I was thirty-seven when my husband had an affair. I married him right after college. Fifteen years, just like that. Everyone told me I had a life to be envied. My husband, Mark, was a high-flying corporate executive. At home, he covered every expense, every bill, a provider far better than most. It felt like a bitter pill I was supposed to swallow. 1 At first, I truly intended to. The girl looked like she was barely out of her teens, while Mark had just turned thirty-eight. Our son was already in high school. That was until she found me, her face a mess of tears, clutching the hem of her shirt and begging me to step aside. Her eyes were glistening, just like mine had been all those years ago, drunk on love. In the mirror, I saw myself—the lines around my mouth had deepened into something less joyful, and the dark circles from sleepless nights with a sick child were a permanent fixture. “Please,” she whispered, “I love him so much. I’m begging you, let us be happy.” I played along, my voice casual. “And what’s the plan after the divorce?” Her eyes lit up, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “We’re going to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, and then we’ll have a daughter. Mark always said he wanted a soft, sweet little girl to cuddle…” Mark wanted a daughter? He was the one who swore that our son and I were all he ever needed. He was the one who said he would never let me go through the pain of childbirth again. Promises, it seemed, just rotted away with time. My playful mood vanished. “I was kidding,” I said, my voice flat. “Mark and I have been married for fifteen years. Our careers, our finances, our entire lives are tangled together. We’re not getting divorced. Instead of fantasizing about the future, you should start thinking about your own.” When I got home, Mark was on the couch, laptop open, lost in his work. The years had been kind to him; the tailored suit only amplified his mature charm. He heard the door open but didn’t look up, his fingers still flying across the keyboard. This was our silent agreement, forged over years of practice. As long as I didn’t bring it up, he could pretend nothing was wrong. I tied on my apron and quickly whipped up dinner—three dishes and a soup. Mark closed his laptop and joined me at the table. “Alex said his school’s track meet is next week. He wants you to be there.” “Okay.” “Dad’s blood pressure is acting up again. We need to get him in for a check-up.” “You schedule it.” “The chandelier in the living room is flickering. Should I call someone to fix it?” “Whatever.” “Sophie came to see me today.” He finally looked up, his brow furrowed with impatience. “And?” His mistress confronts me, and all he can say is “And?” Even with all my years of practiced restraint, I felt my hand tighten around my chopsticks. “Mark, we’re married. You are cheating on me.” He slammed his own chopsticks on the table, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “Sarah, don’t make it sound so ugly. Sophie is young and naive. It’s nothing. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” Young? She was in her twenties. The man’s capacity for self-deception was laughable. The rest of the meal was tasteless. I thought we’d be locked in a cold war for a while. But the next day, I came home early from a business trip and found Sophie curled up on my sofa. She was wearing the new silk nightgown I’d just bought, her face tilted up as Mark fed her a strawberry. “Oh, Mark, the strawberries you feed me are so much sweeter!” “You’re such a little flirt,” he chuckled. “Have another.” The sight of that bright red berry made my throat tighten. I used to love strawberries, and he would feed them to me just like that, one by one. Now, that tenderness belonged to someone else. Sophie giggled, swinging a pair of long, pale legs. I saw Mark’s gaze darken as he pulled her into his arms. Just as their lips were about to meet, I pushed the door open. Sophie didn’t pull away. Instead, a defiant smirk played on her lips. “Well, hello again. I was just having some cramps, and Mark was comforting me. You’re not mad, are you?” She snuggled deeper into his embrace. I saw his Adam’s apple bob, a warning glint in his eyes. I, who had always been the picture of grace and composure, had no idea how to react. Should I launch myself at them like a madwoman? Should I scream and tear away his hypocritical mask? Neither seemed like it would change a thing. Maybe divorce was the only way out. Our shared assets over the years would be more than enough for Alex and me to start over. Maybe once I was free, I could rediscover the woman I’d lost. Maybe I, too, could have a second chance at life… At that thought, I set down my suitcase, looked Mark straight in the eye, and said, my voice quiet but unshakeable, “Let’s get a divorce.” 2 Mark refused. His reason? He hadn’t committed any “fundamental error.” Then he unleashed the hounds, calling in relatives and friends to talk me down. My in-laws, whom I had cared for over fifteen years, told me it wasn’t a physical affair, so why not just tolerate it? They even offered to convince Mark to sign over five percent of his company shares to me as a consolation prize. Our mutual friends warned me that the girl was just a gold-digger. If I left, I’d be handing her exactly what she wanted. Mark’s business was booming, his net worth climbing. Only a fool would walk away from that kind of wealth. My best friend, who was going through her own messy divorce, sighed and told me to reconsider. Her husband had also cheated, but he was broke and ugly. “Look,” she said, “any man with a pulse is going to cheat. At least Mark is rich.” It seemed money was the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card, capable of absolving any sin committed within a marriage. I didn’t say a word. I just kept gathering the documents for the divorce. My father heard the news and stormed over. The moment he walked in, he slapped me across the face. His face was red with fury. “What man doesn’t have to entertain clients? So what if there’s a woman or two on the side? He’s been good to you for fifteen years, isn’t that enough? You have to blow everything up and end up a pathetic divorcée? You’re almost forty, Sarah! Who do you think is going to want you now?” He looked healthy and well-fed. Clearly, my stepmother was taking good care of him, and my new little brother was behaving. He had no time for his daughter’s trivial heartaches. The last person to try and change my mind was my son, Alex. When he came home from school, my first instinct was to hug him. He shoved me away. “Why do you have to divorce Dad?” I, who had stood my ground against everyone else, suddenly felt small. “Your father is with another woman, Alex. I can’t live with him anymore.” “You mean Sophie? Dad told me she’s just a friend.” He looked at me with an exasperated expression that was a perfect mirror of his father’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a life of luxury for half your life. Do you really think you can handle being on your own? Don’t come crying to me when you can’t.” Honestly, before he got home, I had held onto a sliver of hope that the child I had raised with my own two hands would, at the very least, give me a hug. I imagined he would storm up to his father, demanding to know why he had hurt me, and stand firmly by my side. Instead, he unleashed a torrent of anger at me, then stomped upstairs. BAM! The slam of his door was so violent it felt like it shook my soul. Sarah, how did your life come to this? That evening, while I was in the shower, Mark came into the bathroom for the first time in what felt like forever. It had been over a year since we’d last been intimate. He walked in, his eyes cold, but his hands moved with a familiar confidence, tracing paths across my skin. “Don’t be angry anymore, okay?” he murmured. “I’ll send her away tomorrow. You’ll never see her again.” A warmth spread over my skin, but a chilling frost was creeping into my heart. I closed my eyes, letting tears mingle with the hot water streaming down my face. “Mark.” “Hmm?” “Did you sleep with her?” Silence. The unspoken answer was enough. A wave of fury washed over me. “You are… absolutely disgusting.” His temper snapped. He shoved me away, hard. 3 A sharp pain shot through my ankle, but before I could even look, he grabbed my chin and dragged me in front of the mirror. “I’m disgusting? What about you? Aren’t you disgusting?” he snarled. “Look at yourself! Look at that butchered haircut—is there anything feminine about you? Look at your breasts, they’re sagging down to your stomach! And your face, covered in spots… it’s impossible to even look at you, let alone kiss you!” “Sarah, do you even look like a woman anymore?” He squeezed my breast cruelly, his eyes filled with icy contempt. “This is how we’ll live. I guarantee you a life of comfort and security. But if you divorce me, I swear, I will make your life a living hell.” Long after he had left, I was still trembling. I couldn’t believe the man I had loved for two decades could say such things. Or had he changed long ago, and I had simply been too blind to see it? I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, a sharp, grounding pain. Mark, you think you have me trapped, don’t you? You think you can do whatever you want? Just you wait. This divorce is happening. The next morning, Mark had, for once, made breakfast. Alex was already eating, but he looked down as soon as he saw me, pointedly ignoring me. Mark played the peacemaker, coaxing our son. “Now, Alex, what did we talk about yesterday? We agreed we were going to forgive Mom.” Alex reluctantly muttered, “Morning, Mom.” “He was tired from the trip yesterday,” Mark said, his voice smooth as silk. “Come and eat. I made your favorite, club sandwiches.” He met my gaze across the table, a look of undisguised triumph in his eyes. I said nothing. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper showed Sophie in. “Good morning, Mrs. Gordon. I’m just here to drop off a file for Mark.” They shook hands, a little too formally. Alex, seeing nothing wrong, actually invited Sophie to join them for breakfast. She hesitated for a moment before sliding into my seat at the table. As if to spite me, Alex pushed my plate in front of her. Then he poured her a glass of orange juice, my usual morning drink. Sophie, in turn, poured all her energy into charming Alex. “Oh, Alex, you’re so sweet! I was worried you’d be standoffish, like your mother…” “My mom’s just going through menopause,” Alex grumbled. “She’s paranoid, convinced you and Dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.” By the end of the meal, the two of them were acting like best friends. I had stopped listening the moment Alex called me paranoid. I walked out of the house. There was someone I needed to see. An old classmate I hadn’t seen in over a decade. My first love, and now, the city’s top litigator: Nathan. 4 In the quiet corner of a coffee shop, I laid out the whole story for Nathan. He just snorted. “And you’re really willing to let all that go?” He hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same prickly personality. If he’d been even a little bit gentler back then, I never would have broken up with him. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. I pulled a card from my purse. “I did my research. Your current rate is a million for a case like this. Here’s half a million upfront. The other half when it’s finalized. This is business, Nathan. No feelings involved.” Nathan picked up the card, toyed with it for a second, then slipped it into his pocket. “At your service, my wealthy client.” On the way back, he offered me a ride. While I’d been living a life of domestic bliss, his had been much harder. I’d heard his wife passed away from an illness a few years ago. They never had children. He’d poured everything into his work, rising to become one of the most formidable lawyers in the state. Nathan’s car was a flashy, ostentatious Maserati that roared to life. I couldn’t help but frown. “You’re not twenty anymore. Why are you still into such loud, flashy things?” I wondered how his late wife had ever put up with him. He just raised an eyebrow. “You used to love it, remember?” That shut me up. He was right. In my twenties, I’d been drawn to all things loud and shiny. But who has the energy for that when you’re pushing forty? I dropped the subject. After he dropped me off, I sent him another three hundred dollars. N: ? S: For the ride. N: Of course. Anything for my client. Despite the ridiculous car, Nathan gave me a masterclass in divorce preparation. Following his advice, I managed to get a clear picture of Mark’s finances. Then I hired a private investigator who quickly found the address of his little love nest. It was an apartment I’d bought before we were married. We lived there when we were dating and in the first few years of our marriage. We only moved into our current house after Alex was born and we needed space for a live-in nanny. I hadn’t been back in years. And Mark had hidden her there? I found the old key and went over on a day I knew they’d be out. Nothing inside had changed, except for the clutter of a new life. It was painfully obvious how badly Sophie wanted to marry Mark. Behind the sofa hung a portrait of the two of them. On the dining table sat a hand-crocheted doll she’d made. In the kitchen, a rich, fragrant soup simmered on low. It would have been a perfect picture of domestic bliss, if the pose in their portrait wasn’t an exact copy of one of ours. If the doll wasn’t my favorite orange-slice character. And if the soup wasn’t the special recipe I developed to soothe Mark’s chronic stomach issues. The recipe for that soup… I had only ever given it to one person: my mother-in-law. Which meant that besides me, she was the only one who knew it. And now, it was simmering in the home of Mark’s mistress. This cascade of betrayals made me wonder if I was such a failure that everyone in my life felt no hesitation in hurting me. Just as my emotions were churning into a maelstrom, the front door opened. Sophie burst in, beaming. She threw herself into Mark’s waiting arms. “It’s wonderful, Mark! I’m finally going to give you a daughter!” Mark stroked her face, his expression full of adoration. Then he looked up, and his eyes met mine.

