Three years after our breakup, my ex-boyfriend, the lawyer Elias Thorne, returned with his young protégé. At the alumni gathering, someone remembered the old days and asked him with a smile: “Elias, when you left back then, you said if Chloe wasn’t married in three years, you’d chase her back. Are you here to fulfill that promise today?” I was just about to explain, but Elias tightened his grip on his protégé Mia’s hand and announced to everyone that they were engaged. When the invitation landed in my hand, Mia smiled until her eyes curved into crescents: “Chloe, don’t overthink it. Senior came back firstly to marry me, and secondly to take on the divorce case of the richest man’s only son. Once this case is over, he will become the group’s chief legal counsel. I know you waited for him for three years… pity, he’s mine now.” My expression was a bit strange. Elias thought I hadn’t given up yet and sighed: “Back then, to prevent Mia from being fired, I drugged you and stole your case. That was wrong of me. When I become the chief counsel, maybe I can let you be my assistant.” “Stop waiting for me. Find someone to marry. Even if their conditions aren’t as good as mine, it’s fine.” Everyone present looked at me, expecting me to break down. But I was only surprised: “You guys just got engaged?” I’m about to get divorced. And the case he wants to fight is the divorce lawsuit filed by me and my husband. 1 Mia took my reaction as disbelief. She crossed her arms, her tone mocking: “What, you think I’m lying to you?” “When he said three years ago he’d come back for you, he was just casually coaxing you because he was afraid you’d pester him. He gave up his domestic career to accompany me abroad, how could he not marry me?” Elias stood aside without speaking. What’s there not to believe? I still remember clearly how he forced me to drink the mute medicine three years ago and watched me vomit blood. I lost my job, got scolded by clients, chased him to the airport crying and begging him, only to have him kick my phone away, disgusted by my misery. He loves Mia, there’s never been a need to doubt that. I waved the invitation and smiled: “Don’t get excited, I just thought you guys had registered your marriage earlier. Then, happy wedding in advance.” I spoke sincerely, and the old classmates were stunned. Everyone knew that after Elias left, I was depressed for half a year, drunk all day long. No one expected me to say “Happy Wedding” so calmly. Everyone reacted and started to flatter Elias: “Lawyer Thorne is amazing, even taking on the case of the richest man’s son!” “Mia is beautiful and capable, truly a match made in heaven!” Mia couldn’t hide her pride, while Elias just calmly sipped his tea. He was used to hearing these words. Only I didn’t join in. Mia deliberately called me out: “Chloe, back then you laughed at me for failing the bar exam. Now Senior and I are elite lawyers returning from overseas. What about you? Where are you working?” I answered plainly: “I opened my own—” Before I could finish, I was interrupted by Elias’s phone ringing. Mia glanced at the screen and raised her voice: “It’s the richest man’s son calling!” Someone jeered: “Lawyer Thorne, let us hear how you discuss cases, yeah?” Elias smiled and pressed the speakerphone. A deep male voice came from the other end: “Lawyer Thorne, you are very good at lawsuits?” Elias was confident: “Of course. I guarantee the woman won’t get a penny and will leave with nothing.” “No!” The person on the other end was anxious, “I don’t want her to leave with nothing, my demand is not to divorce!” 2 The surroundings went silent for a moment. Elias nodded: “Rest assured, leave it to me.” He didn’t notice, but I quietly clenched my fist. I didn’t expect Adrian would not want a divorce. But rather than believing he loves me, I feel he’s just afraid of losing face. The call ended, and the classmates who knew the law started congratulating him: “Lawyer Thorne, this case is simple! It’s too easy not to divorce domestically. You’re basically picking up money for free, and you’ve climbed up to the richest man!” I couldn’t listen anymore, stood up and said I had to go first. Mia called me back and threw a business card at my feet: “If you’re not doing well, come find your old classmates, don’t hold on. Look at what you’re wearing… at least buy a decent dress.” Elias glanced at her but didn’t speak. Just like before, he never intervened when she made things difficult for me. But I’m no longer the love-struck fool who defended him. I stepped on the business card and pulled the corner of my mouth: “Mia, in these three years abroad, did you only grow hair but not brains? You probably can’t afford what I’m wearing.” Too lazy to argue further, I turned and left. 3 Walking out of the KTV, the cold wind blew, and I lit a cigarette. I was with Elias for seven years. Before breaking up, I always felt he had a clean scent of trees, like the smell of reciting books together in our youth. But seeing him again today, that scent was long gone, leaving only Mia’s cloying perfume. He really isn’t special to me anymore. After finishing the cigarette, I took out my phone. Adrian’s group of brothers sent a bunch of messages again, persuading me not to divorce. Before, they were the ones persuading us to break up; now, they are the ones persuading us to reconcile. I didn’t even look, deleted them all. Elias was right, I’m rational like a machine. So whether it’s him or Adrian, as long as they betrayed me, I don’t want them. Suddenly, the cigarette in my hand was snatched away. Elias looked at me in disbelief: “Chloe, you actually smoke?” He stomped out the cigarette with a look of disgust, wrapped it up, and threw it away. “Leaving me, you became like this? Mia was excessive just now, I apologize for her—” While he went to throw away the trash, I turned and got into a Bentley by the roadside. In the rearview mirror, he stood frozen on the spot. 4 The next day, I was researching divorce cases in the library. Someone suddenly stood opposite me. I thought there wasn’t enough space, so I moved my books closer to my side. But the person didn’t move. I looked up and saw Elias looking at me with a complicated expression: “You’re tracking me?” He hadn’t changed a bit, still clean and upright. Only now he was holding Mia’s hand, sharing a couple’s scarf, his eyebrows a bit gentler. This spot used to be our “secret base,” we came every day when we were dating. I frowned: “Coincidence.” He picked up the “Marriage Law” book on my table: “Chloe, that rented Bentley yesterday cost a lot of money, right? No need to keep up appearances like this.” “Thanks for helping me find the book, but it’s not possible between us.” I took the book back: “I need it myself; I also took on a divorce case.” Elias raised an eyebrow, looking like he saw through me: “You used to only look at criminal cases, saying civil cases were a waste of time. If not for me, would you borrow these?” He still firmly believed I loved him. But after what happened, how can he still be so confident? Three years ago, for Mia’s future, he drugged my drink and took my case. I knelt on the ground vomiting blood, but he only said indifferently: “Mia needs this opportunity more.” “We are too alike, it’s boring being together. Although she is careless, I like her talking to me.” The light in his eyes when he mentioned Mia stabbed my heart like a knife. I know, he doesn’t love me anymore. Coming back to my senses, I chuckled lightly: “Didn’t Lawyer Thorne also say he wouldn’t take civil cases? You made an exception for Mia three years ago. Now I’m taking a divorce case, what’s strange?” Mia suddenly shook off his hand and swept all the books on my table to the floor! With a “bang,” everyone in the library looked over. She sneered and raised her voice: “Who are you kidding? Senior just took a divorce case, and you’re taking one too? Just say you want to curry favor, stop pretending!” She looked me up and down, suddenly remembered something, and showed a playful smile: “Right, Chloe… you and the wife of the richest man’s son have the same name.”

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I was adopted at three. The neighbors all said I looked like a porcelain doll. A year later, my “Mom” gave birth to a younger brother. Her long fingernails dug into my cheek: “Penny, your dad and I saved you. Otherwise, you’d have been eaten alive by some old bachelor by now.” To repay my adoptive parents, I worked hard to become a child model. Until one day, after ten consecutive hours of shooting, I couldn’t help but fall asleep. My “Mom” kicked me across the room: “Did I raise you to eat for free? Don’t come home today. Stay in the studio until the shoot continues tomorrow.” She left, holding my babbling baby brother. I stood there, lips trembling, too scared to cry. The photographer lady nearby felt sorry for me and took me home. Later, the video of my “Mom” beating me was leaked, and I lost the chance to be a child model. My adoptive parents told the photographer lady directly: “We don’t want this damn girl anymore. Do whatever you want with her. She’s not our seed anyway!” The photographer lady pitied me and adopted me. But my adoptive parents didn’t know: they were destined to be childless, but I was destined to bring fortune to my siblings. That hard-won son of theirs, his life countdown had already begun! And by throwing away their lucky star, their bad luck was just beginning. 1 [Do you guys think my daughter can be a child model? Be honest, I can take criticism.] My “Mom,” Brenda, posted a thread after taking a bunch of photos of me. Soon, the notifications hit 99+. [Holy crap, usually I roast these kinds of posts, but I can’t hate on this one.] [Ah, this is the best-looking kid I’ve seen posted so far. I swear, I’m picky.] [Very high-end, she has the vibe of a female lead in an indie film.] [She has expressiveness. These already look like commercial model photos.] … Not long after, a merchant sent a private message: [Let’s try a few sets of sample shots. If the expressiveness is okay, we’ll arrange a contract.] Brenda and my “Dad,” Rick, looked at each other, then smiles spread across their faces. Brenda pinched my cheek. Her slightly long nails hurt me. But I tried my best to smile brightly: “Mommy, does this mean I don’t have to be sent away?” Brenda patted my cheek: “Behave yourself. If you can earn big money for your brother to buy a house and a car, Mommy and Daddy will never send you away.” I nodded seriously: “Mommy, I definitely can.” Then I stood against the wall and began practicing my posture. Two hours every night. 2 My name is Penny, and I’m five years old this year. When I was three, Rick and Brenda adopted me from the countryside. It’s said they had been married for five years without children. So they found a psychic, calculated my horoscope, and adopted me. The psychic said I was born with a “Lucky Star” destiny. As long as they treated me well, all their wishes would come true. At first, they were indeed good to me. I had endless candies, and no one stopped me even if I got cavities. I had endless clothes to wear, though every set was a boy’s style embroidered with “Hoping for a Son.” Every day, Brenda would make me kneel before the Buddha statue and make a wish. My first wish was: Let Mommy successfully conceive a baby boy. Sure enough, half a year later, Brenda got pregnant. People started appearing frequently in our house, saying things I didn’t understand. “Almost four years old, too big, and a girl. Hard to resell.” “I’ll give you ten thousand at most, no more.” Brenda exploded on the spot: “Only ten thousand? I worked so hard to raise her this big. At least a hundred thousand, not a penny less.” … For some reason, the strange uncle slammed the door and left. From that day on, I never wore new clothes again. Even for meals, I had to wait until Rick and Brenda finished eating before I could dip steamed buns in the vegetable soup. Until my brother, Austin, was born. I looked at this wrinkled little person, feeling inexplicably happy. “I have a brother!” I cheered to Brenda. Brenda twisted my ear and poked my forehead: “Penny, your dad and I saved you. Otherwise, you’d have been eaten alive by some old bachelor by now. “You have to repay us. From now on, your brother is your closest family. All the money you earn must be spent on your brother, understand?” Although I hadn’t gone to school yet at almost five years old, I had long learned to read people’s expressions and knew what to say to make Brenda happy. So I quickly replied: “Okay, Mommy, I will definitely work hard to earn money for my brother.” However, when my brother was six months old, someone was willing to pay thirty thousand to take me away. That uncle said: “Girl, call me ‘Daddy’?” He bared his yellow teeth, his smile terrifying me. I didn’t want to leave Rick and Brenda. I cried desperately. Rick kicked me hard: “Cry, cry, cry, you’re crying away all the luck.” I pursed my lips, daring not to cry out loud: “Mommy, Cindy said she’s a child model now and can earn a lot of money a month. I can too, Mommy, I can earn a lot of money too. Please don’t send me away, okay?” Cindy was my good friend. She had indeed made money recently. Brenda asked around and felt that I seemed to have the potential to become a money tree. So, she asked for netizens’ opinions. Fortunately, I passed the initial test. Rick also smiled and said to Brenda: “Be a child model when young, collect a bride price when grown up. We profit no matter what.” So, to stay with Rick and Brenda, I knelt before the Buddha and made a second wish: I want to earn lots and lots of money for Mommy and Daddy. After officially becoming a child model, I started trying on clothes desperately. At first, it was 5 sets, 10 sets a day. Three months later, I could change into more than 100 sets of clothes a day. My daily income exceeded 2,000 dollars. Rick and Brenda’s savings grew, and they even started asking about the luxury apartments on the east side of the city. The smiles on their faces increased, and the beatings and scolding decreased a bit. So I knelt before the Buddha and made a third wish: Let Mommy and Daddy move into a luxury apartment soon. … Life got better day by day. More and more merchants sought me out to model clothes. But my body couldn’t take it anymore. In the end, I screwed up this hard-won money-making opportunity. 