For eighteen years, my wife, Keira, never once contacted her old flame, Leo Hughes. She became the perfect wife, cooking my favorite meals. She attended every one of our daughter’s parent-teacher conferences. She meticulously planned our family vacations each year. We lived in what seemed like perfect harmony for eighteen years. But the day after our daughter, Bella, turned eighteen, I said to Keira, “Let’s get a divorce.” She was standing at the entrance to Bella’s bedroom, her expression frozen in disbelief. I added quietly, “You promised me, the day our daughter was born, that we would divorce when she turned eighteen.” 1 A choked laugh escaped Keira’s lips. “That was just a joke. You can’t be serious.” The gentle, elegant woman before me slowly blurred, merging with the image of the bright-eyed, innocent girl I’d known eighteen years ago. Our marriage was a business arrangement. Before she agreed to meet me, she had a college sweetheart, Leo. He was from a poor family, a fact Keira’s parents could never accept, so they paid to send him abroad. I gave her a choice back then. One, go after Leo, and I would find someone else to marry. Two, marry me, and cut off all contact with him. Out of a sense of duty to her parents, she chose me. After we married, she was good to me. She got pregnant, and for a while, I dared to believe I could have it all—a profitable merger and a loving wife. That’s why, when I was in that car crash, my first instinct was to call her. But she didn’t answer. When I came to in the recovery room, she called back. Her voice was strained but honest. “I’m so sorry, Liam. Leo had an allergic reaction… anaphylactic shock.” Her love for him made her choose him. Over me. She stammered on the other end of the line, at a loss for what to say next. In that instant, I curled up like a hedgehog, retracting every ounce of affection I had invested in her. Suddenly, her breathing turned ragged over the phone. I heard doctors shouting, rushing her into the delivery room. She had gone into premature labor. For Leo, she had completely disregarded her own body, our child’s well-being. But looking at my tiny daughter, wrapped in a hospital blanket, a strange calm washed over me. “Keira,” I said, my voice flat. “Can you promise me one thing? That we’ll wait until our daughter is eighteen. Then, we can get a divorce.” “For these eighteen years, please, just play the part of a good mother and a good wife for her.” A faint “Okay” came through the phone. I never forbade her from contacting Leo again, but it was as if she’d had a complete change of heart. She threw herself into being the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and never reached out to him. I knew it was all born from a sense of duty. A responsibility to me and to our daughter. But I also knew she never let Leo go. I knew from the way her fingers would trace the old hair tie he gave her in college when she thought I was asleep. I knew from the private investigator she paid every month to send her photos of Leo’s life overseas. She wasn’t a bad person. She tried desperately not to hurt anyone. But her love for him was a vine, growing wild and unchecked in the secret corners of her heart. Now, eighteen years had passed. Keira’s parents were gone. My daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman. And I had finally, completely, let go of any feeling I had for her. It was time to let her go find her true love. 2 I’d been agonizing over how to break the news to Bella, but I never expected the first obstacle to be Keira herself. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I let go a long time ago, eighteen years ago, to be exact.” Keira stared at me, as if truly seeing my resolve for the first time. “And you don’t need to worry about Bella. I’ll explain everything to her.” “You’re free, Keira.” I met her gaze directly. “So,” I said, my voice firm. “It’s time to honor our agreement.” She let out a long sigh, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.” “If you or Bella ever need anything, I’ll still be here for you.” Her expression shifted, a wave of excitement washing over her as she reached for her phone and dialed a number that had been dormant for nearly two decades. That night, for the first time in our marriage, Keira and I slept in separate rooms. For eighteen years, despite the distance in our hearts, we had maintained a physical relationship. It always left me with a bitter taste of guilt, as if I were stealing something that belonged to Leo. But Keira never seemed to mind; in fact, as the years went on, she seemed to enjoy it. I pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter anymore. Tonight, that connection was severed for good. The next morning, I found Bella in her room, fresh off a video call with Harvard admissions. I told her that her mother and I were getting a divorce. Before I could even launch into the carefully crafted story I’d prepared, she cut me off. “Dad, you don’t have to lie to me. I know all about what happened back then.” Her words stunned me. “I know you don’t love Mom. And I know it was her who wronged you.” She wrapped her arms around me. “I’ll be here for you, Dad. Always.” A sharp, dense pain bloomed in my chest. She knew. My little girl had known all along. It was my fault. My acting hadn’t been good enough, and I’d left my child to carry such a heavy burden all by herself. With Bella’s understanding, things moved quickly. Keira and I filed for divorce. The plan was to fly to the States to help Bella settle into college. It would also be the perfect opportunity for Keira and Leo to finally reunite. She could decide whether to bring him back home or stay with him in America. The official divorce decree would be finalized after the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. The moment our plane landed, Keira was gone, rushing off to see Leo. Bella insisted on going with her. “Dad, I just want to see what this guy looks like,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye. I could sense the resentment still simmering beneath the surface. “Bella, don’t do anything rash. Your mother has paid her dues to us over the past eighteen years.” She didn’t listen. She went with her mother. But as evening turned into a deep, starless night, Bella still hadn’t returned. 3 I called her. The background was a cacophony of music and laughter, like a party was in full swing. “Dad, I’m not coming back tonight.” “Why not?” I asked, a knot tightening in my stomach. She hesitated. “I… I don’t want to be a downer for Uncle Leo. He’s had it rough, you know? It wasn’t his fault, what happened back then. He’s been all alone over here for so long.” She paused, then added, “It’s like you said, Dad. No one owes anyone anything anymore. But don’t worry, I still love you.” It had only taken a few hours for her entire perspective to shift. She was right, of course. No one was truly at fault. But her words made the eighteen years I had fought for feel like a bitter joke. What if I had just divorced Keira back then? Left Bella with her? Would they have been happier as a family of three? But I had poured so much of my life into her. I had swallowed my pride and begged Keira to stay, terrified my daughter would be taunted for not having a mother. I wanted her to have the world, so I leveraged the full power of my family and Keira’s to give her every advantage. After the divorce, Bella would be all I had left. I had already started planning how I would help her find the perfect husband, how I would dote on my future grandchildren. I couldn’t accept this. I had invested a year of my life loving Keira, and I had managed to spend the next eighteen un-loving her. But my daughter? I couldn’t let go of my daughter. “Bella,” I said, my voice strained. “I made your favorite bear-shaped cookies. I’ll wait up for you, no matter how late it is.” She came back in the dead of night. Seeing me still awake, she gently pushed me toward my bedroom. “Dad, the cookies were delicious. Go get some sleep.” A wave of relief washed over me. It was probably just a fleeting moment of sympathy for Leo. My daughter was kind-hearted, and that was fine. A little selfishly, all I needed was to know she still loved me. I closed my eyes, but then I heard it—a faint, breathy sound from the hallway. My daughter, trying to stifle a laugh. I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t bear to face it. The fact that in just a few short hours, Leo had completely and utterly captured my daughter’s heart. When Keira and I took Bella to the university for orientation, Leo came along. It was the first time I’d seen him in person. He was more vibrant than in the photos, radiating a youthful energy that was rare for a man his age. He was polite, even friendly, keeping a respectful distance to give me and Bella our moment. But my daughter’s eyes kept darting toward him, her attention clearly divided. Finally, she turned to him. “Uncle Leo, is there anything you want to say to me?” Only then did he step forward, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Don’t be nervous,” he said with a grin. “And if you don’t feel like studying, just make sure you eat well. Being happy and healthy is the most important thing!” He was a firm believer in a pressure-free life. No wonder Bella was so taken with him. He was dressed in athletic wear, his right arm strong and toned. I remembered hearing that Keira had arranged for a badminton court to be built in the backyard of his small villa years ago. It suited his cheerful, carefree personality perfectly. Bella nodded obediently and waved goodbye to us. I turned to Keira and Leo. “So, what are your plans? Are you staying here, or coming back home?” Keira answered. “We’ll stay here with Bella for the next four years. After that… we’ll see what she wants to do.” 4 It was clear they had already mapped out their future in the span of a few days, a future that pointedly excluded me. But the unspoken agreement had always been that Bella would stay with me. Keira dropped Leo off at his house before returning to the hotel with me. She sat down, preparing for a serious talk. “Since Bella chose a school in the States, I think she might be drawn to the freedom here. You can still come and visit her whenever you want.” I thought of Bella’s shining eyes as she looked at Leo, and a wave of confusion hit me. Was my eighteen-year stand completely meaningless? I was silent for a long moment before looking up at her. “Will you hate me? For these eighteen years?” I asked, then added, “Do you think Bella will hate me?” Understanding dawned in Keira’s eyes. “No, of course not. It’s all my fault.” It was her default answer, taking all the blame onto herself. How tedious. I gave up. “Fine,” I said. “I respect Bella’s decision. I hope you’ll all take good care of her.” Keira managed a smile. “You say that as if you’ll never see her again.” “I don’t think I’m cut out for life abroad,” I replied casually. “I prefer a quiet, simple life.” After several days of whirlwind excitement with Leo, Keira’s expression grew complicated, almost nostalgic. I turned and went into my room to pack for my flight home. “Don’t forget,” I called over my shoulder, “you need to fly back in about twenty days to sign the final divorce papers.” She nodded. She was still standing there when I came out. “So,” she asked, “were you acting for all eighteen years?” I rolled my eyes. “Weren’t you?” She faltered, then changed the subject. “Do you think I was… convincing?” She seemed anxious, dabbing at her sweaty palms with a handkerchief. She was probably worried about how she would take care of Leo. I clapped her on the shoulder like an old friend. “Don’t worry,” I said reassuringly. “You’ll be great for Leo.” “In every way,” I added, a sharp edge to my voice. “Including in bed.” I didn’t care anymore, but my words seemed to leave Keira looking strangely lost and deflated. After I returned home, Keira started posting on social media frequently. Trips to art galleries, picnics in the park. In every single photo, Leo’s face was conspicuously absent. She was probably trying to be considerate, given that we weren’t officially divorced yet. But it was just like the past eighteen years. Leo’s presence was a ghost that haunted our lives, a suffocating fog I could never escape. There were moments, I admit, when Keira’s performance had almost fooled me. I’d think, maybe I should just give up. Forget the promise. Pretend none of it ever happened. Maybe we could have another eighteen years together. But I couldn’t betray the man I was eighteen years ago—the man lying broken and bleeding in a hospital bed, utterly alone. Now, I was glad I was letting her go. And it wasn’t too late to let my daughter go, either. Keira would sometimes send me pictures of Bella and we’d exchange a few pleasantries. At first, I’d reply, but eventually, I just stopped. I buried myself in my work. Time flew by in a blur of meetings and deadlines. Before I knew it, the thirty-day cooling-off period was over. 5 Keira and Bella flew back from the States together. The moment Bella saw me, her eyes filled with a familiar dependence. But when I casually asked how long she was staying, she answered without a second’s thought. “We’re leaving tonight.” So soon? So eager to get back to Leo? Keira, at least, had the decency to offer an explanation for my sake. “Her studies are demanding.” Looking at Bella, who seemed completely drained of all energy, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Was university in the States really that exhausting? I was tired. I didn’t press the issue. The three of us went to the city hall. The clerk placed the documents in front of us. I signed my name without hesitation. Keira glanced at me, her hand hovering over the paper. I checked my watch. “Could you hurry up? I have a tight schedule.” Bella chimed in. “Mom, just sign it. Uncle Leo is waiting for us for dinner.” Her words landed without impact. I felt nothing. As if in a fit of pique, Keira snatched the pen, scribbled something illegible, and slammed it down on the table. “Are you satisfied now?” Her voice, usually so soft, was low and strained. I raised an eyebrow. “I never forced you to do anything. This was always your choice.” Keira rubbed her nose, a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. She turned to our daughter. “Bella, let’s go.” But Bella didn’t respond. I turned and saw my daughter’s face was deathly pale. Her body was twitching, her eyes rolling back in her head, and then she collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. “Bella!” Keira and I cried out in unison. The clerk who had just stamped our divorce papers rushed over to check on her. His face went grim. “That’s not good,” he said, his voice urgent. “She’s going into withdrawal!” Keira stared in disbelief. “Withdrawal? How could she be hooked on something like that? The only thing… yesterday, the bread she ate… Leo gave her that…” Her voice trailed off, the horror dawning on her face.