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After my rebirth, when Donovan’s plaything again sent their explicit photos to my family’s group chat, I didn’t do as I had in my last life. I didn’t grab the fruit knife and stab him. Nor did I fly into a rage for divorce when he defended her. I even stopped him as he pretended to pick up his phone to “teach her a lesson.” “It’s fine,” I said calmly. “She’s young, just joking around. No need to scare her.” Donovan eyed me with suspicion. “What game are you playing now? Planning to go after Ruby again?” I smiled. “Of course not. I’m just…” I just don’t love you anymore. In my past life, after our divorce, he not only ruined my father’s company for Ruby’s sake— he drove my father to jump off a bridge. And when I was dying of cancer, begging for money, he made me kneel like a dog to apologize to her. The twenty dollars he tossed at my feet couldn’t save me, or buy my father a proper urn. So in this life… What is love or pride worth? Not nearly as much as money. But faced with my indifference, Donovan was anything but pleased. 1 “Why aren’t you angry?” Donovan gripped my hand, his dark eyes simmering with displeasure. “You always said your father has a heart condition, that he can’t handle stress.” “She went way too far this time. Why aren’t you saying anything?” His words sent a bitter taste to the back of my throat. In my last life, I was angry. Of course, I was angry. My father did have a heart condition. When Ruby, in her viciousness, sent those photos to our family, my father was so overwhelmed with shock and fury that he collapsed on the spot. They managed to save him, but he was never the same. He was left half-paralyzed. A man of iron pride, now confined to a wheelchair for life. I couldn’t accept it. I trembled with a grief so profound it felt like my bones would shatter. But even then, Donovan protected her. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he’d snarled. “It was just bad luck that your father had a stroke. It has nothing to do with Ruby. Can you stop using these pathetic excuses to attack her? It’s pathetic.” Then he’d looked at me, his eyes cold. “Annelise, let me be clear. I’m in love with Ruby. I thought my life was set, but then I met her. For the first time, I know what true love feels like. So if you dare to touch her, I will make you pay.” My reason shattered. I grabbed the fruit knife from the table and plunged it into his chest. Bright red blood streamed over my wrist, but it wasn’t enough to quench the fire in my soul. “If Ruby is your true love, then what am I? The girl who grew up with you, who stood by you through everything?” When he was eighteen, under a canopy of wisteria, Donovan had sworn he would love me forever. The words still echoed in my memory. How could he change? Who gave him the right? He told me not to touch Ruby, so I made it my mission to destroy her. I’ve never been a woman who lets others walk all over her. I went to her university and threw the printed photos onto the dean’s desk. Ruby became the campus slut, her reputation in tatters. That night, Donovan stormed into my bedroom. He ripped my clothes off and took pictures, plastering my most intimate moments all over the internet. When Ruby came to taunt my father again, I slapped her across the face in public. In retaliation, Donovan sabotaged my father’s company with a faulty project, bankrupting him. I couldn’t take it anymore. I demanded a divorce. But he had already transferred all our assets to Ruby. We were childhood sweethearts. I had been with him through his darkest days, helping him build his company from the ground up. In the end, not only did I leave with nothing, but he also saddled me with hundreds of millions in debt. The blows were too much. I fell into a deep depression, and my body gave out. I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. My father, not wanting to be a burden, gave me the last of his money and threw himself into the river. Later, I wanted to buy him a decent urn, something made of pearwood. I started working in nightclubs, pouring drinks for lecherous men. But Donovan, like a persistent ghost, found me again. He made me kneel before Ruby and drink until I begged for her forgiveness. He said if I did, he’d give me a twenty-thousand-dollar tip. I thought of the beautiful pearwood urn I could never afford, and I agreed. My father had lived his life with dignity. I couldn’t let him have such a miserable end because of me. I drank bottle after bottle. I bowed my head to Ruby again and again. But in the end, Donovan broke his promise. He grabbed my hair, his cold eyes raking over my emaciated frame. “Annelise, you’re so pathetic now. Do you see? Compared to Ruby, you’re nothing special.” I was completely drained, kneeling on the floor, a broken laugh escaping my lips. “You’re right. I am pathetic.” How else could I have ever loved him? My words seemed to anger him for some reason. He shoved me aside with a sneer. “So this is the great Annelise Croft. A useless waste who can’t even apologize properly. You’re not worth twenty thousand. Twenty dollars is more like it.” He tossed a crumpled bill at my feet and walked away, his arm wrapped around Ruby. And I… I died that night, alone on the cold, unforgiving street. The memory of my wretched death made my nails dig into my palms. When I didn’t respond, Donovan’s frustration boiled over. He yanked his hand away from mine. “What are you sulking about now?” he snapped. “Annelise, you know what I hate most about you? That calculating look on your face. I love Ruby because she’s nothing like you. When she loves, she loves fiercely. When she hates, she hates with passion. She sent those photos because she loves me, because she’s possessive. She did it out of love, so don’t you dare use this as an excuse to hurt her!” 2 Seeing his blatant favoritism, a dull ache still throbbed in my chest. But it was only for a moment. I met his defensive glare with a placating smile. “Don’t be so worked up. I really do understand,” I said softly. “She’s young. She can’t hide her feelings. It was just a mistake made in the heat of the moment. I get it.” He looked at me, incredulous. “You’re really not mad at her? But you always hated these cheap, manipulative little vixens.” I reached out and smoothed his already perfect collar. “No, really. I’m not,” I said with a smile. “I know you’re busy with work, under a lot of pressure. A man needs a pretty young thing to listen to his troubles. It’s normal. Everyone in our circle does it. You were always telling me to get used to it. I was immature before, I caused a lot of embarrassing scenes for you. It won’t happen again.” Faced with my generosity, Donovan, who should have been pleased, looked as if he’d swallowed a fly. He stammered for a moment. “But… but after what she did, aren’t you worried your father will be angry?” My smile widened. I pulled a contract from my purse. “Of course, I’m worried.” “So, darling, why don’t you give the Southgate Project to my father’s company? When he sees you’re willing to give him such a massive deal, I’m sure any anger he has will just melt away.” For years, my family’s business had relied on traditional industries, and we were facing some serious challenges. The Southgate Project was crucial for our survival. Donovan. This time, if you can’t give me love, then just give me money. Lots and lots of money. He finally seemed to realize I was serious. He hesitated for a long moment, then a relieved smile spread across his face. “Annelise, I’m so glad you’re thinking this way.” He took the pen and, under my expectant gaze, signed his name on the contract. Then he added, his voice full of meaning, “If you can always be this reasonable, I’ll be happy to give you many more projects like this. But if I find out you’re just putting on an act, that you’re still trying to hurt Ruby behind my back, I will not let you off the hook.” His eyes were sharp as knives, every word a shield for the woman he loved. In the past, this would have torn me apart. Now, it was just… tedious. The suffering of my past life had extinguished any love I had for him. In this life, he was nothing more than a walking ATM. I gave him a sincere smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to get along wonderfully with dear Ruby.” With that, I lost all patience for the charade and walked out. 3 I drove straight to my family home. Although the first thing I did after being reborn was to kick my father out of the family group chat before Ruby could post the photos, I was still uneasy until I saw him with my own eyes. In my last life, our endings were too tragic. This time, I would not allow anything to happen to him. Thankfully, everything was fine. My father hadn’t seen the disgusting pictures. He was in the garden, happily tending to his winter plum blossoms. When he saw me, he beamed and insisted on making me his famous stew. “My girl is home! It’s cold today, let me make you your favorite stew, how about it?” The next second, he noticed my red-rimmed eyes and his expression turned to one of concern. “Annelise, why are your eyes red? Did that scoundrel Donovan bully you? Tell me. I’ll sort him out.” My father was always like that, unconditionally on my side. My mother died when I was young, so he always felt he had to love me enough for two. Years ago, after Donovan’s father committed suicide over financial crimes and his mother was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, everyone in our social circle assumed Donovan was finished. No one would help him. Only I stayed by his side. During his darkest time, I knelt before my father and begged him to give Donovan a chance, to invest in him. My father, for my sake, took him in. He emptied the company’s accounts to fund Donovan’s venture. When Donovan found out, he knelt before my father, tears streaming down his face, and swore he would treat him like his own father for the rest of his life. But in the end, he was the one who killed him. The image of my father’s bloated corpse, pulled from the river, flashed in my mind. I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, to keep from crying out. I handed him the contract from my bag. “Don’t worry, Dad. Donovan didn’t bully me. In fact, he gave us the Southgate Project. Here, we can start work on it tomorrow.” Seeing the contract, my father finally relaxed. “Good, good. As long as you two are okay. Annelise, I’m an old man. Money isn’t important. As long as you’re happy, I can rest easy.” I forced a smile, blinking back tears. “Don’t worry, Dad. I will be happy.” I stayed at my father’s house that night. Donovan was busy with his “true love,” so he didn’t bother me. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. After a good night’s sleep, I drove to the hospital for a full check-up. In my last life, I died of stomach cancer. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances.

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The wind outside the courthouse was bone-chilling. I stood on the steps, a divorce agreement clutched in my hand. Memories from my past life flooded back—a tide of pure agony. I had knelt right here, begging for three whole hours, while Isabella sat in her car, never even bothering to roll down the window. I cried until I collapsed and a stranger had to take me to the hospital. For two years after that, I continued to grovel, a walking corpse clinging to the wreckage of our marriage, trying to piece it back together. Finally, on our seventh wedding anniversary, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. As the darkness drowned me, my last thought was: Will she regret this? The moment I woke up, reborn, a message glowed on my phone: “Noah. Courthouse, 10 a.m. today. For the divorce.” My hand trembled. Every instinct screamed at me to go back to being the husband who loved her more than life itself. But the memory of death was too vivid. The cold, the hopelessness, the suffocation. And all those nights I had waited like a dog for a single glance from her. Not again. I had to live for myself this time. 1 A black Bentley pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Isabella stepped out, her long dress trailing, her expression serene. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed slightly, as if surprised that I had shown up on my own. “Noah.” Her voice was soft but distant. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go inside.” I took a deep breath. My voice trembled, but I held it steady. “Ms. Vance, I agree to the divorce.” Isabella froze, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She even managed a small, relieved smile. “Noah, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I thought…” “But,” I cut her off, “the assets will have to be re-divided.” The smile on her face hardened. “What do you mean?” “According to marital law, all shared assets are to be split equally.” I fought to keep the tremor out of my voice. The warmth on Isabella’s face froze for a second before returning. “Noah, that’s a very hurtful thing to say. I haven’t treated you poorly all these years. How could you…” I interrupted her again, holding out a file. “This is a list prepared by my lawyer.” Isabella took the document, her eyes scanning it quickly. Her expression changed instantly. “Noah, are you joking?” Her voice was still gentle, but an icy edge had crept in. “I thought you had finally learned to be reasonable. I see now you were just waiting for this.” “I’m just asking for what I deserve.” “What you deserve?” she said, her tone like she was scolding a child. “Noah, what have you done for this family in the last three years? You hide at home all day with that obscure research of yours, spending my money, living in my house, using my resources. I’m willing to give you a million dollars in this divorce. You should be grateful, not trying to carve up my assets.” Her words were daggers. Tears welled in my eyes. She had said the exact same thing in my past life. She called me a parasite. She said I was unworthy of her. She said I had nothing but a pretty face. Back then, I believed her. I truly thought I was worthless. But this time… “Ms. Vance,” I said, taking another deep breath. “You have two months. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court.” With that, I turned and walked away. My legs felt weak, and my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to walk ten meters before I dared to stop, tears streaming silently down my face. It was the first time in my life… I hadn’t given in. 2 Back at home, I collapsed onto the sofa, my entire body shaking. I looked around at the house I had meticulously decorated for three years. Every corner held a piece of my soul. The set of academic models in the study—I had pulled countless all-nighters to build them. Isabella’s only comment had been a dismissive “they’re fine.” The core project proposals for her company—I was the one who stayed up all night researching, analyzing the market, and creating the frameworks for her. Her haute couture gowns in the walk-in closet—I had ironed every single one by hand, ensuring not a single crease was out of place. In my last life, I did these things until the day I died. She never once said, “Thank you for your hard work.” My phone buzzed. It was a message from Isabella: “There’s an important company gala tomorrow night. Be ready in your suit at seven to accompany me.” The old me would have instantly replied, “Of course,” thinking it was a sign she wanted to reconcile. I would have spent the entire day preparing, then stood by her side like a perfect accessory, saying all the right things, smiling the perfect smile. Now, I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling for a full ten minutes. A voice inside me screamed: You can’t say no to her! You’re still her husband… But in the end, I typed out a single line: “Ms. Vance, we are getting a divorce. You should ask your secretary, Ryan.” I hit send, my heart hammering against my ribs. The phone rang almost immediately. I took a deep breath and answered. Isabella’s voice was as gentle as if she were soothing a child. “Are you throwing a tantrum again? I know you’re upset, but tomorrow’s gala is incredibly important. You know when I need you most, don’t you? Ryan is just a secretary; he can’t accompany me to an event like this. Only you can help me.” “I’m not going to the gala.” I bit my lip. I knew this script all too well. Whenever I tried to refuse, she would use this tactic. First, gently affirm my value. Then, imply that only I could help her. Finally, make me feel that if I said no, I was the one at fault. Isabella was silent for a moment, then continued in a helpless tone. “Alright. But Noah, I think we need to talk. You might be acting on impulse, but a divorce needs to be handled rationally. I don’t want this to end up in court. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.” “I am being rational. Probably the most rational I’ve been in my entire life.” “Are you sure?” Isabella chuckled softly. “Noah, do you know what a lawsuit entails? It means our private lives will be exposed. It means you’ll never be able to hold your head up in this circle again.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “Are you threatening me?” A pained sigh. “Noah, you’re really hurting me when you talk like that. Have I been anything but good to you all these years? What have you ever wanted that I haven’t given you? Have you ever once considered my feelings? Are you under too much stress? An old classmate of mine is a psychiatrist; I can make an appointment for you. It’s normal for men to get tense at a certain age. It can affect your mood.” I froze. Isabella always dismissed my legitimate requests as me being emotional, irrational, or having some kind of mental problem. Over time, I had actually started to believe I was sick. “The one who’s sick is you,” I said, enunciating every word. Her voice remained gentle. “Noah, even though our marriage wasn’t happy, I never wanted to hurt you. I’m willing to give you a million dollars in the settlement. That’s enough for you to live on for a very long time. Why do you have to make things so ugly?” Every word was a knife in my heart. Before, hearing this would have made me break down, would have convinced me I was worthless. But now, I suddenly remembered. The project that doubled her company’s market value—I did the core strategy. The product design that won her an industry award—the inspiration came from a suggestion I made offhandedly. The priceless antique collection at her family’s estate—I was the one who authenticated and curated it, piece by piece. I was not a parasite. I was just so in love with her that I had willingly given her all the credit. “Isabella.” My voice was calm. “Two months from now, I’ll see you in court.” I hung up. Then I turned off my phone. 3 The next day, Isabella came to the house. She stood at the door with a gentle smile, holding a bouquet of blue roses and a document folder. “Noah, open the door. Let’s talk.” I watched her through the peephole, not moving. She stood outside for ten minutes, knocking several times, her voice always soft. “Noah, I know you’re in there. I might have spoken a little harshly yesterday, and I apologize. But you have to understand, I just don’t want to see you do something foolish.” I took a deep breath and opened the door. Isabella walked in, placing the roses and the folder on the table. She looked at me, a hint of pity in her eyes. “Noah, you look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep well?” She had said that countless times. Every time I stayed up all night working on a proposal for her, she would ask with the same feigned concern, then immediately turn to her own affairs, never waiting for an answer. “Let’s get to the point,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Alright.” Isabella opened the folder. “I’ve had a new agreement drawn up. You get this house, plus one million in cash. Noah, this is the best offer I can make.” I glanced at the agreement and sneered. “This house is worth two million. You think you can buy me off for a total of three?” “Noah, don’t be greedy,” Isabella frowned. “You know, I barely recognize you lately. You used to be so understanding, so gentle. Now you’ve become so…” I looked at her, at this face I once loved so desperately. Now, it was the face of a stranger. “Isabella, you’re willing to divorce me for your secretary, but you’re not willing to pay a fair price. You asked me what I’ve contributed?” I met her gaze. “Ms. Vance, your ‘Starfall Initiative’ that doubled the company’s value—who did the core strategy for you?” Isabella’s face changed. “The design inspiration for your best-selling products—who provided it?” I continued. “The antique collection at your family’s estate—who authenticated it for you? For every business negotiation you had, who compiled the research? And for every client dinner, who was the one drinking with you until they ended up with bleeding ulcers?” “Noah…” Isabella was silent for a few seconds, then sighed. “Noah, those were things you were supposed to do as my husband.” “Supposed to do?” I laughed. “So my five years of contributions, in your eyes, were just my duty?” “Noah, don’t confuse the issue,” Isabella’s tone sharpened. “You helped me with those things because you were my husband. And I gave you a life of luxury because you were my husband. We’re even.” “Even?” I stared at her. “Ms. Vance, do you have any idea how much profit those projects brought you? Hundreds of millions, not to mention your current standing in the business world. How is that even?” Isabella’s face was livid. “Noah, don’t push it. Those projects were the achievements of my company. What do they have to do with you?” “What if I were to release the initial drafts of those proposals?” I said calmly. “Release the email records, proving that your core projects were, in fact, led by me?” The color drained from Isabella’s face. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Wouldn’t I?” I looked at her. “Ms. Vance, I have nothing left to lose. But you? Your business reputation, your social status, everything you’re so proud of… are you sure you want to risk it all?” Isabella stared at me, her eyes turning dark. After a long silence, she suddenly laughed, a sound laced with mockery. “Noah, how did I never realize you had this in you?” “Because the old me was too in love with you to see anything else,” my voice was flat. “But now, I’m not.” The smile on Isabella’s face froze. She stared at me for a long time, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes. “You really don’t love me anymore?” she asked suddenly, her voice testing the waters. “That’s right,” my voice was firm. “I don’t.” Isabella’s gaze darkened. She turned to leave, tossing one last sentence over her shoulder. “Noah, you’ll regret this.” The door slammed shut. I collapsed onto the sofa, the tears finally breaking free. I wasn’t really that strong. I was just pretending.

