I’ve never let you touch a greasy pan. I’ve put you first in everything.” “And now, because of one thoughtless gesture from your cousin, you want to get a divorce? You want to tear this family apart? Do you even have a heart?” His eyes were red-rimmed as he accused me, as if I had committed some unforgivable sin. I didn’t answer him directly. My gaze drifted to the dining table, to the platter of Beef Bourguignon with only a few choice pieces left. “Five years, Sebastian. You always knew this was my favorite dish. Every single meal we’ve had, you’ve made sure it was placed directly in front of me.” “But tonight,” I continued, my voice quiet but sharp, “it was placed in front of Stella’s seat. She loves it too, doesn’t she?” Sebastian’s breath hitched. “What’s the big deal? No one was helping serve, I was swamped. I can’t be expected to remember every little detail when I’m that busy.” I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “It wasn’t just the beef. When we sat down, you pulled out her chair first.” “When her glass was empty, you opened a new bottle of sparkling water—the lime-flavored kind she loves, the one you know I can’t stand.” “And in the group photo, you stood between us. Your arm was just barely brushing the small of her back.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Subconscious favoritism can’t be hidden, Sebastian. The heart has a way of showing its true allegiance. And in those moments you call ‘careless,’ when your guard is down, that’s when your true feelings are the clearest.” “That’s why I want a divorce.” His face darkened, his expression shifting as if he were looking at a stranger. “Ophelia, you have way too much time on your hands. Twisting a few innocent actions into some grand conspiracy… you should be writing novels.” “And she’s not just ‘someone else’! That’s your cousin, Stella! She’s practically your sister, she watched you grow up! You’re going to be jealous of her?” “The only reason I pay her extra attention is out of respect for you! And you twist it into some sordid affair? Are you even listening to yourself? How unreasonable can you be!” He stormed into the study and returned a moment later, slamming a photo album down on the table in front of me. It was filled with pictures of Stella and me, from childhood to our teenage years, our heads pressed together, our smiles wide and genuine. The last few pages were from our wedding. Stella, my maid of honor, stood beside me in a flowing lavender gown. In one photo, captured during our vows, her eyes are glistening with tears as she watches Sebastian and me kiss. Her expression is one of deep emotion. In another, she’s hugging me tightly on the stage, clutching the bridal bouquet I’d just given her, her smile radiant. I stared at the photos, a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaping my lips. “When we kissed, her eyes were on you. She wasn’t moved by my happiness, Sebastian. She was crying for you.” “And when she hugged me, she was smiling at someone just out of frame. Judging by the angle, that person was you.” “So, it started five years ago. She’s had feelings for you all this time. No wonder she’s been single all these years.” I finally looked up at him. “And you? When did it start for you?” He took a half-step back, his face a mask of disappointment and fury. “Ophelia, I thought you were just upset. I didn’t realize you’d gone completely insane, rewriting our entire past!” “This is my fault. I’ve spoiled you, let you become this paranoid, irrational woman!” “I’m giving you twenty-four hours to cool off. Tomorrow is my grandmother’s birthday party. If you have any respect left for your elders, you won’t make a scene in front of her.” He threw a dish towel onto the counter with a loud smack and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. I sank into a chair, staring at the chaotic aftermath of the party, feeling utterly drained. I met Sebastian in college. My family was wealthy, but I never looked down on him, the brilliant scholarship kid struggling to make ends meet. I helped him with his studies, his living expenses, and even funded his master’s degree at a top university abroad. He was sharp and keenly aware of his position. After we married, he treated me like a queen, shielding me from every hardship. But even the most careful person leaves tracks when their heart is in turmoil. I picked up my phone and saw that, at some point, he had disabled our location sharing. Without a word to anyone, I changed into a simple, discreet outfit and drove to the boutique tea lounge that Stella owned. Dressed as I was, no one paid me any mind when I entered. I walked down the long, quiet corridor, heading straight for the private room she reserved for her closest friends, the “Cloudview” suite. Before my hand even touched the door, I heard Sebastian’s voice, laced with complaint. “My wife is giving me hell at home, and you guys are just sitting here laughing? A little sympathy would be nice.” I peered through the gap. The room was full of people. My blood ran cold as I recognized most of them—they were our friends, the same ones who had been at my birthday party just hours ago. They were all lounging comfortably, laughing and joking. Not a single one of them was defending me. Amid the lighthearted laughter, a chill seeped into my bones. In the center of the room, Stella was gracefully toying with a porcelain teacup. She turned her head, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looked at Sebastian beside her. “Well, it’s your own fault for being so careless,” she teased. “Calling me ‘babe’ at Ophelia’s own birthday party.” “I was caught off guard, so I just went along with it, helping you with the soup.” “I really thought she wouldn’t notice. I guess she’s smarter than we gave her credit for.” She set down the teacup and picked up a small glass of sake—from the limited-edition vintage set I had given her last year. Just as she was about to take a sip, Sebastian’s hand shot out and gently took the glass from her. “You’re going to be a mother, and you’re still this reckless? I told you, no alcohol during the pregnancy.” Stella had always been stubborn. I’d seen her argue with her own father over a bottle of wine. But