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My new neighbor is pregnant, and she’s demanding I run my air conditioner 24/7. “I don’t have an AC, and I don’t want to hang out at your place all day,” she declared. “Just set yours to 60 degrees. The cold air will blow over to my apartment. It’s not like it affects you.” I patiently tried to explain the concept of heat exchange to her—that even with my door wide open, her apartment wouldn’t get much cooler. I also mentioned that air conditioners weren’t that expensive and she could easily have one installed. She wouldn’t hear it. “Do you think air conditioners are free? Are you going to pay my electric bill?” she snapped. “I don’t care. I’m carrying a child, and if my baby boy overheats, I’ll sue you for attempted murder!” It was like talking to a brick wall, so I gave up. But she didn’t. She started by banging on my door around the clock. Then, while I was away on a business trip, she pried open my lock and ran my air conditioner for seven days straight. It was right around then that I saw a viral rental post in my city’s online forum. [I smashed every AC unit in my building and nearly burned the place down with my wood stove. Now I’ve been kicked out.] [A delicate wife-to-be with a naturally cold constitution, trying to conceive. Urgently need a home where I can use my wood stove! Seeking apartment for rent!] I contacted the delicate wife-to-be immediately. If I couldn’t handle my neighbor myself, I’d find an equally unhinged person to do it for me. Let the dogs fight it out. 1. I had just gotten home when the knocking started again. I put in my earplugs and pretended I couldn’t hear a thing. A week ago, a couple moved into apartment 401, right across the hall. While they were moving in, the woman, flushed and sweating, asked if she could step inside for a minute to cool off. That one act of kindness was my undoing. That very evening, she and her husband tried to invite themselves over to enjoy my AC. Considering she was pregnant, I was polite at first. I explained that I lived alone and it wasn’t convenient to have them over all the time. I suggested, once again, that they buy their own unit. Her response was stunning. “Do you think air conditioners are free? Are you going to pay my electric bill?” she scoffed. “I’m not even worried about you trying to seduce my husband. You’re the one being dramatic.” The entitlement was staggering. I stopped trying to reason with her, but she banged on my door for the entire night. It only got crazier. While I was at work, she would call my office, demanding I come home and turn on the air. After I blocked her number, she started having the building management call me. I even called the police, but they dismissed it as a simple neighborly dispute they couldn’t resolve. The knocking grew louder, and her shrill voice pierced through my earplugs. “402! I saw you come home! Open this door right now, my baby has been hot all day!” I ignored her, hoping she’d eventually get tired and go home. Suddenly, a synthesized voice echoed in the hall: Password incorrect. She was trying to guess the code to my electronic lock. After three failed attempts, the lock’s alarm blared. Shaking with rage, I screamed through the door, “What the hell is wrong with you? Will you ever stop?!” But she didn’t. As soon as the alarm silenced, she started punching in codes again. Because the errors were in quick succession, this time the alarm shrieked for a full ten minutes. The building’s group chat lit up. [Whose alarm is that? Is someone breaking in?] [My grandson just fell asleep and it woke him up! He won’t stop crying. Can management do something?!] [I think it’s coming from downstairs. This is 502. Can someone from management please check it out?] Then my phone rang. It was the building manager. To avoid disturbing my neighbors any further, I had no choice but to open the door. “I knew you were in there,” she said with a triumphant smirk. “Let me in, quick. My baby is about to overheat.” I blocked the doorway with my body. “If you’re hot, that’s your problem to solve.” “And I’ve let you in during the day before. You can’t just camp out in my apartment forever.” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Camp out? How dare you! You have some nerve.” “You’re the one who invited me in! I’ve gone my whole life without AC, and I was fine! But you had to let me taste it, and now I can’t even stand being in front of a fan!” “I’m pregnant! My baby needs air conditioning! You started this, so you have to fix it!” I was speechless with fury. I pulled out my phone and opened the Amazon app. “The cheapest units are a few hundred bucks. You could have one installed by tomorrow.” She slapped my hand away impatiently. “I told you, I don’t have money for that! Ugh, I’m done arguing with you.” “From now on, you will leave your air conditioner on 24/7, set your door open. That way, the cold air will reach my apartment.” She even added, “Set it to 60 degrees, otherwise it won’t be cool enough.” I fought the urge to strangle her, taking a deep breath instead. “That’s not how AC works! It’s about heat exchange. My door being open won’t magically cool your apartment!” She completely ignored me. “What do you mean it won’t work? The cold air comes into my apartment, my apartment gets cool. Simple.” There was no getting through to her. I slammed the door in her face. “402, if you don’t open this door, I’ll make your life a living hell!” She started messing with my lock again. Three more failed attempts. This time, the alarm wailed for half an hour. The group chat exploded with complaints. People were starting to gather outside my door. As the angry messages scrolled past, I’d had enough. I uploaded the security footage from my doorbell camera to the chat. A few minutes later, apartment 401 was being tagged by a dozen furious neighbors. [@401 Brenda What is wrong with you?! It’s the middle of the night! You’ve woken up my kids three times!] [@401 Brenda Are you trying to break in? Did you lose what little brain you have?] [@401 Brenda @Management Can you please handle this woman?!] Brenda went completely silent. I thought I could finally get some sleep. I never imagined she would actually call the police. 2. Before I could even process what was happening, my front door was forced open by the police. Brenda leaped out from behind a line of uniformed officers, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Officers, that’s her! She’s trying to murder my baby!” “Arrest her! Take her away!” I stared at my splintered door lying on the floor, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. I recounted the entire night’s events to the police, my voice shaking. “Officer, she’s the one who has been harassing me, demanding I set my AC to 60 degrees and aim it at her apartment.” Brenda cut in. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t have an AC! If I can’t use hers, whose can I use?” The officers exchanged bewildered glances. What they thought was a potential crime scene had devolved into a bizarre neighborhood dispute mediation. After getting the full story, the lead officer stepped forward. “Ma’am,” he said to Brenda, “whether this young lady decides to run her own air conditioner is really none of your business.” Brenda puffed out her stomach. “How is it not your business?! If she doesn’t open her door and turn on her AC, I’m the one who suffers! What if my baby and I get heatstroke? I read online that people can die from that!” She glared at the cops. “What kind of public servants are you? So high and mighty, you don’t care about us regular people at all!” Now it was the officers’ turn to be speechless. The lead officer’s tone hardened. “Ma’am, if you continue with this irrational behavior, we’re going to have to take you down to the station.” That sent Brenda over the edge. She clutched her belly and plopped down on my broken door. “Take me to the station? You’re all in on it together!” she shrieked. “I knew it! You listen to her side for two seconds and you’re already defending her, even though she’s trying to kill my baby.” She shot me a venomous look. “No wonder a woman like you lives alone in such a big place without a man. You’ve probably got a whole stable of them on the side. Is that why you wouldn’t let me in? Were you hoping my husband would come over by himself? You shameless slut.” Her eyes swept over every officer in the room. My hands were trembling with rage. The officers looked equally furious. They had mobilized an entire unit in the middle of the night for a false alarm, and now they were being slandered by the perpetrator. The lead officer’s face was grim. “Ma’am, you have now committed three offenses,” he said, his voice like steel. “Insulting a police officer, filing a false report, and intentional destruction of property.” “You’re coming with us. You’re looking at a minimum of 10 days in holding and a significant fine.” The color drained from Brenda’s face. But she clutched her belly and screamed, “I’m not going to any station! I’m pregnant! The government wants me to have this baby! Taking me in is like defying the country itself!” She started thrashing around, threatening to jump out the window if they tried to take her. The police weren’t having it. They swiftly detained her. A locksmith sent by the police repaired my door. Between the damages and compensation, Brenda ended up paying me $250. Enough to buy her own damn air conditioner. As they led her away, she turned and fixed me with a look of pure, venomous hatred. A look that promised she would get her revenge. 3. I heard Brenda was held for the full ten days. I was so grateful, I sent a thank-you platter to the police station. A week later, my company sent me on a two-week business trip. When I got back, my door was gone. A blast of cold air was pouring out of my apartment. The door to 401 was wide open, and Brenda waddled out, clutching her belly. “There you are! I had to hire someone to take your door off the hinges. What a pain!” she grumbled. “And by the way, is your AC broken? I’ve had it running for days, but my place is still hot. You need to buy a new one!” My chest tightened with fury. I pointed at the empty space where my front door used to be. “Do you have any idea how illegal this is?” Brenda rolled her eyes. “That $250 I gave you was for the door, wasn’t it? And your electricity. At a few bucks a day, I’ve paid for five or six years of your AC!” The audacity was breathtaking. I didn’t even bother arguing. I just pulled out my phone and dialed 911. The two officers who responded were the same ones from before. The moment they saw us, their faces tightened. “Officers, she removed my door. While I was gone, she entered my home and used my air conditioner. I’ll have to check my security footage to see what else she did.” After a quick assessment, the police told Brenda she would have to compensate me. Brenda just snorted. “Compensate her for what? I already gave that bitch $250! That’s enough to use her AC for years!” “And I’ll have you know, my husband is on a top-secret mission for the government! When he gets back, little cops like you will be on your knees before him!” The officers looked utterly exhausted by her. One of them cuffed her while the other said dryly, “Sure, ma’am. I’ll be waiting.” Brenda was hauled off to the station once again. But after that night, things got worse. Garbage started appearing outside my door. At first, it was just a small bag. Then it was kitchen scraps, rotting food. One time, there was even feces mixed in. Worse, Brenda started pouring spoiled soup and other sticky, foul-smelling liquids under my door. Every time I came home, the combination of trash and heat turned my entryway into a biohazard zone. The stench seeped into my apartment, and no amount of air freshener could get rid of it. I called the police, but Brenda would just sit by her open window and threaten to jump, screaming that they were persecuting an innocent citizen. Eventually, the police gave up, telling us to resolve it ourselves and to stop wasting their resources on “minor issues.” Building management was equally useless. Desperate, I posted on an online forum, hoping for a solution. As I was scrolling, I stumbled upon a popular local rental ad. [I dismantled every AC unit in my building. Now the other residents have kicked me out.] [A delicate wife-to-be with a naturally cold constitution, trying to conceive. Urgently need a home without air conditioning! Seeking apartment for rent!]