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It was the ninth year of our marriage. That’s when I learned my husband had given the son I bore to his first love to raise. By the time I found out, my child was already seven years old. He desperately needed to be registered for elementary school. My husband, his face a mask of guilt, proposed a sham divorce. “It was a difficult situation back then,” he explained. “Sera couldn’t have children, and her in-laws were making her life hell.” “Don’t worry,” he assured me. “As soon as Sebastian is enrolled, we’ll get remarried immediately.” I looked at my son, who stared back at me with pure hatred in his eyes. My heart felt like a wasteland of ash. I nodded numbly and signed the divorce papers. While they were joyfully signing their marriage certificate, I was alone, boarding a one-way flight to the other side of the world. This family, this life… I was done with it. 1 Walking out of the divorce registry office that day, Alexander suddenly stopped. His voice was hesitant. “Olivia, Sera and I are about to get our marriage license. If you’d feel awkward being there, you can go home and wait for us.” He continued, oblivious. “We can all have a big family dinner tonight to celebrate. Oh, and by the way, Sera and Sebastian both love your crab risotto. It’s both of their birthdays today, so make a big batch. It will help lighten the mood.” I froze for a few seconds. Seraphina and the Blackwood family’s “reunion dinner” required me, the ex-wife, to personally cook for them? But I was too tired to argue. I just muttered, “Okay. You guys do your thing. I’m heading home.” A look of relief washed over Alexander’s face. Just as I turned to leave, a small figure came sprinting from the marriage registry entrance, throwing himself into Alexander’s arms. “Daddy, Daddy, we’re here!” “Daddy, does this mean I get to see you every day now?” “Will I be like the other kids, with both my mom and dad at the school sports day?” Alexander smiled, answering each of his son’s questions with endless patience. His voice, usually cool and distant, was now as gentle as a spring breeze. I was leaving that afternoon. But I couldn’t help myself. That innocent, childish voice drew me in. I turned back for one last look at the child I had nearly died giving birth to seven years ago. Sebastian and Alexander stood hand in hand. The boy was a miniature version of his father, the same aristocratic features, the same handsome pout. Passersby couldn’t help but stare. Seraphina, a soft smile on her lips, glided over to them. She was wearing a simple, elegant sheath dress that resembled a wedding gown, perfectly fitting for the occasion while accentuating her slender figure. It was only then that I noticed Alexander was wearing a brand-new, custom-tailored suit. It matched her dress perfectly. Standing together, they looked like the perfect couple. Alexander was gazing at Seraphina, a look of longing in his eyes. Was he regretting all the years they had lost? Sebastian took Seraphina’s hand, placing himself between his mother and father. He beamed, his eyes crinkling into happy slits. A perfect family portrait. My husband. My son. And me, standing alone, the most superfluous person in the world. A bitter taste filled my mouth. My heart felt like it was being carved by a thousand knives, a pain with no escape. I forced myself to turn away, to just leave. But in the next second, a pair of small hands shoved me hard from behind, and I stumbled forward. 2 “You horrible woman, why are you still bothering my daddy?” “My daddy is marrying my mommy! Can’t you just get lost? Stop trying to be the other woman!” The child’s voice was loud, echoing through the entire registry hall. Instantly, dozens of eyes were on me. My face burned with shame. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. The absurdity of it all was almost laughable. I remembered screaming at Alexander, crying until I was hoarse. We were the legally married couple. Why was I the one who had to agree to a sham divorce? Why couldn’t I just bring Sebastian home and raise him myself? The Blackwood family could buy ten schools if they wanted to. Was enrolling one child really so difficult? His explanation at the time was cold and logical. “Sebastian is stubborn. He refuses to be registered under your name. He only accepts Seraphina as his mother.” “And Sera insists on sending him to a public school, to build character, to teach him the value of hard work.” He had ended the conversation with a frown and a rebuke. “Olivia, Seraphina isn’t his biological mother, yet she’s thinking about his long-term future. You should be doing the same, not getting lost in your own emotions. That’s what being a real mother is about.” His words had left me stunned. Thinking about his future? Did he think I didn’t want to? My child was taken from me the moment he was born. I never even got to see his face. Everyone told me he was stillborn. I didn’t even know who to cry to. Who had ever given me a chance to be his mother? And now, because I wouldn’t play along with their ridiculous charade, I was the one not thinking of my child? I was the “other woman”? “Sebastian, what are you saying? You do not speak to your mother Olivia like that!” Alexander’s voice was sharp, reprimanding. “Stop watching those trashy videos online! One more word like that and I’m taking your phone away!” he warned, his brow furrowed in anger. Seraphina quickly pulled Sebastian behind her, acting as if she feared I might strike the child. She bowed her head to me in a flurry of apologies. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. He’s just a child, he doesn’t understand what he’s saying. Please, I apologize on his behalf. Don’t hold it against him.” She bowed again and again, her posture one of utter humility. As if I were the unreasonable monster, bullying my own son. The once proud and arrogant socialite of the city was now debasing herself for her child. Her maternal devotion was truly touching. And, as expected, Alexander couldn’t bear to watch it. His anger melted into pity. He coughed, then turned to me with a frown. “Olivia, be more gracious. It’s a happy day. There’s no need to make things difficult for Sera.” I almost laughed out loud. I hadn’t said a single word, yet I was the one making things difficult. It seemed that when a person’s heart is biased, their eyes become selectively blind. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but another voice, powerful and resonant, cut me off. “Seraphina, who told you to apologize to her? I’d like to see who dares demand an apology from my grandson!” 3 Alexander’s mother, clutching a two-hundred-thousand-dollar designer handbag, strode over with an air of regal authority. She swept Sebastian into her arms, protectively shielding him. The grandmother and grandson stood united, glaring at me as if I were the enemy. A bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. The Blackwood family placed immense importance on their lineage, yet they had tolerated me, a barren wife, for nine years. Now I understood why. They had their heir all along. The irony was crushing. During childbirth, I had hemorrhaged so badly that I lost the ability to ever have another child. My mother-in-law knew the truth, yet she never missed an opportunity to use it against me, to humiliate me in front of the entire family. She would say I couldn’t even produce a son, that I wasn’t a real woman, and certainly not worthy of a man like Alexander. Whenever this happened, Alexander would just frown and walk away, never once defending me. Later, he would hold me and whisper reassurances. “Mom is just desperate for a grandchild. She doesn’t mean what she says. Don’t take it to heart.” “All I need is you. I don’t care if we have children or not. Your happiness is the only thing that matters to me.” At the time, I was so moved by his sincerity. I gradually let go of my longing for a child. But seven years later, they suddenly told me that my child was alive. A child who was now so big, a child who refused to accept me. What could I do? I closed my eyes, unable to look at them any longer. As I took a step to leave, Alexander called out to me again. “Olivia.” “Go home and wait for us. We’ll be quick.” I didn’t stop. I walked straight towards the exit. Behind me, I heard my mother-in-law muttering in disapproval. “Wait for what? Tonight is a Blackwood family reunion. It’s not appropriate for an outsider, a divorced woman, to be there. Besides, Sebastian doesn’t want to see her. It’s his birthday, let the boy be happy for once.” My pace quickened until I was practically running, fleeing the hall as if escaping a prison. 4 Outside, the sun was bright. It was a perfect day for a long journey. I took a deep breath, the tightness in my chest finally easing. A divorce. It wasn’t the end of the world. No one knew I was leaving. Except for my best friend, Lily. The Blackwood family had become so powerful that even my own family, the Warrens, had to tread carefully around them. If they knew I was planning to leave, they would surely try to stop me. Lily wrestled my three enormous suitcases through the airport, helping me with everything. “Olivia,” she said, her voice fierce, “you take care of yourself over there. Don’t you dare let those two heartless bastards make you miserable.” “And I swear, I will never tell a soul where you’ve gone.” She cursed Alexander for a long time before giving me a final command. “You hear me? You go out there and be goddamn happy!” Then she turned and ran, before I could see the tears welling in her eyes. My own tears had already started to fall, a silent, unstoppable stream. Happiness. What a luxurious word. Perhaps only my dearest friend, the one who had stood by me all these years, could see how truly unhappy I was. When I first met Alexander at seventeen, it was love at first sight. I thought I had found happiness. When we met again while studying abroad in Europe at eighteen, I was sure it was happiness. When I married him without a second thought at twenty-two, I believed it was a lifetime of happiness. When I went through hell to get pregnant and give birth to his child at twenty-three, I thought heaven itself had blessed me with a life so perfectly, completely happy. But looking back at my nine years of marriage, it was all just a beautiful, fragile bubble. That happiness was never real. It was a fantasy I had created. From the very beginning, Seraphina was the only one who mattered to Alexander. Even after she married someone else, even after he had a wife of his own. He was even willing to give her our son, the child I had given birth to, to raise as her own. I was a fool. A pitiful, naive fool. I don’t know how long I cried. It was only when the final boarding call announcement came that I managed to pull myself together. My phone suddenly lit up with several notifications. A string of messages from Alexander. 5 [Olivia, sorry, we’re running a bit late here. Dinner might have to be pushed back.] [By the way, you don’t need to get a birthday cake for Sera and Sebastian. Sera says Sebastian is picky and will only eat the cake she bakes for him every year.] [Just didn’t want you to go to the trouble and be disappointed.] I stared at the screen, unable to reply. A moment later, perhaps sensing my silence, he sent two more messages. [Don’t overthink it. Sera promised she’s not trying to take Sebastian from you.] [It just takes time to build a relationship with a child. We’ll take it slow, okay?] I still didn’t know what to say. There was nothing left to “take slow.” After so many disappointments, I had no more hope left to give. I wasn’t a stranger to Sebastian. When he was just a few months old, Seraphina would often bring him to the Blackwood estate for visits, under the guise of old family friends. I would see him then. As a baby, he would even gurgle and smile at me. But as he grew older, his reaction changed. He would look at me with fear and avoidance. And then, it turned to disgust. After Alexander finally told me the truth about his identity, I was frantic. I found my son. I didn’t dare approach him, didn’t dare try to hold him. I just bought him his favorite toy and offered it to him, trying to win him over. He didn’t even glance at it. He snatched it from my hand and threw it straight into the trash can, muttering a curse under his breath. I had never seen such raw hatred in the eyes of a child not yet seven years old. In the days that followed, I fell apart. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong. When Alexander found out how Sebastian was treating me, he scolded him severely. He even sent Seraphina away for a few days, to give me and my son some time alone to bond. In front of the family, Sebastian began to act polite and respectful towards me. But the moment Alexander and his mother left the room, his eyes would turn venomous again. He blamed me for his mother not being able to come home. He even accused me, in front of everyone, of abusing him in private. He claimed I threatened him, told him he had to call me “mom” or I would throw him out of the house. It was such a clumsy lie. A quick look at the security cameras would have revealed the truth. But when the child pulled up his shirt to reveal a series of purple bruises on his small body, and when he cowered in a corner the moment I came near, I had no way to defend myself. I became the villain. Seraphina held Sebastian, crying so hard she nearly fainted. Her words were a desperate plea to me. “Olivia, he’s just a child! Please, give him some more time! I’ll teach him to call you ‘mom,’ I promise! If you’re angry, you can hit me, do whatever you want to me, just please, please stop hurting the child!” My mother-in-law exploded in rage, declaring that I was never to be left alone with Sebastian again. Alexander stood with Seraphina and her son, his voice cold with contempt. “Olivia, I can’t believe you would stoop so low. Hurting your own son just to win some kind of twisted game. You’ve disappointed me more than I can say.” The look of utter disappointment in his eyes stripped me of any will to argue. As they left that day, I saw the triumphant smirk on Sebastian’s face. And in that moment, my heart finally died. I decided to give him what he wanted. To give them all what they wanted. I would cut the ties to my own flesh and blood. I would leave this circus of lies behind. Lost in thought, the tears I had managed to stop began to flow again. The plane was about to take off, and the people around me were starting to stare. I wiped my eyes and took out my phone to check my makeup. Just then, a news alert flashed across the screen. A headline from the financial section. Billionaire CEO of Blackwood Conglomerate and First Love Tie the Knot, Welcoming Home the Next Generation Heir. 6 Underneath the sensational headline was a grand family portrait. Alexander and Seraphina were at the center, surrounded by a crowd of Blackwood relatives. Alexander’s father, a man who was rarely seen in public, was there. Even the patriarch of the family, the elderly Mr. Blackwood, had flown in from his Swiss sanatorium to personally hold Sebastian for the photo. The scene was bustling with joy. Nearly every important member of the Blackwood clan was present. In that instant, it hit me. The entire family had turned out to give Seraphina the grandest possible welcome, to show the world how much they valued Sebastian, their long-lost heir. I remembered my own wedding to Alexander. No family was there. The Blackwood family was on the verge of bankruptcy back then. No one had the time or money for a proper wedding. They had pushed Alexander to marry into my family, the Warrens, to save their company. So, we, two students abroad, had a hasty ceremony in a small chapel in Europe. We didn’t even get our official marriage license until long after we returned home. I was so madly in love with Alexander back then that even that simple ceremony became my most treasured memory for nine years. Now, clutching the cold, hard divorce certificate, all I felt was a bitter, mocking irony. The news article continued to scroll through photos. The lavish banquet celebrating the return of the heir. The jubilant family portraits, looking as if they were celebrating Christmas and New Year’s all at once. The heartwarming moment when Alexander’s parents presented the happy couple with a thick red envelope of cash… Suddenly, I stiffened. Among the photos was a candid, close-up shot. In front of the festive “Just Married” backdrop, Alexander was leaning down, gently kissing a beaming Seraphina. You could almost feel the happiness radiating from the screen. My already shattered heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. So this was what Alexander meant by a “sham marriage.” A sham marriage required this level of intimacy. It was never a sham. Seraphina was the daughter-in-law the Blackwood family had always wanted. She was the woman Alexander had never stopped loving, never truly let go of. All along, I was the only fool. My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. I was about to force myself to turn it off when a multimedia message came through. It was from an unknown number. A photo of an ultrasound report. The report clearly showed a one-month-old pregnancy. And in the patient name field, in clear, sharp letters, was the name: Seraphina. I stared at it, dumbfounded. Two more messages appeared on the screen. [Olivia, Alex and I are having another baby.] [Alex didn’t want me to tell you, but I have to beg you… My two children can’t be without a father. Can you please give Alex back to me?] The blood in my veins turned to ice. I stared at the words, unable to process them, unable to react. One month? A month ago, Alexander was on a business trip, handling the IPO of a subsidiary. He told me he was swamped with work, so busy he barely had time to breathe. It was the only time in our marriage he had gone three consecutive days without video-calling me. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time. It was that he had company. And it wasn’t convenient. The bitter irony was that when I had questioned his plan to marry Seraphina, he had gotten angry, accusing me of having a “dirty mind.” “Our relationship is completely platonic, Olivia. It’s a good thing Sebastian was raised by her, otherwise who knows how you would have twisted his mind. If you can’t even trust me on this, then our eight years of marriage have meant nothing.” My throat was dry. I couldn’t breathe. Despair and grief washed over me again, a relentless tide, eating away at the last vestiges of love in my heart. I was numb. The tears wouldn’t even come. Passengers bustled around me, getting ready for takeoff, but I felt like I was in a soundproof bubble. My phone screen went dark, but then it started to vibrate violently, insistently. I stared at the name on the screen: Alexander. I had no strength left to answer. 7 The phone continued to buzz, relentlessly, again and again. After what felt like an eternity, a flight attendant gently reminded me to switch my phone to airplane mode. I fumbled to decline the call, but my trembling fingers accidentally swiped to answer. Alexander’s voice, tinged with apology, came through the line. “Olivia, it looks like we’ll be here a while longer. If you’re hungry, go ahead and eat something. We’ll head home as soon as we’re done.” A bitter laugh almost escaped me. His face was all over the news, and he could still so calmly play the part of the devoted husband. Alexander, how many more lies will you have to tell to cover up the first one? I was silent for a long time, too tired to expose his charade. Finally, I managed to force out a single word. “Okay.” The airport’s pre-flight safety announcement began to play in the background. The sound must have carried through the phone, because Alexander’s tone immediately sharpened with suspicion. “Olivia, are you not at home? It sounds like someone is speaking English.” “I’m home,” I replied calmly. “It’s just the TV.” He seemed to relax. Perhaps my unusually compliant attitude today softened him, because his voice became gentle again. “Olivia, don’t worry. My promise to you still stands. As soon as Sebastian is enrolled in school, we’ll get remarried. Nothing will change.” … I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. Should I ask him if this marriage was real or fake? Should I ask him if he was having another child with Seraphina? At this point, I don’t think even Alexander knew if he was lying to me or to himself. A soft, feminine voice called his name from his end of the line. Without waiting for my reply, Alexander hastily said goodbye and hung up. That was likely the last time we would ever speak. I felt a brief moment of dizziness, then a wave of calm washed over me. Without any hesitation, I turned off my phone, removed the SIM card, and dropped it into a trash bag. Outside the window, the city lights twinkled like distant stars, growing smaller and smaller as we ascended into the night sky. Goodbye, Alexander. Goodbye to the city I once loved with all my heart. Now, there was nothing left for me here. Not a single thing to miss.