now, looking at Sebastian, her face softened into a gentle, submissive smile I had never seen before. “Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll listen to you. No more drinking.” “After all,” she said, her voice full of meaning, “you’re the father of my child. Of course, you get the final say.” She placed a hand on her still-flat stomach and leaned her head lovingly against his shoulder. The blood in my veins turned to ice. They weren’t just having an affair. They were having a baby. “If you ask me, Ophelia is just being stubborn. Insisting on being child-free,” one of the ‘friends’ commented. “I know, right? Sebastian is an only son. She’s putting him in such a difficult position,” another chimed in. And Stella, my own cousin who had always defended me in public, let out a small, derisive scoff. “She’s been spoiled her whole life. She never learned to think about anyone but herself.” Then my husband, my Sebastian, took Stella’s hand in his, his voice thick with emotion. “Stella, you’re willing to carry my child. You’re not just the woman I love; you’re a savior to my family.” “From this day forward, we’ll face everything together. We’ll never be parted.” Tears streamed down my face, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me. Years ago, my mother died from an amniotic fluid embolism while giving birth to me. She never even got to hold me. Because of that trauma, I’ve always been terrified of childbirth. When Sebastian and I first started dating, I told him plainly: I’ve decided to be child-free for life. If that’s a dealbreaker, we should end things now. He had held me so tightly then, whispering in my ear. “Having you is enough for a lifetime. Children don’t matter. My love for you will never, ever change.” I truly believed I had found a love that transcended convention. Now, watching him and Stella wrapped in their profound love, I saw just how tragically wrong I had been. Someone in the room asked, “So, are you two planning on hiding this from Ophelia forever?” “You have a baby on the way. Why not just tell her, get a divorce, and be together openly?” All eyes turned to them. Sebastian shook his head immediately. “No. Stella and she are family, they’re cousins. I can’t be the reason she’s ostracized by her own relatives.” “Besides,” he added, his voice lowering, “my career is deeply entangled with her family’s business. I can’t afford to burn that bridge completely.” “So, from the very beginning, Stella and I agreed: our relationship must remain a secret from her. And divorce is out of the question.” So he knew. He was fully aware that his wealth, his status, everything he had today, was built on the support and investments of my family. He was staying married to me for the money. Amid a wave of sympathetic murmurs, someone looked at Stella. “Stella, you’ve always been so proud. Are you really okay with your child living in the shadows forever?” Stella just smiled. She turned Sebastian’s face towards hers and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “A marriage is just a piece of paper. I don’t care about that.” She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper that carried through the room. “Besides, there’s a saying: a mistress is better than a wife, and a secret lover is better than a mistress. Living like this, right under her nose… isn’t it so much more thrilling?” If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I would never have believed those words could come from my own cousin. The room filled with laughter, but I was trapped in a block of ice. Overnight, I had gone from thinking I was the happiest woman in the world to a laughingstock, betrayed by both my husband and my family. The most tragic part? I was the last one in our circle to know. My closest friends, the people I trusted, had been covering for them, watching me live in a fool’s paradise, and not a single one had bothered to warn me. Tears blurring my vision, I walked out of the tea lounge and dialed my lawyer. “Prepare the divorce papers. I want him left with nothing.” “And there are a few other things I need you to do…”

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With the holidays fast approaching, I went to the salon for a haircut. My usual stylist, Marco, had gone home to visit family, so his new apprentice took me. Halfway through the cut, the girl behind me let out a little giggle. I glanced up at the mirror and saw it: a huge, choppy chunk was missing from the top of my head. It looked like a dog had chewed on it. “What are you doing?!” I snapped. Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes instantly welled up. “I… I’m just a newbie!” Just then, a series of semi-transparent comments flickered into my vision, hovering in the air before me: 【OMG, this guy is so mean! The baby was just a little nervous!】 【Our Kiki only messes up a haircut when she’s in front of someone she likes! It’s her subconscious trying to get his attention!】 【Girls, screenshot this! This part is so sweet!!】 Kiki? Likes? Like hell! Who shows they “like” someone by butchering their hair? And besides, I’m a goddamn woman! 1 “What’s wrong? What’s happened?!” The commotion brought the salon owner running. He hurried over, his eyes landed on my head, and his words died in his throat. “Kiki!” The owner’s eyes were wide with horror. “What have you done? Look what you’ve done to the client’s hair!” He turned to me, bowing repeatedly. “I am so sorry! Terribly sorry, sir! This girl is new, she’s still a bit clumsy. I’ll just…” “Of course, there’s no charge for today. My deepest apologies!” A vein pulsed in my temple. At least the owner seemed like a normal person who knew who was at fault. If Marco hadn’t been out of town, I would never have let this “baby” touch a single strand of my hair. Kiki shrank back, muttering under her breath, “It’s… it’s art!” “It’s a groundbreaking… layered look! I didn’t realize you wouldn’t like it, sir…” Art? Layered look? I stared at the gleaming patch of my scalp, struggling to contain my rage. “Sir, this isn’t about the money. I have an important family dinner to get to.” Kiki peeked at my thunderous expression and said meekly, “How about this? I can fix it for you. I promise you’ll be satisfied!” The owner quickly chimed in, his tone almost pleading, “Sir, please, why not let Kiki try again? We’re completely booked up for the holidays. There’s really no one else free right now…” “She can just shorten it a bit, cover up the mistake. It’ll be better than how it is now… Again, I am so, so sorry!” The pop-up comments continued to float by: 【The boss is playing matchmaker! Give our baby a chance!】 