3 Four consecutive days of high-intensity shooting. I could only sleep four or five hours a day. Finally, after shooting for ten hours straight, I couldn’t help closing my eyes. The prop flower in my hand unknowingly fell to the ground. The next second, I felt myself flying through the air. Then my butt hit the corner of the table heavily. The intense pain made me cry out. But Brenda stood with her hands on her hips: “Sleep, sleep, sleep, all you know is sleep. Are you a pig? “I haven’t slept yet, what right do you have to sleep? “Cry again, cry again and I’ll beat you to death.” She picked up a hanger nearby and whipped my hand viciously. I jumped up in pain but dared not make a sound. The photographer lady, Ms. Lin, couldn’t watch anymore and quickly blocked me: “Mrs. Brenda, the child is still small, you shouldn’t hit so hard.” Brenda rolled her eyes at her: “I’m disciplining my own child, do I need your interference?” Then she turned to me and said: “Did I raise you to eat for free? Don’t come home today. Stay in the studio until the shoot continues tomorrow.” She left, holding my babbling baby brother. I stood there, lips trembling, too scared to cry. Ms. Lin felt sorry for me and gently blew on my red, swollen little hand: “Penny, does your mom hit you often?” I suddenly remembered Brenda said not to tell outsiders I was beaten. Otherwise, an uncle with a mouth full of yellow teeth who eats children would come to take me away. I was really scared. So I wiped my tears and shook my head desperately: “No, Mommy never hits me. It’s me who’s useless. I didn’t take good photos. It’s all my fault.” Ms. Lin’s eyes turned red for some reason. She hugged me. The embrace was soft and warm. My head felt a bit dizzy, and I mumbled: “Mommy, don’t leave me.” Ms. Lin stroked my hair: “Penny, how about Auntie takes you to eat first?” Although my stomach was growling, I shook my head: “Thank you Auntie, I won’t go. I have to wait here for Mommy obediently.” Seeing my stubbornness, Ms. Lin called Brenda. It wasn’t until the tenth call that an irritable voice sounded from the other end: “Calling and calling, are you collecting a debt?” “Mrs. Brenda, your daughter is still here. When will you pick her up? We are getting off work.” Brenda sneered, her voice raising a few octaves: “Penny, you stay there obediently, don’t go anywhere. Start shooting directly tomorrow morning. If I can’t find you, I’ll break your legs.” “Mommy, I will be obedient.” But before I finished, Brenda hung up. Ms. Lin sighed helplessly: “Penny, come to Auntie’s house today, okay?” I refused very seriously: “Thank you Auntie, I won’t go. I want to wait for Mommy here.” Then no matter how she persuaded, I sat on the chair without saying a word. Until my eyelids couldn’t stay open anymore, and I collapsed. Then I fell into a warm embrace again. Smelling sweet and soft. If only it could be like this forever. 4 Ms. Lin carried the sleeping me home. She took off my poor-quality clothes and changed me into her soft fleece pajamas. Under the warm yellow light, she saw bruises all over my back. There were also several cigarette burns on my waist. That was Rick’s punishment when I went into the room to see my brother and woke him up. The crimson cigarette butt extinguishing on my skin hurt so, so much. But accompanied by the smell of roasting meat, my stomach growled uncooperatively. At that time, Rick kicked me away, spitting: “Only know how to eat all day!” The scars healed with time, and I had long lost feeling. Ms. Lin patted my back gently, tears of heartache falling one by one onto the sheets. Feeling a warmth I had never known, I had a sweet dream. However, in the second half of the night, I started coughing violently. Ms. Lin took my temperature: 101.3°F. Actually, I had a low fever for many days. Brenda made me take fever reducers every day before shooting. But she left in a hurry today and forgot to leave the medicine. Ms. Lin immediately took me to the hospital. The doctor said it was the flu and prescribed some medicine. She was still worried and took me for a CT scan and a comprehensive checkup. Long later I learned that Ms. Lin originally had a younger sister who got pneumonia when she was young. Her parents didn’t care, dragging it on and on, until she finally died of respiratory failure. While waiting for the results, I suddenly had shortness of breath, and my lips turned purple. Seeing the situation was bad, the doctor immediately arranged for my hospitalization. Whenever she had a moment, Ms. Lin called Rick and Brenda. It wasn’t until 8 AM the next day that the call connected. Hearing I was hospitalized, Brenda questioned her loudly: “What right do you have to hospitalize Penny? She can earn 2,000 a day shooting. You hospitalized her, are you paying for the lost wages?” Ms. Lin was angry, her tone hurried: “She is your daughter, not your money-making tool. Is there a mother like you? Penny needs you now. As parents, shouldn’t you come to take care of her?” Brenda snorted: “Whoever wants to take care of her can go. Anyway, I won’t be the sucker. I won’t pay a penny for hospitalization. You better bring her back tomorrow, don’t delay the shooting.” Ms. Lin: “If you do this, I’ll call the police.” Brenda: “Call them. It’s my family affair, what can the police do to me?” Then she hung up decisively. Ms. Lin seemed to understand something. She turned back to the ward, looking at me on the IV drip. I asked her hopefully: “Auntie, is Mommy coming to pick me up soon?” She hummed a low “Mhm,” then asked me gently: “Penny, what do you want to eat? Auntie will buy it.” I shook my head quickly: “Auntie, just give me your leftovers, I’m not picky.” Ms. Lin’s eyes turned red again. Until night, Brenda didn’t come to pick me up. I learned later that they were busy signing the contract for the luxury apartment that day, completely ignoring me, the money tree. Under the double effect of high fever and medicine, I fell asleep. Unexpectedly, I started trending.

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After remarrying Sebastian, I called out the wrong name in bed again. He paused, not raging like the previous times. He just finished with a dark face. I thought he didn’t care. Until my old friend Elias returned, and I dressed up beautifully to pick him up. On the way, Sebastian called me. He asked: “If I died right now, would you turn back to collect my body, or would you still choose to go see him?” I laughed. Six years ago, I asked him the same question. Back then, Sebastian’s answer was: “Baby, I’ll go see her first, and then come back to collect your body.” 1 Now my answer was the same as Sebastian’s back then. He was silent for a few seconds, then hung up. I arrived at the airport on time. Reunited after a long separation, Elias and I hugged each other. He is a second-generation overseas Chinese who has longed for the taste of home for a long time. I drove Elias to an old neighborhood to eat the most authentic local cuisine. Smoke swirled, voices clamored. The atmosphere was thick with life. The small restaurant was cramped, so we could only sit close together outside. Old friends meeting, endless topics to chat about. Until my phone on the table buzzed. Three words, Sebastian, fell into our eyes. My expression didn’t change as I hung up. The other side persisted, redialing repeatedly. After three consecutive rejections, the other side finally gave up. Elias hesitated for a long time but still asked, “How is your life now?” I took a sip of Coke: “It’s okay. I have a husband and a child, living a stable life.” A slight disappointment flashed in his eyes, fleeting: “That’s good.” “When I learned you were going to remarry Sebastian, I actually didn’t quite agree, worried he would repeat the same mistakes and treat you badly.” “Don’t worry, he doesn’t dare now.” Elias smiled faintly: “Jude would be at peace knowing this in heaven. Before he left, his only wish was for you to be happy.” My grip on the food slipped, and it rolled off the table edge. A striking red oil stain appeared on my light-colored pants. 2 At 11 PM, I returned to Jade Garden. Pushing open the door, the house was pitch black, with only a faint light coming through the window. Just as I was reaching to turn on the light, I suddenly heard someone ask in a low voice from the darkness. “You’re back?” My heart skipped a beat, and I hurriedly pressed the switch. The moment the light turned on. I saw Sebastian sitting on the soft stool by the door like a silent statue. Stung by the light, he instinctively turned his head, frowning slightly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to adapt before turning his face to look at me. When he raised his eyelids, there was still a lingering daze in his eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief, unable to help complaining: “Are you sick? Sitting here scaring people.” His voice was a bit hoarse: “Thinking about things, forgot to turn on the light.” I bent down to change my shoes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian naturally reaching out, taking my handbag, and hanging it up. “Have you eaten?” Sebastian asked knowingly. “I ate.” He paused, his gaze falling on my face, his tone softening: “I haven’t eaten yet.” “Can you accompany me to eat a little?” I walked past him inside: “Can’t eat anymore.” But my wrist was gently pulled. I turned back and saw Sebastian looking at me. His voice was lighter than before: “Today is my birthday… sit with me for a while?” A table full of home-cooked dishes. Because they had been sitting for a while and reheated repeatedly, the color and aroma were compromised. Sebastian placed the bowl and chopsticks in front of me, and ladled a full bowl of soup pushing it over. I frowned almost imperceptibly. Seeing this, he immediately lowered his voice: “Just taste a couple of bites, don’t force yourself.” I picked up the spoon and forced a mouthful. Sebastian’s gaze followed my movements. As soon as I put down the spoon, he couldn’t help leaning forward, a hint of expectation in his tone: “How does it taste?” “I remember every winter before, this was your favorite soup.” I lowered my eyes looking at the soup surface: “Average.” His eyes dimmed: “I cooked all the dishes tonight myself.” “Oh, your cooking skills aren’t what they used to be.” He didn’t refute, picking up his chopsticks: “Then I’ll work harder in the future to restore my previous level.” I mocked him: “Threatening to die on the phone, but actually had the leisure to cook a table full of dishes at home?” Sebastian was thick-skinned: “It’s my birthday, can we not talk about this today?” He put a piece of sweet and sour ribs on my plate: “Did you have a pleasant chat with your friend today?” I was too lazy to act with Sebastian, pushing the bowl away and standing up: “Tired, going back to my room first.” After showering, I came out to get water. I found the dining room light still on lonely, the food on the table barely touched. Just about to turn around, suppressed vomiting sounds came from the bathroom, muffled and intermittent. A moment later, the door opened. Sebastian walked out holding the door frame, his face looking somewhat pale under the light. Seeing me standing in the living room, he was stunned. I looked at him carefully in the light and found he seemed to have lost a lot of weight recently. His jawline was sharper, collar button loose, revealing the shadow of a distinct collarbone. He avoided my gaze, pulling a tissue to wipe the corner of his mouth: “Stomach’s been uncomfortable lately.” I didn’t reply, nor did I ask further. Holding the water glass, I looked at him quietly for two seconds, then turned back to my room. 3 Waking up the next day, the other side of the pillow was neat. Sebastian hadn’t returned all night. A knock on the door, followed by a child’s crisp and cheerful shout: “Mommy!” I opened the door, and a small figure immediately threw herself into my arms. She hugged my neck tightly, her cheek pressing softly against my neck. “Mommy Mommy! I missed you so much!” I picked her up, smelling the milky scent on the child, my heart softening into a mess. “Baby! Mommy missed you too!” We were intimate for a while. While washing up, Lily clung to my side. Like a cheerful little bird, chattering sharing interesting things with her friends. The corners of my mouth raised couldn’t come down, leading her hand to the dining room. Sebastian, who had disappeared all night, was standing by the island pouring milk. Fried eggs, bread, and fruits were on the table. Lily let go of my hand and ran over. Sebastian habitually bent down. The child stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Daddy!” Sebastian’s eyes curved in a smile, full of doting. After taking seats, Sebastian pushed a cup of clear tea in front of me. He paused, suddenly speaking: “I went out last night.” I didn’t answer, picking up a slice of bread. Lily forked the biggest strawberry in her bowl to me: “Mommy eat?” I took it with a smile: “Eat.” She forked another one to Sebastian: “Daddy!” Sebastian didn’t respond; his gaze was locked on me. Lily’s eyes darted between us, looking confused. I had to turn my head to the person beside me: “Lily is asking if you want a strawberry.” Sebastian took the small fork from the child’s hand: “Thank you baby.” He pulled out a chair and sat next to me. I asked casually: “Where did you go last night?” “Hospital.” Sebastian answered quickly. He deliberately placed his left hand on the table. On the pale back of his hand, a fresh needle mark was clearly visible, with a faint bruise around it. “Went to the emergency room.” I just glanced at it, then withdrew my gaze, continuing to spread cheese for Lily. “Poisoned by your own cooking?” Sebastian laughed, tone deliberately relaxed: “Doctor said it’s chronic gastritis, old problem.” I didn’t want to make the atmosphere too stiff in front of Lily, so I nodded: “Mm, take care of your health.” Sebastian’s dim eyes instantly lit up. A ding from the kitchen, he stood up. “You have a bad appetite in the morning, I stewed some porridge for you.” Watching his thoughtful appearance, I suddenly remembered long ago. Just the roles were swapped. I was the one carefully making porridge for Sebastian. He was the one sick, and I was the one anxious and sleepless all night. And him? Always smiling with a bit of carelessness, looking down on my intentions. “You, instead of bothering with these time-wasting things, might as well use that free time to enrich yourself.” At this moment, Sebastian brought out the hot porridge and placed it in front of me, carefully instructing: “Be careful it’s hot.” My gaze fell on the soft stewed porridge, hiding the mockery at the corner of my mouth. 