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My wife, the wealthiest woman in the city, demanded my kidney— for the son she had with her one true love. When I refused, she had our young son beaten until his skin split, then dangled him over the churning sea. “If you don’t donate,” she snarled, “I’ll drop this little bastard to the sharks!” Waves crashed below. Orion trembled, choking out, “Daddy, save me…” Seeing his small body bloodied and torn, I agreed. They strapped me to the operating table— without even anesthesia. The cold scalpel carved into me. But when I finally dragged myself from that hospital, I learned the truth: my son was already gone, devoured by sharks, not a bone left. Three years later, the other boy’s new kidney began to fail. His father—my wife’s lover—was grief-stricken. Isabelle flew into a rage. “That bastard’s filthy kidney did this! It’s his fault Noah suffers!” “Bring them back,” she ordered. “It’s time they were taught a lesson.” For the man she adored, she unleashed all her power to hunt us down for another kidney. But this time, she was destined for disappointment. Because my son and I have been dead for five years. [1] In the private hospital suite, Isabelle MacLaren’s assistant bowed his head, his voice tight. “Ms. MacLaren, we’ve checked every possible channel. There is absolutely no trace of Mr. Hébert or your son.” “The last time anyone saw them was five years ago…” Isabelle’s face hardened, and she slammed her palm on the table. “A bunch of useless fools! How can two living people just vanish into thin air?” The shout startled the little boy in the hospital bed, and he burst into tears. Leo immediately scooped the child into his arms, his own voice choked with sobs. “Does… does he hate me that much? He’d rather watch Noah die than help me with this one small thing?” He looked up at Isabelle, his eyes red-rimmed and tragic. “Is my death the only thing that will make him forgive me? Is that what it will take for him to save my baby?” Isabelle’s brow furrowed. She patted his back comfortingly. “Don’t say such foolish things. I’ll find them if I have to tear this city apart, brick by brick.” She snatched her coat from the chair and stormed out of the room. As her sports car tore through the streets, she opened her messaging app and fired off a series of furious texts to my old number. [Elias Hébert, you’ve grown bold in five years, haven’t you? Now you’re ignoring my messages?] [If your kidney isn’t good enough, we’ll use Orion’s!] [Bring him back to me now. Don’t make me come for him myself.] The messages remained unanswered, unread. Isabelle’s fury mounted, and she typed out a final, venomous threat. [You ungrateful piece of trash! It seems you’ve forgotten what I’m capable of.] Leo’s hand covered hers, stopping her from sending it. He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t, Isabelle. I just want him to save Noah. I never wanted to hurt him.” “Please, just tell him… I’ll do anything he asks. He can have anything he wants. My life, even…” Isabelle pulled him into an embrace, her expression grim. The car screeched to a halt in front of a derelict mansion. The overgrown, weed-choked courtyard pulled Isabelle’s mind back five years. Leo’s son, Noah, was in renal failure and needed an urgent transplant. Before the compatibility tests were even back, she had me dragged to an operating table. I fought back with everything I had, but Isabelle was immovable. “Leo has always been fragile,” she had said, her voice like ice. “I will not allow him or his son to suffer any harm!” “If you won’t donate, your son will pay the price for you.” Leo had knelt before me, his face a mask of tearful desperation. “Elias, you’ll only lose one kidney, but Noah will lose his life!” “I know you hate me. You can hit me, you can curse me, I’ll take it all. But my son is innocent. How can you be so cruel as to let him die?” To force my hand, she had her men drag my son, my little Orion, to the basement. The sound of a whip laced with iron barbs cracking against his skin echoed through the house, followed by his heart-wrenching screams. My own heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. “He’s only five years old! You’ll kill him!” “I’ll do it! I’ll give you anything, just please, let my son go!” Before I could finish, Isabelle kicked me to the ground. “You should have been this cooperative from the start. It’s a privilege for your worthless life to be used to save Noah. Now, be a good boy and give up the kidney, or you will never see your son again.” I never imagined those words would become a prophecy. That surgery took my left kidney. But that wasn’t enough for Isabelle. To punish me for my “selfishness,” she had my barely conscious son dragged into the operating room as well. They took his kidney, she said, as a ‘spare’. “If you hadn’t wasted so much time, Noah wouldn’t have had to suffer for so long,” she had sneered. “This is the price for defying me.” After the surgery, Isabelle took Leo and Noah abroad to recover, leaving us behind without a second thought for five long years. The memory made her rub her temples in frustration. “Elias is a vindictive, spiteful creature. Finding him now will be difficult.” She sighed, her voice softening as she looked at Leo. “And my poor Noah has suffered so much because of him. When I find Elias, I will make him repay that suffering a hundred times over.” Leo nestled against her shoulder, his soft sobs the only sound. They looked like a pair of star-crossed lovers, united in their tragic struggle. My soul drifted, a powerless spectator, watching this scene with a bitter, profound sense of irony. They were searching so desperately for me, yet they had no idea I was right here, watching them. “Ms. MacLaren… we… we found him! We have a location on your son!” [2] The despair in the car vanished, replaced by a jolt of electric energy. Leo trembled with excitement, grabbing Isabelle’s arm. “Where? Tell me where they are!” “I’ll go to him right now. I’ll beg him. He can take my kidney, he can take my life, I don’t care!” he cried. “I’ll do anything to save Noah!” His voice was raw, his eyes red and vulnerable. A flicker of pity crossed Isabelle’s face. She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you suffer like that. If that bastard dares to give you any trouble, I’ll make his entire family pay.” She turned to her assistant, her voice sharp as glass. “What are you waiting for? Get him and bring him here! Every second Noah waits is another moment of agony!” A sheen of cold sweat broke out on the assistant’s forehead. “But… but…” CRACK. The back of her hand sent him sprawling to the floor. Isabelle’s face was a thundercloud, her voice glacial. “Are you protecting them too?” “I’m warning you, if anything happens to Noah, I will hold you personally responsible.” The assistant scrambled to his feet, his voice shaking. “But, Ms. MacLaren… your son… he’s already dead.” “What did you say?!” Isabelle’s rage exploded. She kicked him hard in the stomach. “You better think very carefully before you speak again! Lie to me, and I’ll have you chopped up and fed to the dogs!” “It’s true…” the assistant gasped, holding out a file with a trembling hand. “The death certificate… it says he died of post-operative complications.” “The date of death… was the same day you left the country.” Isabelle’s brow furrowed, then she slammed her fist into the wall in a fit of rage. “That animal! He would let his own son die just to get back at me?” “I sent him a message myself, telling him to come pick the boy up. If he truly cared, how could Orion have died?” “He probably found some other rich woman to latch onto and saw Orion as a burden!” she spat. Her expression shifted. “But Orion was still a MacLaren. To be so heartless… he’s courting death!” Hearing this, Leo’s face paled almost imperceptibly. Hovering above, my spirit wept tears of blood. After my surgery, Isabelle had taken her entire medical team to escort Noah abroad. My Orion was left alone on a cold operating table, abandoned. The “message” she sent was a single, cold, automated text: [SURGERY COMPLETE]. I was frantic. Ignoring the searing pain in my own body, I clawed my way out of the basement, only to be stopped by Leo’s men. They broke my spine and threw me into a fighting pit. For three days and three nights, I was torn at by savage beasts, ripped apart, nearly eaten alive. But I couldn’t die. My son was waiting for me. On the third day, I finally managed to drag my mutilated body from that cage and crawl, with the last of my strength, to the hospital. But all I found was a room drenched in crimson. Orion lay on the operating table, his small body cold and still. He had bled out, waiting for a father who came too late. He closed his eyes forever, right before me. Isabelle had killed my son with her own hands, and now she had the audacity to slander me. “A worthless man who can’t even protect his own child has no right to be part of the MacLaren family! He let Orion die! I will make that scum pay with his life!” [3] Isabelle’s voice was frigid as she gave her orders to the assistant. “Go to his mother’s asylum. Drag her to the family cemetery. Make her crawl on her knees every step of the way. Cover the path with nails. I want to watch her crawl over them and atone for her son’s sins!” Leo quickly grabbed her arm. “Isabelle, no. As monstrous as he was, he was still your husband. Please, don’t be so cruel to his mother.” “He must have been devastated by Orion’s death. That’s why he ran. I don’t blame him.” “But now that Orion is gone… only Elias’s family can save Noah.” As if making a great, noble decision, Leo suddenly knelt before Isabelle. “Let me go and beg her! Elias was always jealous of your love for me. He couldn’t stand to see me happy.” He looked up, his pale face streaked with tears, a look of grim determination in his eyes. “If I let him humiliate me enough, maybe he’ll soften. As Noah’s father, it’s what I have to do…” Without another word, he slapped himself hard across the face, twice. Bright red handprints bloomed on his cheeks. Isabelle’s eyes widened. She grabbed his wrist. “Who told you you could hurt yourself?” “That worthless trash isn’t fit to have you kneel to him.” She sneered and pulled out her phone. “I have ways of making him come crawling to me.” Her finger swiped across the screen, and she dialed the number for the city’s top psychiatric hospital. “Bring me Elias Hébert’s mother. We’re about to find out just how tough he really is.” From my spectral prison, I let out a silent scream. I saw the flash of triumph in Leo’s eyes. He feigned terror, hiding behind Isabelle. “His mother… she always hated me. She called me a gold-digging whore, a kept man.” “Every time I tried to apologize, she would either scream at me or physically attack me. And now that she’s lost her mind…” “I’m… I’m so scared.” Isabelle gently wiped his tears away. “Don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, no one will touch a single hair on your head.” My soul slammed against the invisible barrier, again and again, a futile, desperate assault. My mother was the only person I had left to care about in this world. And Isabelle was going after her too. She seemed to have forgotten how my mother had treated her. When Isabelle’s company was on the brink of collapse, it was my mother who mortgaged our ancestral home to bail her out. When she was nearly ousted from her own board, it was my mother who pushed for our marriage to secure her position. Isabelle had once looked me in the eye and sworn she would be loyal to me for the rest of her life. Now, she loved another man. “This will be a good chance to settle old scores for you,” she cooed, holding Leo close. “If Elias won’t show his face, his old hag of a mother will pay his debts.” I lunged at her, my spectral form passing through her body time and time again. The next time I saw my mother, she was slumped in a wheelchair, her eyes vacant. Leo knelt before her. “Ma’am, I know you hate me, but Noah is innocent… Please, tell me where Elias is. I’m begging you, save my baby!” He kowtowed repeatedly, but my mother began to tremble violently. Her cloudy eyes focused on Leo’s face, and a terrifying hatred flared within them. “You monster! You killed my son and my grandson… I will have my revenge, in this life or the next!” [4] My mother struggled to lunge at Leo, but Isabelle kicked the wheelchair over, sending her sprawling to the ground. She looked down at the old woman with contempt. “I pay for you to live in a comfortable care facility out of respect for our past. Is this how you repay me?” She ground the heel of her stiletto into my mother’s hand. “Tell me where Elias is, and I might let you have a clean death.” My mother lay on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. I tried desperately to shield her, but my ghostly form was useless. “Find Elias?” my mother suddenly laughed, hot tears streaming from her clouded eyes. “What right do you have to see him?” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my very soul. Isabelle grabbed her by the chin, her voice venomous. “I’m giving him a chance to atone! Five years ago, his selfishness almost killed Noah! If he donates his other kidney like a good boy, I can pretend none of this ever happened—” Leo rushed over, throwing his arms around Isabelle. “Isabelle, don’t! It’s my place to beg him to save Noah. I don’t want anything else. I just want my son to be safe.” My mother stared at them, and a tearful, broken laugh escaped her lips. “Retribution! This is the price for your evil!” “Son, can you see? Those who sow wickedness will reap a bitter harvest!” Isabelle shot her an irritated glance. “Stop playing the crazy old woman! If he doesn’t show up in one hour, you’ll atone for him!” “Don’t waste your breath. He’s not coming back.” My mother coughed up a spray of blood, but her smile was unwavering. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “My son… he died at your hands a long time ago.” Isabelle’s pupils contracted. Then, a cold, certain smile spread across her face. “Old woman, there’s a limit to how far you can stretch a lie. It was just a kidney. It’s not a fatal procedure. Elias is a grown man. He’s not going to die from losing a kidney. He’s just hiding. How pathetic.” She gestured for her bodyguards to force my mother to her knees, then took a steel rod from an assistant. “Elias Hébert, you better be watching!” she said, turning on her phone’s video camera. “If your mother dies from an ‘accident’ today, her blood will be on your hands!” The steel rod came down hard on my mother’s back. Blood instantly soaked through her clothes. “Is licking the boots of some rich woman so satisfying that you’d abandon the mother who gave you life?” Isabelle sneered at the camera. “How utterly depraved.” The second blow landed with a sickening crack of bone. My mother whimpered and collapsed. I tried to stop it, my soul passing through her body again and again, my spectral tears falling unseen. When there was still no response from me, Isabelle’s eyes grew darker. “This old bitch is tougher than she looks.” My mother gritted her teeth against the pain and let out a soft chuckle. “Go ahead and kill me. Then I can finally be with my Elias and my Orion.” “You!” Enraged, Isabelle raised the rod again, but Leo threw himself in front of my mother. “Isabelle, stop! I just want to save Noah! I don’t want to hurt innocent people! Please, let her go.” Seeing him, Isabelle let out a long sigh, her expression softening. “Leo, you’re just too kind. That’s why Elias was always able to walk all over you.” Leo choked back a sob. “I know she never liked me, but I believe that kindness can beget kindness. If they’re willing to save my Noah, I can forgive everything that’s happened.” My soul trembled with a rage so profound it nearly tore me apart. It was Leo, using Isabelle’s affection as a weapon, who had driven us to our doom! Isabelle patted his back, a sudden thought occurring to her. She looked at my mother. “Elias is counting on you being too soft to hurt her. That’s why he’s hiding like a coward.” She waved over a doctor. “Take her for compatibility testing. One of the family’s kidneys has to be a match.” My mother was dragged roughly towards the operating room. They didn’t even bother with anesthesia before cutting her open. Isabelle took out her phone again and sent ten messages to my number. “If you don’t show up, I’ll livestream the organ removal.” When the test results came back, the assistant burst into the room, his face white as a sheet. In his hand, he clutched an old, battered cell phone. Isabelle turned away in annoyance. “Why are you showing me that piece of junk? Where is Elias?!” “Ms. MacLaren… this was Mr. Hébert’s phone.” Isabelle shot to her feet. “What are you talking about?” The assistant’s voice trembled. “We found… we found Mr. Hébert’s body. In a cemetery on the outskirts of the city.” “The autopsy shows a fractured spine… and his entire body was covered in bite marks from wild animals…”