【This guy is seriously so aggressive!】 【It’s okay, girlies~ This is a strong-female-lead story! There’s no fixed male lead! These are all just flings!】 【Our baby knows her mistake and wants to fix it herself! I’m totally shipping this!】 Thinking of the family reunion I had to be at in an hour, my temple throbbed. “…Fine. I’ll trust you one more time.” Kiki’s tears vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile. She grabbed her scissors and comb, looking ready for a major undertaking. I stared her down, enunciating every word. “Just. Trim it. Fix the short parts, cut the long parts. That’s it.” She nodded vigorously, her expression suddenly serious. “Yes, yes! Don’t worry! I’ll get it right this time!” The buzz of the clippers started again, and the snip of the scissors sounded much more deliberate. The owner stood by, whispering instructions. “A little more here… Hey, be gentle… Watch the layers, don’t make another bald spot…” The minutes ticked by. “O-Okay! It’s done!” I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror. My hair was now brutally short, with some of the previous unevenness still visible. But the worst part, the absolute killer, was the lightning-bolt-shaped shave line now etched into the left side of my head. This wasn’t just a bad haircut anymore. I was shaking with rage. Before I could speak, Kiki pointed proudly at the lightning bolt. “See! I designed that part myself! Shorter, with more personality! Isn’t it so much better than before? It’s super cool now!” The on-screen comments exploded: 【OMG a lightning bolt! Our baby is so talented!】 【It’s her special mark! A symbol of her love!】 【Come on, hero, just say you like it! I’m getting angry for you!】 “What the hell is wrong with you people?!” My voice shot up, laced with an anger I could no longer suppress. “It’s the holidays! Are you trying to ruin them for me?!” “Butchering my hair wasn’t enough the first time, you had to do it again? What is this? This is deliberate!” 2 Nearly everyone in the salon turned to look, pointing and whispering. “That new girl has no skills at all.” “No wonder the client’s so angry. How can you go out looking like that…” My yelling made Kiki flinch, and then she burst into genuine sobs. “I’m… I’m sorry…” “I was just trying to help, to fix it for you. If you’re not happy, I… I can try to change it again…” She bowed over and over, crying, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked utterly pathetic. 【Our Kiki is crying her heart out! She already apologized, what more does he want!】 【It’s just a bad haircut, is it that serious? What a petty man!】 【I feel so bad for our baby. It’s not her fault she’s clumsy, she was just trying to get the attention of the guy she likes!】 Just then, a woman getting a perm a few chairs down couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey! I think that’s enough out of you! A grown man, cornering a young girl like this in public, do you have any shame?” “She’s been apologizing this whole time, what more do you want? It’s the holidays, show a little grace, will you?” An older man added, his voice full of patronizing wisdom, “It’s not easy for young people to find work these days. She’s an apprentice, it’s a learning process. You have to give them a chance!” Someone even started blaming the owner. “Sir, don’t you think this customer has a bit of an attitude problem?” Suddenly, I was the villain. The owner was sweating bullets, trying to mediate but not knowing where to start. “Everyone, please calm down, it’s all a misunderstanding…” I scanned the faces of the people who had spoken up and sneered, “Then why don’t you let her cut your hair next?” The chattering crowd fell silent, their expressions shifting awkwardly. No one wanted to take that offer. The owner wiped his brow, about to try another placating tactic. 【High-energy moment ahead! Our baby has a secret weapon!】 【Kiki gets who she wants! Time to teach this guy a lesson!】 【Hehe, Kiki-baby has been secretly livestreaming this whole time~】 Livestreaming? My eyes darted around the room. Sure enough, on the bottom shelf of Kiki’s utility cart, a phone was propped up, angled perfectly at me. “What are you doing?” I pointed sharply at the phone. “Are you livestreaming? You’re filming me without my permission?!” A flash of panic crossed Kiki’s eyes, quickly replaced by a wounded expression. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir, please don’t be angry, it’s all my fault…” “I was just trying to document my work… I’m sorry…” She cowered, shrinking back as if in fear. “The… the thing from before… when you touched my hand, I won’t tell anyone…” “Really, don’t worry, I’m sorry…” Touched her hand? My mind went blank. Everyone else in the salon heard her. Their heads snapped in my direction. 【No wonder she messed up his hair! She was fighting back! A silent protest!】 【Scumbag! Pervert! And he was acting so self-righteous just a minute ago!】 【Call the police! We have to protect our baby!】 【The stream is blowing up! Our Kiki is so brave! You tell them, girl!】 