4 In the remarriage agreement with Sebastian. He set every weekend as our fixed parent-child interaction time. Saturday morning, cloudless and sunny. Sebastian and I took Lily to the amusement park, playing crazily all morning. Coming out, Lily was held in Sebastian’s arms. The child’s cheeks were rosy, eyes watery and bright. She asked me: “Mommy! Can we go to the ocean park in the afternoon?” “Okay, let’s have lunch first.” Lily leaned over and kissed my cheek: “Thank you Mommy! Love Mommy the most!” Sebastian pretended to be jealous: “What about Daddy? Doesn’t Daddy get one?” The kid twisted back in his arms and smacked a kiss on his cheek. Sebastian instantly beamed with joy. Walking out, Sebastian discussed with me where to eat. Lily’s thin bangs were soaked with sweat, so I asked him to put the child down. I squatted down to wipe Lily’s sweat, tidying her collar and hair messed up by the wind. At that moment, I heard a very slight “click”. Looking up, I saw Sebastian’s camera lens pointed at me. Seeing me look at him, Sebastian pressed the shutter again. Click. I instinctively raised my hand to cover, extremely averse to him photographing me: “Don’t shoot!” Sebastian put down the camera: “Nina, we three, seem to haven’t taken a formal family photo yet.” “How about taking one today?” Lily immediately clapped her hands, looking up at me: “Mommy, photo! Take family photo!” Looking at my daughter’s bright eyes, I couldn’t say no in the end. “Okay.” We stood together somewhat stiffly, asking a passerby for help. The moment the shutter pressed, Sebastian’s arm very lightly, almost daring not use force, encircled behind me. “Done!” The passerby smiled and returned the camera. Sebastian checked the photo repeatedly, a satisfied smile on his lips. The driver brought the car around. Sebastian put Lily in the child seat and buckled the seatbelt. My phone rang, it was Elias. “Hello?” I walked aside. The voice on the other end was weak: “Nina, which hospital near the Second Ring Road is reliable?” I frowned tight: “What happened to you?” Elias was weak: “Probably acclimatization, started a high fever last night.” “Are you at the hotel?” “Wait for me, I’ll pick you up to the hospital.” Hanging up, I walked back quickly, briefly explaining to Sebastian: “You take Lily to eat first, I have something to do.” Turning around, my wrist was suddenly grabbed by a strong force. “Where are you going?” “Something up with Elias, I’m going over to see.” Sebastian’s good mood vanished instantly. His face turned gloomy, voice lowered, every word seemed squeezed out through teeth: “Not allowed to go. It’s in the agreement, every weekend is time with Lily, you want to breach the contract?” I looked up, staring at him coldly: “The agreement also states, you are not allowed to interfere with my freedom for any reason. What, want to divorce early?” His pupils shrank, gripping my hand tighter, anger unbearable: “Is that Elias more important than Lily? You’d rather sacrifice time with the child to accompany him?” “He’s sick alone in a strange city, as his only friend locally I must visit.” I shook off his hand. “If nothing serious, I’ll come back to accompany Lily.” “Not allowed to go! I forbid you to go!” I was annoyed: “Sebastian, stop making trouble out of nothing!” He finally stopped acting virtuous, flustered and exasperated. Started calling my full name, tone grim, “Nina Lu, dare you try going?”

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My female colleague, Chloe, suddenly stared at my exposed calves and asked, “Maya, are you wearing brown pantyhose today?” I instantly understood. She was taking a dig at my dark complexion. I nodded indifferently. “Yeah, I am.” She let out an exaggerated gasp, loud enough for the whole office to hear. “Really? Wow! I bet someone else that those were your actual legs.” I ignored her and buried my head back into fixing my boss’s PowerPoint. By afternoon, half the office had found excuses to walk past my desk. They just wanted to see if I was actually wearing stockings or not. 01 Brenda was the first. She pretended to log office supplies but kept her eyes glued to my legs. “Maya, is this the first time you’ve worn such a short skirt to the office?” Short? It was knee-length. I flashed a quick, fake smile and didn’t reply. She enthusiastically added, “That color really makes you look… darker. Listen to me, next time pick a different shade.” Brenda was part of Chloe’s mean girl squad. They were inseparable, going to the bathroom together like high schoolers, despite being in their mid-thirties. They had definitely roasted my skin tone over lunch, but they still felt the need to say it to my face in front of everyone, terrified I might not realize I wasn’t pale like them. I stood up abruptly and stopped her. “Brenda, are you sick—” Chloe, who had been watching from her desk like a hawk, didn’t wait for Brenda to react. She jumped up, her voice screeching across the room. “Maya! Why are you cursing at people? Brenda was kind enough to give you fashion advice, and this is how you repay her?” Brenda’s face flushed red, and she pointed a finger at me. “Exactly! You’re too sensitive. I wasn’t mocking you; I just wanted you to look more professional.” Seeing everyone looking our way, Chloe doubled down. “Maya, you’re so ungrateful. Did you forget how patient Brenda was teaching you when you first started? Without her, would you even have passed your probation?” Neither of them let me finish my sentence. They just wanted to catch me slipping up. I sighed, pointing helplessly at the leave request form sitting on the printer. “Brenda, I was going to say, last time you were out sick, you didn’t file the paperwork. I’m worried that when attendance comes out later, HR will dock your pay.” The two of them looked at each other, instantly silenced. The anger they had queued up had nowhere to go. Brenda’s face dropped. she grabbed the form and scurried off. I added a helpful reminder, “Brenda, make sure you get it signed next time you’re sick.” 02 Chloe finally quieted down, though she kept tapping furiously on her phone. Whenever the boss went on a business trip, she would disappear—picking up packages, vanishing for two-hour “breaks.” Her work ethic was nonexistent. I was envious, but I didn’t dare slack off. I had to be here. Until I gained enough XP and gathered the necessary intel, I couldn’t go home. I rubbed my sore eyes and continued checking the project budget data. Todd, a male colleague, pushed the door open. He pretended to tie his shoe, stealing a quick glance at my legs. I didn’t know men could be this gossipy. Suddenly, a message popped up in the unofficial office group chat. It was a photo of the boss standing next to a very tanned model. If I remembered correctly, it was taken at a car show last year. They still didn’t know I was lurking in the group using the janitor’s WeChat account. Chloe was chatting up a storm: “No wonder the boss values Maya so much. Turns out he has a thing for dark skin.” Brenda: “Rich people have such peculiar tastes. Maya never wore a skirt this short before.” Chloe: “If she doesn’t show it off, how would the boss know?” Todd seemed to have a conscience: “Maya isn’t that dark. Besides, she works really hard.” Chloe immediately fired back: “Todd, are you trying to fight the boss for a woman?” Todd didn’t dare reply. Chloe kept ranting. “Sophie was stupid, but at least she was pretty. I don’t know what’s wrong with the boss’s eyes, firing her and keeping this one.” ” considering how Maya messed up that huge project during her internship, she shouldn’t have been hired full-time.” “Sophie” was the boss’s former secretary, Sophie Miller. I took over her position when she left. If Chloe hadn’t mentioned the full-time offer, I would have forgotten. I had parachuted into the company at the beginning of the year. I didn’t know much about the internal politics. The boss asked Brenda to help me get up to speed. Brenda used her lifetime of experience to sabotage me. She assigned me a mountain of busy work but taught me nothing. Whenever I asked questions, she’d say, “Maya, in the corporate world, you have to figure things out yourself. I can’t spoon-feed you.” Back then, I thought her seniority meant wisdom. Before I started, my mom told me, “Work is a form of spiritual practice.” To their faces, they were warm, often giving me snacks. When my three-month probation was up, I invited Chloe and Brenda to my family’s place to pick berries. “My mom grows them herself, no pesticides. They’re super sweet.” But their usual enthusiasm vanished. They made excuses and refused. And because I never ordered takeout and always heated leftovers in the break room, strange rumors began to circulate. They said my family were farmers trying to hawk fruit to coworkers. They said I was a charity case the boss was sponsoring, which was why I got hired despite “screwing up.” I silently wrote in my workplace observation journal: The company suffers from “Toxic Solidarity.” Employees use boundary-crossing remarks or rumors to break the ice, quickly forming an evil cohesion. This kind of solidarity solidifies prejudice and lowers the moral standard of the group. 03 Near the end of the day, I finished checking the quotation sheet. I looked up and saw the boss. He was back early. Chloe was pretending to maintain client relations on the phone. As soon as the boss entered, his gaze landed on me. He swept over my legs, looked up at the air conditioning vent, and snapped, “Maya, there’s a blanket in my office. Why didn’t you get it?” I gave a dismissive “Oh” and didn’t move. The boss grabbed the blanket himself and threw it onto my desk, causing a stir among the colleagues. Chloe grabbed her phone and bolted to the break room. The small group chat started flashing again. It was just Chloe and Brenda. “I told you there was something going on between them!” “Back when Sophie was wearing skirts in winter and got arthritis, he never asked a single question.” “The boss is really desperate. How can he stomach someone that dark?” “Shameless. She knows he’s married and still acts like the mistress.” “I don’t care. I’m telling the boss’s wife. I have her Instagram.” I calmly took a screenshot, grabbed my laptop, and walked into the boss’s office, closing the blinds behind me. Half an hour later, the office door was kicked open. “Liam! What are you doing in there with your secretary?!” The doors swung wide. I was lying on the boss’s leather sofa, playing on my phone. Chloe and Brenda stood at the doorway, gloating as they watched the boss’s fierce wife storm in. Even the janitor and the security guard came to watch the drama. The boss, Liam, who had been sitting at his desk seriously reviewing the PPT, jumped at the sound of the kick. His face turned black as a skillet. I was afraid he’d blow my cover in his agitation, so I quickly winked at him. I exchanged a glance with Chloe and Brenda too. Before Liam could speak, Chloe rushed forward, grabbing the wife’s arm. “Mrs. Sterling! See? I didn’t lie to you!” The beautiful woman paused, looking confused. She asked Chloe angrily, “You said she is the secretary seducing my husband?” Chloe, assuming the wife thought I was too dark and unworthy, felt emboldened. “Yes, that’s her. Don’t be fooled by her quiet act. Even though Liam is my boss, as a woman, I can’t stand this kind of thing. Even if he fires me next month, I’m standing by you.” I sat up on the sofa. “What are you talking about, Manager Chloe? I don’t get it. Wasn’t it Brenda who told me that Secretary Sophie used to nap in here too?” I remembered Brenda whispering that to me when I started. Brenda started sweating bullets, desperately explaining, “No such thing! Don’t listen to her nonsense.” Chloe’s face turned sour. They were grasshoppers on the same rope; they used the same script for rumors. The scene was chaos. Liam, unable to contain his rage, glared at Chloe. “Chloe, what is wrong with you? Are you drunk on the job? Go to finance tomorrow morning and pay for the door. That was custom-made, and it wasn’t cheap. Everyone else, get back to work. Maya, you stay.” I lowered my head. “Yes, sir.” Liam wrapped his arm around his agitated wife’s waist, coaxing her as they walked out. “Honey, don’t overthink it. I fired that weird secretary ages ago. Did I forget to tell you? My bad, my bad…” Seeing that no one was praising her “righteousness” and that she now owed the company for a door, Chloe was fuming. As soon as Liam left, she ran up to me, screaming. “Maya! If you two are innocent, why close the blinds during work hours? And he knows you broke the rules, causing the company a 3.6 million dollar loss, yet he makes you full-time? There’s definitely something shady going on!” I wanted to prove my innocence, but not like this. Closing the blinds was none of her business. I retorted, “Chloe, the boss and his wife seem pretty in love. Why did you say they were getting a divorce? You told me to seize the opportunity so I could take you to live in a mansion and drive a Bentley once I got rich!” Her voice cracked with panic. “Stop spreading rumors! When did I ever say that? Do I even know you like that?” I perked up. “Exactly. We aren’t close, so why are you obsessed with me? Today my skin is too dark, tomorrow my hair is frizzy, the next day I look bloated. Also, does it matter if I wear pantyhose? Are you underworked or do you have a fetish? If you like them that much, I’ll bring you a pair tomorrow.” “You…” Chloe was speechless. She had trapped herself. I admit, she never told me the boss was divorcing. But she told everyone else, so I wasn’t technically framing her. Brenda, afraid of getting burned, had already physically distanced herself from Chloe. But fearing Chloe would call her out for being disloyal, she reluctantly played peacemaker. “Forget it, forget it, Maya. It must be a misunderstanding. We’re all colleagues; no need to be so harsh. I trust your character, and the boss’s. Chloe is just hot-tempered and hates seeing women get bullied. She was joking. If you’re going to throw a tantrum about it, we won’t joke with you anymore.” I marveled internally. A true corporate veteran. Textbook gaslighting. I wanted to take out my notebook and write this down. With a few light sentences, she shifted the concept, turning a malicious setup into a “misunderstanding” and “joke.” She turned my legitimate defense into being petty and bad-tempered. I patted her shoulder heavily. “Okay, Brenda. I forgive you two. You can go now. I need to keep working.” I couldn’t kick them out immediately, but seeing Chloe’s eagerness to throw dirt on the boss today… I guessed the opportunity for layoffs was coming soon. 04 I ground myself a cup of civet coffee, wandered around the boss’s office, and found a photo from last year’s team building. Secretary Sophie was indeed young and pretty, but she had eyes. She wouldn’t fall for a mediocre-looking married man like the boss. After musing for a while, Liam returned after dropping off his wife. He saw me and immediately complained. “Maya, did you steal my coffee beans?” I glared at him. “Mom bought these beans. Why would I steal yours?” Liam looked aggrieved. “You’re investigating the mole, I get it. But can you not draw the fire onto me? To calm your sister-in-law down, I had to renew her kickboxing membership for three years. She even asked when we’re firing those two drama queens…” Hearing this, I pouted. “Fire them tomorrow. Stop the investigation. We don’t need the big client. Just hand over the domestic market Dad fought for to the competitors. When we can’t make payroll, the first things we sell are your Bentley and your villa.” Liam, who cherished his car and house above all else, quickly backtracked. “You know I didn’t mean that. We’re expanding to overseas clients next month; I’m just worried about complications.” I sipped my coffee. “Bro, don’t worry. Almost there.”