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After another cold war with my doctor boyfriend over whether to buy a traditional gold wedding set, I found myself scrolling through a late-night relationship forum. The title of one post was explosive: [I’m an escort, and I fell in love with the doctor who treated my private tearing.] It detailed the entire story of how they met. The post mentioned that the doctor, to stop her from continuing her work, had used his own money to buy her gold jewelry, enough to support her for a year. The comment section was on fire: [I’m a simple person. I live for this kind of ‘knight in shining armor’ story!] [Oh my god, this is like a real-life redemption novel. You two have to have a happy ending!] [FYI, gold jewelry is considered the woman’s personal property and is a hard asset that can be liquidated anytime. The amount of love and consideration that must have gone into that decision is insane.] Then, the original poster updated her story: [He’s the first person who has ever been so good to me. But he keeps rejecting me because he has a fiancée he’s about to marry.] [I’ve thrown myself at him so many times, and tonight, he finally accepted me. I know it’s wrong, but I love him so much.] Through my screen, I watched the commenters turn on a dime, branding her a home-wrecker. In the midst of the chaos, the poster uploaded a picture of the man’s profile as he slept beside her. 1 The lighting was dim, the angle taken from the intimacy of a shared pillow. I knew that face all too well. It was Tim. My boyfriend of seven years. The man I was about to marry, the man I was currently in a cold war with over a set of gold jewelry. Three days ago, we had fought while planning our wedding. My parents weren’t asking for a lavish wedding gift, but they insisted on the tradition of the groom gifting a “wedding set”—a collection of gold jewelry—as a sign of respect and a blessing for their daughter. Tim argued that buying gold when the prices were so high was a complete waste of money. He thought it would be better to put that money toward our mortgage. “Audrey, we’re both highly educated people. Why are you so hung up on these outdated customs?” he’d said, his brow furrowed with the same weary patience he used on unreasonable patients. His expression stung me. I tried to explain. “What custom? My parents aren’t even asking for anything else. They just hope I…” “Hope you what? Can show off to everyone how well you married with pounds of gold hanging off your neck?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you think me not buying some gold means I don’t value you, then maybe we shouldn’t get married at all.” The argument ended with him slamming the door on his way out. He went to the hospital, claiming there was an emergency surgery. But I knew it was mostly to avoid me. This was the longest cold war we’d ever had in our seven years together. For three whole days, he had sent only two texts. The first said, “On call for the next few days.” The second, “Remember to lock the door.” And now, at three in the morning, he was in some escort’s confessional post, playing the role of the romantic hero. The post was going viral, and the comments section was a war zone. Some called the poster a homewrecker, others still romanticized the “rescue” narrative, and a few were meticulously picking apart the timeline. I scrolled through them like a form of self-torture, my fingertips turning to ice. Six months ago, the poster had been injured during a particularly rough encounter with a client and was taken to the hospital, where she met Tim. [He was the ER doctor on call that night. My private area was torn, and he was so gentle when he applied the medicine. He even asked if it hurt.] [When I went back for a follow-up, he told me the wound wasn’t healing well and that I needed to be more careful. No one had ever cared about me like that before.] [I deliberately left him my number, saying I was worried about complications. He actually added me.] [I know he has a girlfriend. He said they were getting married soon. But I couldn’t control myself. He was the first person to ever be kind to me.] [I asked him out to dinner to thank him. He refused at first, saying it wasn’t appropriate. But I insisted, and he finally came.] [We had a few drinks, and I cried on his shoulder, telling him about my life, why I was in this line of work. He held me.] [Later, when I went back to the club, he got angry. I told him I had no other way to make a living. That’s when he bought me a whole set of gold jewelry.] [He said it was all his savings and that I should use it to get by for a year while he helped me find a new job and a place to live.] [I cried in his arms, and this time, he didn’t mention his girlfriend… we got together.] The latest update had been posted just moments ago: [He’s sleeping next to me now. His breathing is so soft.] [His girlfriend must be an amazing woman, but I don’t care. Love doesn’t follow a schedule.] The accompanying photo was his sleeping profile. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved, but nothing came up. Seven years. From classmates in medical school to colleagues at the same hospital. From renting to buying a home, from our youth to the cusp of our thirties. Everyone said we were the model couple, a perfect match. Even I had believed it. I thought we were just navigating a rough patch, that everything would smooth over once we were married. But the cracks had formed six months ago. And I was still foolishly fighting with him over a wedding set, thinking that was our biggest problem. 2 My mind reeled backward in time. Six months ago, the ER at our hospital did handle a peculiar case. I remember Tim coming home late that night, looking exhausted. When I asked him what was wrong, he just said he’d dealt with a difficult patient and didn’t elaborate. “What kind of patient?” I had asked casually. “A young woman with an injury to her private area. Said she was a hostess from one of those clubs,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Took a long time to handle.” “Was it serious?” “Quite serious. Looked like she was… assaulted.” He hesitated. “But it’s been taken care of.” At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I even comforted him. “That’s just how the ER is. You see everything.” He hummed in agreement and pulled me into his arms. “Audrey, I’m so glad you’re a normal person.” I had laughed then. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did you want me to end up in your ER?” He was silent for a long moment before whispering, “I just want you to be safe. Always.” He held me so tightly that night, as if he were afraid of losing something. I thought it was just a doctor’s natural reaction to a patient’s suffering, and I ended up comforting him. How ironic. I curled up on the living room sofa, staring at the photos on the wall. One was from our trip to the Grand Canyon last year. He had his arm around my shoulder, his smile bright and genuine. We had bought this condo together two years ago, splitting the down payment, both our names on the deed. We argued over the design style, bickered over which brand of appliances to buy, and without fail, I was always the one to compromise first. I thought that was what a marriage was supposed to be. Compromise, adjustment, and moving forward together. I was wrong. As dawn approached, I made my decision. Screenshots. Saved. Backed up to three different cloud drives. Then, I called Tim. It rang seven or eight times. Just as I thought he wouldn’t pick up, the call connected. The background was silent, not at all like the bustling on-call room at the hospital. “Audrey? Why are you calling at this hour? Is something wrong?” “Tim,” I asked, my voice flat. “Where are you?” “Where else would I be? The on-call room. Just got a few minutes of sleep after dealing with a critical patient.” He yawned, his performance seamless. “Why are you still awake? Did you come to your senses? I told you, that whole thing with the gold set…” “I want to see you,” I cut him off. “What?” “Turn on your video. I want to see you,” I repeated. Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Audrey, don’t be ridiculous. There are other people in here, it’s not appropriate. Whatever it is, can we talk about it tomorrow? Please?” His voice softened, but there was an undercurrent of impatience I could now clearly detect. I used to think it was gentleness; now I recognized it as manipulation. “Turn on the video, Tim. Right now,” I insisted. “I told you, I’m on call! Audrey, can you please be a little more considerate and respect my work?” His voice suddenly sharpened, laced with the anger of someone who has been challenged. I don’t know when it started, but anytime I didn’t go along with him, I was immediately labeled “inconsiderate” and “unreasonable.” “Tim,” I heard my own voice tremble, “I’m leaving for the hospital now. I’ll be there in half an hour. Be there.” “Audrey! What the hell has gotten into you? It’s five-thirty in the morning…” I hung up the phone. 3 I didn’t go to the hospital. After hanging up, I sat motionless on the sofa until the morning light filled the room. My phone screen lit up and dimmed repeatedly. Tim called three times; I didn’t answer. Finally, two texts came through: [Audrey, I’m sorry. My tone was bad earlier.] [But I really don’t want you driving at this hour. I have the afternoon off today. Can we please talk then?] I stared at the message for a long time, then waited until precisely thirty minutes had passed before replying with a single word: “Fine.” I needed time to think, and more importantly, I needed proof. Without concrete evidence, he had a hundred ways to shift the blame, maybe even paint me as paranoid and overly sensitive. I cross-referenced Tim’s work schedule with his attendance records for the past six months. Then I went to the jewelry store mentioned in the post. After I had everything, I intended to go home and wait for him. I never expected to be stopped at the entrance of our building by a scantily clad woman. She looked to be in her early twenties, with heavy makeup and a tight-fitting slip dress. “You’re Audrey, right?” she asked, her voice deliberately soft and breathy. I stopped. “And you are?” “My name is Vivian,” she said with a timid smile. “I’m… an admirer of Dr. Tim.” My heart sank. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a blatant, calculating comparison in her gaze. “Dr. Tim talks about you a lot. He says you’re brilliant, the rising star of neurosurgery.” “And?” I asked, my face impassive. Suddenly, her eyes reddened. Before I could react, she dropped to her knees in front of me with a soft thud. “Please, I’m begging you, let me and Dr. Tim be together!” It was the time of day when people were getting home from work. Passersby started to stare. “What are you doing? Get up!” I took a step back, the absurdity of the situation overwhelming me. But Vivian only knelt lower, pressing her palms together in a pleading gesture as tears streamed down her face. “I know I’m not worthy,” she sobbed. “I do that kind of work. I’m tainted. But Dr. Tim is the first person who didn’t look down on me. He genuinely wants to save me.” “He said you’re too ambitious, that you always have to have the best of everything. Even for your wedding, you insisted on buying the gold set when prices are at their peak, without any consideration for him.” “He said being with you is so much pressure. You’re always so calm and rational, never a vulnerable woman who needs him.” “You’re so successful, Audrey. You’ll be fine without him. But I can’t live without him. Please, I’m begging you, give him to me…” Every word was a perfectly aimed dagger, striking me where it hurt most. So, in his eyes, my wanting the wedding set was inconsiderate. My independence and strength were a failure to be a “vulnerable woman.” All my compromises and sacrifices in our relationship had become nothing but “pressure” for him. I stood there, watching Vivian’s performance, a chilling cold seeping into my bones. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered, whispering and pointing. “Is that the other woman, trying to force the fiancée out?” “She looks so young, why would she do something like this…” “Well, she’s on her knees. Must be desperate.” Just then, a familiar car screeched to a halt in front of us. Tim burst out of the driver’s side, his face a thunderous mask. His eyes first landed on Vivian, kneeling on the ground, a portrait of tear-streaked misery. Only then did he look at me. “Audrey! What are you doing?!” he roared, lunging forward to pull Vivian to her feet. Vivian collapsed into his arms, her sobs growing louder. “Dr. Tim, don’t blame her. It was my idea to kneel. I just wanted to beg her to let us be together…” Tim held her protectively, his gaze shifting back to me, filled with disappointment and fury. “Audrey, I never thought you were this kind of person! Vivian isn’t well, she’s emotionally unstable. What do you get out of tormenting her?!”

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To coax my feverish son, Leo, to take his medicine, I started humming a lullaby. But halfway through, his little face scrunched up in disgust. He swatted the bowl from my hand. “Mommy, you sing terribly,” he whined. “I want Daddy to sing.” Shards of porcelain scraped the back of my hand, drawing pinpricks of blood. “Don’t be difficult,” I scolded gently, picking up the pieces. “Your dad? He doesn’t know any lullabies.” Leo let out a sleepy yawn. “He does too!” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut. “When he sings to Miss Nina while she rests her head on his lap, it sounds way better than this.” My hand froze. 1 I stayed that way for a long time. So long that Leo had already drifted off to sleep in his bed. Finally, I moved, walking slowly to the balcony to stare into the night. It was Christmas Eve, and the world outside glittered with life, a tapestry of festive lights woven between the houses. When I turned back, my own home felt cavernously cold and empty. Just like every other night, Ethan wasn’t home yet. I hesitated for a moment before dialing his number. The ringtone droned on for what felt like an eternity, nearly forty seconds, before a clipped, impatient voice answered. “In a meeting. I’ll be late.” He hung up before I could even reply. But I’d heard it. The background noise wasn’t the quiet hum of a boardroom. It was a cacophony of chatter and laughter, a woman’s giggle cutting through it all. On an impulse I couldn’t explain, I went downstairs, got in my car, and drove straight to Leo’s preschool. The square across the street was alive with holiday cheer. It took me less than a second to find him. Ethan was dressed in a goofy Santa suit, striking ridiculous poses that made the woman sitting on the stone steps double over with laughter. He used the moment to slip a piece of candy into her hand, his voice warm. “Nina, Merry Christmas.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. Last Christmas, I’d been bored at home. I’d tugged on his sleeve, trying to be playful. “Come on, just spend a little time with me. Can’t you leave work early?” I’d wheedled. “Just an hour? Half an hour? Even ten minutes would be enough!” He’d merely shot me a cold look and pulled his arm away. “It’s just one night, Chloe. Why are you being so childish?” My vision blurred. Across the square, they were still laughing and teasing each other, looking for all the world like a couple lost in the throes of new love. I knew her. Nina. Leo’s “Miss Nina.” At twenty, Ethan had fought our arranged marriage with everything he had. He’d knelt before his grandfather, begging to be punished, begging to marry her. In the end, the old man’s fury had triggered a heart attack. His dying wish, written into his will, was that Ethan honor the engagement. So Ethan had shut his mouth and locked away his heart. He cut off all contact with her and, as promised, he married me and we had a child. But now, a decade later, it was thirty-year-old Ethan who couldn’t forget Nina. Not me, his wife of ten years. In that instant, ten years of marriage and fifteen years of my own secret, unrequited love felt like a pathetic joke. I forced a bitter smile. If this marriage was something I had stolen, then it was time I gave it back. Taking a deep breath, I turned and drove home. The clock hands swept past midnight before Ethan finally walked through the door. I hadn’t turned on any lights. I was just a small shape curled up on the sofa in the dark. He looked at me in silence for a moment, not noticing the paleness of my face as he sat down beside me. “Can’t sleep without me?” he chuckled, pulling a small jewelry box from his pocket. “It’s the new piece from the holiday collection. Want to try it on?” My lips tightened. “Christmas is over, Ethan,” I told him, my voice flat. “And so is my love for you.” His expression darkened, the faint glimmer of amusement vanishing from his eyes. He tossed the box into the nearby trash can. “Chloe, you’re crossing a line.” As he turned to leave, the air he stirred carried a cloying, fruity sweetness that made my stomach turn. I stopped him as he headed for his study. My voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” That way, I’ll never have to cross a line again. 