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

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

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

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

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

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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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