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After I got pregnant and became a housewife, my husband, Mark, started using money as a weapon. Every time we had a disagreement, he would lock my access to our joint credit card. When he did it again, leaving me with a mess to clean up, I decided I was done playing nice. I wasn’t just going to get mad. I was going to ruin his reputation—and his bank account. 1 I stared at the notification on my phone: “Transaction Declined. Card Locked by Primary Account Holder.” Again. Suppressing the rage bubbling in my chest, I texted Mark: “What is your problem? Every time we argue, instead of talking, you just cut off the money?” I typed out a follow-up insult, but the message turned green, then failed to deliver. He blocked me. For a moment, I just felt exhausted. I sat there for a few seconds, then opened the “Miller Family Reunion” group chat. I started tapping, messaging them one by one. Starting with his Aunt Linda. “Aunt Linda, could I borrow $500?” “Layla? Is everything okay?” “Aunt Linda, you know I hate to ask. This is the first time I’ve ever done this. But things have been so hard lately, I have nowhere else to turn.” Linda’s gossip radar immediately started pinging. “What happened?” I started typing out pure fiction. “You know how the economy is. Layoffs everywhere. Mark hasn’t brought home a paycheck in months. I can’t even afford baby formula right now. It’s… humiliating.” Technically, I wasn’t lying. The economy was bad. I just didn’t specify that Mark hadn’t actually been fired. “But Mark works for the City! Government jobs are safe, aren’t they?” “Who knows these days? Aunt Linda, we literally have no food in the fridge. Can you lend me $1,000? I’ll pay you back as soon as things turn around. If we can’t pay, you can ask Mark’s parents. It’s all the same family debt. But please, don’t tell anyone. You know how much pride Mark and my in-laws have. I’m only asking you because I trust you.” Mark was obsessed with his reputation. So were his parents. They had never borrowed a dime from anyone. In fact, when we bought our house, I used my own savings and the wedding cash gifts to cover the renovations because Mark claimed his assets were “illiquid.” Because we had such a spotless financial reputation, getting them to lend money was easy. Aunt Linda immediately Venmoed me $1,000. She followed it with a “lips zipped” emoji. “Don’t worry, honey. Your secret is safe with me.” Yeah, right. If she actually kept it a secret, how was I going to borrow from everyone else? I repeated the process. I hit up Mark’s other aunts, his uncles, his cousins, his second cousins. By the end of the hour, I had collected about $12,000 in my personal account. I told everyone to keep it a secret. But obviously, people talk. Soon, the Miller Family group chat started getting active. 2 “Layla, I heard you’re asking everyone for money. Is something big going on?” Cousin Becky tagged me in the main chat. Then, someone tagged Mark’s parents. “Bob, Susan, I heard Mark got fired? Is it true you guys are broke and in debt?” Mark’s mother, Susan, saw the message and immediately fired back. “Bullshit! My son is doing great. He’s up for a promotion soon! Who is cursing my son? I’ll tear your mouth off!” “I didn’t say it! Mark’s wife said it!” Then everyone started tagging Mark. But Mark didn’t show up. He was probably out drinking with his buddies after our fight, likely passed out in a hotel room by now. The money was already in my account. Time to drop the bomb. I typed into the group chat: “Since everyone is asking, I’ll tell you why I borrowed the money. Your precious Mark? He’s a real piece of work. When I got pregnant, he gaslighted me every day. He promised that if I quit my job, he’d handle the finances. He said, ‘I’ll make the money, you just look beautiful.’ His parents joined in, too. They promised to help with the baby, promised to buy the baby gold jewelry, promised to take care of me postpartum. So, I quit. The reality? I became a free maid. I cook, I clean, and he brings his frat-boy friends over to trash the house, then leaves without lifting a finger. Every time we argue, he locks the credit card. And the baby? As soon as his parents heard it was a girl, they vanished. No gold jewelry. No help. They stayed for a week, demanded I cook for them while I was recovering from a C-section, and then left. My health is wrecked because of it. Today, he brought friends over again. I asked him to make a bottle for his daughter—just one thing—and told him not to use boiling water. He threw the formula can on the floor, locked my credit card, and stormed out. But he might be gone, but the bills aren’t. I have a baby to feed. That’s why I borrowed the money. As for repayment? Go ask Mark. This money was used for household expenses. It’s a marital debt.” I hit send. Then I immediately left the group chat. 3 I didn’t care what they thought. I realized something: being a “good wife” and caring about face only gets you walked all over. It was time to go crazy. My phone exploded. Calls and texts from aunts, uncles, and Mark’s parents flooded in. I blocked them one by one until silence returned. I hesitated, then opened a chat with my best friend, Chloe. We hadn’t spoken much since I got pregnant. I typed: “You there?” She replied instantly: “?” I broke down. I called her on FaceTime and cried for twenty minutes, spilling everything. Chloe, being the saint she is, forgave me for my past stupidity. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked. “I don’t know.” Chloe thought for a moment. “Remember my cousin Jax? The one who’s a certified nurse and personal trainer?” “Yeah?” “Hire him as a male nanny.” “What?” “Listen to me. He’s three years younger than you, fit, strong, and great with kids. Hire him for a high salary. Since you’re still married, his salary is a ‘household expense.’ It’s marital debt. Plus, Mark is aggressive. Jax teaches self-defense. He can protect you.” Male nanny? Eight-pack abs? “I prefer a lean swimmer’s build, but…” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Focus. Then, go buy expensive recovery supplements. Buy the best stuff for the baby. If the money runs out, borrow more. Take out a loan. Mark said he’d support you? Make him support you.” I hung up and felt enlightened. I immediately hired a cleaning crew to deep clean the house. I ordered top-tier bird’s nest soup and supplements. I bought a case of imported organic formula—$100 a can. I bought designer baby clothes. By the evening, I had spent $3,000. I thought about it, then transferred $10,000 to my parents. 4 “Honey, why did you send us money?” my mom called, confused. “Mom, Dad, this is returning the money you gave me for the renovation. Consider the ‘loan’ paid in full.” “What are you talking about? We gave that to you.” I explained the situation. My parents were furious. “We thought he was a decent man because he worked for the City! That’s how he treats you? Divorce him immediately. Come home, we’ll help you raise the baby.” Tears streamed down my face. Every time Mark cut me off financially, I wanted to call them, but I was too ashamed. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I was weak because I was recovering. But I’m better now. You know your daughter. I’m not going to let Mark or his family off the hook.” After hanging up, Mom texted me: “Okay. The $10,000 cash is settled. But don’t forget the vintage gold jewelry we gave you for the wedding. Get that back.” “I will.” Around midnight, Chloe’s cousin showed up with a contract. “Salary is $1,500 a month? That’s too low,” I said, waving my hand. I crossed it out and wrote $3,000/month. Contract term: One year. “You can sleep in the guest room. Ask Mark for your salary tomorrow when he gets back.” Jax looked at the contract, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “Alright, boss. I’ll go make up the bed. You rest.” He brought me a foot bath with hot water and heated up a glass of milk before going to make his bed. My god. Why had I been living like a servant when I could have had this? 5 Early the next morning. The front door banged loudly. “Layla! Open this damn door!” I opened my bedroom door, annoyed. The dining table was set with steaming wontons, steamed eggs, fresh berries, and a bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Layla, you eat first. I’ll get the door,” Jax said. I sat down obediently. Jax opened the door. Mark stumbled in, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, looking hungover. “Layla, what the hell are you—” Mark, who is 5’9″, stopped dead when he looked up at Jax, who is 6’1″ and built like a tank. “Who are you?” Mark looked at Jax, then at me eating calmly. He rushed toward me. “Great! You’re cheating on me now? With some wild man? I’m going to teach you a lesson!” He didn’t make it two steps. Jax flipped him onto the floor with a smooth judo throw. “Mr. Miller, I presume? I think you’re confused. I am the nanny Ms. Layla hired. Here is my contract. Also, there is an initial payment of $3,000 due immediately.” Mark stared at the contract, then glared at me in disbelief. “You’re insane.” He tore the paper up and threw it on the floor. “I didn’t agree to this. Get out of my house.” Jax didn’t even look at the mess. He reached behind him and pulled out another copy. “Mr. Miller, this contract is already signed and legally binding. You just tore up a photocopy. I have plenty more. If you refuse to pay, I will have to pursue legal action to protect my labor rights.” Mark, who knew nothing about labor laws but feared lawsuits because of his government job, froze. “Bullshit! Don’t threaten me. I hold the money in this house. I didn’t sign it.” Mark tried to lunge at me again. Jax grabbed his arm effortlessly. “Let go!” Mark yelled. Jax pulled out his phone and showed a Venmo QR code. “Pay, or I sue. Your choice.” Mark struggled but couldn’t break free. Finally, he gritted his teeth, pulled out his phone, and scanned the code. “Now let go.” Jax released him. Mark stumbled. I was sipping my soup. “Layla, what is the meaning of this? You borrowed money from my entire family, and now you have this… man here? What are you doing?” I shrugged, pointing at Jax, then at the baby’s room. “As you saw, you locked the card. But the house needs things. The baby needs formula and diapers. We need to eat. Since you won’t provide, I had to find a way.” “Your ‘way’ was to humiliate me in front of my relatives? Where is my dignity? Where is my parents’ dignity? How can we show our faces at the family reunion now?” I put down my spoon. “Did you think about dignity when you cut off your wife and child? You have no shame, so why should I protect your face?” “Stop talking nonsense. Return the money to my relatives right now. Then apologize. Tell them you have postpartum depression and lost your mind.” I rolled my eyes and ate another wonton. “I have one thing to say to you: You’re right. I didn’t do my postpartum recovery well. So, starting today, I am going to pamper myself. Don’t expect me to lift a finger in this house. I need to heal.” 6 Mark’s eyes bulged. “You’re crazy. If you don’t do the housework, who will?” Jax stepped forward. “I will.” I nodded. “I hired a nanny for a year. He does the work.” “Impossible. Fire him now. No, wait until the end of the month, then fire him. I’ll bring my parents here to watch you. You’re clearly mentally unstable.” He held out his hand. “Give me the rest of the money you borrowed. Then go apologize.” “No money left.” “Bullshit! I saw the group chat. You borrowed twelve grand! Do you know how many months of salary that is for me?” I pointed to the pile of luxury supplements and baby gear in the corner. “It’s all there.” Mark followed my finger. He rushed over to the pile like a madman, checking the price tags. When he saw everything was triple digits, his face crumbled. He picked up a can of the imported formula and smashed it on the floor. “Are you insane?! You spent twelve grand on this trash?” “No, no. It’s high-quality. Good for the body.” Mark lost it. “Is there something wrong with your brain? Can’t the kid eat the cheap stuff? Why buy this expensive crap? It’s just a girl! A useless girl doesn’t deserve this!” My face went cold. So that was it. No wonder his attitude, and his parents’ attitude, changed the moment the baby was born. They felt I failed them by not providing a male heir. Back when we got married, I asked him if he wanted a boy or girl. He said, “As long as it’s yours, I love it. If it’s a boy, we protect you. If it’s a girl, I protect both of you.” Lies. All lies. Mark grabbed a box of bird’s nest soup and threw it at me. “And this stuff isn’t worth twelve grand! Maybe two or three. Where is the rest? Give it to me!”