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1 My wife, Victoria, has a pathological aversion to being touched by men. The slightest contact sends her into a violent episode. Out of respect for her condition, I never touched her after we were married. But accidents happened. Twice. The first time, she had an episode and stabbed me. Thirty-eight stitches. The second time, she locked me in an old industrial freezer. The frostbite nearly cost me my leg. After that, I never dared to touch her again. I was so afraid of triggering her that I kept a constant three-foot distance between us. But on the day I buried my cat, I saw my wife—who was supposed to be on a business trip—having dinner with her male assistant. Her gaze was tender, her eyes filled with an affection I’d never seen directed at me. They kissed on the street, a long, desperate embrace that seemed to go on forever… Just then, my phone rang. It was the hospital, the doctor’s voice buzzing with excitement. “Mr. Otto, regarding Mrs. Otto’s condition, we’ve found a breakthrough treatment—” I watched the assistant’s hand slide under the fabric of Victoria’s dress and let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We won’t be needing it.” … “What? Why? This new therapy protocol has a near-certain chance of success…” the doctor pleaded, but I wasn’t listening. I lifted my head, a glutton for punishment, and forced myself to watch them. The assistant was now nestled in her arms, his fingers roaming freely. And Victoria, the woman who flew into a rage at the slightest touch, showed no reaction at all. I looked down at the chaotic web of scars on my arm, the phantom pains stealing my breath. Maybe this was the price I had to pay. The price for falling in love with the wrong person. I ended the call and walked away. A cold rain began to fall, and a dull ache throbbed in my leg. All because I’d once reached out to steady Victoria when she stumbled. For that simple act of concern, she locked me away to freeze. Suddenly, the five years I had dedicated to this marriage felt like a pathetic joke. When Victoria came home, she found me sitting on the sofa. She stormed over and slapped me hard across the face. “What have I told you? You are not to sit on my sofa without putting down a protective cover!” She raised her hand to strike me again but stopped, her expression twisting in what looked like agony. I vaguely remembered a time she’d told me she loved me very much. She’d claimed that she was trying so hard to control her phobia that she managed not to stab me that day. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Victoria.” “You say you love me. Prove it.” I extended my hand toward her. Victoria held her ground, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists. But just as my fingertips were about to graze her cheek, she flinched away. In the end, she smashed the ceramic mug I’d spent three days crafting for her, used a shard to slice open her own wrist, and fled the room. I watched her go, my expression hardening into a cold mask. I remembered the time I’d been so thirsty after a long day of work that I’d accidentally used her teacup. She stabbed me thirty-eight times for that. At the hospital, she’d feigned remorse. “Sean, you know how severe my condition is. Don’t touch my things again. You’ll trigger an episode.” Seeing my pale face, how close I’d come to death, Victoria forced herself to give me a brief, stiff hug. “Sean, it’s all my fault, this psychological disorder. I am so, so sorry.” “From now on, just be careful. Sanitize everything, and don’t touch me so much, and we can still have a good life.” “Once my condition improves a little more, I’ll even have a baby for you, okay?” I’d always wanted children, but I never brought it up, for her sake. I truly believed she was just sick. I endured everything. Until Alex appeared. Until I realized I’d been played for a fool. Victoria went to take a shower, an obsessive ritual she performed even if I hadn’t touched her. I went to the bedroom and started packing. It was time to leave this place, a home that no longer felt like mine. The noise must have alerted her. Victoria emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her. “Going on a business trip?” When I didn’t answer, her brow furrowed. “Are you throwing a tantrum? Just because I wouldn’t let you touch me?” I shook my head. “There’s an emergency at a branch office I need to handle.” It was a lie. I just couldn’t stand the sight of her. Victoria stared at me, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, as if making a great sacrifice, she began to unbutton her silk robe. Her tone was clipped, impatient. “Wipe that miserable look off your face. Fine. You can have me this once. Will that make you happy?” The next second, she froze, her face a mask of disbelief. “You’re recoiling from me!” I said nothing, simply putting more distance between us. Sensing the shift in me, she grew agitated. “I’m fighting back my revulsion to offer myself to you, and this is how you react? What more do you want?!” Still, I was silent. Victoria clicked her tongue in annoyance and pulled a small gift box from her pocket. “I bought you a ring. Stop this childish nonsense.” Her tone was that of someone tossing scraps to a dog. I thought of the social media post Alex had made just a few minutes earlier. This ring was nothing but a cheap, complimentary gift that came with the luxury watch she’d bought him. I didn’t touch it. My voice was calm, detached. “Let’s get a divorce, Victoria.” Before she could respond, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was clearly a text message. She instinctively angled the screen away from me and began typing a reply. The look on her face was one I’d never seen before, a soft, intimate tenderness. An eternity passed, or maybe it was only a minute. Victoria finished her conversation, a reluctant fondness still lingering in her eyes, and looked up at me. “What were you saying?” I clenched my fists. It felt like punching a pillow, all my anger and pain dissipating into nothing. A suffocating pressure built in my chest. Her phone’s wallpaper, I now noticed, was the silhouette of a man from behind, a man who looked strikingly like Alex. Every time she saw it, her mood seemed to lift. She had never, not once, looked at me that way. So when Alex showed up at my office, smugly sliding a legal document across my desk for me to sign, I didn’t hesitate. I landed a solid punch square on his jaw. He crumpled to the floor, howling. “Sean, you hit me! If Victoria finds out about this, she’ll make you pay!” I was about to hit him again when Victoria burst in, shoving me so hard I stumbled and fell. Her face was dark with fury as she shot me a glacial look. “Sean, don’t you dare go too far.” She knelt, gently helping Alex to his feet. I laughed, the sound sharp with irony. “What’s wrong? Your phobia suddenly cured?” Victoria flushed with anger, but she tried to maintain a facade of righteousness. “Do you have any idea how a public assault charge would affect the company?! I’m protecting you!” I snatched the document Alex had brought and threw it at her. “Then explain this.” The words were there in stark black and white. A contract, asking for my consent for Victoria and Alex to conceive a child. A twisted smile played on my lips. “We’re not even divorced, and he’s already parading this in my face, demanding you carry his child. Tell me, shouldn’t I have hit him?” I got to my feet, ready to slap that smirk off Alex’s face. Victoria stepped between us, shielding him. “Sean, have you made enough of a scene?” Her eyes were filled with disgust. “Alex was just joking.” “Honestly, this just proves you don’t trust me. Sean, I was so wrong about you.” Listen to that. So noble, so self-righteous. As if everything was my fault. Victoria was always conscious of her public image, carefully cultivating the persona of a gentle, devoted wife. This was the first time she’d ever dropped the act, openly demeaning me without a care for who was watching. “So, Victoria, are you really going to have his child?” I expected a denial, but she remained silent. Sometimes, silence is an admission. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice firm. “Sean, Alex is the only man whose touch doesn’t trigger my phobia.” “The Vaughn family needs an heir. I just want to get pregnant and secure the succession.” “Once the baby is born, I’ll fire Alex, and we can go back to how things were.” The absurdity of it all was suffocating. “Victoria, are you even listening to yourself?” My tone seemed to infuriate her. She shot to her feet. “Don’t you dare be so selfish, Sean! Don’t you care about my life at all?” “Alex is the only one who doesn’t cause a reaction! Do you think I want to be with another man? I’m doing all this to give you a child!” In the next instant, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. A red mark bloomed on her cheek. She didn’t flinch, just stared at me, her voice quiet. “Are you satisfied now?” “Alex has already sacrificed enough for us. I can’t just abandon him.” She positioned herself in front of him, a human shield. Her stance made her allegiance perfectly clear. I suddenly remembered the first time I met Alex. Victoria had explained, “This is Alex, my new assistant. He’s very diligent.” “Sean, weren’t you supposed to be at the branch office?” Her tone softened now, a calculated retreat. “Let’s go home. We’re making a scene.” I let out a cold laugh. “Victoria, I tried to catch you when you fell, and you stabbed me. I accidentally sat on your precious sofa, and you locked me in a freezer. I’ve given you years of my life, and this is what I get in return? And you have the nerve to call me unreasonable?” Victoria looked exhausted. “I apologized, didn’t I? What more do you want?” “Besides, I even forced myself to kiss you afterward, didn’t I?” Forced herself? The word was like a knife in my heart. I couldn’t help but laugh, a raw, painful sound. “If being with me is so disgusting for you, then let’s just get a divorce.” Hiding behind Victoria, a triumphant glint flashed in Alex’s eyes, though his expression was one of feigned distress. “Vicky, this is all my fault.” “If I hadn’t been trying to help, your husband wouldn’t be so upset.” Victoria sighed. “It’s not your fault, Alex. It’s Sean. He can’t see the bigger picture. All he does is throw tantrums.” She took a deep breath, her voice turning placatingly gentle. “Sean, stop this. If you can just agree to this arrangement, I promise I’ll give you a proper wedding.” That’s right. We’d been married for years and never had a wedding. Back then, our business was just starting out. I understood. I thought she was too busy. Now I knew the truth. She wasn’t busy. She just didn’t think I was worthy of one. But I was no longer the man who saw his entire world in her eyes. “Fine,” I said. A smile instantly bloomed on Victoria’s face. “You finally understand—” Her words were cut off by a scream. I had picked up a heavy ceramic serving platter from a nearby table and hurled it directly at her. “Don’t hurt Vicky!” Alex shouted, diving in front of her. The platter shattered against his head with a sickening crack. Blood streamed down his face. Victoria’s face went deathly pale. “Alex!” She cradled him in her arms, her voice a soothing murmur. “Alex, don’t be scared, I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” As she left, she shot me a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. And in that moment, I knew. Victoria would not let me go easily. But before she could make her next move, I glanced up at the security camera on the wall. The cold, impartial lens had recorded everything. If all went according to plan, by tonight, Victoria Vaughn’s reputation would be in ruins. Victoria, my love for you was the only reason I ever tolerated your cruelty. But I’m not in love with you anymore. And it’s time you learned just how ruthless I can be. Sure enough, an hour later, the headline #VaughnHeiressCheatsWithAssistant,ForcesHusbandIntoSurrogacyContract# was trending nationwide. My phone blew up with calls from her. “Sean! Get that story taken down right now! Do you want me to divorce you, is that it?!” I hung up and blocked her number without a second thought. She used a different number to send a barrage of texts. “Sean, do you have any idea how much damage this will do to the company?!” “Sean, I know you’re angry, but don’t abuse your power like this. What about our employees? They’re innocent.” “Fine! I won’t have a baby with Alex, alright? Is that what you want to hear?” I turned off my phone and looked across the table at the top divorce lawyer in the city. “Let’s continue.” I handed him a file. “I need you to look at this. Is this prenuptial divorce agreement still valid?” Nine years ago, Victoria had signed a blank divorce agreement. Our love was new then, and her eyes shone with warmth. “Sean, this is my promise to you,” she had said. “My guarantee. If I ever change, or if you ever want to leave, all you have to do is sign.” Our marriage had been good after that. Despite the lack of physical intimacy, it was warm, happy. She would rush home from her busy schedule just to cook for me. I thought that happiness would last a lifetime. I never imagined that lifetime would be so short. Before I discovered her affair, the thought of divorce had never crossed my mind. Aside from her severe phobia, Victoria had been a considerate and attentive partner in every other way. My love for her could withstand the pain. But it couldn’t withstand being treated like an utter fool. The lawyer reviewed the document carefully. “Mr. Otto, this agreement is ironclad. It remains fully valid today. All it needs is your signature.” I signed it on the spot and handed it back. “Good. I want this divorce finalized as quickly as possible.”