2 Ethan froze mid-stride. He turned his head, his brow furrowed. “All because I was late for one stupid holiday?” I was silent for a moment, then shook my head. “It’s more than that.” To be honest, the word “divorce” had startled me as much as it had him. From the time I was a little girl, my mother had drilled it into my head that I was destined to be Ethan’s wife. I had chased after him for years. I’d been hurt, I’d been exhausted, I’d cried, but I had never once thought of giving up. And yet, the word had slipped out so easily. Ethan’s face was a blank mask, his gaze chilling me to the bone. “If you’re going to throw a tantrum, Chloe, at least pick a better time. I’m busy. I don’t have time for these childish games.” I didn’t expect him to believe me. It didn’t matter. I didn’t argue. He’d know I was serious soon enough, when a lawyer presented him with the divorce agreement and a detailed division of our assets. I changed the subject, my tone deceptively casual. “Nina got a divorce, did you know? I hear she’s teaching at Leo’s preschool now.” Ethan’s eyes dropped. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “And I don’t care.” How could he not care? I stared at the headlines on my phone, my fingers gripping the screen until my knuckles turned white. “CEO’s Fiery Defense of Childhood Sweetheart.” “A Love That Transcends Class.” He had helped her with the divorce. He had personally carried her to his car. And he had carefully chosen a job for her, placing her right under his nose. I shoved the phone in his face, my voice trembling. “This is you ‘not caring’?” I demanded. “Wasn’t that you, the great CEO, playing Santa in the snow to make her smile?” Ethan barely glanced at it, not even giving me a proper look. “Her ex was a monster. Abusive. I brought Nina back because I couldn’t stand by and watch. I’d do the same for anyone.” He sighed, as if explaining something to a difficult child. “Christmas is her birthday, and she’s been depressed. I was just trying to cheer her up. Chloe, can’t you have a little empathy? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You always overthink things.” It was all so reasonable. My limbs felt stiff, my chest so tight I could hardly breathe. I didn’t know what expression to make. Ethan paused, then let out a soft sigh, patting my shoulder. “Chloe, we’re married now.” The words were meant to be comforting, but they were laced with a quiet sorrow, a phantom limb of a love he’d lost in his youth. I understood his unspoken message. We’re married. What more could you possibly want? I shook his hand off, clinging to one last shred of hope. “Leo had a fever all night. Did you know?” He flinched. I knew it. He’d put me on Do Not Disturb again, never even seeing my messages. A bitter sting filled my nose. I was about to say more when a horrifying realization struck me. Leo. I’d wanted to name him Theodore, but Ethan had insisted on Leo. For her middle name. Leonora. Nina was just a nickname. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Even the child we had created was just another secret monument to his memory of her. I felt utterly defeated. I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Ethan looked uncertain, hesitantly reaching for me, but the sudden, sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the tension. A moment later, the door swung open. A frail figure peeked around the doorframe, her voice choked with tears. “Ethan… I have nowhere else to go.” 3 Nina’s sobs filled the room. The little rabbit keychain dangling from her hand was a perfect match to the one on Ethan’s keyring. Clearly, he’d brought her here before, shown her our home while I was away. Seeing her tears, Ethan’s composure shattered. He turned without a second thought to go to her. Bile rose in my throat. I fought back the nausea and grabbed the corner of his jacket. “Ethan, do you think I’m that much of a pushover?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “Do you even consider this our home anymore? Leo is still sick…” My voice cracked. “If you let her in that door, we are really, truly done.” His eyes, red-rimmed and desperate, met mine. He paused, his hand covering mine on his jacket. Then, slowly and deliberately, he pried my fingers off, one by one. “This doesn’t concern you, Chloe. Just do your job and be my wife.” He pulled away and rushed to Nina’s side, his voice dripping with concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?” Nina buried her face in his chest, her muffled sobs telling a story only he could hear. Ethan’s brow furrowed in anger. He held her, murmuring reassurances until she quieted down, finally sparing me a glance. “Nina’s ex-husband followed her here. She’s alone and terrified he’ll harass or hurt her, so she came to me for help,” he explained, his tone accusatory. “Don’t be so cruel, Chloe. Go clear out the master bedroom. You can sleep with Leo tonight. Nina needs to rest.” My fingers clenched into fists. I stared at him, my jaw tight. “She needs to rest? What about Leo? Isn’t he your son? You want him to sleep poorly while he’s sick?” Just then, the door to the spare bedroom opened. Leo stood there, his face stormy with irritation. He glared at me, his voice sharp. “Mommy, you’re so loud! Can’t a person get some sleep?” I froze, stunned into silence. My first instinct was still to worry about his fever, to soften my voice and coax him back to bed. But then Leo’s eyes landed on Nina, who was trembling behind Ethan. I tried to block his view, but he pushed my hand away and ran straight to her, tugging on her arm like a puppy. “Miss Nina? What are you doing here? Did you miss me?” He looked up at her tear-streaked face. “Are your eyes red because my mommy was being mean and scared you?” Nina knelt, gently stroking his hair, her lips curving into a soft, sad smile. “No, sweetie, your mommy is a very nice person… The teacher was just followed by a bad man, her ex-husband. For a little while, I might not have a home.” Leo’s face lit up with purpose. He took her hand and puffed out his chest. “Don’t be scared, Miss Nina, I’ll protect you! When I grow up, I’ll marry you, and then you’ll never have to worry about not having a home again!” Nina blinked, then burst into a genuine, delighted laugh. “You little charmer. I wonder where you get your taste in women.” Her eyes flickered meaningfully toward Ethan. The hardness in Ethan’s face softened. He playfully tapped Leo’s forehead. “Get back to bed. You think Nina needs your help?” “No! I want to sleep with Miss Nina…” The warm, yellow light of the living room cast a soft glow on the three of them. Bathed in the light, they looked like a perfect, happy family. And I was the intruder. I let out a quiet laugh—I wasn’t sure if it was from pain or self-mockery. Without another word, I went and packed a small bag. As I walked to the door, I looked back at Ethan with considerate calm. “It’s okay if the house is a little crowded.” “I’ll just stay somewhere else.” Ethan’s movement stuttered. He took two steps toward me before Nina grabbed his arm. “Ethan, Leo said he’s sleepy. Why don’t we get him to bed first?” He stopped. He glanced at my back, then down at Nina’s pleading eyes, and his resolve crumbled. He gently pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright. Let’s get our two little troublemakers to sleep.” He hesitated for a second, then tossed a black credit card onto the floor near my feet. “If you insist on making a scene, then get out and cool off for a few days. When you’re done with your tantrum, I’ll come get you.” I bit down on my lip, hard. I didn’t turn around. I just walked out and slammed the door behind me. Then I pulled out my phone and called the number that had been sitting in my block list for years. “If I said I regret it now,” I asked, “is the offer still on the table?” On the other end, a man chuckled, a lazy, carefree sound, but his voice held a new weight when he spoke. “I’m still single. Of course it is.” 4 It took my lawyer a week to draft the divorce papers and divide our marital assets based on the evidence I provided. During that time, Ethan didn’t call. He didn’t come to get me. But I heard all about him. He made high-profile appearances at the preschool, joining Nina for parent-child activities. After school, photos surfaced of him wrapping both of them in his oversized coat, shielding them from the wind and snow. Even though I’d braced myself, my heart still ached with a familiar bitterness. I was always cold. One winter, years ago, I’d playfully slipped my hand into his coat pocket. “Let me borrow some of your warmth?” Without a second thought, he’d pulled my hand out. “I’ll have my assistant buy you a hand warmer.” I’d thought he was just shy, uncomfortable with public displays of affection. Now I knew the truth. It was never about shyness. It was just a lack of love. His recent public appearances were a calculated move, successfully capturing the media’s attention. Headlines like “Trouble in Paradise for Shen Corp CEO?” and “Ethan Shen Rekindles Old Flame” dominated the news cycle for days. The comment sections were a storm of speculation: [Isn’t she the girl he wanted to marry ten years ago, before the arranged marriage?] [They were always meant to be together.] [The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. If his wife hadn’t forced her way in, none of this would have happened.] [He looks so happy with the girl he really loves. They look like a perfect family.] In the past, whenever rumors of marital trouble had surfaced, Ethan had crushed them before they even went to print. One nosy reporter was run out of the city overnight, never to be seen in journalism again. The family name was everything. Which meant that now, every one of these articles, every one of these comments, had his tacit approval. He was choosing to direct the narrative, to paint me as the villain, to ensure the woman he cherished wouldn’t suffer a single whisper of criticism. I took a deep, steadying breath. It didn’t matter. This sham of a marriage was finally ending. I went straight to his office. His assistant tried to block my way, head bowed. “Ma’am, Mr. Shen is busy. And you don’t have an appointment…” I just stared at him. He held his ground, sweating. Just then, Nina emerged from the office, carrying an empty lunchbox. She gave me an apologetic smile, but I could see the triumphant glint in her eyes. “Chloe. Ethan is a little tied up right now.” I ignored her, pushed past, and threw the divorce agreement onto Ethan’s desk. “The property’s divided,” I said coolly. “You get the kid. If there are no issues, sign it.” Ethan turned his head. The words “Divorce Agreement” seemed to burn on the page. His brow furrowed. “Are you still angry about this? I’m not signing it. Get it out of here.” Beside me, I saw Nina’s hand clench, her knuckles white. An unsettling silence filled the room. Ethan stared at me, his frown deepening. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a sudden commotion outside. “Who the hell is that?” “Somebody stop that lunatic!” A brutish man stormed into the office, lunged at Nina, and slapped her hard across the face, twice. “You little tramp!” he roared. “Thought you could run off? I give you everything, and you throw yourself at another man to be his mistress! You filthy…” After striking her, he turned to me with a sickeningly sweet smile and a nod. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Shen. I’ll take her home right now and teach her some manners.” I was stunned. Ethan’s face went dark with rage. He glared at me, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “You hired this scum to attack her? You hate her that much?” His voice was a low growl. “Chloe, you’re a woman too. Are you trying to drive Nina to her death?” I clutched the sleeve of my coat, my face draining of color. “Is that really what you think of me?” Ten years. I thought if there wasn’t love, there would at least be a basic foundation of trust. “Shut up!” he roared, his eyes bloodshot. “Chloe… you make me sick.” He snatched a pen, furiously scribbled his name on the papers, and threw the agreement at my feet. I bent down, calmly picked it up, turned around, and walked away without a backward glance. Ethan sat frozen in his chair, his chest heaving, his lips trembling. His eyes darted around the room in frustration. On the corner of his desk lay a single, snapped red thread. His pupils contracted. He shot up from his chair, ready to chase me, but just then, Leo came running in from school. “Daddy, did you get a new car?” Ethan paused, confused. “…No.” “Oh. But I just saw Mommy get into a wicked-cool red supercar.”

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One drunken night, things got messy between me and my stepbrother. I woke up the next morning and saw text floating in the air, like a livestream chat. [One shot, one kill. Is this the night she gets pregnant?] [Yep. She gets pregnant, gets dumped immediately, has a painful birth, and then loses the baby.] [She has a mental breakdown looking for the kid, crashes the male and female leads’ engagement party, and cries a bucket of tears…] I froze. My stepbrother, Julian, usually hated my guts. Terrified of the consequences, I scrambled out of bed and fled the country. Three years later, I only dared to return for a business marriage arranged by my family. But at my engagement party, a toddler who looked exactly like me stumbled in. The floating text appeared again. [Sigh, the heroine is getting engaged to the ‘male lead’.] [Poor stepbrother. As the yandere villain, he humbled himself to give birth to the heroine’s child, just hoping she’d look at him once.] [Mermen have high drives. He rubbed the only dress he stole from her until it turned into tassels, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to lock her in his panic room.] Wait. What? The one who got pregnant… was my stepbrother? 1 From the day my mom married into the Sterling family, Julian Sterling never gave me a pleasant look. It was safe to say that even if every other woman on earth disappeared, he wouldn’t spare me a glance. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. One drunken night, we ended up tangling in the sheets until dawn. When I opened my eyes and saw Julian’s flawless, icy face, my soul nearly left my body. Something was wrong. I looked again. He shifted, pulling me tighter into his arms, eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep and laziness. “Babe, are you sure you want to keep moving?” I felt a scorching heat against my leg. I went rigid. His voice was raspy as he tightened his grip. “Be good. Sleep a little longer.” I was screwed. Literally and figuratively. 2 Julian was arrogant, entitled, and hated me to the bone. He also had a fiancée. His life was perfect. I couldn’t afford the consequences of ruining it. Just as I was panicking, the text floated across the air. [One shot, one kill. Is this the night she gets pregnant?] [Yep. She gets pregnant, gets dumped immediately, has a painful birth, and then loses the baby.] [She has a mental breakdown looking for the kid, crashes the male and female leads’ engagement party, and cries a bucket of tears…] Me? Pregnant? And he’s the “male lead” of this story? God help me. I craned my neck to look around. I didn’t see any wrappers. No wonder my stepfather was always talking about wanting grandkids at the dinner table. Julian and his fiancée must have been trying. So he didn’t use protection last night. And we did it… so many times. What do I do? Pregnant with my enemy’s child. Abandoned. Painful birth. Screw that. I don’t care about some magical floating text. I make my own destiny! Julian seemed to be sleeping deeply, completely relaxed. He didn’t notice a thing. I slipped away silently. I packed my bags in record time and fled the country. 3 Good news: In three years abroad, I didn’t get pregnant, and I didn’t have a kid. Bad news: My mom arranged a marriage for me. Get the marriage license, and I get ten million dollars. Refuse, and she cuts off my funds and bans me from returning. I chatted with my fiancé online for a while. We met a few times in Europe. His name was Sebastian. He was decent-looking, a gentleman, and seemed very interested in me. We flew back to the States to hold the engagement ceremony. The venue was pure white, with balloons floating everywhere. “Whose kid is that?” someone shouted. “Why does he look exactly like Sophie?” I’m Sophie. I was about to ask who was spreading rumors when I looked down. A beautiful little boy with short legs was running toward me. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror. Smack. He hugged my leg. “Mama, hi.” The kid blinked his big, watery eyes. Slander! Pure slander! I didn’t give birth! But obviously, he looked too much like me. The elders’ faces turned black as coal. They all assumed I had been wilding out abroad. Then, I saw the text again. 4 [Sigh, the heroine is getting engaged to the ‘male lead’.] [Poor stepbrother. As the yandere villain, he humbled himself to give birth to the heroine’s child, just hoping she’d look at him once.] [He rubbed the only dress he stole from her until it turned into tassels, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to lock her in his panic room.] Huh? The one who got pregnant was my stepbrother? But Julian is a man. Is this a side effect of reading too many fantasy novels? While I was spiraling, the elders were arguing. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared on the lawn. He moved like the wind, though his steps were slightly unsteady. He took the small bundle from my arms. The kid knew how to submit. He nuzzled obediently into the man’s neck. “Papa, I’m sorry I made you worry.” That “Papa” was like a bomb going off in the venue. Julian held him, apologizing to everyone. “Yes, he’s my son.” I was studying the kid’s features. Julian stood quietly, his profile sharp, exuding a cold, distant aura. He glanced at me sideways, eyes frosty. He lowered his voice. “Don’t think too much. He’s not yours.” I smiled awkwardly. I didn’t say he was. The engagement ceremony continued. Julian picked a seat. A tall man with a dark face, holding a small child. For some reason, he looked like a jilted wife.