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We’d been married for nearly two years, and everyone told me I’d hit the jackpot. My husband was attentive, and my mother-in-law was enthusiastic. That was, until I got pregnant. My morning sickness was debilitating, and my husband would hold me tight, looking heartbroken. “It hurts me to see you like this,” he’d whisper. “Maybe we should just terminate it?” 1 The nausea came in waves, violent and overwhelming. I had just managed to swallow a few bites of toast before giving it all back to the toilet bowl. I collapsed onto the cold bathroom tiles, my vision spotting black. My ears rang, and my throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass. Brian crouched beside me, a warm washcloth in hand. He wiped my face and neck with that familiar furrowed brow—the look of a loving, concerned husband. “Sarah,” his voice was low, almost hypnotic. “Seeing you suffer like this… it breaks my heart.” I didn’t have the strength to speak. I just wanted the room to stop spinning. He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling my ear. He sounded like he was sharing a sweet secret. “Maybe… maybe we should go to the clinic down the street and just end it? You can recover, get your health back, and we can try again later. Hmm?” Time seemed to freeze. I snapped my head around, locking eyes with him. I saw concern on the surface, but underneath, there was something else. Something floaty and insincere that I had never noticed before. It made my stomach churn harder than the morning sickness ever did. It was a chill that went straight to my bones. Without thinking, summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I raised my hand and slapped him. Smack! The sound was crisp against the tiled walls. His head snapped to the side. He froze, hand cupping his cheek, and when he looked back at me, the mask of concern had cracked. In its place was a goofy, gaslighting grin. “Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, reaching out to hug me again. “For real? I was just joking. Look at you—I bet your nausea is gone now that you’re angry, right?” I shuddered, pushing his hands away. I used the wall to pull myself up. Anger burned away the nausea. It burned my eyes. A joke? He was joking about the life of our child? He was still smiling. The smile looked like grease floating on water—slippery and gross. “Okay, okay, don’t be mad. I was wrong, alright? I just saw you were in pain and wanted to distract you.” He spoke so lightly, as if he hadn’t just suggested killing our baby. That night, I slept with my back to him. I didn’t say another word. He tried to cuddle me, but I shrugged him off in silence. In the dark, I kept my eyes wide open, my hand resting on my flat stomach. For the first time, I felt the heavy, terrifying weight of needing to protect this life with everything I had. Brian’s breathing evened out quickly. He slept soundly. He had a clear conscience. 2 The next morning, the sickness returned with a vengeance. Brian had already left for work. On the dining table sat a glass of warm milk and the croissants I usually liked. The milk glowed softly in the clear glass. I had zero appetite, but thinking of the baby, I forced myself to sit down. I picked up the glass. The warmth seeped into my fingertips. Just as I raised it to my lips, the memory of last night—his “joke,” his smiling face—crashed into my mind without warning. I froze. Driven by some instinct I couldn’t name, I put the glass down. I turned around, went into the study, and opened my laptop. We had installed a small security camera in the corner of the kitchen cabinets a few months ago to catch a leak we suspected was coming from the upstairs neighbor. We fixed the leak, but we never took the camera down. I found the app, clicked it open, and pulled up the footage from this morning. I dragged the timeline bar. On the screen, Brian was wearing his pajamas, standing at the island with his back to the camera. First, he heated the milk and poured it into my glass, just like normal. Then, he paused. He looked left, then right. The movement was sharp, guilty. Confirming he was alone, he quickly opened the top drawer of the fridge—the one we used for condiments. He pulled out a small, amber glass bottle. No label. He unscrewed the cap and shook some white powder into the milk. It happened fast—just a shake or two. He capped the bottle, shoved it back into the drawer, and picked up a spoon. He stirred the milk slowly, methodically. He stirred it for a long time. His profile, bathed in the morning light, was completely expressionless. My blood stopped flowing. My limbs turned to ice. Only my heart remained alive, hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stared at the screen as he put down the spoon, carried the milk to the table, and even adjusted the plate of croissants to make it look nice. The recording ended. 3 I sat in the chair, motionless, for a long time. Then, I bolted to the dining room, grabbed the milk, ran to the bathroom, and poured it all down the toilet. The creamy white liquid swirled and vanished. I watched the water settle. In the mirror, my face was as white as a ghost. Why? My phone rang. It was my mother-in-law, Joyce. I stared at the name dancing on the screen. I took a deep breath, swiped answer, and hit Record. “Sarah, honey! Are you up? Feeling any better?” Her voice came through the speaker, overly enthusiastic as always. “Still throwing up, Mom,” I said, making my voice sound weak and airy. “Oh, you poor thing. Is Brian taking care of you?” “He warmed some milk for me. He just left.” “Milk is good. Nutritious.” She paused, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, almost bragging. “You drink that milk. It guarantees you’ll have a fat baby boy later on.” I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm. “The milk is magical?” “Of course!” She couldn’t hide the smugness in her tone. “Just listen to Mom. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” My heart plummeted. “Mom, you know people don’t care about gender anymore. But… the Miller family line… you don’t want it to end with Brian, right?” She sighed, a sound so fake it made me want to gag. “I’m just thinking of you two. If the first one is a girl, the pressure for the second one is huge. Brian doesn’t say it, but I know he wants a son.” I didn’t reply. I just listened to her breathing on the other end. “So, I made a decision for you,” she whispered, her voice hissing like a snake. “I talked to Brian, and I consulted a specialist. I got a guaranteed formula. It ensures you’ll carry a boy next time.” I leaned against the cold tile wall to keep from sliding to the floor. My ears rang. Her smug voice mixed with the image of Brian’s expressionless face as he poisoned my drink. So that was it. The “family line.” The “formula.” They were conspiring to murder my unborn child with poison because they thought it was a girl. “Sarah? Are you listening?” Joyce raised her voice when I didn’t respond. I opened my mouth. My throat was tight, but my voice came out strangely calm, submissive. “I’m listening, Mom. I… I understand.” “Good! That’s a good girl!” She laughed, satisfied. “Relax, heal up. Mom is waiting to hold that grandson!” The call ended. I lowered the phone and splashed cold water on my face. I looked at my eyes in the mirror. The panic and pain were freezing over, hardening into something dark and sharp. I gently touched my flat stomach. “Baby,” I whispered to the reflection. “I’m sorry. I almost didn’t protect you.” The corners of my mouth lifted in a tiny, icy smile. “Since they don’t want you,” I whispered, “Mommy is going to make them pay for everything.” 4 The first thing I did was put on rubber kitchen gloves. The milk was flushed, but the glass was still in the sink. I didn’t wash it. instead, I found a brand-new Ziploc bag and carefully placed the glass inside, sealing it tight. There might still be residue on the walls of the cup. Then, I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge drawer. The small brown bottle was hidden behind a jar of pickles. I pushed aside the clutter and grabbed it. It felt cold and smooth. I bagged it in a separate Ziploc. My hands were steady, but my heart was drumming in my ears. I had the evidence. Now, I needed to leave. This house had become a viper’s nest. I couldn’t risk my child for another second. But I couldn’t just storm out. That would spook them. I called my best friend, Megan. She picked up on the first ring. “Meg, it’s me.” My voice was shockingly calm. “Short version: Brian and his mom are trying to induce a miscarriage because they think I’m having a girl. He spiked my milk.” Silence for two seconds. Then a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a chair scraping back. “Where are you? Are you safe? Did you drink it?” Her questions fired like bullets. “I’m home. Safe for now. Didn’t drink it. I saw it on the nanny cam. I bagged the cup and the bottle. Meg, I need to move out immediately, but I can’t let them know I know. I need a legitimate excuse.” Megan’s brain worked fast. “Pregnancy complications. Tell them the sickness is too severe and you need 24/7 care. Tell them you’re going to your mom’s or coming here. Joyce is guilty; she’ll be happy you’re out from under their noses so they can hide the evidence. She won’t object; she’ll probably encourage it.” “Okay.” I closed my eyes. “I’ll pack. I’ll tell them my mom insisted on taking me in for a few days. Find me a rental. Somewhere they don’t know.” “On it. Also, Sarah, check your phone for tracking apps. Use a burner or communicate via encrypted apps if you can. Try to get a sample of that powder without touching it, but prioritize your safety.” “Understood.” I hung up and packed a small suitcase. Essentials only. Documents, electronics. I checked my phone; it seemed clean. Then I called my mother. “Mom,” I said. Hearing her voice made my nose sting, but I bit my lip. “I’m really sick. I want to come home for a few days. Can you pick me up? Like, right now.” My mom sensed something was wrong immediately, but she didn’t ask. “I’m on my way.”