I was stunned. “What are you talking about? When did I ever touch your hand?” Kiki’s tears flowed even faster. “No! No! You didn’t touch my hand, sir! I was just making it up!” “I’m sorry! It’s all my fault! Please don’t be angry! Please don’t come near me…” As she spoke, she backed away, trying to hide behind the owner. That did it. The salon erupted. “Aha! So he’s a creep! Gets called out and then tries to threaten a young girl!” “He was so high and mighty before, turns out he’s the one with a guilty conscience!” “No wonder the poor girl was shaking so bad she messed up your hair. You probably scared her to death!” “That’s right! Call the cops! Arrest the pervert!” The accusations grew louder and more intense. A few of the younger male customers stood up, forming a loose circle around me. The owner stood between me and the angry mob. “Everyone, calm down! Please! We don’t know the full story…” “Kiki! What is going on with you! Turn off the stream! Stop talking nonsense!” “I… I’m not talking nonsense…” Kiki whimpered from behind him, her eyes darting to her phone screen, where the viewer count was skyrocketing. “Explain yourself!” I took a sharp step forward. “Turn off the damn stream! Now!” My movement was like lighting a fuse. “He’s going to hit her!” someone shouted. “Stop him!” the woman with the perm screamed. Two men who were standing close grabbed my arms, one on each side. “Let go of me!” The feeling of being treated like a criminal made my vision swim. “Call the police! Someone call the police!” A man was already fumbling for his phone. The salon was in chaos. 3 I stared at Kiki, who was still hiding behind the owner. “You said I touched your hand? Where’s your proof?” “You have to have proof for something like that. You can’t just open your mouth and ruin someone’s reputation with lies.” Kiki’s crying paused for a moment. She sniffled, “I’m sorry, I… I don’t have any proof…” “I was facing away from the security camera, so it probably didn’t record anything… I was just so scared, that’s why I started the stream…” I nodded slowly. “Then let’s call the police.” “Let them come. Let them check the surveillance footage, review the positions, take statements.” Kiki’s crying stopped. She quickly glanced at the now-quiet crowd. “Even if the police come… they probably won’t find anything conclusive, since there’s no direct evidence.” She looked down, twisting the hem of her apron. “This was my fault. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have said anything out of fear. I’ve caused you trouble, sir, and I’ve disturbed everyone in the salon.” “I… I’ll just let it go. I’m sorry…” The owner seized the opportunity like a lifeline. “Yes, yes! It’s all a misunderstanding! It’s cleared up now!” “It’s the holidays, let’s all just get along! We can all take a step back and let this go, right? Your cut is on the house, and I’ll even give you a…” “Let it go?” I cut off his attempt to smooth things over. I looked at Kiki, my gaze unwavering. “Since you admit you have no proof, fine.” “But right now, I want you to state clearly whether I touched your hand or not.” “Say yes, or say no. No more vague, misleading words.” I took another half-step closer. “Say it. Otherwise, I’m calling the police myself, and we’ll let them decide who’s lying and who’s being framed.” All eyes in the room were now fixed on Kiki, waiting for her answer. “Sir…” Kiki started speaking, and the tears started flowing again. “I’ve already decided to let this go. Why do you keep coming after me?” She suddenly lifted her head, her voice filled with tragic indignation. “Everyone, you be the judge! The truth is, this isn’t the first time this man has been to our salon!” “If you don’t believe me, check the security cameras outside!” “His black Mercedes, he parks it right in front of our salon all the time! He’s been here several times! And every single time, he tries to request me specifically to cut his hair!” Her emotions escalated. “I was always too scared to serve him alone, so I always made excuses to get out of it!” “Today, I just couldn’t avoid it, and now… sob…” She covered her face, weeping uncontrollably, perfectly portraying a victim who had long suffered in silence. “I messed up his hair, that was my fault. I was shaking, I was nervous…” “But why was I nervous? Why was I so scared? It’s because of everything that happened before!” “I started the stream because I was afraid no one would believe me! Waaaah…” She had constructed the perfect narrative. Even my car, which I parked wherever a spot was available on this street, was now evidence of a premeditated plot. The crowd gasped, turning to me with looks of pure disgust. The owner was completely stunned, looking back and forth between the sobbing Kiki and my stone-cold face, utterly lost. 【PLOT TWIST! So it was long-term harassment!】 【No wonder she reacted so strongly! A bad haircut is getting off easy!】 【She started the stream to protect herself! We totally misunderstood her!】 【What about the outside cameras? Boss, pull up the footage! Let’s nail this scumbag!】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389712”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After five years of battling depression, I finally felt like a normal person again. I could talk, laugh, and eat without being pushed. My husband and I were even expecting our second child. But at our New Year’s Eve party, Vincent’s god-sister, Bella, got drunk and started talking. “It was around five years ago,” she slurred, her eyes reckless. “I’d just had my heart broken, so I went for a joyride while the traffic cams were down.” “You won’t believe it. The moment I sped up, a cat flew out of nowhere and hit my bumper. It let out a yelp and vanished.” She gave a slight, disgusted smile. “The little thing scared me and ruined my car’s paint film. You really have to be careful.” “Don’t end up like my poor godmother, tangled in bad luck. It’s sickening just thinking about it.” Bella spoke as if sharing a trivial, irritating story. Everyone around her laughed and nodded, some even suggesting she visit a church to cleanse any bad luck. I stood frozen in the lively crowd. I saw Bella’s dismissive face, my mother-in-law’s indulgent gaze, and my husband Vincent’s tolerant, helpless smile. My face went pale. It seemed they had all forgotten. My daughter, the one who died in a car accident, was killed five years ago. … As soon as Bella finished her story, my mother-in-law playfully chided her for dredging up such an old, unpleasant memory. My husband, Vincent, just shook his head, his eyes holding a silent, fond tolerance for her antics. Watching the three of them, completely unfazed, my mind started to roar. A tidal wave of absurdity washed over me. In Bella’s careless story, every detail was a perfect match. A speeding car, a hit-and-run, a street where the surveillance cameras were down for maintenance, an autopsy report that determined the death was instantaneous. Slowly, horrifically, the pieces aligned with the facts