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I had become the “Ditsy Intern” in a trashy CEO romance novel. At a high-stakes business dinner, the System ordered me to demand a Dino-Nugget Happy Meal. I refused. I’d rather die. The System flooded my mouth with the taste of rotten herring and vinegar. I folded immediately. In a voice as small as a mosquito, I squeaked, “I… I want the Dino-Nuggets with the chocolate milk…” Sebastian Sterling, the billionaire CEO, lifted his eyes to look at me. The System screamed in excitement: “Ahhh! The CEO is totally going to pamper you now! He loves your innocence!” The next second, my manager leaned into my ear and whispered like a demon: “Eat your damn nuggets in the alley. Get the hell out of here.” 1 “Hurry up! Demand the nuggets!” The System nagged incessantly in my brain. I gritted my teeth. “We are at a Michelin-star steakhouse. Why would I order dinosaur nuggets? Humiliating me at the office isn’t enough? You have to ruin me in front of the investors too?” I honestly didn’t know why a low-level grunt like me was even at a dinner of this caliber, but the System told me to stop asking questions. Apparently, this was normal in CEO romance logic. The System didn’t care about logic. “If you don’t order, I initiate the punishment phase.” Screw it. Punish me. Shock me until I glow in the dark. I am not ordering dinosaur nuggets at a business merger dinner! The next second, my mouth was filled with the taste of fermented fish guts. Oh god. This dog of a System actually did it. It tasted like licking a marathon runner’s armpit in a sauna. I broke instantly. “I want the Dino-Nuggets…” I whispered. The System cheered. “The CEO is definitely noticing you now! He thinks you’re so unique! Who is this quirky girl braving the corporate world? He vows to protect your rare innocence!” Sebastian Sterling lifted his heavy eyelids and looked at me, a frown creasing his brow. He was wearing a bespoke Italian suit that probably cost more than my life, his features chiseled and deep, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a high nose bridge. He radiated expensive, untouchable energy. The System was ecstatic. “Sebastian thinks you’re special! Ordering a baby meal at a business dinner? So cute!” Just as the System was drowning in its own delusions, Sebastian shot a subtle glance at my department head. My manager stood up, walked over to me, and through a perfect customer-service smile, hissed: “Eat your damn nuggets in the alley. Get the hell out of here.” Thank god. Finally, a normal person in this book. The working class is saved. 2 I had transmigrated into the role of the “Clumsy Corporate Pet” in a CEO novel. Or, to be more accurate, the “Whiny Burden.” In my previous life, I was a high-powered executive. I died because I left a snarky comment on a TikTok video about one of these “pampered office girl” tropes. I wrote: “Wow! She’s eating a Happy Meal during a board meeting! So fresh! So cute! I bet her salary is also child-sized, right? All that whining and no raise, but at least the nuggets are free~” As soon as I hit send, I strained too hard. My hemorrhoid burst. The pain was so intense I blacked out. I tried to stand up, slipped on the tiles with my pants around my ankles, smashed the back of my head on the toilet rim, and died. When I opened my eyes, I was here. In this book. With this System forcing me to act like a toddler in a blazer. My manager asked me to prep coffee; the System forced me to swap it for bubble tea. I had to wear fuzzy, oversized sweaters and shoes with bunny ears while navigating a sea of sharks in Armani suits. I was forced to be a walking disaster zone. For someone who was an elite professional in her past life, this was torture worse than death. I don’t understand what kind of brain damage leads to the creation of this “Useless Assistant” genre. In my old life, I hated my coworkers. Now? I open my eyes and want to murder the author. I wasn’t here to work for the company. I was here to be worked by the company. 3 I dragged my exhausted body back to my rental apartment. The System was still muttering to itself, confused why Sebastian didn’t follow the script and fall in love with my incompetence. I patiently explained, “Listen. In the real world, a low-level grunt doesn’t order food at a business dinner. The menu is set. The administrative team arranges the venue and the courses based on headcount and rank. High-end dinners do not serve dinosaur nuggets!” I was getting angrier as I spoke. “Have you ever even been to a business meeting?” The System sounded aggrieved. “But it shouldn’t be like this! Sebastian should find you interesting! He should think you’re clumsy and silly and super cute, and then fall helplessly in love with you!” I rolled my eyes. This System was clearly the type who fell in love with their drill sergeant during boot camp. If one of my subordinates ordered nuggets in front of a client, I would have fired them on the spot. Sebastian just kicking me out? That was practically saint-like behavior. My phone buzzed. Payday. My expression dropped. Damn it. This “Clumsy Pet” role not only required me to eat toddler food, but it also came with a toddler’s allowance. I looked at the number. It wasn’t even a fraction of my old salary. It looked more like a refund from Amazon than a paycheck. Sigh. I transferred rent to the landlord. Another month working just to have a roof over my head. 4 The next day, my manager looked at my pink frilly dress and fuzzy shoes. “Chloe,” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “You are 28 years old. You need to be professional. Look at how your colleagues dress.” She didn’t say it, but her eyes screamed: You look ridiculous. I wanted to hug her and cry. I wanted to tell her the System forced me to wear this or it would fill my mouth with raw onions. But I couldn’t. Any mention of the System was automatically muted. I just lowered my head, trying to shrink into the floor. Because my next task was starting. Today’s Mission: Break the printer, then post a selfie with the caption: “Oopsie! I’m so dumb, technology is hard!~” Afternoon Mission: Spill coffee on Sebastian. The System insisted this would make him love me. I suspected the System had brain rot from reading too much Wattpad. As soon as I jammed the printer, my manager roared from behind me: “Chloe! Why is the printer broken again? That’s the third time this month! What is wrong with you?” I closed my eyes in despair. In my past life, I graduated from an Ivy League school. I was top of my class. I earned an eight-figure salary as the right hand of Julian, the most difficult CEO in the city. People called me “The CEO’s Loyal Dog.” I wore that title with pride. If I was a dog, I was a Golden Retriever with a diamond collar. And now? I was a 28-year-old woman pretending I didn’t know how paper worked. Is this my punishment for working too hard? 5 Complaining aside, the mission had to be done. The System’s shocks were no joke. I think it trained under a torturer. I carried the coffee into Sebastian’s office. He was reviewing documents. He glanced at me once, then ignored me. He leaned one elbow on the desk, flipping through the quarterly financial report, tapping his finger rhythmically on the mahogany. I twitched. That look… that tapping… it was terrifyingly familiar. It reminded me of my old boss, Julian. “Spill it! Spill it now!” The System shrieked. “According to the trope, if you spill coffee on him, he’ll think you’re clumsy and say the classic line!” “Woman, you have successfully caught my attention.” I suppressed the urge to vomit and walked toward Sebastian. I “tripped.” The cup flew. The hot coffee landed squarely on Sebastian’s… Crotch. F*ck. Why there? Of all places? I stopped breathing. My eyes bulged. That was scalding hot Americano. I had sinned. The Sterling bloodline might end here. Sebastian’s face turned purple. He clenched his jaw so hard I heard a crack, trying not to scream. Even the System panicked. “I said catch his attention, not destroy his future generations!” “Chloe…” Sebastian hissed through gritted teeth. “What. Are. You. Doing?” Sebastian went to the hospital. Second-degree burns. He lay in the hospital bed, looking like he wanted to die. I stood in the corner, nervously rubbing my left ring finger with my thumb. It was a habit I had when I was stressed. I was busy bargaining with the System on how to keep my job when I heard a name. “Harper.” I froze. I looked at the source. It was Sebastian. How did he know my name from my previous life? Sebastian narrowed his eyes at me. He looked at my hand rubbing my finger. “Harper Quinn.” The tone… the cadence… the cold judgment. It hit me like a lightning bolt. My idiot ex-boss had transmigrated too?!