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We had been divorced for four years when I ran into Lucas Sterling at the hospital. I was there to pick up a pathology report. He was there to visit his newborn son. We stood in the elevator in silence, the air thick with unspoken history. Neither of us was willing to break the ice. But the moment I stepped out, he chased after me. “Elena,” he called out, his voice laced with concern. “Are you sick? Do you need my help?” I shook my head, keeping my expression flat. “I’m not the patient. My child is.” He froze. His eyes drifted to the waiting area, where a little girl in a floral dress sat quietly, swinging her legs. She looked up, her eyes wide and timid—eyes that were a mirror image of his own. Lucas’s pupils constricted violently. “Is that… is that our child?” To this day, he had never known he had a daughter. 1 Across the sterile, narrow hallway, Lucas stared at Clementine. She was a little over three years old, peeking curiously at the stranger. Her brow, her nose—she was his carbon copy. After a long silence, Lucas turned back to me, his voice trembling. “Is she… ours?” I nodded. There was no point in hiding it now. He frowned, a mix of confusion and anger rising on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I looked at him, and suddenly, the memory of the abortion clinic flooded my mind. Back then, Lucas was angry that I had confronted his mistress, Sophie. When he found out I was pregnant, he treated it like a punishment. He forced me into that clinic, demanding I get rid of the “problem.” I didn’t cry on the way there. But as the cold instruments pierced me, tears had rolled down my face from the sheer physical pain. I thought I would remember that pain forever. But looking back now, I answered him calmly. “I found out I was pregnant with Clementine a month after we separated. She was already almost four months along. I was terrified that if you knew, you’d force me to terminate her too.” “At that stage, it would have been too dangerous. It would have cost me my life.” Lucas looked stunned. “I… I didn’t mean that. What’s wrong with her? What illness does she have?” “Congenital heart valve defect.” Lucas looked back at Clementine, his expression unreadable. “I’ll contact the best specialists in the country,” he said urgently. “I don’t care how much it costs. We will fix her…” “There’s no need,” I interrupted. “Clem had her surgery last month. Today was just a check-up. The doctor says she’s recovering perfectly.” I ended the conversation. “If that’s all, I’m leaving.” But Lucas called out again. “The medical bills… are you okay for money?” “I mean, if you need anything, you can ask me.” I took Clementine’s hand and turned toward the stairwell. “Not necessary.” The rain had already stopped. Offering an umbrella now was meaningless. 2 In the stairwell, a group of nurses were chatting during a shift change. They were each holding a small box of gourmet chocolates. One nurse, who I knew well, handed Clementine a lollipop and whispered to me. “That’s Lucas Sterling, the CEO of Sterling Corp, upstairs in the VIP suite. His wife just gave birth to a son this morning. He’s so happy he’s handing out Godiva to the whole floor.” I heard the others gossiping as they walked down. They said the Sterling baby was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. They said Lucas was so thrilled he donated five million dollars to the hospital wing on the spot. They said his wife was elegant and gentle, a perfect match for him. I listened calmly, feeling nothing. Until I heard this: “Actually, this is his second marriage. He had an ex-wife before.” “I heard she was some psycho from the trailer park. She used to show up at his office screaming and hitting him.” “He put up with it for three years before he finally divorced her.” The nurses sighed in sympathy. “Poor Mr. Sterling. How did he end up with a crazy woman?” “That woman was an idiot. Imagine fumbling a bag like Lucas Sterling.” “Well, he’s got his happy ending now.” I let out a dry laugh. So that was the narrative. I had become the villain in his story. I didn’t argue. I just patted Clementine’s head and kept walking. Suddenly, the stairwell went quiet. I looked up to see Lucas standing on the landing above us. His voice was cold, directed at the nurses. “My ex-wife wasn’t like that. Please stop spreading rumors.” “She… was actually a good person.” He spoke to them, but his eyes were fixed on me. I didn’t stop walking. Honestly, the nurses weren’t entirely wrong. Towards the end of my marriage to Lucas, I did act like a crazy person. 3 Lucas wasn’t born a Sterling. He was a foster kid who ended up in my small, rural town in the Rust Belt. The couple who fostered him were paid by the state, but they didn’t care about him. Once they had their own biological son a year later, Lucas became invisible. In my memories, Lucas’s childhood was miserable. He worked endless chores, wore rags, and was always hungry. My Nana couldn’t stand watching it. She’d call him over to our porch for dinner. We’d sit side-by-side on plastic stools, eating Nana’s stew. Whenever his foster dad beat him, he ran to us. Nana would apply ointment to his bruises, sighing. “This is no way to live.” So, my Nana—a woman who had never left the county—took a bus three hours to the city to find records of his biological parents. Even Lucas had given up hope, but Nana was stubborn. And miraculously, she found them. The “Sterling” family from New York City. The day they came to get him was a spectacle. A convoy of black SUVs rolled down our dirt road. It was a scene I’d only seen in movies. When Lucas left, he took me with him. Nana waved goodbye from the porch, tears in her eyes. “Go get an education,” she yelled. “See the world.” We were both sixteen. For the next ten years, our lives intertwined. We went from best friends to lovers. He married me despite his wealthy family’s objections. I planned a dream wedding. I remember him lifting my veil, kissing me like I was the most precious thing in the world. I thought I was running toward a fairy tale. I didn’t know that clouds scatter easily in the wind, and glass breaks at the slightest touch. I dressed up in my finest gown only to walk into a tragedy. 4 I had mentored a girl named Sophie. She was from a background like mine—poor, struggling, but bright. She got into the same university in the city where I lived. I picked her up from the train station, paid for her dorm essentials, and showed her the ropes. I promised to drive her to orientation, but the night before, I got a call from Nana’s neighbor. Nana had fallen and broken her hip. I booked the first flight home. Since Sophie had so much luggage, I asked Lucas to help her move in. That was my mistake. I let the wolf into the fold. Nana’s injury was severe. I spent months shuttling between the city and my hometown, too distracted to notice the changes in Lucas. On Lucas’s 28th birthday, he called to say he was stuck at a business dinner. I went down to the garage to check something in the car and saw them. Lucas was in the driver’s seat. Sophie was straddling him, her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. The window was halfway down. I saw Lucas’s eyes—usually so calm—filled with raw, animal lust. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I smashed my purse against the window. Sophie flinched like a frightened deer, burying her face in his chest. But Lucas didn’t look panicked. He just held her tighter, protecting her from me. “I pursued her, Elena. Don’t blame her.” “She grew up poor, just like you. Just like me. I saw myself in her.” “Maybe what we had wasn’t love. It was just family loyalty. Meeting Sophie made me realize what passion actually feels like.” So, the time he climbed a snowy mountain to write my name in the snow wasn’t passion? The vows we made on a windy beach weren’t love? That day, I learned their affair had been going on for six months. While I was working, the girl I mentored was wearing my silk pajamas, sleeping in my bed, and laughing with my husband. Sophie looked at me with wide, teary eyes. “Elena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take anything from you. I just… I love Lucas so much.” “You’ve helped me for so long. Please, help me one last time. Let him go.” Unlike my disheveled state, she was draped in Lucas’s suit jacket, holding his hand. And on her finger was a blue diamond ring. It matched his wedding band better than my white diamond ever did. Drained of all energy, I leaned against a concrete pillar. “Let’s divorce.” I thought he would agree. After all, he had found “true love.” To my surprise, Lucas refused.

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For Christmas, I bought my parents two boxes of premium Rainier cherries, costing over a hundred dollars. My younger sister, Bella, ate an entire box. No one said a word. I ate one small bowl, and immediately, my mother started muttering passive-aggressively in the kitchen. “You said you bought these to honor us, but here you are, stuffing your face without end.” Usually, in moments like this, I would apologize and offer to go buy more. But today, I suddenly felt exhausted. I wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t buy more. If I stopped being the “good daughter.” 1 Before the sun was even up, my dad shook me awake. “Tara, get up. Go to the market and buy another box of cherries. It’s not that much money. It’s Christmas morning, don’t make your mother unhappy. She was crying last night because of you. You’re a filial child, you need to be more understanding.” I was groggy, but his accusations hit me like a bucket of ice water. To make it home for the holidays, I had worked overtime for a solid week. And now, because of a bowl of cherries, I was being kicked out of bed before dawn. Those cherries were fifty dollars a pound. I had bought four pounds. Yesterday, I ate one small bowl. Maybe ten cherries. Bella ate two pounds. Why was this my sin to bear? It had been this way since childhood. I was used to retreating, to compromising. Back when we were struggling, we’d only have steak on special occasions. Mom would always say, “Steak is so expensive, but Tara loves it. Who let me be your mother? Go ahead, eat.” I would guiltily cut a tiny piece. If I took too much, she would start talking to the air. “Some people only know how to eat and eat, never thinking about how hard it is to keep this house running.” She’d glare at me. I’d freeze, terrified to take another bite. But Bella? Bella could eat the whole steak, and Mom wouldn’t make a peep. All our relatives knew my mom “spoiled” me. She’d buy whatever I “wanted.” But in reality, she bought things in my name that were actually for Bella. Pink dresses I hated. Toys I was too old for. Once, I tried to defend myself at a family gathering. It was like poking a hornet’s nest. “Look at her!” Mom sobbed. “I buy her everything, and if she doesn’t like it, she gives it to her sister. Now she accuses us of favoring Bella!” The relatives looked at me like I was an ungrateful brat. I felt like a clown stripped of my dignity. I had no one to talk to. In the end, I apologized for three days until Mom forgave me. They knew exactly how to manipulate me. I never knew how to sweet-talk them like Bella did. I thought if I just did more, paid more, and endured more, they would finally see me. But peace in this family was always bought with my silence. I remembered a podcast I listened to on the flight home. Two mothers were talking: “You have to keep your status high. Make the kids feel like nothing they do is enough. That’s how you control them.” I had been the “good girl” for twenty-eight years. Today, I didn’t want to be good anymore. I got up, locked my bedroom door, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep. I woke up later to voices in the living room. Guests. “So, is the agreement still on? After our son marries Bella, you’ll sign this condo over to her as a wedding gift?” “Of course,” my dad’s voice. “Bella is our treasure. When they get married, not only does she get the condo, but we’ll also give a cash gift.” “Bella even bought these expensive cherries for you specifically. We’ll take a box home to try.” Lying in the warm bed, my heart turned to ice. This three-bedroom condo? I paid the down payment. I pay the mortgage. They claimed they just wanted to “live there for a while” and that it would be mine when I got married. But what did I just hear? They were giving my house to Bella as a dowry? I threw on my clothes and stormed into the living room. “Mom, Dad. This house belongs to me. I do not agree to give it to Bella.” 2 The air in the living room solidified. Mom, Dad, and Bella looked at me in shock. Mom jumped up. “Tara! I thought you went to buy fruit? Why are you still here?” She winked aggressively, signaling me to leave. Experience told me that if I didn’t clarify things now, later she would say, “You didn’t object in front of them, so you agreed.” I stared at her. “Mom, the deed is in my name. How can you give it to Bella?” Dad pointed a shaking finger at me. “We’re still alive! We’re the parents! This house is ours to give! You have no right to interfere.” The guest, a woman in a flashy coat, stood up with a fake smile. “This must be Tara. I’m Mrs. Chen, Bella’s future mother-in-law.” “Your mother said Bella has been paying the mortgage on this place. It’s only fair she gets it for the wedding.” Mom lunged at me, her nails digging into my arm, dragging me toward the door. “Today is the day we set the wedding date,” she hissed in my ear. “If you ruin this, I will never forgive you. Go buy the cherries. I need them.” Bam. The door slammed behind me. I was in my slippers, no coat, no phone. Tears streamed down my face without my permission. Everything I ever had, Mom gave to Bella. My award-winning fountain pen? “Let Bella use it.” My scholarship money? “Let Bella hold it.” My new clothes? “Let Bella wear them first.” And now, my house. Why were they so biased? And why were they so righteous about it? I used to wonder if I was adopted. But every time I pulled away, they’d give me a crumb of affection, and I’d come running back like a dog. I stood in the hallway, watching the elevator numbers change. Suddenly, the door opened. Bella came out. She draped my down jacket over my shoulders, looking guilty. “Sis… you know how Mom is. She’s just like that. Just… go along with her.” A wave of rage rose in my chest. “Bella. Look at the groceries for the holiday. Which item didn’t I pay for? Why is it a crime for me to eat a bowl of cherries I bought?” Bella squeezed my hand. “Sis, keep your voice down. Mom just wants to save face. She needs you to buy more to show Mrs. Chen that we’re well-off. You know she hates being contradicted.” Round and round we went. It always came back to me sacrificing. I wanted to see what would happen if I refused. I opened the door, threw my jacket on the bench, walked to the kitchen, washed the remaining cherries, sat on the sofa, and started eating them. Mom’s finger trembled as she pointed at me. “You unfilial child! It’s Christmas! What are you doing?” I blinked innocently. “Mom, I’m just eating some fruit I paid for. Is that illegal?” Mrs. Chen and her family sensed the tension. “Well, we have other places to be. Let’s discuss the date later.” They left. As soon as the door clicked shut, Bella ran to her room crying. Dad kicked the coffee table over. He snatched the bowl from my hands and smashed it on the floor. Then, slap. A sting across my face. “I’ll teach you to eat!” Dad stomped on the cherries scattered on the floor, crushing them into red pulp. “If you ruined Bella’s marriage, get the hell out of my house!” 