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The year I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression, I became the family’s most fragile treasure. All the sharp objects in the house were confiscated. The windows were welded shut. My parents took turns watching me, a 24-hour vigil against the slightest flicker of self-harm in my eyes. To manage my fragile emotions, they even forced my brother, Sam, who had just gotten into a top university, to defer for a year and come home to help. Until the day of Sam’s wedding. The house was a kaleidoscope of festive lights and joyful noise. I looked at the sea of smiling guests and felt the air grow thin, my lungs tightening. I whispered, without thinking, “Mom, I feel… overwhelmed. I need to go to my room.” My mother’s beaming smile vanished, replaced by a terrifying snarl. She grabbed a fruit knife from a platter on the table and shoved it into my hand. “Overwhelmed? If you’re so overwhelmed, then just die!” “This is your brother’s big day! Do you have to ruin it? Do you have to be the black cloud over everything?” “Here!” She gripped my hand, forcing the blade hard against the skin of my neck. “Cut yourself right here! Stop just talking about how you don’t want to live anymore!” Then, with a final shove of disgust, she turned her back on me to raise a toast with her new daughter-in-law. I looked down at the knife in my hand. And finally, I smiled. 1 The cold of the metal seeped into my palm. It was the first time in three years I had touched anything so sharp. It had been so long. For three years, my world had been a world of dull edges. I could only eat with rounded spoons. When my nails grew long, my mother would personally file them down, bit by bit. Even when I showered, the bathroom door had to remain open so they could check on me at any moment. And now, this knife. My mother had placed it in my hand herself. The room was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. No one was looking at me. I stared at the knife. I should put it back. Put it back on the fruit platter and pretend none of this happened. My hand lifted slightly, then froze in mid-air. I could hear my brother Sam’s cheerful laugh from the doorway. He was toasting guests, full of life and promise. He’d taken a year off school, a year from the prime of his life, to watch over the “crazy” sister. Now, finally married and starting his own family, he could be free of this burden. Free of me. Looking at all the joy in this room, I suddenly felt so… filthy. I was the only stain on this perfect picture. My presence here made the very air feel thick and suffocating. My mother was right. I shouldn’t have an episode today. I shouldn’t be the black cloud. I shouldn’t be alive. My fingers tightened around the handle. I turned and walked toward my bedroom. I moved slowly. No one noticed. They were all drowning in the happiness of the wedding. Who would pay attention to the comings and goings of a mental patient? I entered my room and gently closed the door. The noise from outside was instantly silenced. I leaned against the padded wall, my body sliding down until I was sitting on the thick carpet. I raised the knife and held it to my throat. My hand was shaking violently. Not from fear, but from excitement. It was a physiological euphoria, the thrill of a prisoner about to break their chains and find ultimate freedom. Over the past three years, I had imagined my death countless times. I thought about drowning, about hanging, about swallowing pills. But every attempt was discovered, followed by even stricter surveillance, by more hysterical crying. “Annie, what do you want from us? Are you trying to kill your mother?” “Annie, we gave up everything for you! Your life isn’t your own, it belongs to this family! How can you be so selfish?!” “Sis, I’m begging you, just be okay, please? Mom and Dad are getting old, they can’t take this…” Today, I would finally be free. Mom, you told me to die. You handed me the knife yourself. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll listen. The sharp edge kissed my skin. My wrist jerked with force. A wet, tearing sound. Then, a gush of warmth. I opened my eyes. Blood splattered across the wall and floor, like crimson flowers bursting into bloom. So beautiful. My strength drained away with my blood. I collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. So cold. So this is what dying felt like. I looked at my blood-soaked hands and managed to pull the corners of my mouth into a smile. My brother’s wedding. I celebrate it with my life. The debt I owe my parents for raising me. I repay it with my death. From now on, you won’t have to take turns watching over me. You won’t have to live in constant fear. You won’t have to feel ashamed in front of our relatives. You won’t be crushed by the weight of my medical bills. You are free. And I… I am free, too. My consciousness began to blur. The laughter from outside sounded distant and muffled. “To the happy couple! May you have a long life together and beautiful children!” “Cheers!” So lively. At the very end, I thought I heard my mother’s laugh. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time—a laugh that came from the heart. 2 I was dead. But it seemed I wasn’t entirely gone. My body felt weightless, hovering in mid-air. I looked down at the crumpled form in the corner. Blood was still seeping out, ever so slowly, soaking the carpet in a wide, dark stain. This was a wool rug. It would be impossible to clean. Mom was obsessed with cleanliness; this would drive her insane. I tried to crouch down and wipe it, but my hand passed straight through the floor. I couldn’t touch anything. I stood awkwardly beside my own corpse. After a while, I heard footsteps outside the door. My father’s voice, brimming with unconcealed joy, drifted in from the living room. “What a perfect day! Just perfect!” “Everyone was saying how graceful and lovely Grace is. The family really looked good today!” My mother’s voice was hoarse, but laced with excitement. “Of course. I picked her, didn’t I?” “Alright, let’s open these gift envelopes and tally up the cash.” I floated out of the room and into the living room. The floor was littered with discarded candy wrappers and nutshells. The table was piled high with red envelopes of cash gifts. My father, mother, brother, and his new wife, Grace, were all sitting around the sofa. Their faces were tired, but glowing with satisfaction. It had been so long since I’d seen a scene of such warmth in this house. Ever since I got sick, the atmosphere had been perpetually heavy. When I was around, they didn’t dare speak loudly. They didn’t dare laugh. Their eyes were always on me, cautious and wary. To see them like this, so carefree and happy… it was good. “Hey, where’s Annie?” Grace, my sister-in-law, suddenly looked around. “I haven’t seen her since the toasts. Is she still in her room?” The air froze for a second. The smile on my mother’s face stiffened, then she scoffed. “Don’t worry about her. She’s in her room, playing dead.” “On a perfect day like today, she just had to throw a fit. She even threatened me with a knife earlier, going on about how she didn’t want to live.” “A knife?” Grace looked startled. “I thought there weren’t any knives in the house.” “I gave it to her!” My mother slammed an envelope down on the table. “I just couldn’t take it anymore! She threatens to kill herself every single day. So I gave her the knife! I wanted to see if she had the guts to do it! And what happened? She scurried back to her room to hide, the little coward.” I floated in front of my mother, looking at her agitated face, wanting to scream at her. Mom! I wasn’t hiding! I did have the guts. I’m already dead. But when I opened my mouth, the sound was like a whisper of wind, vanishing into the air. “Mom, maybe we should check on her,” Grace said, her voice laced with concern. She stood up and glanced toward my room. “Annie hasn’t been well for years. What if…” “What if, what if! There is no what if!” My mother grabbed Grace’s arm, her tone harsh. “Grace, you’re new here, you don’t understand. She’s spoiled! It’s all for show, a performance! The more attention you give her, the worse she gets. Trust me. Just ignore her!” My father lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “That girl, Annie… she’s just so selfish. Only ever thinks about her own suffering. Never considers the family.” “Sam’s wedding, the happiest day, and she has to make trouble. Because of her, we haven’t had a single peaceful day in years. Tonight, let her stay in there and think about what she’s done!” I stared at my father in disbelief. He used to dote on me. When I was little and scraped my knee falling off my bike, he would fuss over me for hours. Now my throat was slit open, and he was calling me selfish. I turned my gaze to my brother, Sam. He held a thick stack of cash in his hands, his expression unreadable. He glanced at my closed door, his lips moved as if to say something, but in the end, he just looked down and continued counting the money. “Grace is right, though… Sis’s temper… she really needs to work on it.” My heart—or the ghost of it—clenched violently. Even though it no longer beat, the phantom pain made me curl into myself. So this is what you all think. That even in death, I’m just throwing a tantrum. 3 The leftovers from the wedding feast were spread across the table: roast beef, glazed ham, shrimp, chicken wings, and a beautiful two-tiered cake. It all smelled so good. For three years, to avoid reactions with my medication, my diet had been strictly controlled. Clear broths, plain vegetables. Low-salt, low-oil. I had almost forgotten what meat tasted like. I floated over to the table, greedily inhaling the aroma of the roast beef. “I’ll get Annie something to eat. She hasn’t had anything all day.” Grace, ever the soft-hearted one, picked up a clean plate. She served a large slice of ham and cut a piece of cake. “Grace!” My mother shot to her feet and snatched the plate from her hands. With a loud clatter, she dumped the plate, and all the food on it, into the nearby trash can. “She gets nothing!” My mother was shouting now, her chest heaving. “I’m putting my foot down right now. Nobody is to bring her any food! Let her starve for three days! Let’s see if she has the energy to cause any more trouble then!” Grace was stunned into silence, standing helplessly. “Mom, what are you doing…?” “I’m doing this for her own good!” My mother pointed a finger at my bedroom door. “If she doesn’t learn her lesson, she’ll never understand how much this family has sacrificed for her!” “She’s spoiled rotten! She thinks the whole world owes her something! So what if she’s sick? So what if she has depression? Is anyone’s life easy?” I knelt by the trash can. I looked at the ruined piece of cake. I reached for it, but my hand grasped only air. I couldn’t even eat garbage anymore. I hugged my transparent knees and buried my face in them. It’s okay. I can’t feel hunger anymore anyway. It’s really… okay. The night deepened. A faint, metallic smell of blood began to permeate the air. My mother sat on the sofa with Grace, still talking. “Grace, honey, I’m not a monster-in-law. I’m just… I’ve been pushed to my limit.” “You have no idea what these last few years have been like. I couldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time. I had to listen for her even when I was in the bathroom. One minute she’s trying to jump out a window, the next she’s trying to bash her head against a wall. I’ve been stretched so tight for so long, I feel like I could snap at any second.” Grace listened quietly and poured her a glass of water. “I understand, Mom. Taking care of a sick person isn’t easy.” “But… the look in Annie’s eyes today. It was real despair. That kind of look… it didn’t seem like an act.” My mother paused, holding the glass. She gave a bitter smile. “Despair?” “When is she not in despair? Ever since she got this illness, it’s like she became a different person. Annie used to be such a good girl. Good grades, so pretty. If it weren’t for this… she’d be married with kids by now…” “Back then, all the neighbors were jealous of my daughter. Now? They all whisper behind my back. The pain in my heart… you have no idea.” I hid in the corner, watching my mother’s tear-streaked face. I’m sorry, Mom. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten sick. I shouldn’t have turned from that perfect daughter into this useless burden. I knelt on the floor and bowed my head deeply in her direction. Though I made no sound, I bowed with all my might. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Sam. Your suffering is over now. The daughter who disappointed you, the ghost that haunted you, is gone. She’s really gone.

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My husband and I both cheated. He was for real. I was too. The only difference was, he did it willingly. I was forced. The night his affair with his little ingenue was exposed, he got me drunk, stripped me naked, and placed me in a stranger’s bed. He arranged my body in a series of humiliating positions, all to stage the perfect photo of my “infidelity.” Our respective “cheating” photos were leaked back-to-back. His a sordid affair, mine a scandalous betrayal. The public outcry over his mistress was instantly neutralized. A wave of nausea so profound it made me gag. My skin was covered in red marks, a road map of a violation I couldn’t remember. I didn’t know how many hands had been on me, or what they had done… Seeing my desolate expression, watching me scrub my skin until it was raw and bleeding, my husband, James, could only offer a pathetic explanation. “I had no choice. Sophia’s family is very strict. She couldn’t handle being called a homewrecker. She would have done something drastic.” The internet was a tidal wave of vitriol. My only living relative, my grandfather, was so overwhelmed by the scandal that he had a heart attack and was rushed into emergency surgery. To save myself, I had to save her. As James wanted, I stood before the blinding flash of media cameras and cleared her name. “Neither of us cheated. Mr. Davenport and I had been separated for some time.” … Seeing my compliance, James’s heart softened. He stood in the shadows, having already whisked his precious Sophia away to safety. He made me a promise. “This is the only time, Rosalind. I swear it. This whole thing just blew up so suddenly, I…” I looked at him, my voice choked with emotion. “How did I get these marks on my body?” A suffocating feeling rose in my chest. I felt so unbelievably dirty. They looked like fingerprints, like the ghosts of kisses… like the aftermath of a vile sexual encounter. Who had done it? I had no idea. I had been sheltered and cherished my entire life. I had never known this kind of humiliation. James stared, taking a moment to understand what I was asking. He rushed to explain. “Don’t be afraid. I made those marks. No one would dare touch you. It was just for the photos.” I dug my nails into my palms. “If I were your mistress, and you needed to protect me, would you ask your wife, Sophia, to pose for photos like that? Would you allow it?” James avoided my gaze. “I don’t know. She’s different from you.” Of course. Whether I was his mistress or his wife, I would never be his first choice. A single tear traced a path down my cheek. I pushed him out of the room. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. James and I were childhood sweethearts. Our families were social equals. We were once considered the perfect couple, blessed by everyone we knew. And for a while after our wedding, we were happy. Until he started cheating. He was always discreet, never letting it become a public spectacle. He had vented to me once, in private. “We can keep it quiet. It won’t affect your position at all. No one in the outside world will ever look down on you.” In our circle, everyone knew that love and fidelity weren’t the most important things. I had loved him. I had been angry. We had fought. I even considered the dramatic acts of a desperate girl—slitting my wrists, causing a huge scene, burning everything to the ground. But the lessons of my upbringing held me back. I chose to turn a blind eye. I never imagined my retreat would only embolden them to hurt me more deeply. Grandfather must have been in so much pain to have been hospitalized. James was so concerned about his little flower being upset, yet he forgot that the old man who had loved him like a grandson had a heart condition and couldn’t handle the shock. I clenched my fists. I allowed myself a few seconds of grief, then forced myself to be strong. It was just a divorce. Not the end of the world. I went to the office to find James. The atmosphere was celebratory. A crowd of employees was fawning over Sophia. James led me into his private office. His face soured when he saw the divorce papers in my hand. “There’s no need for this. The internet will forget about all this in a week.” He and Sophia were now brazenly flaunting their love in public. They held hands, the very picture of a devoted couple. I’d even heard he took her home to meet his family, that their love had finally triumphed over adversity. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. During the entire time my grandfather was in the hospital, James never once visited. I felt a surge of anger, not for myself, but for my grandfather. He had doted on James for so long. Whenever we argued, he would always take James’s side, assuming I was the one at fault. “Rosalind,” he would say, “I know you’re strong and rational, but sometimes, men don’t like that in a relationship.” The old-fashioned man thought that was the key to a happy home, never understanding that a marriage requires effort from both sides. James had given up on ours long ago. What was the point of me holding on? I pushed the pen toward him. “Do you really think people are that stupid? Signing this will silence the doubters for good. I don’t want Grandfather to have another shock when he wakes up.” Sophia chimed in. “Rosalind has a point.” The tension in James’s face eased. “Alright. Once the dust settles, we’ll remarry. I told you, your position will never change. You will always be the lady of the Davenport house.” I offered a faint smile and no reply. I no longer cared for the title. I hadn’t filed for divorce sooner because our family businesses were deeply intertwined. But over the years, I had slowly, carefully started to untangle them. Our connections were fewer and fewer. And I had James to thank for that. Once, to appease a pouting Sophia, James had destroyed an innovative subsidiary I had just launched. His reason? I had canceled one of my own credit cards. Sophia had tried to use it at a luxury boutique, and the card was declined, causing her public embarrassment. Without a second thought, James leaked my company’s trade secrets. He had lounged in his chair, completely unconcerned. “Rosalind, you used your dirty tricks to embarrass Sophia first. Besides, it’s all our marital property. Those secrets are tied to my company’s interests. I can do whatever I want with them.” My company went bankrupt. A full year of hard work, gone. The devastated faces of my employees, all their hopes dashed. I was so furious I slapped him across the face. “I did nothing of the sort! Are you even human? What am I supposed to tell my team? Do you have any idea how much time and money went into that research?” He didn’t listen. His eyes were only for Sophia and her tear-filled eyes. To force me to apologize to her, he even used his financial leverage to put pressure on my grandfather’s company. Fearing for my grandfather’s health, I swallowed my pride and gave Sophia the apology she wanted. Later, James found out he had made a mistake. He had accidentally given Sophia my card instead of his own. All I had done was cancel my own account. He came to me, apologizing, wanting to celebrate our anniversary. “I didn’t realize I gave her the wrong card. As for the company, I’ll buy you a new one. You should have explained it to me.” I laughed in his face. He hadn’t given me a chance to explain. He had already judged and condemned me. Of course, we never celebrated that anniversary. Sophia had a headache. From that day on, I separated all my assets from his. After we filed the divorce papers, Sophia tugged on James’s arm, whining. “Let’s go get married now! You promised!” James was watching my face. Seeing my indifferent expression, his own darkened. He grabbed Sophia’s hand and left. When I got back to the hospital that day, my grandfather was awake. He was desperate for an answer. “Did you really cheat on him?” I gently wiped his face. “No. We had been separated for a while. It wasn’t cheating.” He couldn’t understand. “How is that possible? You were so perfect together. Just the other day you promised you’d give me a great-grandchild.” He slammed his water glass down on the table. “Tell me the truth. How did two people who were so good together end up like this?” My eyes stung with tears, but I held my ground. Seeing my pained silence, he seemed to understand. He sighed, a long, weary sound. “Alright. I haven’t seen you look like this in a long time. You’re grown now. I can’t tell you what to do.” I finally breathed a sigh of relief. As long as my grandfather was okay with it, that was all that mattered. He had invested so much hope in my marriage to James. More than anyone in the world, he had wanted us to be together. James had come to the hospital. He was standing at the door and had heard everything. He stopped, not entering. Worried he would upset Grandfather, I quickly led him to an empty waiting room. He looked down. “You know, you could have told him the truth. You don’t have to protect my reputation. Then he wouldn’t pressure you. Rosalind, we were great partners, but the love… it’s really gone. Your grandfather was right. You’re too rational.” I nodded, agreeing with the last part. As for the first, I smiled. I didn’t tell the truth, but it wasn’t for his sake. It was to spare my grandfather the pain and guilt of knowing he had pushed me into a disastrous marriage. It was better this way, to keep him calm. As for James? He didn’t matter at all. Just then, a shrill cry came from my grandfather’s room. It was Sophia. “Don’t hit me! Grandpa, I just came to see you out of kindness!” Her voice was followed by the sound of my grandfather’s violent coughing. “Who let you in here…” My heart leaped into my throat. I ran back to the room. My grandfather was on the floor, coughing uncontrollably, pointing a trembling finger at Sophia. “Get out! You’re lying!” Sophia was clutching her face, sobbing in James’s arms. My grandfather was coughing up blood. He pointed at James and Sophia, and then his eyes rolled back, and he passed out. Panic seized me. I screamed for the nurses, and he was rushed back into the emergency room. Outside, James confronted me. “How could Grandfather hit her? Look at her face! No matter how angry he was, he shouldn’t have done that. Sophia was just trying to be nice…” His whining grated on my nerves. “Enough! I will get to the bottom of this. Don’t think I’ll let her get away with whatever she’s done.” I glared at Sophia, wanting to tear her apart. James stepped in front of her, shielding her. “Rosalind, this was Grandfather’s fault…” He continued to blame my grandfather, completely uninterested in the truth. He only stopped when a doctor came out of the ER. “Where is the family?” I stepped forward. When I heard the words “critical condition,” the papers in my hand fluttered to the floor. The rationality I had clung to for so long shattered completely. I lunged at Sophia. “What did you say to my grandfather?!” James grabbed me, holding me back, then shoved me hard against the wall. A sharp pain shot through my back. “Rosalind, don’t blame Sophia for this! She just came to visit. She didn’t do anything!” Tears streamed down my face. James froze for a second, seeing me so undone. My heart was well and truly dead. Why was I always so rational? Because the emotional, passionate person I once was had been systematically destroyed by them. I stared at them with pure hatred. “Just you wait.” I would find the truth. I would get justice for my grandfather. There was a security camera in the room, but Sophia had cleverly blocked its view. All it captured was her back as she leaned close to the bed and whispered something. Then, my grandfather’s rage, and the blood. Sophia’s defense was immediate. “I just told him to take care of himself. I don’t know why, but he just slapped me! I’m the victim here!” It was a clumsy, pathetic lie. I didn’t believe it for a second. My grandfather would never do that. She must have said something horrible. I grabbed her. “What did you say to him? Who the hell gave you permission to see my grandfather? Who do you think you are?” She pursed her lips, feigning innocence, but there was a clear glint of provocation in her eyes. My grandfather was all I had. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I pulled her close and slapped her hard across the face. Sophia shrieked, not expecting me to resort to violence. We ended up in a heap on the floor, scratching and clawing at each other. She was no match for me; her face was already covered in red marks. The commotion drew a crowd. James finally pulled me off her. In the heat of the moment, he raised his hand and slapped me. “Look at yourself! You’re acting like a lunatic!” The tears came again, unstoppable. I had maintained the poise of an heiress my entire life. I never wanted to be a shrew, screaming in a hospital hallway. But that was my grandfather in there. I couldn’t be rational. It was the first time James had ever seen me like this. He tried to play the magnanimous peacemaker. “That’s enough. Let’s just drop it. No more fighting.”

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1 My daughter joined a summer swim club, only to have her head held underwater by a classmate, pressed firmly against the powerful drainage vent. When I saw the water turning pink, I dove in, frantic, and pulled her out. But the immense suction had disfigured her face beyond recognition. She coughed up a mouthful of bloody water, and then… she was gone. The girl who led the attack, Tiffany, just sneered, boasting that the law couldn’t touch her. “So what? I couldn’t stand her anyway. Now that she’s dead, no one can compete with me for first place.” Her mother tossed a credit card at my feet with contempt. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on that. That should be enough for your daughter’s worthless life, right?” Consumed by grief and rage, I demanded justice, but my own husband stopped me. “She’s just a child, Lydia. Your daughter is gone, but does that mean another girl has to lose her freedom?” I fought until I was exhausted, but I couldn’t get them punished. In the end, my spirit broken, I stood before my daughter’s grave and swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day I was supposed to drive my daughter to the pool. I turned the car around and took her straight home. But this time, a girl still died at that pool. … In my rush to leave earlier, I had left my daughter’s bag in the locker room. I told her to wait in the car while I ran back in to grab it and warn the pool staff about the dangerous drain. The moment I stepped into the natatorium, I was met with the sound of cruel laughter. “Look at her, she’s like a dead fish! Move! Why aren’t you moving? Hahahaha…” The sound of three girls’ laughter was piercing. The tallest of them, Tiffany, had her foot planted on a splash of blue underwater. The sight of the blue swimsuit—the same color as my daughter’s—and the water faintly tinged with red made my heart seize. If I wasn’t absolutely certain my Sophie was safe in the car, I wouldn’t have been able to bear it. In my past life, Tiffany had targeted my daughter because Sophie had beaten her in academics. She was determined to crush her in extracurriculars, too. But who was this girl? Why was this happening? I pushed the thoughts aside. Saving her was all that mattered. “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?!” I screamed. Tiffany saw me, raised an eyebrow, and slowly took a step back. “Well, well, look what we have here. The mother hen has come to protect her little chick. Fun’s over, girls.” The other two girls scattered like startled rabbits, avoiding my eyes. Even after they moved, the girl in the water was still held fast by the powerful suction, her face glued to the vent, her limbs drifting limply. This was exactly how it happened to my Sophie. I had jumped in, but the force of the drain was too strong. I couldn’t pull her free. By the time the staff finally shut off the circulation pump, it was too late. My daughter died in my arms. The blue swimsuit, the ponytail, the small frame… I kept telling myself, This isn’t my Sophie. She’s safe in the car. But my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Learning from last time, I yelled at the lifeguard. “What are you standing there for? Can’t you see someone is trapped? Get someone to shut off the pump, now!” The teenager finally snapped out of his stupor and fumbled for his radio. A few minutes later, I lifted the girl’s limp body from the water. Her face was swollen and distorted, her features unrecognizable. She wasn’t breathing. There was no pulse. Tiffany stood off to the side, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Lady, she said she could hold her breath for three minutes. We were just helping her.” “Helping her?” My eyes were bloodshot. I slapped her hard across the face. “You call holding her head against a drainage vent ‘helping’?” Tiffany clutched her cheek, glaring at me. “We were just playing! How was I supposed to know she couldn’t take a joke?” “You hit me! Do you have any idea who my father is? I’ll make sure your whole family regrets this!” Oh, I knew exactly who he was. And that knowledge made me want to tear that indifferent look right off her face. “Playing? You call this playing? This is murder, do you understand?!” One of the other girls, a chubby one, finally seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, her voice trembling. “Tiffany, maybe we should…” “Should what?” Tiffany cut her off. “You were pushing down on her just as hard as I was!” The third girl was already sobbing. “I… I want to go home…” I had no time for them. I laid the girl on the deck and started CPR, shouting at the staff to call for an ambulance. “Call 911! We might still be able to save her!” As I tilted her chin back to give her a breath, I noticed a small, plum-blossom-shaped birthmark behind her ear. Something flickered in my memory. Just then, the swim coach and Tiffany’s mother, Victoria, sauntered in from a side door, the coach exhaling a final puff of smoke. They saw the scene by the pool and their faces paled. “What… What happened here?!” Tiffany immediately adopted an innocent expression and ran to her mother. “Mommy, we were just having a breath-holding contest! She said she could do three minutes, but I guess she couldn’t…” “You foolish girl!” the coach stammered, his face ashen. “I’ve told you a hundred times, no one in the water without my supervision!” “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. But that doesn’t give this lady the right to hit me, does it?” Tiffany pouted, but over her mother’s shoulder, she shot me a triumphant smirk. Victoria saw the red handprint on her daughter’s face and pointed a finger at me. “How dare you lay a hand on my child?” She glanced dismissively at me and the girl on the ground. “This girl clearly wasn’t following the rules, and her parents weren’t watching her. A tragedy, yes, but you can’t blame others for it, can you?” In my last life, the security footage showed Tiffany pushing my daughter into the pool from behind, then the three of them dragging her to the drain and holding her down. I imagined this girl’s fate was no different from my Sophie’s. I knew the agony of losing a child. No matter who this girl was, she was an innocent victim. Saving her was the priority. I refused to waste my breath arguing. My hands never stopped their rhythm as I glanced at the coach. “Coach Miller, you bear some responsibility for this. You need to notify her parents immediately.” The coach fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking. “Right, right… I’ll… I’ll call them right now…” After a few seconds, he looked at the girl’s swollen face. “Her… her face is so… I don’t know which student this is.” I looked up, exasperated. “Check your roster! See who was scheduled for today, who called in sick, and who’s still here. The one left over is…” “No need to check,” Tiffany interrupted. “I know who it is.” She crouched down beside me, staring at the girl’s face. Her voice was quiet, but her words were like needles in my ears. “Isn’t that your Sophie? Ma’am, don’t you even recognize your own daughter?” “You were so frantic before, I thought you knew. Or maybe… you just couldn’t accept the truth?” My eyes widened. So, she thought this was my Sophie. That’s why she did it. Tiffany seemed pleased with my shocked expression. Seeing that I hadn’t stopped compressions, she continued. “You can stop trying. Haven’t you noticed she hasn’t responded after twenty minutes of this?” “From the time she went under to the time you pulled her out, more than ten minutes had passed. The golden window for rescue closed long ago.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. All the strength drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the tiles, trembling. Was I too late again? In my past life, I couldn’t save my own daughter. Now, I had failed to save this girl, too. I fixed my gaze on Tiffany. “Why would you do this? Aren’t you afraid of the consequences?!” “Ooh, I’m so scared,” she said, mockingly patting her chest. “What consequences? The law?” “I’m only eleven. And anyone under fourteen can’t be held criminally responsible, you know.” She was so close I could smell the strawberry shampoo in her hair. That sentence, that scent, had haunted my nightmares in my previous life. Looking at her face, a grotesque mixture of childish innocence and pure malice, I could no longer contain the rage that had been building for two lifetimes. I grabbed her by the hair and started dragging her toward the pool. “You vicious little monster, today I’m going to let you taste—” Victoria slammed her purse into the side of my head. The metal charm on it sliced a long, bloody gash across my forehead. As I let go, she pulled Tiffany behind her. “Are you insane?!” “What’s done is done! Why are you taking it out on a child? My daughter is just a little girl, what does she know about consequences? It was an accident!” “An accident?” I felt the blood rush to my head. “Go check the security footage yourself! Three girls holding a child’s head against a drain, and you call that an accident?!” Victoria glanced at her guilty-looking daughter, then calmly pulled a card from her wallet. “What do you want, then? Justice? Let me tell you something. In this world, justice depends on who you are and what you can pay.” She stepped forward, the card almost touching my nose. “Do you know who my daughter is? She’s the heiress to the Wagner Corporation!” “And your daughter? The child of a working-class family. She’s dead. So what? You expect the Wagner heiress to pay with her life?” She flicked the card at my face. “There’s fifty thousand on here. Pin is six eights. Take the money, shut your mouth, and give your daughter a nice funeral.” “But if you say one word of this to anyone, if you dare call the police… I guarantee you and your husband won’t even find work sweeping streets in this city.” Tiffany peeked out from behind her mother and made a face at me. There was no fear in her expression, only smug satisfaction. The coach, not wanting any more trouble, tried to mediate. “Mrs. Miller, look, this was clearly an accident. Since they’re offering to settle, maybe everyone can just compromise?” Compromise? I looked down at the bank card on the floor, then at the cold, lifeless body of the girl. It was laughable. They were treating a human life like a business transaction, and speaking of it so casually. My eyes fell on the girl’s birthmark again, and I suddenly remembered who she was. If the life of my ordinary daughter wasn’t worth Tiffany’s freedom, let’s see how many lives they would need to pay for this girl’s. Tiffany was still chattering. “Come on, lady, lighten up. Money is what’s real. Your daughter is dead, just have another one…” I slowly raised my head, my gaze settling on her ignorant, arrogant face. “I have a feeling your mother’s money won’t be much good this time.” She jutted her chin out. “Say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will happen to me. My mom told me, the juvenile protection laws are my get-out-of-jail-free card!” I gently wiped the blood from the dead girl’s face, my fingers tracing the plum blossom birthmark. I took off my jacket and covered her, a final gesture of dignity. “A get-out-of-jail-free card?” A bitter smile touched my lips. “Then you’d better pray that everyone in this world believes in the law.” Victoria frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ignored her, took out my phone, and sent a single text message. Then I leaned down and whispered in the dead girl’s ear. “Don’t be afraid. Your father will be here soon.” Then, I dialed 911. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Victoria shrieked, sensing something was wrong. “I’m telling you, this ends here, today! If you dare…”