I had uncovered in the week after finding my daughter’s body in a cold, filthy drainage ditch—a week I had spent sleepless, on the verge of a complete breakdown, hunting for answers. The impact of her words was too much. A wave of nausea and grief rose in my throat, and I doubled over, dry heaving. The room fell into an awkward silence. My mother-in-law’s face soured. “Honestly, what terrible timing for morning sickness,” she muttered under her breath. “Who is she putting on a show for?” I was dizzy from retching, but I couldn’t spare a thought for her cruel words. I grabbed onto Vincent’s arm as he came to steady me, my grip like a vice. I stared into his eyes. I saw a flicker of pity for my physical distress, mixed with a hint of impatience he couldn’t quite hide. I saw his weary affection for Bella. But I saw nothing of the heartbroken father whose child had been stolen from him. I refused to believe it. He had to have heard the chilling familiarity in Bella’s story. But he was so calm. So placid. As if he had heard it a thousand times before. As if he already knew the truth. A terrifying realization began to crystallize in my mind, and my heart turned to ice. “Vincent.” I clung to his sleeve with all my strength, my world shattering in my eyes. “The street Bella was talking about… the one where she was speeding. Was it the back alley behind the preschool?” The pity on Vincent’s face vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. Bella’s reaction was even more extreme. She knocked over her chair with a loud bang, her expression shifting from contempt to alarm. Realizing how strange her reaction looked, she quickly masked her panic, forcing a shaky smile. “Nora, you must have misheard me. I never said which street it was…” I pushed myself upright, my voice feeling distant, ethereal, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Five years ago. The street where all the cameras were down for repair. The scene of a hit-and-run with no culprit.” “The tiny fragment of purple paint film found in my daughter’s bloodstream during the autopsy.” “Do you really think,” I whispered, “you need to say which street it was?” Every word was a memory steeped in blood. Every detail pushed me closer to the edge. The forced smile on Bella’s face finally cracked, and a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. A moment later, as if remembering something crucial, she shrieked, “No! You’re lying! You went crazy after she died, the medication made you forget everything about her! You’re just trying to frame me!” Her words were a sledgehammer, pulverizing what was left of my heart. I never thought… I was afraid that Vincent, a top-tier psychologist, would feel like a failure for being unable to cure my depression. So I told him a kind lie. I told him the medication had clouded my memory, that I couldn’t remember the details of our daughter’s death. I never imagined that my compassion would be twisted into a weapon they would use to stab me in public. In that instant, Vincent finally understood. I had never forgotten. Not for a single second. He raised a hesitant hand, trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air. He struggled to maintain his composure, his voice a low, placating murmur. “Nora, don’t get worked up. It’s just a hallucination from the medication, that’s all. Bella was just telling a made-up story…” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me, tears streaming down my face. I pointed to my stomach. “Vincent, why do you think I dared to get pregnant again?” “I haven’t been on medication for a long time. I’m perfectly lucid. And I’m not hallucinating.” I backed away, step by step, my eyes burning, the taste of bile rising in my throat. “I’m calling the police.” I turned to leave, but a sharp sting pierced my arm. In the last moment before I lost consciousness, I saw Vincent holding an empty syringe. He caught my limp body, his eyes filled with a wretched mix of guilt and pity. “Nora, why couldn’t you just listen? Why did you throw away your medicine? You weren’t supposed to remember.” When I came to, I was lying in our bedroom, my body aching. A sick, powerless feeling washed over me, the aftereffect of the powerful sedative. Vincent stood by the window, crushing a cigarette pack in his hand. I watched him in silence, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. Finally, I heard my own hoarse voice. “Why? Vincent, you knew how much I loved her!” “Why did you hide this from me for five years? Why are you protecting a murderer?” Vincent flinched. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes filled with a deep, conflicted pain. But his grip tightened, harder and harder, as if he meant to crush my bones. “Nora, since you already know, then I am sorry.” “But five years ago, what happened to Bella… she was so terrified she ran a fever for a week straight. She almost died. She’s only just now starting to put her life back together.” “I can’t let you destroy her over something that’s already in the past.” “Whatever you want as compensation, I’ll give it to you.” Compensation? My daughter’s bright, vibrant life was worth nothing more than “compensation”? I stared at him in disbelief, then shoved him away with all my might. My throat was so raw it felt like it was bleeding. “What do I want? I want Bella to pay for what she did! Blood for blood!” A sharp crack echoed in the room. A searing pain exploded across my cheek. He had slapped me. Vincent froze, a look of panic in his eyes. He stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, Nora, I… I didn’t mean to.” That single, reflexive slap killed the last glimmer of hope in my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I trembled. “Vincent, Lily was your daughter too.” “She was only three years old!” “It was her birthday. You promised you’d pick her up from school to celebrate. That’s why she was waiting for you by the back gate.” “If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have been there. If it wasn’t for Bella’s joyride, she wouldn’t be dead.” Vincent shuddered, his face turning ashen. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I looked at him, feeling dazed. I couldn’t understand how the man who once loved us more than life itself, the man who promised to raise our daughter like a princess, had become this monster. How could he so casually dismiss five years of my unending agony with the offer of “compensation”? How could he hide the truth from me, letting her killer parade around in front of me, bold and arrogant? After a long silence, I closed my eyes, forcing down the turmoil inside me. “You want to compensate me?” “The only thing I want is to see Bella in prison.” The silence stretched on before Vincent’s voice came back, muffled and distant. “Fine. I promise.” After hearing his promise, the last of my strength gave out. The sedatives finally won. As my heavy eyelids closed, the world finally went quiet. The next time I opened them, I was staring at a stark, white ceiling. A familiar dread coiled in my stomach. I was back in the psychiatric hospital where I had spent four years of my life. Vincent sat by my bed, his expression gentle. “I’m sorry, Nora. You need to stay here for a while.” “I absolutely cannot let you hurt Bella.” It hit me then. He had chosen her over me. Again. Despair engulfed me, and I felt my sanity fraying. “Vincent, you’re harboring a murderer! How can you live with yourself? What about our daughter?!” He pressed his lips together, his expression unmoving. I became a hysterical madwoman. I grabbed the fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged at him. He didn’t even try to stop me. He let the blade sink into his chest. “Nora,” he gasped, blood blooming on his white shirt. “Does this make you feel better?” Nurses rushed in, their faces masks of terror. “Get her under control! The patient is having a violent episode! If anything happens to Mr. Hayes, we’re all finished!” “Mrs. Hayes, it was your fault the child died, you were the one who didn’t pick her up on time! How can you be so selfish as to blame someone else?” The nurses’ words were like needles, their scornful looks piercing me. “Enough!” Vincent roared, his gaze sweeping over them. “Mrs. Hayes can do whatever she wants! It’s not your place to comment! Get out!” But I shoved him away. “Don’t you dare pretend to defend me!” “If you’re so determined to protect Bella, then I’ll call the police myself! I’ll get justice for Lily!” I scrambled out of bed and ran for the door. The next thing I knew, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head, and the world went dark. When I woke up, my head was splitting. This time, my arms and legs were strapped down, binding me to the bed. Bella was sitting in a chair beside me. Seeing me awake, she smiled and tapped my cheek with a file folder. “You’re awake, Nora. You gave us all quite a scare. Let me read you your diagnosis.” She read the contents of the file, word for word, watching with satisfaction as the color drained from my face. “Did you hear that? ‘Diagnosis: Severe Psychotic Disorder.’ You, Nora, are now officially a crazy person, driven mad by the death of your daughter.” “Without a certificate of sanity, I’m afraid you’ll be living here for the rest of your life.” “You can thank Vincent’s soft heart. All I had to do was cry a little, and he promised he would take care of it.” Her triumphant words were like a thunderclap. “Vincent?” To protect Bella, he had fabricated a medical record and personally imprisoned me in a mental institution? I almost coughed up blood. “Why?” I rasped. “Why did you have to kill my daughter and destroy my life?” “I destroyed your life? Ha!” Bella burst out laughing, then her face contorted with rage. She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “It was you and that little bitch who ruined my life!” “Vincent and I were supposed to be together! We were childhood sweethearts! We promised we wouldn’t date anyone else, that we’d get together on my twentieth birthday!” “So why did he have to marry you? Why did that little brat have to look so much like him?” Her grip tightened, and I choked, my face turning purple. Seeing my pain only seemed to delight her more. Her sharp words drilled into my ears. “I hated you both! I couldn’t stand seeing you so happy all the time!” “I picked that day, her birthday, to confess my love to Vincent and tell him to divorce you. But he turned me down!” “He said he had to go home to celebrate with his precious daughter.” “And you, you didn’t pick her up on time that day. I bet you didn’t even know she snuck out the back gate, did you?” “She even smiled at me, thinking I would take her home. Ha! What a shame my car was so… out of control.” “She didn’t last long. Fell right into the ditch. Slowly stopped breathing. She got so dirty, so smelly.” “It was so tragic. As she was dying, she was crying for her mommy to come save her.” “Nora, oh, Nora. It’s all your fault for stealing Vincent from me. The person who really killed your daughter… was you!” I finally broke, spitting up a mouthful of blood and dissolving into wracking sobs. Bella leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “By the way, the night your daughter died, Vincent didn’t come home, did he?” “You didn’t really think he was out looking for evidence, did you?” The words hit me like a physical blow. “He said… he was checking for any security cameras they might have missed…” Seeing my expression crumble, Bella laughed and clapped her hands. “You are so naive. Your loving husband spent the entire night holding me, comforting me.” “I just told him how scared I was, and he stayed by my side all night, telling me it wasn’t my fault.” My heart, which I thought had gone numb with pain, was ripped open once more. Two scalding tears of pure agony burned tracks down my skin. I remembered that day. He had seemed more distraught than anyone, rushing to the morgue like a man possessed, arranging for my care after I collapsed, calling everyone he knew. He was a ghost of himself. And now I knew. He was in a rush… to comfort his daughter’s murderer. The tears finally fell, hot and hopeless. The hatred boiling inside me threatened to drown me. Sensing the madness in my eyes, Bella just smiled. A moment later, a nurse walked in with a syringe. “Look at me, forgetting your treatment. Don’t worry. After this shot, you won’t remember any of the pain.” My pupils constricted. I thrashed