3 The crushed cherries looked like blood on the floor. They looked like my image in their hearts—something to be trampled. Mom was wailing. “You’re just jealous! You can’t stand to see your sister happy! Just because your marriage failed, you think Bella doesn’t deserve happiness?” I sat on the sofa, silent, tears flowing. What could I say? They never listened. They only saw Bella. The pressure in my chest was going to explode. “I’m jealous?” I laughed, a broken sound. “Jealous that she flunked out of college? Jealous that she makes $2,000 a month? Jealous that she found a husband who demands a free house from her sister?” Dad squatted on the floor, holding his head, his eyes red. “Your sister isn’t as smart as you! She’s not as calculating! We have to plan for her! Is that wrong?” “You went to a top university! You make six figures! Why do you have to count pennies with your sister?” I looked down, sneering. “Dad, I’m not smart. I’m desperate. You told me since I was five that you had no money, that if I wanted a life, I had to claw for it. I listened. I worked myself to death. Is my success a sin?” “I have chronic gastritis at 28 because I skipped meals to work. Do you think my salary comes easy?” Dad rubbed his face aggressively. “But how did you raise Bella? You told her, ‘Don’t worry, you have a hardworking sister. You just need to enjoy life.’” I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “And my failed marriage? Who caused that? Was it me?” I hit my chest, screaming the question at them. The years of neglect, the pressure, the gaslighting—it was suffocating. I grabbed my coat and walked out. The streets were decorated with lights and wreaths. The holiday spirit was everywhere, but inside me, it was a wasteland. I walked aimlessly. The winter sun was bright but offered no warmth. Usually, I could self-soothe. I could make excuses for them. But this time, the resentment wouldn’t dissipate. Why? Was it because I wasn’t allowed to eat my own cherries? Was it the house? Or was it the final confirmation that they simply didn’t love me? My stomach burned. I hadn’t eaten all day. I bought a caramel apple from a street vendor. Sweet and tart. I started laughing as I ate it. Bella and I were like this apple. She was the sweet caramel coating everyone loved. I was the sour fruit underneath that held it all up. My phone buzzed incessantly. The family group chat. The tribunal had begun. Aunt Linda: “Tara, this is too much. You come home once a year and make your parents cry?” Uncle Bob: “It was just cherries. You make so much money, why are you so stingy?” Cousin Mike: “Bella takes care of them all year. You just throw money around and think you’re better than us.” I stared at the screen, fury rising. They didn’t know the truth. They just loved to stand on the moral high ground. 4 I started typing. “Uncle Bob, why do I only come home a few days a year? Because I pay the mortgage and the down payment on the condo my parents live in. It’s $2,500 a month. If I don’t work myself to death, are you going to pay it?” “Aunt Linda, those were premium cherries. Fifty bucks a pound. I bought them for the family. But my parents wanted to give my cherries to Bella’s future in-laws as a gift. Why am I not allowed to eat food I bought?” “And about the house. I paid for the renovation. I paid for the appliances. I pay for their medical bills. I send them $5,000 every holiday. Even when their phones run out of data, Bella calls me to refill it. So please, tell me, between the daughter who pays and the daughter who takes, where exactly did I go wrong?” Silence. The group chat went dead. I had finally vented. They knew. Of course they knew. They just preferred to bully the one who wouldn’t fight back. For the next two days, Dad ignored me. Mom slammed doors. Bella looked at me with puppy-dog eyes but said nothing. They were waiting for me to break. To apologize. To offer a peace offering. I wanted to see who could hold out longer. Christmas Day lunch. Uncle Bob was hosting at a restaurant. I went to the bathroom and saw Mom, Aunt Linda, and Aunt Susan huddled in the fire exit. “You guys have to help me,” Mom whispered. “I promised Bella’s in-laws the house. Now Tara refuses. What do I do?” Aunt Linda sighed. “You messed up. Who demands a sister’s house as a dowry?” Aunt Susan shook her head. “Tara is the smart one. If you break her heart, who is going to support you when you’re old? Bella?” “But Tara is calculating!” Mom whined. “Bella is kind and naive. We have to take from the rich to feed the poor!” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. So, having boundaries meant I was “calculating”? I went back to the table, appetite gone. Suddenly, Mom and Mrs. Chen (Bella’s future mother-in-law) walked in. Mrs. Chen bee-lined for me. “Tara! It’s fate! We booked a room here too. Come, I have some young friends you should meet.” Before I could react, Mom dragged me up. “Go, go! It’s good to network!” She dragged me to Mrs. Chen’s private room and shoved me into a seat next to a balding, middle-aged man. “This is Tara,” Mrs. Chen said, fawning over the man. “She works for a Fortune 500 company. Very successful.” “And this is Director Wang. He’s very successful too. You two will have so much in common.” Mom was looking at Director Wang like he was a pile of gold. I clenched my fists. They were trying to sell me off. To secure Bella’s marriage, Mrs. Chen was acting as a matchmaker for this creep, and my mother was offering me up as tribute.

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I lived twenty-something years before I suddenly realized I was the villainess in a romance novel. The heroine was naive and kind, eternally loved by everyone. I, on the other hand, was the gloomy creature crawling in the dark, doing every wicked thing imaginable. Thinking back on my past behavior, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. So, I did the only logical thing: I packed my bags and ran away with the baby I had just discovered was growing inside me. I never expected that four years later, just as I was watching the news about my perfect sister running away from her wedding, I would receive a call from the Male Lead. “Hello? Where are you? I miss you.” 01 I loathed my father. He abandoned my mother for fame and fortune, only to hypocritically bring me home after she died. He always spoke to me with an air of charity, as if acknowledging my existence was a gift from God. I hated him, and naturally, I hated his new family. But hatred is the most useless thing in the world. My younger sister, Lily, was pampered from birth. She was soft, sweet, and kind. Anyone who met her couldn’t help but want to be close to her. I was just the foil. The shadow to her light. Consumed by jealousy, I made many mistakes. I even threw myself at the Male Lead, seducing him in a desperate bid for attention. But when I found myself in a clinic, realizing there was a tiny life inside me, I re-evaluated my entire existence. I decided to quit the game. I took my unborn child and left that city for good. Time flows like water. I spent four years hiding with a child I “shouldn’t” have had. Just as my life was stabilizing, I saw the news. Lily had fled her wedding. The news anchor read my sister’s name in that practiced, serious tone, and for a moment, I was in a daze. My phone rang. I picked up. It was a drunk, raspy voice I hadn’t heard in years. “I miss you.” 02 I looked at Lily’s photo on the TV, then remembered the look of disgust on that man’s face the first time he saw me. What did he mean? Did he want to drag me back into that abyss of pain? I replied calmly, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” I turned off my phone and fed my sweet boy, Leo. Only after he was asleep did I turn it back on. Dozens of missed calls. Because Lily left, he suddenly remembered the half-sister who shared her blood? “Do you even deserve to bleed the same blood as her?” I still remembered him whispering that in my ear years ago. So why look for me now? Or did he know about Leo? Was he coming to take my son? I gritted my teeth. I would never go back to those days of fighting for scraps of affection, of being a pawn in their games. I packed overnight. We were moving first thing in the morning. If he was looking for me, I didn’t have much time. I felt terrible for Leo. I had promised him that once he started preschool, we wouldn’t move anymore. I wasn’t a good mother. I broke my promise again. 03 The new city I chose was a small, quiet town in the Pacific Northwest. It turned out to be a good decision. Leo loved his new preschool and even made friends. Our landlord was a kind older man named Arthur who owned the bakery downstairs. I worked as a pastry chef in his shop. Arthur had a daughter about Leo’s age. In my free time, we often talked about the kids. “Leo’s father… what kind of man was he?” Arthur asked one day while we were kneading dough. I immediately recalled a man with a personality like dynamite—one spark and he’d explode. The years I spent entangled with him were hardly pleasant. “Let’s just say he’s dead,” I said calmly. Arthur paused, stunned. But he was a man of boundaries. He sensed my discomfort and offered a gentle smile. “That… must have been hard for you.” Actually, it was fine. Being a single mother in the modern world was easier than I imagined, even if my morning sickness had been ten times worse than the internet said. Since my mother died, I had nothing. My father detested me. That house was my prison, not my home. Leo wasn’t born to my father, and certainly not to my “boyfriend.” In this world, only Leo wouldn’t abandon me. He wouldn’t hurt me. He would just hug me and sweetly call me “Mommy.” As long as I had him, I feared nothing. Perhaps the loneliness on my face was too obvious. Arthur laughed heartily. “It’s just a dead man! Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to someone better!” I didn’t know when it happened, but Arthur’s bright smile gave me strength. He was like family. If only I really had a brother like him. I smiled and agreed. Finding a dad for Leo… it wasn’t a bad option. Single-parent households… they do affect children eventually. 04 Life in the small town was stable and slow. Everyone took their time. I thought living here forever wouldn’t be a bad thing. Until that man, Leo’s father, appeared. When I saw him, he was chatting and laughing with Arthur. My heart plummeted into my stomach. How did he find me? His leg was in a cast. Standing next to him, laughing happily, was Leo. Blood rushed to my brain. For a few seconds, I thought my heart had stopped. He saw Leo. Was he going to take him? If he wanted custody, with the Sterling family’s power, I wouldn’t stand a chance. My mind raced. Finally, my heart restarted, and blood began to flow again. I forced myself to calm down. Don’t panic. Nothing has happened yet. Getting rid of him is the priority. I walked slowly into the shop. I picked Leo up. He saw me instantly. He was broader now, his features sharper, more rugged. He had shed his youthful arrogance for a heavy, steady presence. He stared at me without blinking. His pupils constricted, his breathing quickened. He tried to stand, but I immediately carried Leo to Arthur’s side and gently nudged Arthur with my elbow. I leaned against Arthur naturally. “Caleb,” I said. “Long time no see.” Caleb’s gaze was like a blade. His voice was ice-cold. “Who is he?” I responded politely, just as I would have years ago. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Arthur, bless his heart, was emotionally dense. Seeing the tension, he tried to smooth things over. Just then, a sleepy voice drifted from the stairwell behind the kitchen. “Daddy, it’s so loud…” It was Arthur’s daughter! Leo looked up from my arms, saw her, and grinned, his eyes turning into crescents. “Sissy!” Ha. Divine intervention. The scene was perfect. Arthur’s daughter called him Daddy. Leo called her Sissy. I was Leo’s mom. To an outsider who didn’t know the facts, we were a happy family of four. Caleb’s face turned green. “Daddy? Son? Daughter?” I smiled. “Naturally.” Dense Arthur finally found his brain. “Is he… wait, isn’t he the dead guy?” Caleb’s face went from green to black. “Dead?!” I nodded at Arthur. “Don’t worry, he’s leaving right now.” Caleb stared at me, jaw clenched so hard a vein popped. He forced out a smile that looked like he wanted to set my face on fire. “Vivian. Is this how you greet an old friend?” I knew that look. He was in his “burn it all down” phase. I nudged Arthur again, signaling him to get the kids out of the blast zone. Once they were gone, I calmly reminded him that I had broken up with him years ago. And, to be precise, we were never officially together. “Our relationship should have ended a long time ago,” I repeated the words he once used on me. “Those were your words. I don’t understand what I still owe you.” He choked on the memory, his chest heaving. “If you loved me, why did you leave without a word? Do you know how long I looked for you? I finally got your number, and you said ‘wrong number’! I crashed my car on the way here trying to find you. I broke my leg. And you? You dumped me, and now you’re playing happy family with… him?” “Vivian,” he hissed, “you said you loved me. Is this how you love someone?!” I was confused by his barrage of accusations. I didn’t understand where this vague sense of grievance was coming from. I thought back to the past. Yes… I did tell him I “liked” him. Drugging someone was already shameful. To save my life, I had to invent a script: I had a crush on him for years but couldn’t have him, so I resorted to desperate measures. If I said I had a crush, maybe he wouldn’t kill me. If he knew I was actually targeting his brother, I would have been torn to shreds right then and there. But that was just an excuse. He never cared about my “like.” He despised me, constantly calling me a liar. Why was he obsessing over my old lies now? Surely he didn’t believe them? So many people lined up to love him. Did he really need one more? “Lily is gone. I suppose you missed her. But…” He looked like he was laughing and crying at the same time. “You really gave me a surprise…” Where did he get the confidence that I would wait for him forever? I looked at this man with a sense of resignation. “I knew you for ten years. I was by your side for two. If you had ever cared about me, if you had ever treated me well, we wouldn’t be standing here today.” I was so starved for affection back then. If he had given me even an ounce of tenderness, even knowing it was hopeless, I would have flown into the fire like a moth. But he never did. He despised me like everyone else. Worse, actually—others ignored me. He slept with me and then despised me. He gritted his teeth, pronouncing every word. “I didn’t treat you well? For you, I even…” My heart rate spiked, a ringing filled my ears. He cornered me against the counter. I couldn’t hold on anymore. I couldn’t hear his last few words. I slid toward the floor. Panic flashed across his face. He tried to grab me, but lost his crutch and fell with me, cushioning my fall with his own body. It took me a few minutes to come to. Arthur had rushed back in and was pulling me up. “It’s dark. We’re closed. Please leave,” Arthur told the man on the floor. Arthur escorted him out of the bakery. That night, holding a cup of hot water, I told Arthur the rough outline. He sighed. “So what now? You lied to him about us being a family. Are you and Leo staying in the shop tonight?” The second floor was Arthur’s home. I had already caused him enough trouble. I declined his offer and took Leo back to our apartment. I thought it would be fine. It was wishful thinking. My rationality told me that. I should leave. I should take Leo and run as far as possible. But I couldn’t bear to make Leo sad. He had just adjusted. He loved it here. He had friends. He told me excited stories about preschool every day… I didn’t want to be the bad mom who ruined his life again. Besides… where could we run? That man was crazy. If he wanted to find me, I would be found. I had insomnia. I tossed and turned until Leo groggily patted my face. “Mommy, sleep.” I kissed his cheek, closed my eyes obediently, and lay awake all night.