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One month before the SATs, I started seeing my score floating above my head. It was a curse. Every time I completed a practice test, the number dropped by ten points. But for every day I skipped school to party, it went up by ten. I spent an entire month partying. The number above my head climbed to a perfect 1600. But when the actual results came out, I scored a 400. The 1600? That was my younger brother’s score. My parents, furious and humiliated, disowned me and kicked me out to work in a factory. That same night, I was cornered in a dark alley by a group of thugs and beaten to death. As I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, I heard my brother’s voice. “You always thought you were smarter than me, Nathan. But in the end, you were just a fool who believed the number above his head.” That was when I realized: the score I saw was controlled by him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was exactly one month before the SATs. Above my head, the neon number read 1300. “Nathan, let’s do some practice questions tonight,” my brother, Caleb, said with a sweet smile. I looked at him, grabbed the practice sheet in my hand, and lit it on fire with my lighter. “Exams are coming up. I’m done studying.” The number above my head ticked up by 10 points. Caleb feigned disappointment, but the moment I turned around, I saw the smirk curl the corners of his lips. He has no idea. The show I’ve prepared for him is just beginning. Chapter 1 After rejecting Caleb’s invitation, I headed straight for my bedroom. But Caleb wasn’t ready to let me off the hook. He followed me, suggesting we go see a tutor. I slapped his hand away. “Cramming now is useless. Go by yourself if you care so much. I’m going to play video games.” “Nathan, I know you’re smart, but don’t get cocky,” Caleb said, repeating the exact words he used in my past life. He was testing me. He wanted to see if I truly believed the hallucination above my head. I met his gaze and smiled lazily. “Even without studying, I’ll score higher than you.” Caleb looked down, acting hurt, but he couldn’t hide the gleam of triumph in his eyes. Watching his retreating back, I sneered. Caleb, this time, you’re the one who shouldn’t get cocky. Back in my room, the score above my head had jumped to 1350. But the moment I cracked open a textbook, it began to plummet. By the time I finished reviewing the last chapter of calculus, it had dropped to 1200. I pulled up the feed from the micro-camera I had planted on Caleb earlier. On my screen, I saw him pacing his room, looking frantic. “Why is Nathan’s score dropping? I knew that bastard was lying! He says he’s not studying, but he’s grinding behind my back. Why doesn’t he believe the projection?” A distorted voice replied from his phone speaker. “Calm down. If his score drops below 1000, the neural feedback will trigger a migraine so severe it’ll feel like an explosion. If he keeps studying, he’s just torturing himself.” My heart skipped a beat. Neural feedback? Caleb laughed, his face twisting. “Good. If his brain fries, he deserves it for trying to play me.” Watching the score continue to freefall, I frowned. I needed a way to trick the system. I spent the next hour testing variables. No matter what I did in the room, the score dropped. When it hit 1000, the number turned red and started flashing. A sharp pain stabbed at my temples. I panicked. I slammed the book shut, grabbed my keys, and drove straight to a high-end lounge downtown. I booked a private room and ordered a bottle. Only when the score climbed back up to 1400 did the pain subside. Back on the monitor, Caleb noticed the rise. “I knew it. Nathan is an idiot. He fell for it.” “He’s probably out partying right now. He must be so happy seeing that score go up while he does nothing.” “That moron actually thinks he’s getting a 1400. That score belongs to me!” Watching Caleb celebrate my “stupidity,” I poured myself a drink and smirked. He didn’t know I had already figured out the glitch in his little game. Chapter 2 I tossed the chalk onto the floor. I lay back on the velvet sofa of the VIP lounge, admiring the walls. They were covered—floor to ceiling—in complex mathematical formulas. This was what I had actually been doing all night. Because I was in a “leisure environment” and technically “wasting money,” the system didn’t register my mental work. The score above my head remained high. A waiter knocked, reminding me the tab was due. I dialed Caleb. “Bro, I’m stuck at the lounge. Cards are maxed out. Send me some cash, quick.” “A lounge? Nathan, how could you go to a place like that right now?” Caleb’s voice feigned shock and concern. “I needed to blow off steam before the test. Don’t tell Mom and Dad, okay? Just transfer me two grand.” “You should come home and study,” he chided. “Are you my brother or not? If the club calls Dad, I’m dead. I’ll be locked in my room studying for weeks. Just help me out. I need to relax.” Caleb sighed, acting reluctant. “Fine. But you have to promise to study eventually.” I agreed effortlessly and hung up. Caleb transferred me three grand—his entire savings. He wanted me to stay here and rot. I took his money and lived in that lounge for a month. I only returned home the day before the SATs, sporting dark circles under my eyes. Above my head, the neon number blazed: 1600. Caleb smiled, handing me my admission ticket. “You’re finally back. Just in time for the test.” “You useless waste of space!” My mother screamed from the living room. “The biggest exam of your life, and you disappear for a month to party?” “Why did you even come back? You should have died in a gutter!” Her words stung, even though I knew she had always favored Caleb. I tried to force a bitter smile, but my father was faster. He slapped me across the face. “Don’t you dare smirk at me! You degenerate!” “If it weren’t for your grandmother insisting, I wouldn’t even let you sit for the exam!” He grabbed my ear, twisting it violently. When I tried to pull away, he kicked my knee, sending me crashing to the floor. “You spent a month in a club with god knows who? You probably have a drug habit or a pregnant stripper chasing you by now!” He kicked me toward my room. “I should just lock you in here!” Caleb intervened, playing the saint. “Dad, stop! Grandma said Nathan has to take the test. We can’t disobey Grandma.” At the mention of the family matriarch—the one who controlled the trust fund—Dad hesitated. He shoved me toward the door. “Go. It’s a waste of time anyway.” I clutched my burning ear and limped to the car. Caleb and I were driven to the testing center. After the exams were over, Caleb rushed out of the center, beaming at our parents. “I crushed it. I feel like I got everything right. Can we throw the celebration party the day the scores drop?” Mom and Dad looked at him with pure adoration. “If you’re that confident, Caleb, of course. We’ll invite Grandma, too. She needs to see your success.” “Yes! Grandma always favors Nathan, but this time, I’m going to give her a real surprise.” At that moment, the floating number above my head flickered and vanished. I watched Caleb’s confident strut and smiled. Oh, little brother. You’re in for a surprise, alright. Chapter 3 The day after the exam, my parents took Caleb on a luxury graduation trip to Europe. They left me behind. I wasn’t sad; I was relieved. With the house empty, I could finally work. I dialed a number I had memorized by heart. “Professor, I solved the equation you sent me last month.” The voice on the other end gasped. “Nathan? You actually cracked the Riemann hypothesis variant? This is… this is going to change everything for the institute!” The Professor sent a car for me immediately. I spent the next month at the Advanced Research Institute, working on proofs and algorithms. I didn’t leave until the day the SAT scores were released. The Professor’s driver dropped me off at the hotel where my family was holding the “Celebration Banquet.” I walked into the ballroom. My parents and Caleb, tan from their trip, were surrounded by socialites and business partners. “Mr. Xu, you are so blessed. Two bright sons.” “It’s an honor to be associated with the Xu family.” The crowd wasn’t just here for test scores. Grandma, the iron-fisted matriarch of the Xu Corporation, had declared that whoever got into the better university would inherit her controlling shares. Today wasn’t a party. It was a coronation. I took a deep breath and walked straight to Grandma. She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Confident, Nathan?” I nodded. “I won’t let you down, Grandma.” In my past life, Grandma was the only one who loved me. But after Caleb framed me and my score tanked, she died of a heart attack three days later, heartbroken by my ‘failure.’ I wouldn’t let that happen again. “Nathan, why lie to Grandma?” Caleb’s voice cut through the air. He marched over, phone in hand. “You spent a month getting drunk in a lounge. How could you possibly do well?” He flashed photos of me in the club, surrounded by bottles, to the guests. Dad looked at me with pure disgust. “If I were you, I wouldn’t have shown my face today.” “Caleb is estimating a 1580. You probably didn’t even break 800. After today, the company belongs to your brother. You’ll be begging him for scraps.” “A loser preparing to leach off his brother… pathetic.” The guests whispered and laughed. “I saw him downtown. He had a bottle in one hand and a girl in the other. Living the life.” “A 1580? That’s Ivy League material. Probably Harvard or MIT.” “Caleb has always been the smart, handsome one. The company is safe in his hands.” I scanned the room of sycophants. “The scores aren’t even out yet. You’re all licking his boots a little early, aren’t you?” “Watch your mouth!” Dad snapped. “Bad grades and bad manners.” “Someone’s delusional,” a guest laughed. “If partying got you into Yale, the clubs would be libraries.” My dad slammed his car keys on the table—keys to a McLaren. “If you beat Caleb, this car is yours.” I laughed. “Just a car? I thought you were a big shot, Dad.” “If you trust Caleb so much, why not bet all your properties?” Mom hesitated, but the crowd egged them on. “A 1580 is a lock! Nathan has no chance.” “Exactly. Even if you bet the whole estate, Nathan isn’t taking a dime.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, Dad? All your assets. Let’s see your confidence.” Dad wavered, but Mom whispered, “What are you afraid of? He’s trash.” Caleb nodded. “Trust me, Dad.” Dad puffed out his chest. “Fine! Whichever son gets into the better school gets all my personal assets. Grandma is the witness!” Just then, the online portal for scores opened. Caleb stepped up. “I’ll go first. Let’s verify my estimate.” He typed in his info with a flourish. The screen refreshed. Chapter 4 1580. The room erupted. “1580! It’s real! Caleb is practically the CEO already.” “A young man of such character and intelligence. We are in good hands.” I frowned slightly. The number was high—exactly what he needed. Dad looked at me like I was a cockroach. “Wipe that look off your face. From now on, you serve your brother. Be a good dog, and maybe we won’t starve you.” “If you drag Caleb down, I’ll kill you myself.” I looked at him calmly. “I haven’t checked my score yet. Are you sure I’m the dog in this scenario?” Slap! Mom hit me across the face. “Ungrateful brat! You wish you could serve Caleb!” Caleb looked at me with mock pity, which quickly turned to venom. “Nathan, I don’t know why you hate me. But if your score is lower than mine, I want you to kneel and apologize for disrespecting Dad.” He shoved the laptop toward me. “Check it.” Under the gaze of hundreds, I typed in my info. The screen loaded. I blinked. 400. It happened again. My score and Caleb’s score combined… roughly equaled a perfect score plus the baseline. He had siphoned everything. “400? You get 400 just for signing your name!” “Brain dead. Thank god he’s not the heir.” “All that arrogance for a 400?” Caleb sneered. “Nathan, kneel.” “You’re clearly mentally unstable. As the new CEO, I’ll send you to a specialized facility. I hear the shock therapy does wonders.” “But if you beg nicely, maybe I’ll let you be treated at home.” “Kneel? You’re not worthy,” I said. Caleb kicked the back of my knee. Dad grabbed my shoulder and forced me down. I looked at Grandma. She sighed, her eyes dull. “Nathan… I am so disappointed.” “Grandma, the admissions letters haven’t come out yet!” I shouted. The crowd laughed. “Admissions? With a 400? Maybe community college… if they’re desperate.” “Is he delusional?” “Caleb is too nice. Just kick him out.” Caleb sighed theatrically. “Nathan, you see? You have to kneel, or the investors won’t respect me.” He signaled security. A guard kicked my other knee, forcing me to the ground. I tried to stand, but Caleb stepped on my face, grinding his heel into my cheek. “Nathan,” he whispered, “I want you to watch me get into MIT while you rot. When I leave for college, I’ll have your tendons cut. You’ll be a cripple forever.” He laughed, standing up as the doors opened. The admissions representatives from the top universities had arrived. “Watch this,” Caleb said, walking toward them with open arms. But as he reached them, his smile froze. The show was about to start.

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On Children’s Day, the orphanage director brought out two boxes of treats for my sister and me. One was a box of To’ak aged dark chocolate, the other a simple bag of White Rabbit milk candies. My sister, Hazel, snatched the chocolate immediately, leaving me with the milk candy. Hazel, clutching her prize, was adopted by a farming family. She grew resentful. She thought the expensive chocolate meant a wealthy family, but it turned out to be farmers who had splurged once in a lifetime. From then on, she tormented the couple, growing lazy, gluttonous, and deceitful. Eventually, when the couple asked her to help with the farm work, she stabbed them both to death in a fit of rage. Panicked, she ran away and stumbled upon a private dining club in the suburbs. There, she saw me, dining with a wealthy merchant couple. I had been adopted by the wealthy family. I wore an expensive dress, and the birthmark on my face had been removed by surgery. I had transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. “I wanted the wealthy family! Why did you steal them from me? I became a farm girl while you lived like a princess!” Hazel’s face twisted with madness as she pulled out the knife hidden in her coat. She lunged at me, screaming. “You deserve to die! If you die, I can be their daughter! Hahahaha…” Before she could finish her triumphant laugh, my adoptive father kicked her against the wall. She hit her head and died, joining me in the afterlife shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, we were back to the day we chose the candy. Hazel snatched the milk candy first. She sneered at me immediately: “From now on, you’ll be the lowly farm girl. You’ll never compare to me. That ugly birthmark on your face will be there forever!” If she wants to be the “princess” that badly, she can have it. I couldn’t be happier. 