against the restraints, screaming for help. The commotion brought Vincent to the door. He froze when he saw my desperate, broken face. “Bella, maybe we should just… leave her be. Nora has always been terrified of needles. Let her calm down on her own.” A flash of jealousy crossed Bella’s eyes, but her expression was all sweet concern. “Oh, I was just so worried. I only wanted to help her get some rest.” She moved to undo my restraints, reaching out to help me up. But in the next instant, a fruit knife, the one from before, clattered to the floor from the side of my bed. A bloodcurdling scream filled the room. Bella clutched her hand, which was now bleeding profusely. “Nora! I was just trying to let you go! Why would you try to kill me?” Vincent rushed to her side, his eyes blazing with fury as he examined her wounded arm. “Nora! What the hell are you doing? Bella came here to apologize, and you try to murder her?” Before I could defend myself, he snatched the syringe and plunged it into my arm. Ice flooded my veins. I remembered a time when I was sick, scared of a simple injection, and he had held me in his arms, comforting me, his own eyes welling up with tears just from seeing me in pain. Now, for Bella, he was the one driving the needle into my flesh. He watched me convulse in agony, then turned and left with the nurse, his jaw clenched. Bella remained by my bed, a twisted smile on her face. “I forgot to mention,” she purred. “There’s a little something extra in that shot. Enjoy.” My body began to tremble violently, and I fell to the floor. Hallucinations started. My daughter, mangled and bloody, stood before me, her voice filled with resentment, blaming me for not saving her. I sobbed, overcome with guilt and self-loathing, apologizing to her over and over. I found the fruit knife again and again, dragging it across my skin, seeking punishment. I don’t know how long I lived like that. Trapped in a world of ghosts and madness, with only the daily sting of the needle to mark the passage of time. … Day after day, I sank deeper into the silence, the hallucinations, the eternal, suffocating self-hatred. Until one night, I woke from a nightmare. Through the silence, I heard a soft tapping at the door. I saw my daughter’s small form standing in the doorway, beckoning to me. I crawled towards her, towards the darkness, a smile of relief spreading across my face. Ten minutes later, a fire broke out in a room at the city’s psychiatric hospital. It lit up the entire night sky.

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On the night the skies above New York lit up with fireworks spelling my name, Orion called me. “Willa, happy birthday. It’s a shame I can’t be there to celebrate with you again this year.” “Just wait for me, my love. Three days from now, on our eighth anniversary, I promise I’ll be home with you.” The moment he hung up, the woman beneath him coiled around him like a serpent. “Are you really going back?” “What about me?” Seeing the tears welling up in Scarlett’s eyes, he kissed her, his voice thick with a tenderness he’d forgotten was reserved for someone else. “If I don’t go back soon, she’ll start to act up.” But what Orion didn’t know was that I would never throw a tantrum again. Because I had died two years ago. The voice that answered his call was nothing more than a vocal replica AI I had created for him before I passed. Orion shifted, pinning Scarlett beneath him. “We’ll have to be quick. My flight is at ten tonight.” Scarlett stiffened. “You’re leaving tonight? I thought you said three days.” Orion’s voice was casual, distracted. “Yeah, I decided to go back early. Give her a surprise.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her hard, one hand exploring her body with a rough urgency that seemed intent on breaking her. I had never seen Orion like this. The man I remembered was so gentle. I recalled my eighteenth birthday, eavesdropping on a conversation between him and his friends. “Orion, your little princess is finally eighteen. Big plans for tonight?” “Look how thoughtful I am. Brought you the ultra-thins. A whole box of ten.” Orion snatched the box and threw it on the floor. “Willa’s still young. No.” “Get lost with your stupid ideas.” After they’d all left, I watched Orion light a cigarette, his body tense with frustration. I opened the door, and he immediately stubbed it out. I picked up the discarded box and sat across from him. “If you want to,” I said, meeting his gaze, “I’m willing.” “For you, I’m willing to do anything.” I saw the desire flare in his eyes. But in the end, he just pressed the still-glowing ember of the cigarette into the back of his own hand. “I’m not,” he said, his voice strained. “I want to save the best of you for our wedding night.” “So, Willa, let’s get married soon, okay?” I floated beside the bed, a silent observer to their tangled, passionate embrace. It’s a good thing ghosts can’t feel heartbreak. Afterward, Scarlett rested her head in the crook of Orion’s arm. “Does your good little girl at home play like this with you?” Orion stroked her hair, a satisfied smile on his face. “Willa doesn’t know anything about this stuff. Of course not.” “When it comes to the bedroom, you’re the one who really gets me going.” Scarlett tilted her head up, a playful smile on her face. “Then why don’t you divorce her and marry me?” The warmth instantly vanished from Orion’s expression. “When we left for L.A., I made the terms clear, didn’t I? I give you a career, you provide me with… this. No delusions of grandeur.” A flash of jealousy crossed Scarlett’s eyes, but she lowered her head. “I’m sorry.” “I overstepped.” The tense silence was broken by the ringing of a phone. The driver’s voice came through the speaker. “Mr. Sterling, I’m here. Should we head to the airport now?” “Yes, I’m on my way down.” Orion pushed Scarlett off him and got dressed with brisk efficiency. Scarlett bit her lip. “When will you be back?” He pulled on his jacket. “I’m not coming back. You’ve done well these past two years. The resources I’ve provided you will continue, and I’ll wire you another twenty million.” “Take the money, stay here, and focus on your career. Don’t come back to New York. If Willa ever finds out about us, you know what the consequences will be.” He reached out and patted her head. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Can’t you stay? Just for today?” Her voice was a desperate whisper. “The charity auction is tomorrow. You promised you’d go with me.” “I’ve been looking forward to it for so long. Think of it as… a proper goodbye.” Orion looked down into her pleading eyes. I remembered the day he left, three years ago. I had begged him in the same way. “What project is so urgent?” “Can’t you wait until after my birthday tomorrow?” My eyes were red as I looked at him, feeling abandoned. In the twelve years we’d been together, he had never missed my birthday. But this time, he just pulled a necklace from his pocket. “I know tomorrow is your birthday, Willa, but this project is critical. It won’t succeed without me there.” “I had this made for you by a designer in France. Let me put it on you. It’ll be like I’m celebrating with you.” He fastened the clasp around my neck, barely glancing at it before pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “You be good, okay? I have to go. I’ll call you when I land.” But that day, I waited from morning until after midnight. No call ever came. At two in the morning, with a storm raging outside, I huddled under the covers and dialed his number. It rang and rang before being sent to voicemail. All I got was a single, cold text message. 【Willa, I’m busy. I’ll get back to you later.】 At the time, I truly believed he was busy. Too busy to even wish me a happy birthday. Now I knew he had simply been too busy with Scarlett. Orion looked at Scarlett, hesitating. Finally, he called his assistant. “Postpone the flight to tomorrow night. I have something to take care of here.” “And tomorrow, check in on Willa. Find out what she’s into lately. I want to pick up some gifts for her at the auction.” He still had me on his mind. A shame I was already dead. At the charity auction, Scarlett, as the event’s ambassador, was a vision. She commanded all the attention, all the cameras. Everything was proceeding smoothly until the final item came up for bid. A rival starlet, who had a well-known feud with Scarlett, spoke up. “All proceeds from tonight’s auction are for a good cause.” “As the ambassador, Miss Vance, we haven’t seen you bid on a single item. Don’t tell me you’re not feeling charitable tonight.” Every eye in the room turned to Scarlett. She smiled, unflustered. “Of course not. I was simply waiting for the final piece.” “The finale is always the most valuable, after all. I wanted to make a more significant contribution.” Right on cue, the final auction began. Scarlett immediately raised her paddle, offering a price three times the item’s worth. “Ten million.” The room fell silent. Only the rival actress slowly raised her paddle. “Twelve million.” Every time Scarlett placed a bid, her rival followed. The price of the necklace climbed until it reached fifty million. Scarlett’s face darkened. She knew her rival wouldn’t back down easily. But she had already made her grand declaration. Not bidding now would make her a laughingstock. As she hesitated, the auctioneer began his final call. “Fifty million going once, going twice…” “Name a price. Any price. It’s mine.” Orion slowly raised his hand. A collective gasp went through the room, mine included, even though I was just a ghost. He met the rival actress’s gaze, his own languid and dismissive. “Care to match it?” Everyone in New York’s high society knew who Orion Sterling was. He bought the necklace without any further challenge. In front of everyone, he fastened it around Scarlett’s neck. “This piece suits you, Miss Vance. A gift from me.” “And the entire sum will be donated in her name.” He had changed so much. I remember when he was just starting out, we couldn’t even afford a decent apartment. We huddled together for warmth in a damp, dark basement. Back then, he had slipped a soda can tab onto my finger and promised me the world. “Willa, I swear, I will claw my way to the top of this city. I’ll make it, and I’ll give you the life you deserve.” Now, he had done it. He could spend millions without batting an eye. All to defend Scarlett’s honor. Predictably, Scarlett became the center of attention. People swarmed her, eager to offer a toast. She didn’t want to drink but couldn’t afford to offend anyone. Just as she was caught in a bind, Orion pulled her from the crowd and into his arms. “She’s allergic to alcohol. She can’t drink.” “I’ll take this one for her.” A sharp pang went through me. There was a time when he would shield me just like that. It wasn’t that I couldn’t drink. Years ago, when his company was on the brink of collapse, I had secretly gone out to network, attending endless dinners and meetings to save him the trouble. I drank myself into the hospital with bleeding ulcers three times. The last time, a perforation nearly killed me. I woke up in a hospital bed to find Orion, who was supposed to be on a business trip, sitting beside me. “What are you doing back…” “Willa, who told you to go out drinking?” “Look at you! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If something had happened to you, what would I have done?” It was the first time in all our years together that he had ever yelled at me. My eyes filled with tears. “I just… I didn’t want to see you struggling so much…” “Did I mess up? I’m sorry, I was only trying to help. I’m so useless, I just made things worse…” Orion raised his hand and slapped himself, hard. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just so scared. Scared of losing you.” “I’m the useless one. I couldn’t protect you. I swear, I will never let you touch another drop of alcohol again…” But he never knew. In the countless sleepless nights after he left, I had lost count of how many times I had drunk myself into a stupor. After downing the glass, Orion patted Scarlett’s shoulder. “I’m leaving. From now on, if you need anything, don’t call me. Contact my assistant, Peterson. He’ll handle it.” “I can’t risk Willa getting jealous.” With that, he turned and left. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard her voice behind him.

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