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The top A-list celebrity was helping me adjust my headset when, out of pure instinct, he kissed the top of my head. We both froze. Because this was a divorce reality show. And we were not in the same “couple” group. 01 Everyone assumed I would be the one clinging to Liam Sterling after the divorce. We announced our marriage right at the peak of his career. When he successfully transitioned from idol to award-winning actor, people always mentioned me with a sneer. “What did Elara do to deserve him? She’s just lucky.” I didn’t bring up the divorce. But he had been waiting for it for a long time. His new drama co-star, Chloe Hart, wore his clothes, used a matching phone case, and played “on-set husband and wife” with him… Meanwhile, I was still flipping through the calendar, waiting for him to come home, only to be hung up on again and again with the excuse that he was “busy.” Until the day I ran into Chloe in First Class. She greeted me warmly, smiling with perfect, veneered teeth. “Did you know?” she whispered in my ear. “I swiped his card for this flight.” She did it on purpose. She wanted to force my hand. I gave her what she wanted. I went home, packed my bags in thirty minutes, and left. I don’t keep trash that other people have touched. Thank God we didn’t have kids. Liam leaned against the doorframe, watching me. His reaction was indifferent. He only asked one thing: “What are you taking?” “Your phone.” He paused, then actually handed it to me. In the years he loved me most, I accompanied him from being a nobody to a superstar. I was his only pinned contact. Now, I had been replaced. I was just on “Do Not Disturb.” We signed the divorce papers. He gave me everything he had earned over the years, begging me to let him go quickly. He claimed he truly loved Chloe. I signed the NDA and left. I thought we would never speak again. Until a month later, he called me. “Let’s meet.” “The fans can’t know I cheated. The drama is still airing,” he said. I laughed. In the lounge, his manager was coaching him. “You’re still a movie star after the divorce. Her? She’s just a civilian waiting to be mocked. She won’t be willing to let go. Just trick her. Tell her you want to go on a divorce variety show with her. Make her think she can win you back. She’ll act desperate, the audience will hate her, and you’ll solidify your ‘devoted ex-husband’ image.” In the conference room, Liam spun his phone in one hand. “I’ll do the show,” I said, cutting him off. He stared at me, pausing. “Are you… that desperate for me?” He was too confident. Easy to trick. I lowered my lashes. “No. Liam, do we still have a chance?” His gaze was cold. He turned his face away. “Depends on your performance.” “But,” he added, “the script isn’t what you think.” The show was airing while his drama with Chloe was broadcasting. To hype their on-screen romance, the concept was “Swapping Lives to See Marriage Problems.” Chloe and Liam would be in one room. And I would be rooming with Chloe’s ex-husband. Silas Thorne. The genius actor who exploded onto the scene at nineteen, won the Grand Slam of awards, and then vanished from the industry to get married. Liam had picked up the scraps Silas left behind. He got famous because he looked about 70% like Silas. Rumor had it that Chloe and Silas lived apart after marriage. She loved him, but he didn’t love her back. 02 A hot springs resort. Two rooms, separated by a single wall. Live broadcast. Studio commentators inside, scrolling audience comments outside. [Liam and Chloe on a divorce show? In the same room? This is wild!] [They have such insane chemistry.] [I knew Liam had no feelings for his wife. Who likes a dead weight?] [Finally! I’ve been waiting for this divorce!] The crew put heart-rate monitor watches on Liam and Chloe. “If your heart rate hits 70, you can leave the room.” [It’ll break in a second, right?] Unexpectedly, both their numbers hovered at 68. In private, they had done everything. They were too familiar, afraid of slipping up. On camera, they had to pretend to be distant. [Chloe is so polite. She’s scared to get close.] [Liam, don’t hold back! We support you!] Chloe sat by the door. Liam stood on the balcony for fresh air. From his angle, he could see into my room. Silas hadn’t arrived yet. I sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the watch. A knock on the door. A tall figure entered. A baseball cap obscured half his face. The hair on his forehead was damp from the hot spring mist. Outside, a light rain was falling. He carried the chill of the deep night. [The White Moonlight is back!!!] [What can I say… Liam, comparison is the thief of joy.] [Silas looks intense.] “You need to put this on.” I handed the other watch to Silas. Liam hated it when people said he looked like Silas. The first year of our marriage, we were walking the streets at midnight. I stopped to stare at a massive billboard of Silas for a luxury brand. Liam slammed a hat onto my head, blocking my view, and said sourly, “I knew you liked that type of face.” Now, in the other room, Liam watched from the balcony. He watched clearly as Silas walked in and closed the door. He watched him put on the watch. Liam didn’t care. He knew from that night that I was chasing a ghost. He was jealous of Silas to the point of death, simply because Silas was forced into a contract marriage with Chloe. Silas didn’t even like Chloe. Certainly, he wouldn’t like me—an ordinary, divorced woman that even Liam looked down on. Liam scoffed, full of disdain. Yet, he didn’t miss an inch of my reaction. “Hello, Elara Vance.” My heart rate sat at 50. I reached out my hand to Silas. “Hello, Silas Thorne.” He shook it. A few seconds later, a sharp, piercing beep echoed from the watch. Silas’s numbers exploded off the charts. But his expression remained calmer than anyone’s. “Watch is broken,” he said. “Oh,” I said. 03 They swapped the watch, and sure enough, it “normalized.” Liam and Chloe played a few chemistry games, got their heart rates over 70, and left their room early. Meanwhile, in my room… Silas’s heart rate stayed at a steady 25. Pitifully low. “If it never goes up,” I asked the producer, “do we have to stay in this room all night?” Silas heard me. He stood straight, broad-shouldered in a thin black hoodie, his gaze empty and distant. “Task failed,” the producer said. “You can leave in an hour.” Silas and I were the last to come out. [Failure. Absolute failure.] [Zero chemistry.] [Get them off screen. I only want to see Chloe and Liam.] The comments were bleak until the livestream ended. Post-show interviews. Cameras, lights, crowded hallways. Liam stood in the corner, watching Chloe give an interview, his gaze casually sweeping over me. “Excited?” he asked me, unsolicited. “Was there a moment you thought Silas might actually look at you?” I ignored him and tried to walk away. He blocked me. “What to do, Elara?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head. “The more I think about it, the more I realize divorcing you was the best choice I ever made.” Someone walked by. Liam straightened up instantly, assuming that broken, soulful look again. As if I were the one who had hurt him deeply. Chloe finished her interview. Under everyone’s gaze, she walked up to me and took my hand. “Elara,” she said. On her wrist was an old, frayed red string bracelet. “Cherish Liam. He really loves you.” I recognized that string. Last year, on our anniversary, Liam was being stalked and got into a minor car accident. He was fine. I dragged him up the mountain to pray for his safety. I closed my eyes, my heart full of prayers for him. When I opened them, I saw he had bought a red string bracelet. I thought it was for me. He said it was for himself, to give me peace of mind. Now, it was on Chloe’s wrist. “Stop making a scene,” Chloe said to the camera. “I want you two to be happy more than anyone.” I didn’t say a word. Liam didn’t know. Chloe didn’t know. I agreed to this variety show for another reason. A hidden, unspeakable reason. That day on the mountain, when I closed my eyes… Liam wasn’t the one in my prayers. 04 The show filmed on weekends. The concept was “Weekend Couples.” During the work week, I picked up my old career. I wanted to return to my original entertainment group as an agent. “Silas and Chloe are officially divorced,” my former boss told me. “He signed a ten-year contract with Chloe’s dad’s company. He’s finally free. He’s setting up a new studio. I recommended you.” I went to the photography studio address he gave me. Silas was backlit, his features sharp and rebellious. A face truly made for the silver screen. He was harder to approach than I imagined. I waited outside for a long time. Until his assistant ran out and told me, “Sorry, Ms. Vance. We can’t talk today.” On the way back, my car broke down. 11:00 PM. Middle of nowhere. Raining. I held an umbrella, waiting for a tow truck. Watching cars zoom past like phantoms in the night. None of them stopped for me. Then, headlights flashed. The window of a black van rolled down. Silas’s assistant said, “Ms. Vance, hop in.” Silas was in the very back row, asleep with a baseball cap over his face. Shallow breathing, long legs slightly cramped in the space. The car was cluttered. Two suit jackets hung by the window. The scent of crisp pine. The smell of his hand when he shook mine. “Ms. Vance, I’m going to grab water at the gas station up ahead. Want anything?” the assistant asked. “Call me Elara. I’ll go with you.” “Nah,” he waved his hand, hopping out. “I’ll be quick.” The door slammed shut. Just me and Silas. No one else. No cameras. The dashboard lights blinked. The interior was dim. Even separated by a row of seats, the sound of his breathing felt right next to my ear. I stared out the window at the neon blue lights of the gas station where the assistant was wandering the aisles. I remembered walking through a supermarket with Liam once. I saw Chloe’s ad. “She’s so pretty,” I had said. “She’s okay,” he had replied indifferently. I didn’t know that “okay” meant he wouldn’t come home. Later, I found out Chloe was his first love. They broke up right before he got famous. He hadn’t forgotten her. But back then, in the supermarket, he just deftly changed the subject. “Baby, did you date anyone before me?” “No.” At least, that’s what I told him. That’s what I told everyone. In the van, someone kicked the back of my calf. A long leg stretched out from the back row. Not accidental. But deliberate, mischievous, rhythmic tapping. I shrank my legs back, out of his reach. I didn’t speak. I didn’t turn around. I maintained my posture as if nothing was happening. “Elara.” He spoke. Maybe he had just woken up; his voice carried a reckless, boyish rasp. “Long time no see.” It had been so many years. Why did he still like calling my name like that? Just like in that cramped, humid rental apartment… Over and over, drowning me… Gentle, yet unable to hold back, unrestrained, invading my senses.

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