1 After being stabbed to death by my sister, I opened my eyes to find myself reborn. It was Children’s Day again, the year I was nine. The orphanage director led us to the table with the two boxes of candy. “Ivy, Hazel. Two families have decided to adopt you. One is a wealthy merchant family, the other a farming couple. The chocolate is—” “I choose the milk candy!” Before the director could finish, Hazel grabbed the bag of White Rabbit candy, hugging it to her chest while glaring at me warily. I solemnly picked up the box of To’ak chocolate, unable to suppress the smile curling at the corners of my lips. The two couples waiting outside entered to pick us up. As we left with our new families, the director looked puzzled, muttering to herself: “Hazel is usually so greedy and vain. Why would she give up the expensive chocolate?” In that moment, I knew. Hazel had been reborn too. But Hazel wasn’t the only thing that changed. The farming couple was different too. I remembered clearly. In my past life, when the farming couple came in, their eyes lit up with joy and adoration when they saw Hazel. Back then, the chocolate had already been eaten, so they couldn’t tell who chose what. Now… the farm mother looked at Hazel with hurt and disappointment. The farm father looked at her with cold indifference, even a hint of hatred. This time, that adoration and cherishing gaze was directed at me. The farm mother gently touched the birthmark on my face, her eyes filled with tenderness. “You’re our precious girl now. Mom will find a way to get this removed for you. My daughter will be beautiful.” The farm father quickly added, “Dad will buy you new dresses and yummy food, too.” The honest man rubbed his hands nervously before carefully patting my head. I would never forget my past life. While learning etiquette in the wealthy household, I was often beaten black and blue by the wealthy mother. Once, when I ran away and crouched by the roadside, it was this farm mother who saw me, bought medicine, and bandaged my wounds. Her kindness was a stark contrast to my reality. I had often wished I was the one who went home with them. Seeing her gentle face again, my eyes grew hot. Hazel sneered. “A bunch of hillbillies. What money do you have for surgery? You’re destined to be poor forever.” Ignoring her sarcasm, I hugged the farming couple and called out sweetly: “Mom, Dad, I’m so happy to be your daughter.” “Hmph! You guys…” Hazel stomped her foot and ran toward the wealthy couple. She opened her arms for a hug. But the wealthy wife pulled her away distantly, disdain evident in her eyes. I shook my head secretly. Hazel, oh Hazel, you have no idea what you’ve just given up. 2 I went home to the countryside with my new parents. I was fully mentally prepared for a simple life, helping out on the farm. I was about to roll up my sleeves and ask if I should feed the pigs or till the fields. But when we entered the farmhouse, I was shook. That sofa looked incredibly familiar. I tugged on my dad’s sleeve. “Dad, where did you buy this sofa?” Dad waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that? I bought too many supplies once, and a foreign client gifted it to me as a bonus. I thought the color was ugly and wanted to put it in the pigpen for the sow, but your mom said it was comfy, so we kept it.” I was stunned. If I remembered correctly, that was an Italian handmade leather sofa. In my past life, my wealthy mother flew all the way to Italy to bid on one, failed, and came back in such a rage she beat me and starved me for days. How could I forget it? “Dad, are we… not poor?” I blinked my big eyes, feigning innocence. Though it was a question, my tone was certain. Hazel didn’t know quality, but in my past life, I had been exposed to luxury goods, willingly or not. “Who said that! Spreading rumors that we’re poor? When did your dad ever say we were poor? Don’t worry, you’ll eat well and dress well.” He paused, then added: “At least, you won’t live worse than your sister.” “Okay, Dad.” I smiled sweetly. Hazel loved to attack me for my birthmark because otherwise, my features were delicate and refined. Even with the mark, I wasn’t ugly, and people often said my smile was pure. Definitely better than her shifty eyes and mean brows. Or so I thought. “Sweetie, Mom will transfer you to the best elementary school in the city tomorrow, okay? A-City First Elementary.” A-City First Elementary. That was my school in my past life. Hazel would likely go there too. But the educational resources there were top-tier, not just in the city but in the country. I wouldn’t give up a good education just to avoid Hazel. I nodded gratefully at my mom. “Thank you, Mom!” “Silly child, no need to thank family. Oh, right, about your birthmark. Mom has already scheduled the surgery. You’ll go to school after it’s done.” My mom looked worried when mentioning the birthmark. “Mom, it’s okay. I’m used to it.” “No, sweetie, don’t be scared. Mom hired the top specialist in the country. You’ll heal perfectly.” Mom patted my shoulder reassuringly. I smiled. Of course I believed her. In both lives, she was the person I trusted most. The next day, I went into surgery. A week later, I reported to school wearing a mask. 3 “Hello everyone, I’m the new transfer student, Ivy Ye. Please take care of me.” As fate would have it, I looked down and met Hazel’s venomous gaze. Great. Enemies really do cross paths. I rolled my eyes at her. “Ivy, go find an empty seat.” “Okay, thank you, teacher.” As soon as I sat down, I heard Hazel gossiping about me to everyone around her. Loudly. “Hey, do you guys know why Ivy is wearing a mask?” She asked mysteriously, throwing a provocative look my way. Psycho. Does she think I care? “It’s because… she’s a monster! The birthmark on her face is hideous. She looks like a goblin.” Hazel dragged out the word “goblin.” Me: “???” Goblin your grandma. Your whole family looks like goblins. I took out the book covers my mom bought me and started wrapping my new textbooks. Hazel? I treated her like a fart in the wind. “Really? Is she that ugly?” someone asked. “If she dares not take off her mask, she must be ugly,” Hazel said, staring right at me with arms crossed. Tch. Did she think goading me would work? No chance. Seeing I wouldn’t bite, Hazel continued her attack. “She’s just a hillbilly. Her family is dirt poor. I don’t even know how she got into this school. Don’t let her scare you.” “I think the half of her face I can see is pretty. She doesn’t look like a goblin. Hazel, can you stop bullying people like a mean old lady?” A girl with delicate features walked over, put her arm around my shoulder, and retorted. “Don’t worry, ignore her. She just got here a few days ago too. She’s a troublemaker.” So nice. She comforted me. I gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’ll treat you to snacks at lunch.” “Sure! I’m Wendy.” Wendy sat down in the seat next to me. Nice, my desk mate. I walked up to Hazel and whispered in her ear, “If you keep messing around, I’ll sign up for the same events as you in the talent show and crush you. Sister, you know your talent has always been inferior to mine.” Hazel loved to show off, and relying on her status as the Qin family’s adopted daughter, no one dared to compete with her. Hazel was stunned. Her eyes turned even more venomous. If looks could kill, I’d be a sieve right now. But I didn’t expect Hazel to be so persistent. After school, my mom called. “Sweetie, wait at school for a bit. A new batch of seeds just matured in the field, Dad and I need to record some data.” “Okay, take your time. I’ll wait.” Just like old times. I went to the dessert shop across from the school, ordered a bowl of herbal jelly, and enjoyed it happily. Suddenly, someone grabbed my neck and dragged me out of the shop. 4 Seriously? And there were two of them. “Let go of me! You jerks!” I screamed. My backpack contents spilled everywhere. There were other customers, but no one dared to help. A busybody tried to step in but was stopped. “Don’t go. That’s the Qin family’s adopted daughter. You can’t offend the Qins.” “Yeah, that girl looks like she’s from a normal family. She can’t fight the Qins. Don’t meddle.” I closed my eyes in despair. Dragged into an alley. Hazel and her minion let go of me. “Ivy, weren’t you arrogant at school today? Daring to glare at me?” Hazel pinched my chin arrogantly. Her eyes flashed with madness. “It’s all your fault. Why didn’t you tell me the Qins are devils? Bitch! You bitch! Stop pretending, I know you were reborn too!” Looking at her, I guessed she was going through what I endured in my past life. The wealthy mother, Mrs. Qin, always acted elegant and above it all. But in reality, she was the meanest person alive. She didn’t adopt me because she wanted a daughter. She did it because her business in Dubai ran into trouble. Local forces demanded her daughter stay in Dubai as leverage. She couldn’t bear to leave her biological daughter, so she sent her abroad to hide and adopted me as a body double. Once I learned everything her daughter knew, I would be sent to Dubai. Whether I could ever return was uncertain. At home, she treated me like less than a dog. Beatings and scoldings were daily occurrences. To the outside world, I was the Qin family miss. Inside, I was a punching bag. Thinking of this, I shivered. Seeing the fresh wounds on Hazel’s arms, my own arms throbbed with phantom pain. In the past life, that was me. My gaze toward Hazel softened with pity. “In both lives, I never wronged you. Why do you keep trying to harm me?” Hazel didn’t answer. She opened her hand, revealing a fan-shaped pendant. “Your birth mother’s heirloom. Want it?” My eyes instantly grew hot. I deflated. “Give it back, please? I’ll agree to whatever you want,” I rasped. “Oh, so you’re done being arrogant? If you really want it, take off your mask in class tomorrow. I’m not forcing you, you’re doing it voluntarily, understand?” “Fine.” I calmed myself down. Although Hazel and I were in children’s bodies, we were adults inside. “Let her go. Wait, your family is poor now, right? Kneel and beg me. Maybe I’ll give you a few hundred bucks for your surgery.” Hazel laughed until she cried. “Ivy, are you going to keep that pathetic pride? I want to see how long you last. I’m waiting to see you beg like a dog. Remember, no mask. Not just tomorrow, but every day.” “My dear sister, I just want to see you miserable. I’m waiting…”

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During a fight, my boyfriend stood there, eyes red and brimming with tears, and screamed at me: “If I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” Who could have guessed that later that day, we would actually travel back in time to our high school days? True to his word, he acted completely cold toward me. Just as I was feeling disheartened and ready to let this relationship go, I stumbled upon him muttering to himself in a secluded corner of the school. “This time, I absolutely will not be Nina’s dog.” “I have to maintain my image as the icy, unattainable bad boy. I’ll make her swoon until she obeys my every command.” “Damn you, Nina. Just you wait. You’re going to be the one chasing me. You’re going to be the simp!” But that very night, all I did was say one sentence to the school’s top student. My “icy bad boy” instantly dissolved into a sobbing mess: “Boohoo… please, I’m begging you, don’t be with him! He can only be your boyfriend, but I can be your dog!” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll bark for you right now! Woof!” “Woof, woof, woof—” 1 It started in the evening. I was dealing with a critical work crisis, and Jax was hovering over me, doing his best to be a nuisance. I was glued to my computer screen, typing furiously. Suddenly, he dangled a silver chain in front of my face. With a shy, coquettish expression, he said, “Wifey, look! I bought a new body chain. Doesn’t it make my skin look paler? Do you want to see me wear it?” As he spoke, he started unbuttoning his shirt, his finger tracing a line down his chest. I ignored his seduction attempt and kept typing. Seeing no reaction, he ran to the closet, pulled out a maid outfit, and trotted back. He rested his chin on my desk, looking up at me with sparkling puppy eyes. “Wifey, later let’s play ‘Roleplay.’ I’ll be the delicate servant, and you can be the domineering mistress who forces herself on me.” I ignored him. My eyes saw only spreadsheets. Jax pouted, walking away with a look of utter disappointment. Just when I thought he’d given up, he ran back to my side. “Wifey, I’m hungry… feed me?” A wandering hand started creeping toward my shirt. Before he could undo a single button, I slapped his hand away. Jax froze. He clutched the side of his face I’d slapped, looking at me with pure disbelief. “You hit me?” I opened my mouth to apologize, but he immediately turned his head, offering the other cheek. “Hit this side too.” I was speechless. “Jax, you idiot dog, can you stop annoying me?” “You… what did you call me?” Jax’s pupils trembled. “You used to call me ‘Sweetheart’! Now… now you’re calling me ‘Idiot Dog’?” He pointed a trembling finger at me, accusingly. “You women… once you get what you want, you stop cherishing it!” I gave him a look of pure disgust. Jax exploded. “Fine, Nina! Just you wait! Tonight, you sleep alone! No chest pillows, no abs to touch! Let’s see how you sleep without me!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I finished my work and went to bed. I was so exhausted I fell asleep instantly. The one tossing and turning all night was Jax. In the middle of the night, he snuck into the room, climbed into bed, and whispered aggressively in my ear: “Nina, I hate that you’re an emotionless block of wood!” That woke me up. I kicked him off the bed. 2 The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom to find Jax standing at the door with a suitcase. I knew immediately he was holding a grudge about the kick and was pulling his “I’m running away from home” routine. Sure enough, he announced, “Nina, how could you treat me like that? I am very angry. I am leaving this house!” I ignored him and went to the kitchen to heat some milk. He had his back to me. When I didn’t react, he assumed I hadn’t heard. He raised his volume. “I am angry! I am leaving!” “Hello? Can you hear me? I said I’m running away!” “Still nothing? I depart!” He shouted a few more times. When there was still no movement, he couldn’t hold back and turned around. I was already sitting at the dining table, enjoying my breakfast. He ran over to me and repeated, “I’m leaving home.” I took a slow bite of my toast. “Oh. Go ahead then.” Jax froze. It took him a long time to speak. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Yep.” Work had been exhausting lately. He was buzzing in my ear all day and pestering me for “exercise” all night. It was draining. A few days apart might be good. Jax’s eyes turned red instantly. “Can’t you just coax me a little?” “There. Coaxed.” “Perfunctory!” I sighed, looking at him seriously. “Enough. I have to go to work. I really don’t have the energy for your childish games today.” “Childish games?” Jax’s voice pitched up an octave. “You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll really leave this time!” He sprinted to the door. He stood there for a good minute. Seeing that I really had no intention of stopping him, he lowered his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Nina, sometimes I wonder… do you actually like me?” “You treat me like a pet. When you’re happy, you hug me and play with me. When you’re not, you kick me aside.” “You only settled for me because there wasn’t anyone better, right? I’m just your backup plan.” I frowned. “What are you mumbling about? Stop it before I actually get mad.” Jax’s shoulders shook, like he was sobbing. He turned to look at me, eyes rimmed red, and dropped the bombshell: “Nina, if I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” With that, he wailed like a wounded buffalo and ran out the door with his suitcase. Wait, was he actually mad? Panic set in. I quickly changed my clothes and chased after him. But the moment I stepped into the elevator, my vision went black. 3 When I opened my eyes, I was sitting at a desk in a high school classroom. I couldn’t believe it. I pinched my arm hard. Ouch! I wanted to cry. It was real. I had graduated years ago. I had returned all my knowledge to the teachers. And now, you want me to redo Senior Year? God, I surrender. … Aside from the nightmare of relearning calculus, I faced another problem. Jax’s sudden coldness. Jax and I were childhood friends. Growing up, he was my shadow, always chanting “Nina, Nina” behind me. But now, when we passed in the hallway, he walked right by me without even a glance, his face expressionless. His features were sharp. When he didn’t smile, he looked fierce, radiating a “don’t come near me” aura. Girls used to tell me Jax was a “cold male god,” cool and edgy. I was always shocked. Jax? Cold? He was a golden retriever with boundary issues. Now I understood. He was only warm to me. To everyone else, he was ice. But now, I was no longer the exception. I remembered his last words before the time jump. “If I could do it all over again, I would never be a simp for you!” So, he really didn’t want to be with me this time? My heart felt heavy. I decided to find him after school and talk. Just then, Jax appeared outside my classroom window. I sat by the window, so I could hear him perfectly. He was looking for a guy in my class named Zack. “Hey, wanna play ball after school?” Jax asked, patting Zack’s shoulder. Zack looked surprised. “Don’t you walk Nina home every day? Why basketball?” Jax gave a scoff of pure disdain. “Am I her dog? Following her around all day?” Zack scratched his head. “Aren’t you?” Jax smacked the back of Zack’s head. “The past is the past. The present is the present.” He said seriously, “The current me is not the old me.” Zack was stunned. “Did you guys break up or something?” Jax didn’t answer. I stared at him blankly, my heart clenching tight. Coincidentally, he turned around and our eyes met. But only for a second. He looked away indifferently, like I was a stranger. He turned back to Zack. “Basketball after school. It’s a date.” Then he walked away without hesitation. The pen in my hand dug into my palm. A sour ache spread through my chest. I guess there was no need to talk. It would just be humiliating myself. A tear splattered onto my workbook. 4 My mood was in the gutter until the next afternoon. To relieve the stress, I didn’t go straight home. I wandered around the school grounds. That’s when I stumbled upon Jax. He was hiding in a secluded corner behind the gym, muttering to himself. I crept closer to eavesdrop. “Basketball is so boring. Walking home with Wifey is way better.” “A bunch of sweaty dudes stink. Wifey smells nice.” “I want to hug my younger Wifey and sniff her like a cat.” “So annoying. Why hasn’t she come to find me yet?” Jax kicked the wall in frustration. “Maybe I should go find her tomorrow.” The second the words left his mouth, he slapped himself. “Jax! Where is your ambition?” “Did you forget what you said?” “Do you want to be a woman’s plaything forever?” After a pause, his voice turned firm. “This time, I absolutely will not be Nina’s dog.” “I have to maintain my image as the icy, unattainable bad boy. I’ll make her swoon until she obeys my every command!” “Damn you, Nina. Just you wait. You’re going to be the one chasing me. You’re going to be the simp!” “Hmph. When she finally confesses, I’m going to leave her hanging for two days. Let her taste what it feels like to be anxious.” A second later: “Tsk, two days feels too long. What if she cries?” “One day.” “Hmm… one day is still long. Half a day.” “Okay, half a day. It’s decided!” Jax started getting lost in his fantasy. “With this strategy, Nina will treat me like a treasure. She’ll do whatever I say.” “In the future, I’ll make her wear the maid outfit to serve me. And I’ll pick the positions. She won’t dare kick me off the bed.” “I, Jax, am finally going to be the master of the house.” “Hehe… hehehe…” He started giggling like an idiot. The corner of my mouth twitched. So that was his plan. But he didn’t know I had traveled back too. Suddenly, the tears I shed yesterday felt like a waste. If I didn’t teach him a lesson, he really wouldn’t know who wore the pants in this relationship.

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My father dotes on his illegitimate son. My mother favors her adopted daughter. They compete with each other, and no one wants me. On the eve of my college entrance exams, they suddenly agreed to meet me together. I thought they finally remembered their parental duties and wanted to wish me luck. But when I arrived, each of them pulled out a document: a “Voluntary Renunciation of Inheritance” agreement. They wanted me to sign. It turns out they remembered I was about to turn eighteen. But their only fear was that I would fight their precious children for the family fortune. I sat on the sofa, looking at my parents’ cold expressions. Finally, I just whispered: “Then, can you give me some money?” 1 I needed money. A lot of it. Both my parents had stopped supporting me long ago, each assuming the other was paying my living expenses. Since my junior year of high school, my savings had run dry. I had gone hungry many times, filling my stomach with plain water. When hunger made my vision blur, the desire for money outweighed love. I wanted enough money to finish college, to have a place to live, and to eat. My parents were surprised by this request. Especially my mother. She raised an eyebrow, seemingly disgusted by my mercenary attitude. Sitting next to her was her beloved adopted daughter, Bella. My mother had pampered her for years, grooming her into the perfect debutante. As I spoke, Bella glanced at me. Her posture was elegant and reserved. Without saying a word, her gaze conveyed her disdain and contempt. Thankfully, my mother didn’t dwell on me. Her focus was still on my father. She sneered at him: “So, wasn’t Chloe your ‘only little princess’? And now you let her live in poverty? Fifty thousand dollars? You wouldn’t even tip that little.” She clicked her tongue and sighed. “Chloe, a real heiress, yet her vision is narrower than my Bella’s. This is all due to your responsible parenting.” My mother patted Bella’s hand, proudly displaying her masterpiece to my father. She didn’t care if her biological daughter felt awkward hearing this. My father’s face darkened. Next to him sat Liam, my illegitimate half-brother. For the past two years, Bella had crushed Liam in every aspect—manners, grades, everything. Every time my mother flaunted Bella’s excellence, it was a slap in the face to my father and Liam. My father understood the mockery. Furious, he sneered back: “You’re the mother who abandoned the child from her own womb. Why should I care if you don’t?” “Chloe is rotten from the root; I can’t save her.” My mother smirked, her glare piercing my father. “With a cheating father, her bloodline is tainted. She’s destined to be flawed.” “Samantha, you think you’re any better?” “Look closely, William. I raised Bella to be exceptional, while you raised Liam into a degenerate. The problem isn’t me. It’s your genes. You were always inferior to Robert.” Eventually, they couldn’t contain their anger. Right in front of me, they started arguing again. I trembled, wanting to bury my head like I used to. But I couldn’t. I knew once they vented, they would leave. They would leave me in the mess they created, uncaring. I didn’t want to go hungry anymore. So I screamed, stopping the war. “Save your arguments for after you give me the money!” I slowly extended my hand, palm sweating. “I need to go to college. Give me fifty thousand each.” My whole body shook as I spoke. I didn’t know if it was nerves or excitement. This was the first time I stood up to them. I knew if I didn’t fight now, I would never have another chance. 2 My father had always favored his illegitimate son, the product of an affair with his first love. Liam was only six months younger than me. Before his existence was revealed, we were the perfect family in everyone’s eyes. Successful father, gentle mother, adorable daughter. Everything changed when I was fifteen. Father brought Liam home. That was when my mother learned that for years, my father had essentially built a second family. He often used business trips as an excuse to visit them in a neighboring city, living a sweet life with his mistress and son. But as Liam grew older, his mother wasn’t satisfied with him being just a secret. She wanted to move to our city to be closer to my father, but he refused. Undeterred, she secretly followed him with Liam. But they got into a car accident on the way. That woman used her life to knock open the door of my home for Liam. At first, when my father brought him back, he didn’t dare look my mother in the eye. Deep down, he didn’t think his mistake was that grave; he thought showing weakness would earn forgiveness. But my usually gentle and understanding mother went crazy on the spot. She cursed my father, cursed Liam, and cursed the woman who nearly broke them up years ago. Initially, my father humbly coaxed her, saying, “Liam’s mother is dead; she can’t hurt you anymore.” But my mother wouldn’t let it go, and eventually, he got angry too. He shoved her to the ground, pointing at her nose. “Why are you being so unreasonable!” That was the first time I saw my parents fight. It lasted for a year. No consensus was reached. Over that year, the more my mother raged, the more guilt my father felt toward his mistress and Liam. In the end, his last shred of guilt for us was worn away. Standing before my hysterical mother, he calmly said: “Let’s divorce.” 3 The divorce never happened. Over the years, our families’ business interests had become deeply intertwined. Divorce would mean mutual destruction. But my mother refused to swallow her pride. So soon, she brought home a child too. The daughter of her childhood sweetheart. That man was also my mother’s first love. In her youth, she thought she would marry him. Then my father appeared, viewing Robert as his biggest threat. Even after my parents got together, my father was often jealous of him. Later, Robert married too, but divorced shortly after. His ex-wife left him with a child. Then, Robert had to go abroad for a few years, but his daughter, Bella, needed to stay for school. My mother stepped in, adopted Bella as her goddaughter, and brought her home. I had seen photos. Bella looked just like Robert—tall, fair, striking features. Seeing a face so similar to Robert’s, my father couldn’t look happy. My mother knew this upset him, and the more upset he was, the happier she became. Another year of grinding conflict. Living under the same roof, they competed to spoil their respective “chosen” children. They tried their hardest to prove their child was superior. But Liam was a disappointment. Knowing his biological father was a wealthy CEO, he stopped being considerate. He demanded the best of everything. He bullied others at home and acted like a prince at school. He was unpopular and had terrible grades, constantly embarrassing his father. My mother reveled in this. She said cheating men carried inferior genes. She cursed Liam, calling him the son of a cheater and a homewrecker, destined to be trash. My father fought back. They knew each other best and knew exactly where to hurt. He mocked her, saying Bella’s biological mother was still alive, yet she rushed to play mom. If Robert reconciled with his ex, my mother would be left with nothing. Provoked, they started another round of fighting. But the problem actually had a solution. My grades were better than Liam’s and even Bella’s. I was kind, friendly, and loved by everyone at school. I loved my mother too. Once, I wanted to be the one to protect her until the end. But faced with me, who carried half of each of their bloodlines, they tacitly chose to ignore me. Once, I was the crystallization of their love, the princess they both cherished. Now, they refused to be good to me because it felt like bowing to the other. Ignoring me was the best solution. So for six months, though I lived in my own home, I couldn’t eat or sleep well. Those two intruders claimed everything I had. My bedroom was turned into Bella’s piano room. Liam complained that I had lived better than him before, so the gifts my father once gave me were transferred to him one by one. Later, when I was starving and wanted to sell some jewelry for food, I had nothing left. I had nothing. No love, no money. Now, for their precious darlings, they wanted me to sign away my inheritance. Before coming here, I secretly harbored hope. I thought they finally noticed me, noticed my excellent grades, and my heart that naturally loved them. With exams approaching, maybe they called me to give me a surprise, to cheer me on. I hid my secret joy, cleaned myself up, and walked to them. Only to be met with two cold agreements. “Sign it.” Their voices were icy commands. I froze, feeling cold all over. In that moment, I remembered a lot. I remembered how they used to love me. I remembered crying alone in the corner during countless unknown nights. Tears soaking my homework, biting my pen to stifle my sobs, swallowing my grievances before continuing my studies. In this instant, I finally accepted it. The parents who used to call me “baby” and wanted to give me the world were gone. I could only love myself. I had to move forward alone, go to college, go far away. They didn’t want me. They wanted Liam and Bella. Then, I didn’t want them either. 4 Faced with my firm demand for money, my mother’s expression cracked first. She scrutinized me, trying to read me. I looked back openly. No coquetry from the past, no begging, no acting out for attention. I just simply wanted money. Besides money, I wanted nothing from them. “Are you resenting us?” As if just realizing my existence, my mother pursed her lips, subconsciously turning away to avoid my gaze. Rarely, she acknowledged I had emotions and deigned to explain. “This is indeed a bit harsh on you,” she said. “Blame your father. He brought in this bastard and wants to leave everything to him, giving you nothing. I have no choice. You are his daughter. If I leave my assets to you, he’ll trick you out of them. Chloe, you have to understand Mom.” Hearing this, my father slammed the table and roared: “Don’t slander me in front of my daughter! At least I’m leaving my assets to my own blood. Liam is Chloe’s biological brother! And you, Samantha, you’re using our family’s money to subsidize an outsider’s daughter! You’ve lost your mind!” “What? You can take care of your first love’s son, but I can’t take care of my first love’s daughter?” My mother sneered back. “You spend a fortune on that tramp’s son, so I’ll spend just as much on Robert’s daughter. If you hadn’t interfered back then, Bella would have been my daughter…” She stopped abruptly, glancing at me guiltily. Seeing my expressionless face, she secretly sighed in relief. “I don’t want to hear your meaningless arguments. Fight later.” I spoke numbly. “Give me the money first. Then you can argue about bastards and wild seeds all you want.” “Money, money, money! All you care about is money! How did I raise such a shameless thing?” Triggered by my disdain, my father turned his fire on me, pointing a trembling finger at my nose. I didn’t get angry, just kept my hand extended. “Give me the money, then pretend you never had me.” Laughter came from behind. It was my mother, laughing hysterically, clapping her hands. “William, you’re not human! Even your own daughter disowns you! This is your karma!” She laughed exaggeratedly, tears in her eyes. Bella quickly went to support her, wiping her eyes with a tissue, softly calling: “Godmother?” Then, she turned to glare at my father. “Don’t bully her.” This seemed to wake my mother up. She calmed down, looking at Bella with infinite tenderness. My gaze fell on their joined hands. My mother gently patted the back of Bella’s hand. She used to comfort me like that. Now, she used the same gesture to be someone else’s mother.

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