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The set was buzzing, but all I could focus on was the fact that my assistant had messed up my lunch order. Again. I glanced down at the container. Seafood bisque. The moment I lifted the lid, a delicate, briny aroma wafted up. I’d just wrapped a scene in the water, and a deep chill had settled into my bones. My stomach ached with a hollow, gnawing hunger, but my eyes instantly spotted the problem. “There are shrimp in this.” I looked up at her. “I’m allergic to shrimp.” Her face went blank for a second, then drained of all color. “Oh my god, Olivia… I’m so sorry. I was in such a rush, I completely forgot.” This was the seventh time. The first time, she handed me a pair of sunglasses from a rival brand right before a press event. I caught it just in time, narrowly avoiding a PR nightmare. The second, she rushed onto the red carpet to “fix my dress,” only to faint from low blood sugar, sparking a media frenzy with headlines about me overworking my staff. The third, she spilled a latte all over a veteran actress’s designer gown. She sobbed and apologized, all while shooting these teary, pleading glances at me. The actress was furious, and despite my endless apologies, I was branded with the reputation of “disrespecting a senior.” And so on. Just like now. She stood there, hesitating, as her eyes slowly welled up with tears. “Then… then please don’t eat it. I’ll eat it myself… You can just take the money out of my salary.” I didn’t say a word. Her meager salary couldn’t even begin to cover the cost of the messes she created. My silence seemed to panic her. She fumbled for her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. A few seconds later, a wave of relief washed over her face. She looked up, forcing a bright, eager smile. “It’s okay, Liv! Alex said he’s on his way. He’s bringing you something else.” I had already started to turn away, but those words stopped me dead in my tracks. My phone buzzed softly in my pocket. [Alex: Is my princess angry with me?] [Alex: I’m bringing you that butternut squash soup you love. Don’t be too hard on the new girl. Everyone makes mistakes.] [Alex: Wait for me, baby.] The tone was so casual, so familiar. As if this kind of cleanup operation was something he’d mastered. Lily was the younger sister of his high school sweetheart, the one who had passed away far too young. Her family was struggling, her education was mediocre, but she was undeniably pretty. After graduating, she couldn’t find a job, and her parents were about to marry her off to some old bachelor in exchange for money to pay for her brother’s wedding. So, she went to Alex. And then, he sent her to me. For her to “learn the ropes,” he’d said. But I knew better. The girl had ambition. She had her sights set on Hollywood. Seeing that I wasn’t responding, she hugged the container of soup to her chest and mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear, “It’s a shame to waste food. I guess I’ll just have to eat it myself.” I didn’t bother replying. I just turned and climbed into my trailer. 1 Half an hour later, Alex arrived. I’d already showered and was sipping a cup of hot ginger tea. He saw me, but instead of an apology, the first words out of his mouth were a defense of the girl. “Come on, Olivia. It was just a lunch order. Why are you giving a young assistant such a hard time?” A lump formed in my throat. “I haven’t eaten all day to look good on camera. I just spent hours in freezing cold water for three different scenes. I’m cold and I’m starving.” I stared straight at him. “And besides, the Golden Griffin Awards are in two days. If I had eaten that soup, my face would be swollen and covered in hives. Do you honestly think I could walk the red carpet like that?” “Have you forgotten what that award means to me?” “That was the first role I landed after spending a year in a hospital bed, learning how to walk again. It’s a milestone, Alex. It’s the symbol of me getting my life back.” He was silent for a couple of seconds, his expression finally softening. He reached out and gently pinched my cheek. “Alright, my little princess. Don’t be angry anymore.” He placed the new container of food in front of me, handed me a spoon, and started rubbing my shoulders from behind. It was the same gentle care he’d shown me when I was recovering. After I’d been crushed by a falling piece of scaffolding while pushing him out of the way, he had tended to me for a year. He washed my hair, changed my clothes, even did my laundry. On the surface, it was the same devotion. I took a bite of the soup, then pointed to the designer coat draped over the sofa. “That couture piece. Didn’t you say you were picking it up for me on your trip to London? Why is she wearing it?” His hands froze on my shoulders. He instinctively glanced outside the trailer. “Why did you take her coat?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. “It’s freezing out there. What if she gets sick? It was her birthday, and she really wanted a gift. I saw how much she loved it, so I gave it to her.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You have so many clothes you never even wear. What’s the big deal about rewarding a hardworking girl?” I looked up at him. “Alex, I am your fiancée. Not your property.” “Shouldn’t you have at least asked me before giving away my things?” Her being poor was her problem. Why was I expected to carry the weight of her life? And what exactly had she done to deserve a reward? He didn’t try to soothe me. Instead, his brow furrowed in disapproval. “Olivia, I bought that coat.” “Even if it was a gift for you, it was my money that paid for it. I can give it to whomever I want.” In that instant, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I could still hear his voice on the day we got engaged, promising that as long as he was around, I’d never have to spend a cent of my own money. From jewelry to a simple pair of socks, he would provide everything. How quickly things had changed. How clearly the lines were now being drawn. He must have seen the tears welling in my eyes, because his resolve finally broke. He pulled me into a hug. “Liv, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “Just… don’t hold it against Lily. Her sister… back in school, she was the only one who was ever kind to me. I’m just trying to repay that kindness.” I was so tired of hearing that excuse. “If you want to repay a debt, then give her a job at your company. Make her your assistant. I can’t have her on my team anymore.” Half an hour ago, I had already called my agent and told her to fire Lily. She would have gotten the news by now. Sure enough, a moment later, the sound of hysterical sobbing erupted from just outside the trailer. Alex stepped out. When he returned, his face was a mask of cold fury. “All she wants is a job so she can have a decent life!” “You fired her for ‘incompetence’? You know that will ruin her chances of getting another job in this town! How hard is it to fetch coffee and run errands? What is so incompetent about that?” This was the second time he had yelled at me for his new assistant. It felt like being plunged back into that icy water, and I started to tremble. “Alex, are you really fighting with me over a complete stranger?” He didn’t answer. He just snatched the coat from the sofa and stormed out without a second glance. 2 Lily was successfully soothed. Not only that, but Alex pulled some strings and landed her a small supporting role, the fifth female lead, in the very movie I was starring in. While he was arranging all of this, I was alone in my hotel room, running a high fever. The cold had seeped into my legs, and every movement sent a sharp, needle-like pain through them. The old terror of my injury, of being crippled again, came rushing back. I swallowed my pride and called him three times. Each call went straight to voicemail. Later, lying in bed in a daze, I tried to pinpoint where everything had gone so wrong between us. At two in the morning, the door creaked open. Alex was back. He carried the faint, sweet scent of flowers, and he was clearly in a good mood. Before he could even reach my side of the bed, a soft knock came from the door. “Alex? I just… I feel like I need to make this clear. I really don’t need any special treatment. I can make it on my own. I’m not afraid of hard work.” It was Lily. “And this coat… I really can’t accept it.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “When you said it was a birthday present, I was so happy. I just never imagined it would make your sister so upset. She fired me because she was angry… I don’t mind being treated unfairly, but I can’t stand the thought of you being blamed because of me.” Alex’s voice softened, laced with an unmistakable note of pity. “Once a gift is given, you don’t take it back.” “Didn’t we already talk about this? Since she won’t let you be her assistant, and you love acting, then be an actress. I’ll invest in you, I’ll open doors for you. You just focus on your work and don’t worry about anything else.” Lily looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but her expression defiant. “Thank you, Alex. I’ll work as hard as I can. But since this coat belongs to Olivia, I think I should give it back… We’ll be on the same set now, and I don’t want to be targeted again…” Alex was silent for a few seconds. “Lily, don’t be naive.” “The way to get ahead is to learn how to use the resources you’re given, not to cling to some useless pride. Olivia is experienced, she’s a talented actress. Learn from her, build your network.” “As for the clothes, she has more than she could ever wear. She’s just throwing a tantrum with me. You wear it with confidence.” He paused, then added, “Actors need to look the part. That credit card I gave you, don’t be afraid to use it. Buy yourself some decent clothes.” As he spoke, he gently took the coat from her arms and draped it over her shoulders. “Wear this. You’ll catch a cold.” My eyes were closed, but I heard every single word. That coat was supposed to have been part of my outfit for the red carpet. The door clicked shut. Alex turned and his eyes met mine. He froze. “You’re awake?” I said nothing, just watched him. He seemed to realize his position, and the explanation came smoothly, as if rehearsed. “The girl has potential. It’s not a bad investment. You can mentor her a bit on set, it’ll be a good way to repay that old favor for me.” His tone was so gentle, as if he were discussing the weather. “I’ve explained everything. Don’t be jealous anymore. Nothing is going on between us, I swear.” A bitter, absurd laugh almost escaped my lips. “I’ve never heard of repaying a debt like this. Anyone who didn’t know better would think she’d saved your life.” “That’s enough, Olivia! Have you become so jealous that you can’t even tolerate the memory of someone who’s long dead?” His shout left me stunned. I knew his old flame was a sensitive topic, but he had never exploded at me like this before. He had been incredibly busy lately. We hadn’t seen each other in over two weeks. If it hadn’t been for Lily, I probably wouldn’t have seen him at all this time either. I wanted to say more, but a raw, scratching feeling in my throat made me bite my tongue. Three days later, after finishing my promotional events, I returned to the set. The first person I saw was Lily. She was standing there in a tight, crimson dress, a look of bold confidence on her face. I glanced down at the revised script pages that had just been handed to me. It was absurd. The film was nearly finished shooting, yet they had added dozens of new scenes for a complete novice. “Congratulations on the award, sis.” She smiled at me, a picture of innocence. “I’m looking forward to you showing me the ropes.” I was already in costume, my feet throbbing in a pair of prop heels rigged with dull nails for a torture scene. Standing was agony. “I can’t teach you. Find someone else.” I tried to step past her, but she grabbed my arm. “Olivia, is it that you look down on people like me? People who didn’t come from a fancy acting school?” I looked at her. It was as if she had prepared this speech. She raised her voice, making sure everyone around could hear. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” “I don’t want to be known as some trophy girl who depends on a man.” “There is nothing going on between me and Alex. You don’t have to resort to firing me and badmouthing me to get back at me.” “Since you’re so bothered by my presence, why don’t we have a fair competition? Let’s see who really shines in this film.” I could barely stand. “Your business has nothing to do with me, and I have no interest in your childish games.” Lily let out a soft laugh. “Always so high and mighty, aren’t you, Olivia?” “You’ve never had a hard day in your life. You have no idea what it’s like to be truly desperate.” “You can’t act out that kind of raw, gritty pain.” “But I can.” “And this time, I am going to be brilliant.” 3 Before the official shoot began, the director pulled me aside. “Today’s scene is going to be… a bit intense.” He was vague, his eyes filled with a weary resignation. “The investors specifically requested it. I’m sorry, but I need you to play along.” I scanned the new pages. [The heroine, pushed to her breaking point, has a hysterical argument with the villain. In the chaos, the villain slaps her across the face.] The scene was short, and it was entirely designed to be Lily’s star moment. Before I could say anything, she was already in position opposite me, her smile sweet and docile. “Olivia, this is my first time doing such an emotional scene. We might need a few takes. Please be patient with me.” Her words were apologetic, but her eyes held no remorse. First take. “Action!” She raised her hand, and the slap landed. Smack. The sound was sharp and clear. I froze for a split second. A stage slap is always faked, a trick of angles and sound. It’s never real. The director didn’t call cut. But she let out a small gasp, her eyes immediately turning red as she broke character. “I’m sorry, director. I just couldn’t find the right emotion.” Second take. This time, she hit harder. Smack. I bit the inside of my cheek, and the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. The director frowned but still didn’t stop the scene. “Let’s go again.” Third take. Fourth take. Each time, she would claim her “emotions weren’t right” or simply refuse to continue the scene. And each time, her hand struck my face with more force than the last. My cheek started to go numb, a dull ringing in my ears. The crew began exchanging uneasy glances. The set fell silent, but no one dared to speak up. She was the “newcomer,” the one being “looked after.” And I was the “veteran,” the one who was supposed to endure it. Fifth take. The moment her hand came up, I finally snapped. I shot my arm out, grabbing her wrist. With a sharp twist, I reversed the motion. SMACK. The sound of my palm connecting with her cheek was sickeningly solid. Someone on set gasped. She stumbled backward dramatically, her arm slamming hard against the sharp metal corner of a prop cabinet. “Ah!” Blood immediately welled up, staining her sleeve. Lily crumpled to the floor. After a beat of stunned silence, she burst into loud, theatrical sobs. “Olivia… why are you targeting me like this?” “I’m just a newcomer… This was all in the script! I was just trying to do a good job with my acting…” “Even if you don’t like me, you didn’t have to hit me so hard…” Her wails echoed through the soundstage. I stood frozen, my palm still tingling. The director finally jolted into action, yelling, “Cut!” People rushed to her side. Someone called for a medic. That night, a carefully edited clip of the incident went viral. 「VETERAN ACTRESS OLIVIA REYNOLDS LOSES CONTROL, VIOLENTLY ASSAULTS NEWCOMER ON SET」 The video had no sound. There was only the image of my hand striking her face, and the shot of her collapsing to the floor in tears. The comments section was a landslide. 【Who does Olivia think she is just because she won a few awards? Does that give her the right to bully people?】 【I heard that new girl used to be her assistant and that Olivia bullied her constantly. She probably couldn’t stand sharing a scene with her, so she used it as an excuse to lash out!】 【Wasn’t there a story last year about her mistreating her assistant and making her faint on the red carpet? I guess all those villain roles she plays so well are just her showing her true colors!】 Every old accusation was dragged back into the light. I was about to issue a statement, my agent’s fingers flying across her keyboard, when the door to my hotel room burst open. It was Alex. His face was a thundercloud. “Are you out of your mind, Olivia?” He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight it hurt. “It was just a scene! Did you really have to hit her that hard? She could have permanent scarring on her arm, do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I didn’t speak. I just slowly removed the ice pack from my cheek. The swollen, bruised skin was stark under the bright hotel lights. He stopped short. His tone finally softened, but only slightly. “…She’s new. She doesn’t know any better.” “You’re the veteran here. Couldn’t you have just let it go?” A dry laugh escaped my lips. “How much more should I let it go? Should I have offered her my other cheek so she could get a matching set?” I placed my tablet on the table and opened a file. “This is the complete, unedited security footage from the set.” “I’ve had a backup since day one.” The video was clear, the timeline undeniable. The color drained from Alex’s face. “You can’t release this!” He lunged forward, slamming his hand down on the screen. “She’s just starting her career. If you post this, you’ll destroy her life.” “Bullying a senior actress before you’ve even made a name for yourself? That’s a death sentence for a newcomer.” I looked at him, and it was like staring at a stranger. “And what about me?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I continued, “So I’m just supposed to get hit, get dragged through the mud online, and have my name ruined?” I pulled the tablet back. “Not only am I releasing this, I’m also breaking up with you. It’s clear I’m no longer your priority, so there’s no reason for us to be together anymore.” “What are you talking about?” He panicked, reaching for my hand again, but I slapped it away. “There’s no room for me in your heart or your head anymore. I get hurt, I get bullied, and the first thing you do is defend the person who hurt me. I’m not a masochist, Alex.” He was about to argue, but suddenly, the custom ringtone he had set for Lily chirped from his pocket. He answered the phone. He only listened for a moment before his expression changed completely. “What did you say?” His eyes shot to mine, wide with shock. “…Lily’s pregnant?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389700”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel