On my twenty-second birthday, my uncle discovered my journal. When he found out I had a secret crush on him, he shipped me out of the country and spent millions on a wedding for his “one true love.” At the airport, he warned me with a cold, indifferent face, “Don’t ever have thoughts you shouldn’t have.” Years later, I returned to the States holding a child. He looked stunned. “Yours?” I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Just finished my postpartum recovery.” 1 Sitting on the plane, I still felt a bit dazed. I never thought that after five years abroad, I would ever have the chance to come back. After all, Lucas Sterling had said that it would be best if I never appeared in front of him again in this lifetime. But he was also the one who personally bought my plane ticket back, inviting me to attend his and Chloe’s fifth wedding anniversary gala. After two layovers, I finally landed. My daughter, Lily, had slept peacefully on the flight, but the moment we got off, she started to cry. “Mommy, my feet hurt.” Hearing Lily’s soft sobs, I quickly picked her up and walked toward the exit. At the arrivals gate, I pulled out my phone to call a rideshare. Just then, my phone rang. Looking at the familiar number on the screen, I fell silent, debating whether to answer. In the end, I didn’t pick up. But a second call came through almost immediately. I sighed and pressed answer. Lucas’s voice came through instantly. It hadn’t changed in years. “Are you out of the airport? I sent an assistant to pick you up.” Lucas spoke in a business-like tone, as if we were strangers. I gave a bitter laugh. “I can call an Uber.” There was a second of silence on the other end. Lucas probably didn’t expect me to say that. Back then, I was spoiled by him. Living under his roof for years, I had staff taking care of my every need. I never had to call a cab myself. After a moment of silence, Lucas spoke lightly, “Just let the assistant take you. I bought a gift for your aunt on your behalf and put it in the trunk. You can bring it in when you come to dinner.” Lucas was still so thoughtful, handling even the gift perfectly. It made sense. He had spent millions on the wedding venue and bid on a limited-edition diamond to craft a unique ring for Chloe. It was obvious he loved her. “Understood.” I rubbed my temples and answered in a low voice. Lucas didn’t speak, but he didn’t hang up either. After a long pause, he finally said, “Jane, after five years abroad, I hope you’ve truly reflected on yourself. If you do anything to Chloe, I won’t let you off easy.” Hearing this, I froze. The noise around me seemed to fade away. Lucas said he wouldn’t let me off easy. Before I could reply, he hung up. Actually, he didn’t need to worry. I wouldn’t do anything to them. I just wanted to take care of Lily and find a job. Leaving the airport, I lowered my head. The proud twenty-two-year-old me would never have imagined my life would become this desolate. 2 I was kicked out of the country by Lucas on my twenty-second birthday. That day, he found my journal. When I was a kid, my parents died in a cruise ship accident. They never came back, and Lucas, being my father’s best friend and honorary “uncle,” naturally took me in. We always had a harmonious relationship. Until I turned eighteen, and I realized I didn’t just see Lucas as an uncle. I loved him. But I knew very well there was no future for us. So, I wrote all my feelings into a journal. If Lucas hadn’t seen it, I could have pretended my feelings were just familial love. But he saw it. He tore my journal to shreds and asked how I could have such disgusting thoughts. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m your guardian! Even without blood relation, we can only be family!” The usually gentle and gentlemanly Lucas was gone. He screamed at me, his eyes full of disgust. I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t find the words. I could only bow my head and apologize over and over, saying I was wrong, saying I shouldn’t have fallen for him. But Lucas didn’t calm down. The next day, he made me quit the job I had lined up and sent me to a remote university in Europe under the guise of “further studies.” To prevent me from contacting anyone, he even hired bodyguards to watch me. At first, I didn’t understand why he treated me this way. Until the first month I was abroad, news of Lucas’s wedding trended online. Only then did I learn that for all these years, he had a “one true love” in his heart. I watched the video of his wedding over and over. In the video, the way Lucas looked at Chloe was tender and full of longing. He had never looked at me like that. From that moment on, I knew that Lucas taking care of me all those years was just out of pity and responsibility. The only person he loved was Chloe. “Miss Foster, please get in.” The assistant’s voice brought me back to reality. Chapter 2 I nodded and got into the car holding sleeping Lily. Seeing Lily, a look of surprise crossed the assistant’s face. “Miss Foster, this is…” I made a shushing gesture, afraid chatting would wake her. Only when we were settled in the back seat did I whisper, “This is my daughter.” The assistant nodded and fell silent. When he pulled up to the destination, I froze. This hotel was where Lucas and Chloe got married. Married for five years, he held an anniversary gala every year and personally picked gifts for her. I thought, Lucas really cherished Chloe. Years ago, he didn’t allow me into their world. Bringing me back this year was just to make me witness their happiness. I got out of the car numbly and saw Chloe standing on the curb, smiling as she walked toward me. Unlike me, haggard and dressed simply, Chloe wore expensive jewelry and perfume. She looked well taken care of by Lucas. The smile on her face stiffened for a second. I knew she saw Lily in my arms. Sure enough, when she reached me, Chloe looked shocked. “Jane, how did you secretly have a baby abroad without telling your Auntie? I’ve been married to your Uncle for so long, do you still treat me like an outsider?” Before I could speak, Chloe grabbed Lily from my arms. Lily woke up and immediately started crying, struggling against Chloe. I took Lily back and soothed her for a while. Actually, Chloe knew I had a crush on Lucas. Coming back this time, I didn’t want to get too involved with her. But Chloe stubbornly insisted on holding Lily. When we arrived at the private dining room, Lily was still crying for me. Chloe forced a smile and shoved Lily back into my arms. “Your Uncle knows having kids isn’t easy. We haven’t thought about having kids these past few years. Seeing you with a daughter, I just got too excited.” There were already a few people in the room. I wasn’t used to socializing, so I picked a corner seat. Chloe naturally sat next to me. She enthusiastically linked her arm with mine, introducing me and Lily to everyone. The others looked at me with obvious mockery and curiosity. I couldn’t stand the weird atmosphere and excused myself to the restroom. When I came back after splashing water on my face, I heard Chloe’s voice. Someone asked Chloe why she brought a “jinx” like me inside. “What jinx? Jane is Lucas’s niece. Even though she strayed and tried to seduce him back then, she has a kid now. She definitely won’t make that mistake again.” Hearing Chloe say this, I stood quietly at the door. Right. In everyone’s eyes, I was the crazy girl who tried to seduce her guardian, a shameless homewrecker. Lily tugged at my clothes anxiously. I comforted her and walked in. Some things had to be faced. I don’t know how long passed before everyone in the room suddenly stood up. “Mr. Sterling is here!” “Good evening, Mr. Sterling!” A crowd swarmed him, but I didn’t move, just sitting in my seat. After a long while, I looked up at Lucas. He seemed thinner. Lucas wore a suit, and Chloe leaned on him. When they looked at each other, their eyes were full of smiles. Surrounded by people, Lucas didn’t notice me in the corner. For all these years, he remained the center of attention, while I was the only one living a miserable life. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Chloe playfully nudged Lucas. “Lucas, Jane is here too. You haven’t seen each other in years, catch up properly. Jane brought a surprise back too!” Hearing the word “surprise,” Lucas remained indifferent. He helped Chloe sit down first, ordered her a bird’s nest soup, and only then lifted his eyes to look my way. Lily shrank back in fear, looking defensive. Lucas clearly saw Lily and his eyes widened in shock. “Jane, what is this?” He was asking about Lily. I hadn’t told them about her, so seeing me with a child elicited identical expressions of shock or amusement. Chloe answered for me. “Lucas, this is Jane’s daughter. Isn’t she cute? She looks just like Jane. Looks like she’s a few years old already.” Lucas’s gaze fell on Lily, then on me, scrutinizing me for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn’t speak to me again, he pointed at Lily, his voice hoarse. “In these years abroad… you got married and had a child?” I looked up, meeting his gaze, and hummed a ‘yes’. “Married a long time ago. Sorry I didn’t tell you.” Chapter 3 The room was silent. No one spoke. Lucas stared at me, as if judging whether my words were true or false. Chloe seemed about to say something, but Lucas was already standing in front of me. “Where is your husband?” I pursed my lips. “He’s been busy lately, so he didn’t come.” Whispers and snickers rippled through the room. However, out of respect for Lucas, the guests didn’t laugh too openly. Lucas’s face was livid. In the end, he said nothing and just sat down next to Chloe. I ate the meal without tasting anything. Everyone else was praising how perfect Lucas and Chloe were together, while I just wanted to take Lily back to rest. The rent here wasn’t too expensive; I could afford it. I didn’t want to go abroad again. The dinner ended quickly. I wanted to leave, but Lucas stopped me, saying he had something to tell me. In the end, Lucas and I stayed in the private room. Chloe was there too. Lucas looked at me with cold eyes, his words as temperature-less as his expression. “Jane, since we both have families now, I hope you won’t disturb me in the future.” Chloe covered a smile with her hand. “Lucas, don’t be so harsh on Jane. She’s a grown woman now; she knows what not to do.” The couple played off each other perfectly. And I was excluded from their understanding. They never believed my promises. But I nodded anyway and bowed. “I won’t, ever again.” Neither of them spoke as I turned and left with Lily. Lucas called an assistant to drive me, but this time, I refused. Back at the rental, Lily suddenly whispered and asked if the uncle and auntie today hated her. They say children are sensitive and know everything. I shook my head. “They don’t hate you, Lily.” They just… hated me. Lily seemed to have many questions but didn’t ask. She just hugged me and said, “Mommy, you worked hard.” The tears I held back all day threatened to fall. But I couldn’t cry in front of her. So I tilted my head back and forced them down. After putting Lily to sleep, I suddenly received a text. It was from Chloe. “Jane, if you have time, let’s talk.” I frowned, wondering why she didn’t just text me what she wanted. Chloe didn’t send another message. Until right before bed, when I got a call from her. “I’m downstairs at your place. I just want to ask you one thing.” “Do you still have thoughts of going abroad recently? Lucas and I actually both hope you stay overseas. Plus, your husband is abroad, right? It’s better to go back.” I was confused, but after processing it, I found it funny. The only thing that would make Chloe call me late at night was this. They hated me that much. They couldn’t even stand being in the same country as me. I glanced at sleeping Lily beside me. Going downstairs, I saw Chloe standing under a streetlight. Standing in front of her, I took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. “I don’t plan on going abroad anymore.” For Lily’s sake, I wouldn’t drag her through more travel. Chloe laughed lightly. With no one around, the disdain in her eyes was unconcealed. “Jane, I know you need money right now. If I give you a sum, would you be willing to leave?” Chapter 4 3. I was silent for a moment. The fact that I needed money was apparently public knowledge. Chloe and Lucas knew I had a hard time abroad, so when they threatened me, they knew exactly where to strike. But I refused. Chloe looked surprised. That night ended on a bad note. For the next few days, I was busy looking for work, but every time, I was rejected after the first interview. It wasn’t until a young interviewer stammered that it was “Ms. Chloe’s orders” that I realized she didn’t even want me to find a job. Chloe was dead set on making me leave the country again. After being stunned for a long time, I thanked the interviewer who told me the truth. Just as I left the office, I got a text from the hospital. Last night, I made an appointment to get some antidepressants. During the visit, the doctor told me my condition was bad and suggested more therapy sessions. Doctors abroad had given me the same advice. It seemed my depression was indeed severe. Walking out of the clinic with my meds, I was reading the instructions and accidentally bumped into someone around the corner. “Sorry…” I apologized first, but looking up, I realized the person standing in front of me was Lucas. And behind him stood Chloe. Lucas frowned, seemingly not intending to speak to me, ready to walk past. But then, he noticed the medicine in my hand. “Jane, why are you at the hospital?” He seemed to want to see what I was holding, but I quickly stuffed the box into my bag. “Just a cold, buying some meds.” Chloe chimed in at the right moment. “Lots of people getting the flu lately.” Lucas didn’t speak, but kept staring at my bag. I lowered my head and quickly walked downstairs. Running into Lucas wasn’t in my plan. Before, I always wanted to see him, but he was always busy. Before I went abroad, the times we met were countable on one hand. Most of the time, he’d just send a text or two. After I left, he stopped contacting me altogether. I didn’t expect that now, when I truly didn’t want to see him, I’d run into him. I’ve had depression for a long time. At my worst, I had severe somatic symptoms and even thought about jumping off a building, but I gritted my teeth and survived. When I got home, Lily was waiting in the living room. She hadn’t slept well the night before. I decided to put her to bed early. But just as I started feeling sleepy, I smelled something burning. Lily was fast asleep, unaware. At first, I thought a neighbor burned dinner, but as the smell got stronger, I realized something was wrong. Jumping out of bed, I went to the window and saw thick smoke rising into the air. —This building was on fire. Memories flooded back. Ignoring everything else, I snatched Lily from the bed. She rubbed her eyes groggily. “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Realizing the fire, she gripped my sleeve. “Mommy?” I was shaking from fear as I held her. Stumbling out the door, I carried her down the emergency stairs. I fell three or four times, bruising my knees, but I stood up without feeling the pain. Bursting out of the building entrance, I saw a crowd gathered outside. The fire trucks had arrived. The scene before me overlapped with memories of the past. Holding Lily, I leaned against a tree across the street, feeling faint. Lily asked anxiously, “Mommy, are we going to die?” I snapped back and hugged her tighter. “No.” As long as Lily was with me, I would never let anything happen to her. Because— Lily’s biological mother already died saving me.

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The System threw me into a romance novel to save the “devoted second male lead.” But I’m not a savior. I’m a high-maintenance diva with the temperament of a rabid chihuahua. I have zero patience for his tragic backstory. He was hopelessly in love with the heroine, unrequited, and decided to end it all. While he was upstairs preparing a lethal cocktail of sleeping pills, I was downstairs interviewing housekeepers. “Hey! Are any of you virgins? If you’re not a virgin, don’t even think about serving me! Filthy!” Upstairs, the Second Lead heard me and spat out his poison. My identity in this world is a student he sponsors. He’s notoriously upright and feels responsible for my moral upbringing. He hesitated, put down the pills, ran downstairs, and tried to lecture me gently: “Nina, ‘virgin’ isn’t a word we should use like that. It objectifies people. Let’s not say it again, okay?” I slapped him across the face, impatient. “Shut up. Also, who gave you permission to breathe? Don’t you know I hate the sound of breathing?” The Devoted Second Lead was stunned. After a long pause, he spoke, his eyes full of guilt: “Nina, you’re only eighteen. It’s my fault you turned out like this. I was so drowning in my own heartbreak that I neglected you. From today on, I will educate you properly.” What was he rambling about? But the floating text—the “Bullet Screen” comments from viewers in the real world—went wild: 【99 previous transmigrators failed to stop him from committing suicide, but Nina did it with one sentence! What a tactic! Top-tier succubus… no, top-tier brat!】 【Nina is too powerful! Sob, my handsome, rich, gentle Second Lead finally isn’t dying!】 Chapter 1 I sized up the 24-year-old man in front of me. This was the book’s tragic Second Lead, Julian Vance. Planning to kill himself over love? What a loser. Before the comments could finish celebrating, his phone rang. It was the heroine, Bella. Julian scrambled to answer, terrified to make her wait even a second. “Bella? Are you okay? Is something wrong? You haven’t called in so long.” Bella was a girl Julian had sponsored, helping her leave her rural hometown to attend college in New York. She refused to live in the dorms because they were “too small to study in,” so she asked to live in Julian’s downtown penthouse. Julian agreed. Over four years, Julian fell in love with her. But she fell for the poor scholarship student, the Male Lead, Noah. Julian was heartbroken but didn’t dare disturb her happiness. He wrote a will leaving his billion-dollar fortune to Bella and prepared to off himself. Until I interrupted. On the phone, Bella’s voice was crisp and furious: “Julian! Did you get Noah fired from the coffee shop?!” Julian looked panicked. “Bella, I didn’t! I never touched him. I swear…” She cut him off. “I don’t believe you! Just because you’re rich and powerful doesn’t mean you can bully people! I love him, Julian! I love him so much! And I don’t love you! If you hurt him, I’ll die!” In an instant, Julian’s face went pale, like the life had been sucked out of him. He replied robotically: “Okay. I understand. I…” She hung up before he could finish. I crossed my arms and watched him. He stared blankly at his phone, the screen illuminating his handsome, scholarly face. He wore gray loungewear, buttoned to the top. Even in despair, he looked pristine, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. He let out a bitter laugh. “Four years… and she still doesn’t know what kind of person I am? Heh. Why would I bully a student working at a coffee shop…” I grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks. “Stop being sad for a second. I have a question. Are you a virgin?” He blinked, stunned, and nodded dumbly. I stood up. “Good. Now, drive me to get my nails done. I only allow virgins to be my chauffeur.” A flash of shock crossed his face. He frowned, looking at me with gentle concern. “Nina, you’re eighteen. You’re so young. Why do you talk like that? It’s not appropriate. I know I just met you today, but…” I checked my watch and cut him off. “Hurry up! The salon closes soon!” Julian’s phone buzzed. A message popped up. [Bella (Loves cheese, hates water, remind her to hydrate): JULIAN! It’s your fault I’m upset! I drank too much. I feel sick. I can’t tell Noah. Come pick me up.] [Bella: Angry Cat Sticker] But Julian didn’t even look at his phone. His entire focus was on me. He looked at me with infinite patience, gentle but firm. “Nina, let’s correct this habit together, okay? If you can go a month without saying ‘virgin,’ I’ll give you a surprise gift.” Tsk. Why was he talking to me like a toddler? And who wants him as a big brother? But… his penthouse looked expensive. His “surprise gift” would probably be expensive too. Maybe something shiny with a designer logo. Damn it. I kinda wanted it. I huffed. “Fine. But you still have to drive me.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Good girl. Thank you for listening. Let’s go get your nails done.” The comments scrolled by fast: 【She made the Second Lead ignore the Heroine’s text! Nina is a god!】 【Why does he give off such ‘Male Mom’ energy? I love a rich, gentle Male Mom with big pecs.】 【He’s distracted now, but he’ll probably try to kill himself again later… especially with Bella provoking him.】 【Go Nina! There’s a ten million dollar prize for saving him!】 Chapter 2 I didn’t want to “go Nina.” My personality is terrible. I have zero patience for “saving” men. Sure, time in the real world stops while I’m here, so I’m not losing anything. But getting transmigrated without consent annoyed me. It was all Julian’s fault for wanting to die! Thinking about it made me mad. I reached up and strangled Julian with both hands. Surprise flashed in his eyes. He was putting on his coat to drive me. He stopped, looking down at me. “Nina, what’s wrong?” I squeezed harder. “Tsk. Why is your neck so hard? I can’t even choke you properly. Are you sick?” I demanded unreasonably. “Didn’t you go to Harvard? Did they not teach you how to make your neck softer?!” The comments rolled: 【Holy crap, Nina is a demon child.】 【She makes zero sense! But she’s so beautiful… oh no, my brain is fighting itself.】 【Nina: Beauty 100, Morality 0.】 Julian bent down to make it easier for me to strangle him. From this angle, I could see his collarbones and a hint of muscle. He looked genuinely worried. “Nina, Harvard doesn’t teach neck-softening. You’re a freshman this year… why don’t you know what college teaches? Are you skipping classes? Why? Is someone bullying you at school?” His phone rang. Bella’s name flashed. He didn’t even look. He hung up and squatted down to look me in the eye. “Nina, are you being bullied? Can you tell me?” ? How dare he misunderstand me? I got even angrier. When I get angry, I cry. So I started sobbing while slapping him. “Of course not! Idiot! Shut up! Now!” Chapter 3 Seeing my tears, he froze. Then, with perfect manners, he looked away to protect my dignity. He handed me a tissue. His fingers were long, pale, and elegant like jade. “Wipe your face. It is a bit hot in here. Bullying trauma is heavy. If you don’t want to talk about it now, we can talk later.” Weird. Why was he looking at me with pity? Why was he feeling bad for me? Chapter 4 My identity here was a poor student sponsored by Julian. He seemed convinced I was being bullied, so he insisted I stay at his house to “talk.” The next morning, I was sleeping soundly when banging on the door woke me up. I opened it. It was Bella. She was thin and frail, wearing an oversized men’s white shirt. The comments said it belonged to Noah. I glared at her. “What?” She narrowed her pretty eyes, scanning me, then scoffed. “Aren’t you the charity case from the sticks? Why are you living in Julian’s house?” I crossed my arms. “None of your business.” She laughed coldly, shouldering past me into my room, acting like she owned the place. “Drop the act, sweetie. I know your type. I used to be a ‘green tea’ girl too. I’m going to see Julian now, and when I do, I’ll make sure you’re kicked out.” She stared me down, smiling. “After all, Julian does whatever I say.” I walked over and slapped her. “I’m going back to sleep. I don’t want to hear dogs barking. Get out.” Her face went blank. Then she screeched, losing all her cool composure. “You hillbilly! You dare hit me?” The butler rushed in, blocking her path to me. His voice was cold. “Miss Bella, you were once a ‘charity case from the sticks’ too. Have you forgotten?” Her face turned green at the mention of her past. “You!” The butler continued icily: “Miss Bella, our Young Master was suicidal because of you. Thanks to Miss Nina, he found a reason to live. Miss Nina is our VIP. As for you… I’m being polite by not throwing you out myself. You should leave.” Bella looked embarrassed. Then, she seemed to remember something. Her arrogance returned. “You’re just a servant. What right do you have to kick me out? Julian loves me the most. He wants to see me.” She pushed past the butler and ran into the hall, shouting up at Julian’s room: “Julian! It’s Bella! I have something important to tell you!” She turned back to smirk at us, posing like a winner. Sure enough, from upstairs, Julian’s excited voice rang out: “So that’s how it works! Adolescents need positive reinforcement!” Bella froze. She frowned. “What? Julian, it’s me!” Julian didn’t even open the door. He shouted through the wood: “Sorry, Bella! Can it wait? I have three more parenting books to finish!” The smug look froze on Bella’s face. It was hilarious. She repeated dumbly: “Parenting books?” The butler smiled, smoothing my bedsheets. “Ah, yes. Young Master stayed up all night reading about raising teenagers. He wants to take better care of Miss Nina. It’s wonderful to see him so passionate about life again.” Bella’s eyes widened in disbelief. She grabbed the butler’s collar, shrieking: “Why?! She’s eighteen! Why is he reading parenting books for her? She doesn’t deserve it!” The butler shrugged, his expression frosty. “Teenagers are still children. And if the Young Master enjoys it, who are we to stop him?” The butler signaled the door. Security guards in black suits immediately stepped forward and “escorted” Bella out. Her face was gray. She looked at me with pure venom. But under the guards’ watch, she had no choice but to leave.

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Before the SATs, my mom had one rule: no washing our hair. She firmly believed that shampoo would wash away all the knowledge in our brains. I didn’t buy it, but my twin sister, Lily, obeyed without question. Later, Lily became the laughingstock of the school. They said her hair was dirtier than a pigsty. Crying, she begged me to take her to a salon. As a result, she bombed the SATs. When Mom demanded answers, Lily blamed me: “If my sister hadn’t made me wash my hair, I would have been valedictorian!” In a fit of rage, she pushed me into the river. When I opened my eyes again, I heard my mom’s voice: “For the next 100 days until the SATs, no one is allowed to wash their hair!” Chapter 1 “Washing your hair washes the knowledge right out of your brain.” My mom’s shrill voice jolted me awake. “For the next 100 days until the SATs, neither of you is allowed to wash your hair!” I snapped back to reality, finding myself sitting at the kitchen table. Across from me was my twin sister, Lily, with her usual meek and obedient expression. I had been reborn. “Mom, that’s just a myth. How can you still believe that?” I heard myself blurt out the words. In my last life, I said the exact same thing and got chewed out for it. Mom slammed her chopsticks down and smacked me on the head. “What do you know? The experts say it’s true! “Mrs. Johnson’s son next door didn’t listen, washed his hair, and his score dropped by 100 points!” What Mom didn’t know was that Mrs. Johnson’s son cheated on every test. When it came to the SATs, with no one to copy off of, of course his score tanked. I tried to argue, hoping to change her outdated mindset. But she just unleashed her anger on me. She called me unmotivated, disrespectful. She even blamed me for her divorce and her fear of dating again. Before, I was too stubborn, always trying to reason with her. But with a mom who refused to listen, I needed a new strategy. “Mom, the kids at prep schools wash their hair every day. They say feeling fresh helps them focus.” I raised my voice deliberately. “And their acceptance rates are way higher than ours.” Mom paused. She was a sucker for the “other kids do it better” theory. But soon, she regained her composure, her face stern. “Stop with your nonsense! Lily, you be the judge. Who’s right, me or your sister?” Chapter 2 Lily glanced at me first. Seeing my calm expression, she turned to Mom with a sweet, obedient smile. “Of course I listen to you, Mom.” “See? Lily is the good one.” I didn’t argue further. I finished my soy milk and left for school without another word. Behind me, Mom’s muttering continued: “Always with that long face. What a burden. Unlike Lily, who was born to be a blessing.” Mom always said Lily looked more like her. But we were identical twins. We had the exact same face. Growing up, Mom always favored Lily. When she divorced Dad, she didn’t hesitate to dump me at my grandma’s house. If Dad hadn’t remarried and Grandma hadn’t passed away, forcing my grandparents to take me in because they pitied me… She wouldn’t have even remembered she had another daughter. I used to feel sorry for her, a single mom raising two girls. But my sympathy was met with constant belittling. When I used my allowance to buy her clothes, she called me wasteful. When Lily simply said “Mom, you work so hard” empty-handed, she was so moved she gave her a thousand dollars on the spot. She was a mother, but she wasn’t my mother. At the school gate, Lily caught up, panting. She immediately started lecturing me: “Sister, Mom has it hard. Don’t make her angry!” Her face, feigning innocence. It sent a chill down my spine. In my last life, she begged me to take her to a salon in secret. Afterward, she asked me to keep it a secret. But in the end, she pushed me to my death. The last thing I saw was her hateful expression. As if I were a monster who deserved to die. But I was just trying to help! I turned around and nodded casually. “Yeah, got it.” She wanted to say more. But I had already run through the gates, blending into the crowd of students. We weren’t in the same class anyway. Whatever happened to her from now on was her choice. In this new life, whether they washed their hair or not was none of my business! Chapter 3 That night, I had just stepped out of the shower. I ran right into Mom. She grabbed my ear and yelled: “I told you this morning not to wash your hair! are you deaf?” I pulled away and took a step back. “Even if I wash it every day, I’ll still be in the top ten for the mock exams.” Mom raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. After all, she had never been to a single parent-teacher conference for me. Between Lily and me, she always chose Lily. “Fine! If you don’t make it, don’t expect your grandma to buy you a phone!” When Lily said the new iPhone looked nice, Mom bought her the latest model immediately. I had begged from freshman to senior year, but my requests were ignored. Even when Grandma wanted to reward me, Mom would intervene. I was numb to this double standard. Lily, who had been hiding in her room eavesdropping, rushed in after Mom left. “Why did you bet your grades just to spite Mom?” “You’re smart, but I can’t score that high. If Mom yells at me later, it’s all your fault!” I admired her ability to make everything about herself. I kept working on my English practice test without looking up. “If you’re afraid of getting yelled at, read fewer romance novels and study more.” Her face turned pale with anger, and she stormed out, slamming the door. “Some sister you are!” From the next room came the sound of things being thrown. I acted like nothing happened and dove back into the sea of questions. Lily’s hair, unwashed for a month, started to smell pungent. Although she secretly used dry shampoo, it didn’t solve the root problem. She came home crying, saying classmates mocked her, writing “Toilet” on her desk with chalk. Boys would make gagging noises when she walked by. Even during gym class, she was forced to stand at the very back. Mom called the principal on the spot, accusing the teachers of ignoring bullying. Lily’s homeroom teacher got disciplined because of it. After the incident blew up, the whole school knew. There was a girl in Senior Class 2 who didn’t wash her hair. The mockery expanded from her classmates to the entire student body. She became known as the “Homeless Girl.” Wherever she went, people would snicker knowingly. Someone even started a TikTok account updating the “Homeless Girl’s” daily life. One day after school, she begged me with red eyes: “Sis, take me to get my hair washed.” I kept walking towards the bus stop without turning back. She tugged hard on my backpack strap. Unable to pull away, I frowned. “Ask Mom to take you.” She looked both fearful and disgusted. “You know Mom won’t agree!” I raised my voice. “Then keep being a good girl and listen to her.” In the end, she didn’t wash her hair. She washed her hats every day. She bought wigs to wear and sprayed perfume on her head. But these were just band-aids. They couldn’t hide the smell of grease and rot. Lily begged me three or four more times in private. But I was busy with my studies and refused. I wasn’t going to carry that burden again. Chapter 4 The first mock exam results came out. I was firmly in eighth place. Mom was so happy she bought Lily another new phone. “Lily has been under a lot of stress lately, her grades slipped. She needs to relax.” Lily waved her phone at me, showing off. “My sister is introverted at school, unlike me. I think a flip phone is too much for her.” Mom confiscated my phone that day, saying it was a waste of money if I didn’t use it. I was used to this level of bias. If I wanted something, I could earn it myself. After the second mock exam, Lily’s score dropped another thirty points. She defended herself tearfully: “The test was too hard this time.” Meanwhile, my score went up by 30 points. I was third in the grade, twentieth in the city. The teacher called specifically to congratulate us. Mom brushed it off and kept asking about Lily. The teacher said awkwardly: “I’m not Lily’s teacher. You should ask her homeroom teacher.” Mom’s execution was swift. She texted the teacher immediately. But she found out the teacher had blocked her. Mom cursed: “Irresponsible teachers like that deserve to be punished! She should be fired!” She forgot. She was the one texting the teacher at all hours. Calling at 2 AM because she couldn’t sleep. The teacher couldn’t take the harassment anymore. Mom never reflected on her actions. So Lily, raised by her hand, was exactly the same. Lily didn’t work hard enough and regressed, but she always blamed external factors. Mom even suggested Lily stop showering. “Washing your hair washes away knowledge. Showering might affect it too.” Lily couldn’t win against Mom. She only dared to wipe her body down secretly late at night. One month before the SATs, Lily finally broke down. With greasy, matted hair, she rushed into the bathroom. Mom dragged her out and comforted her patiently: “Lily, just a few more days. Hang in there.” I sat at my desk, listening to English tapes. But the cheap headphones didn’t block out the noise. I couldn’t block out my sister’s hysterical screaming: “I have to wash it! Everyone laughs at me, calling me a homeless kid! My hair is dirtier than a pigsty! Even the teachers dodge me when I say hi!” Mom made another call. Not to the principal this time, but to the Board of Education. She reported severe discrimination and bullying by teachers and students at Lily’s school, demanding punishment. During the critical pre-SAT period, everyone was afraid of a scandal. After an investigation, the instigator turned out to be the whistleblower herself. I heard that when the Board leaders called Mom in for a chat… She smashed a teacup and threw files everywhere. In the end, the police took her away for a “talk.” All the way to the station, she screamed: “My daughter doesn’t smell!”

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When we were at our lowest, my sister and I became the trophy wives of the Sterling brothers, bearing them each a son. My sister, burdened with a condition that made her cry easily, was taken by the eldest, the psychopathic Richard Sterling. I, mute from birth, ended up with the illegitimate son, Cole Sterling, who was obsessed with his dead, mute first love. In the fifth year of our miserable existence, my sister said she wanted to leave. Because Richard, obsessed with watching her cry, had “accidentally” killed her kitten. And their son had clapped and cheered for his father. She told me to be obedient, stay with Cole, and take good care of my son. She promised to visit often once she settled down. I grabbed her suitcase and signed to her: “But I don’t love him, and I don’t love that child. I only came to the Sterling family to follow you.” My sister sighed softly. “Then let’s leave together.” Chapter 1 After placing the last piece of clothing inside, I closed my suitcase. It wasn’t a large case, yet it was still half empty. My sister, Maya, lifted the suitcase for me and asked softly, “Is this it?” I nodded and pointed to the small, silver carry-on in the corner. That was all she was taking. Like me, despite living in the Sterling mansion for five years, she hadn’t accumulated much that truly belonged to her. We each took a suitcase. Maya reached out and held my hand as we walked downstairs. In the living room, my son, Leo, and Maya’s son, Ethan, were glued to a video game. Maya led me over to them. Leo, his view slightly blocked, immediately screeched: “Move! The mute and the crybaby, so annoying!” I stood still. The “Game Over” sound blared from the TV. Furious, Leo pushed over my suitcase, threw down his controller, and jumped up to glare at me. “Are you deaf as well as mute?!” Ethan sat silently on the side, but his expression was filled with undisguised disgust. He was older than Leo and more like his father, Richard—better at hiding his emotions, but just as cold. Maya crouched down and set my suitcase upright. Standing up, she looked calmly at Ethan. “When your dad and uncle get back, tell them your aunt and I have left.” Ethan didn’t respond. Maya didn’t say another word. She took my hand and led me towards the door. Just as we were about to step out, Ethan’s voice rang out from behind us. “You’re not coming back?” Chapter 2 Maya’s grip on my hand tightened for a fraction of a second. She paused at the doorway, silent for a moment, but didn’t turn around. “No,” she said simply. “We’re not coming back.” Behind us, Leo cheered. “Finally! The two annoying pests are gone!” Ethan said nothing more. It was the height of summer, and rain was pouring down outside. As we left, Maya held the umbrella, tilting it to cover me. A few days ago, Cole had taken his anger out on the racetrack after being scolded by his father. He dragged me along, and his reckless driving nearly cost me my leg. The wound was just starting to scab over, and Maya was worried about it getting wet. I looked at her soaked shoulder. She smiled warmly. “It’s okay. I’m tough.” In the taxi, she changed the dressing on my leg. When she looked up, her eyes were red, her voice trembling. “It must hurt. It won’t… ever happen again.” I shook my head and signed, It doesn’t hurt. We took the taxi to the train station and boarded a high-speed train. The long tracks were taking us back to our hometown by the sea. Halfway there, Richard actually called Maya. I was sitting close enough to hear his displeasure through the phone. “Where did you go?” Outside the window, the scenery blurred past. Maya pressed one hand against the glass, her fingers curling anxiously. But her voice remained calm and gentle. “I cleared out my things. If I missed anything, please throw it away.” Richard’s voice deepened, impatient. “I asked you, where did you go?” Chapter 3 Maya was used to obeying. When our father was alive, she obeyed him. After he died and she went to Richard, she obeyed Richard. So, when she spoke again, her voice held a trace of unnatural defiance. “You don’t need to know. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” The silence on the other end suggested Richard was surprised by her attitude. After a long pause, he said angrily, “Did I say you could leave?” Maya’s voice grew quieter. “You have no reason to stop me.” She knew. For all these years, Richard’s heart belonged to someone else. He laughed, a sound born of extreme anger. “Because of that stupid cat?” This time, Maya was silent for a long time. Just as I thought he might have hung up, she spoke. “Yes. Let’s say that’s why.” Richard sneered. “Good timing. My secretary, Sarah, needs a place to stay. She can take your room.” “You and your precious sister can rot in the streets for all I care.” The line went dead. Maya put down her phone and hugged me. She always tried to hide her tears, afraid of upsetting me. But I felt them soaking into my shoulder. I let her hold me, feeling her body shake. After a while, I gently pushed her away. I took a bank card from my pocket and pressed it into her hand. I signed, I saved a lot of money. I can take care of us. It didn’t matter. Men were just men. We didn’t need to rely on anyone. Since the day I was born, the only person I could truly rely on was my sister. Maya wiped her tears, forced a smile, and nodded. The train sped on. The city where we had lived for five years faded into the distance. Chapter 4 From the train, we took a ferry. It was nearly midnight when we reached the island. Our father had left us an old house here. It was small, but livable. It was the only thing he left us. The house was dusty from disuse. By the time we cleaned it up, dawn was breaking. Through the window, we could see a faint glow on the horizon. We decided not to sleep and went to the beach to watch the sunrise. Sitting on the soft sand, the sea breeze blew away our exhaustion. The sun slowly rose from the sea, bursting through the clouds and bathing the water in gold. I leaned my head on Maya’s shoulder. She suddenly said, “I want to open a restaurant here.” She had said the same thing years ago. Then Dad died, leaving behind a mountain of debt. She went to her ex-boyfriend, Richard, bringing six-year-old Ethan with her. After that, the ex-boyfriend became her patron, and she became his mistress. Unable to open a restaurant, she cooked for Richard instead. But after a few days, Richard frowned and told her, “I have chefs. I don’t want to come home to a woman smelling of grease. It’s disgusting.” Maya never cooked for him again. But Richard’s attitude never improved. She realized it wasn’t the cooking; he just found her disgusting. But none of that mattered now. I raised my beer can and clinked it against hers. To Maya’s success. To a smooth future. Maya’s restaurant opened quickly. I invested in a travel agency and started working as a sign language tour guide for the deaf and hard of hearing. There are millions of deaf people in the country, but very few guides for them. I led groups around the island, watching sunrises and sunsets, catching crabs at low tide. Seeing them sign “thank you” with familiar gestures warmed my heart. After work, I would eat seafood at Maya’s restaurant and wait for her to close up so we could walk home together. Business was booming. Maya was beautiful and honest, and her restaurant soon went viral on social media. Days turned into weeks. Cole and Leo were like a fading watercolor painting in my memory. Until one night, over a month later, as I was getting ready for bed, Cole texted me. “What are you doing?” Chapter 5 I thought I was hallucinating. In five years, Cole had never once cared about my whereabouts. I stared at the message, unsure how to reply. A moment later, another text came: “Wrong person.” Expected. I exited the chat, unbothered. I contacted the agency about tomorrow’s tour. When I finished, I noticed Cole had sent another message half an hour ago: “How’s your leg?” I didn’t know what he meant. Maybe he felt awkward about the wrong text and was making conversation. Or maybe he was just mocking me. Either way, there was no need to reply. The scar on my leg throbbed. The memory of Cole crashing his car toward me on the track, his cold, crazy face, came rushing back. It felt like a thorn in my heart. I tapped his profile picture and deleted him. We were never going back. There was no need to stay in touch. My phone was finally quiet. I washed up and went to bed. Closing my eyes, I remembered the first time I met Cole. I had gone to the city to find Maya and got caught in a storm. Richard’s servants locked me out of the iron gates. He looked at me coldly and said, “This isn’t a shelter for strays.” I tried to explain, “My sister is Maya. She’s your girlfriend.” He scoffed. “Girlfriend? She wishes.” I couldn’t get in, and Maya couldn’t leave. She still owed Richard. That was when Cole drove up. He looked reckless and wild, laughing as he cursed at Richard. “Are you human? Leaving your woman’s sister out in the rain?” Richard said indifferently, “You take her then.”

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After I landed my first real job, I refused to hand over my debit card to my parents. They sued me. They demanded I pay back every cent they spent raising me in one lump sum. From the diapers I used as a newborn to the three meals I ate when I visited home a month ago—every single expense was itemized. They even split the bill for those dinners. The total came to $574,823.60. I thought no court would ever entertain such a ridiculous lawsuit. But yesterday, I was served with a subpoena. After calling around, I realized my parents had sued me in the Court of Dissolution. 1 I hung up the phone and immediately Googled “Court of Dissolution.” [The Court of Dissolution handles irreconcilable family conflicts. Appearing in this court means severing all familial ties. Parties face each other as strangers.] [All sacrifices and contributions are quantified and settled financially.] [The verdict is final. No appeals. Both plaintiff and defendant must comply immediately.] [Once the trial concludes, the parties are legally strangers with no further obligations to each other.] That was it. Information was scarce. A few stray forum posts claimed the court was incredibly fair. I doubted it. If it were fair, how could it accept such an absurd case? While I was researching, my phone rang. “Elena, you got the subpoena, right?” My mom’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “Once we’re in court, everything I spent on you counts. Can a fresh college grad like you afford that?” “If you don’t pay, I can garnish your wages. Once your credit is ruined, you won’t even keep your current job.” “Listen to me. Just give me your debit card. I’ll give you an allowance every month. Would I mistreat you?” “If you come to your senses, I can still withdraw the lawsuit.” I rejected her proposal without hesitation. After graduating, I found a job paying $7,000 a month. My mom demanded I hand over my salary so she could “manage” it, offering me a $1,500 monthly allowance. Her logic? “I raised you, fed you, paid for your school. Now that you’re working, it’s time for my return on investment.” She said it with such conviction I nearly rolled my eyes out of my head. $1,500 a month? In this city? I’d be eating air. And I knew once she had my card, I’d be lucky to see $500. Hearing my refusal, she exploded. “I’m not taking your money! I’m just afraid you’ll waste it! When you get married, you can have it back.” “You’re choosing the hard way. Once the judgment hits, plus interest, you’ll be in debt forever!” I stayed silent, my resolve hardening. I knew that if I gave her my card, my income would vanish into a black hole. Asking her for money would be like wringing water from a stone. That money would be “repaying their kindness”—straight into my brother’s pockets. I’d rather let a judge decide a lump sum than be held hostage by my family for life. The negotiation failed. My mom snarled: “Ungrateful wolf. I should have given you away at birth!” Heh. As if I asked to be born into this family. I hung up, exhausted, and waited for judgment day. Soon, the trial arrived. 2 “Case C-7342 of the Court of Dissolution is now in session!” The gavel strike sounded like a bone snapping—sharp and painful. The judge’s voice boomed from the speakers, mechanical and devoid of emotion, underlined by a faint metallic hum. “Plaintiffs George and Linda Miller. Defendant Elena Miller. Do you understand that once this trial begins, all legal and ethical ties between you will be erased? You will no longer be parents and daughter,” the judge stated solemnly. My parents—no, George and Linda—glared at me with venom in their eyes. “Your Honor, Elena is an ungrateful wretch. She knows nothing of filial piety. We’d rather have nothing to do with her!” “I don’t want a daughter like this!” I lowered my head slightly, my voice steady. “I understand, Your Honor.” Linda pointed a shaking finger at my nose. “An animal! Even crows feed their parents. You’re worse than a beast!” “I wanted to be lenient, but you don’t know what’s good for you!” “I was blind to raise you. Now I’m taking back everything you owe us!” Bang. The gavel struck. “Order!” The trial proceeded. “Plaintiffs George and Linda Miller versus Defendant Elena Miller for the return of child-rearing costs. Case open.” “The plaintiffs claim the defendant owes $574,823.60. Per procedure, the court must verify this amount.” “Plaintiffs, please place your hands on the metal sensors in front of you. The court will extract the relevant memories.” 3 The holographic screen in the center of the courtroom lit up. Scenes from the past flickered by. The first frame was a hospital receipt from my birth. George held it, smoking a cigarette, sneering. “Spent all this money, and it’s just a girl!” My grandmother was tearing up old rags to boil for my diapers. At seven years old, I had gastroenteritis. Linda complained while paying the bill. “Other kids are fine. Only you are so delicate. Getting sick from eating… what a waste of money!” Before elementary school started: “School costs six hundred a year!” “Girls just marry out anyway. Why send her to school?” “Save the money. She can stay home and watch her brother!” When I needed two dollars for a notebook, I begged for hours before they threw two crumpled bills on the floor like charity. Dinner time. Linda banging her chopsticks on the table, scolding me. “Eat, eat, eat! All you know is eating!” “Eating so much… want to be a pig? If you get fat, no one will marry you, and you’ll be stuck here!” Middle school tuition, books. The one time they bought me clothes in high school. … In college, when my part-time job paid late, I borrowed $300 from them. … Even last month, when they called me home to demand my bank card, the three meals I ate were there. Split AA style. Every cent counted against me. Every scene was money they spent on me. Every scene was money I had to pay back. 4 Initially, George and Linda looked uncomfortable as their cruelty was displayed for everyone to see. They shouted excuses: “We’re the fourth generation! I wanted a son to carry the name. Is that a crime?” “Plenty of girls in our town didn’t go to school. I complained, but didn’t I send her anyway?” “If I didn’t send her to school, would she be here today?” “Ungrateful brat!” “I stopped her from eating for her own good! Figure is important for a girl!” “…” “Of course meals cost money! Food isn’t free!” “Elena ate more than the boys! Do you know how much it cost to feed her?!” Bang. The gavel hit my heart. “Silence!” The judge glanced at the indignant couple and offered a “kind” explanation. “The money you spent is not discounted by your attitude toward the defendant.” George and Linda sighed in relief. The judge added: “Furthermore, inflation over the years will be factored into the final settlement.” Their faces lit up with joy. I kept my head down, anxiety gnawing at me as the debt piled up. The memories flashed faster, playing for over three hours. And these were just excerpts. Since we all accepted the accuracy of the memory extraction, the judge decided to skip the rest. It was noon. The court recessed for lunch.

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I got drunk at a company dinner and called my boss “Hubby.” My coworkers laughed. “She’s so desperate to date the boss she’s losing it.” My old boss, Luke, glared at me coldly. “Can’t control your mouth? Then why drink?” In the brief silence, the notoriously difficult client sitting across from us scoffed. “She was talking to me.” “Why are you getting so excited?” Chapter 1 I chased Luke Anderson from college all the way to his company, becoming his assistant. Everyone knew I liked him. Once, while delivering files, I heard people gossiping inside his office. “Ava is such a rich girl. She lowered herself to be your assistant. Can you really bear to see that?” Luke clicked his tongue. “She wanted to come. What could I do?” The others laughed. “True. She always loved sticking to you.” “It’s been years and she hasn’t changed.” “But Luke, are you really not going to date Ava?” “She’s dreaming of being with you.” “Last time her family set her up on a blind date, you called us out to drink late at night. I thought you cared about her.” After that sentence, Luke suddenly sounded angry, his voice turning cold. “Just a clingy nuisance. Why would I care?” Outside the door, my hand, poised to knock, slowly dropped. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The people inside froze for a second because of my intrusion. But only for a second. Soon, someone smiled like nothing happened. “Assistant Ava, bringing breakfast for Luke again?” My daily, rain-or-shine breakfast delivery. Luke didn’t even look up, as if he already knew what I was doing. He just casually nodded towards the desk. “Put it there.” But I shook my head. I placed the files in my hand and a resignation letter on the table. “Not breakfast.” “It’s my resignation letter.” “Mr. Anderson, please review it.” Chapter 2 Everyone was stunned. They swarmed forward, and after reading the words on the letter clearly, they asked in disbelief: “Wait, Ava, are you serious?” Luke finally frowned and looked up. He looked at me. “What’s this about?” I pushed the resignation letter toward him. “I’m resigning.” “I sent the digital copy to your email too. Remember to check.” Luke glanced at the letter on the table and asked impatiently: “Just because I made you work overtime yesterday?” I shook my head: “No.” “I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Luke’s face finally darkened bit by bit. As I turned to leave, he called my name. “Ava.” “If you leave now, there’s no chance of coming back to my side.” It sounded like a threat, and a warning. I didn’t look back. “Music to my ears.” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point. As I pushed the door open to leave, I heard tentative voices behind me. “Luke, she’s just throwing a tantrum, don’t take it to heart…” “Yeah, you know how much she likes you.” “Maybe she’ll regret it this afternoon and beg to come back…” Luke stared at the closed door and sneered. “Who cares about her.” Chapter 3 I threw away all the useless stuff from the company. In the end, nothing was left. Looking at the empty desk, I felt like laughing. My mind replayed the anonymous video I received last night while working overtime. In the dimly lit karaoke bar, Luke had his arm around a stunning woman, listening indifferently to the chatter around him. “Is Ava really obediently doing grunt work at the office right now?” “Of course. Luke has his ways. That rich girl hasn’t joined our parties in ages.” Indeed. I chased Luke for so many years. A wealthy heiress, acting like his servant. As long as he asked, I willingly worked overtime and socialized for him, ruining my health. In the end, all I got was a joke from his bros. “Looking at it this way, Ava really is like the most obedient dog around Luke.” And he stood by, swirling his drink, not denying it. He even chuckled. “What are you saying?” “She’s the only one around me who acts like a dog. Where’s the competition?” The room erupted in laughter. In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over me. It was cold. But I also felt instantly awake. Thinking about it, I silently took out my phone and found the contact of the blind date my family introduced a while ago. I heard he was a top-tier guy. I was just so focused on Luke before that I kept delaying the meeting, wanting to ruin the setup. Now… Although it seemed a bit unethical. But everyone knows the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else—or at least start something new. I tapped the screen. [Want to meet tomorrow?] To my surprise, he replied almost instantly. [Okay.] Chapter 4 The blind date was a gentleman. He offered to let me pick the time, and he’d arrange the place. But previously, when my parents mentioned blind dates, I tuned out completely. So now I knew nothing about this guy. Arriving early at the venue, I hesitated at the door. What if I didn’t recognize him? That would be awkward. While pacing, I accidentally bumped into someone. I looked up. I saw a perfectly tailored suit. And above that, a face so exquisitely handsome it was unfair to humanity. And the owner of this face was looking at me gently. “Why aren’t you going in?” His thin lips, which looked very kissable, moved as he spoke… I subconsciously swallowed. Then I realized my loss of composure. Because I knew this man. Ethan Sterling. A famous tycoon in the industry. I’d seen him countless times on the list of target partners for Luke’s company. But rumor had it he was ruthless, cold, and extremely unapproachable. Not a single collaboration attempt had succeeded. I backed away repeatedly to let him pass. “Sorry, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, got a bit distracted. So sorry, please go ahead…” But the man in front of me chuckled lightly. “Miss Sullivan.” I looked up in surprise. How did he know my last name? His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Is there a possibility that the person you’re waiting for is me?” Chapter 5 I was shook. My family just said they introduced a really great guy. But I never dared to dream it would be someone on Ethan Sterling’s level. Until I was sitting face-to-face with Ethan in the private room he arranged. I kept a smile on my face. Under the table, my hand was frantically texting my mom. [The guy you set me up with is Ethan Sterling?] [Since when is our family powerful enough to marry into his?] [Did you guys secretly become billionaires without telling me?] My mom replied instantly with a question mark. [?] [What are you talking about, honey? Daydreaming?] [It’s a distant nephew of Ethan Sterling.] [Didn’t your aunt tell you clearly?] I glanced at the man opposite me, who was watching me with a smile. Could there be a second face this handsome in the world? Our eyes met. I couldn’t pretend to be busy anymore. I could only stammer. “Um…” “You are… Mr. Ethan Sterling, right?” He nodded, then gave an apologetic smile. “Yes.” “My bad, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” “Hello, Miss Sullivan. I’m Ethan Sterling, your blind date. It’s an honor to meet you.” A concise introduction. It just completely contradicted the info my mom gave me. I was confused. “But, the date my family arranged… wasn’t…” Ethan raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of tea from the cup on the table. “That kid isn’t good enough for you.” “So I came.” He looked up at me. “What’s wrong?” “Does Miss Sullivan prefer him?” I froze. The way he spoke… Why did it seem like he knew me well? My heart drummed in my chest. Ethan remained composed, his calm, deep eyes staring unblinkingly at me, clearly expecting an answer. I had to brace myself and speak. “Of course not… I don’t even know him.” He chuckled. “Then it doesn’t matter if I take his place, right?” I gulped. “No…” Of course it didn’t matter to me. Either way, he was the one getting the short end of the stick, right? But Ethan seemed happy with my answer. He produced a thick book from somewhere, stood up, leaned over, and placed it in front of me. “That’s good.” “This is my resume. It contains my basic info, hobbies, career, salary, and personal assets. Please take a look, Miss Sullivan.” “To be honest, Miss Sullivan, I came to this blind date with the intention of marriage.” “My social circle has no other women. I can guarantee absolute loyalty to the marriage. After marriage, I will fulfill all pre-marital promises and transfer all personal assets to you unconditionally.” “I won’t put any pressure on my partner. Short of divorce, she will enjoy absolute freedom.” “If Miss Sullivan is satisfied with my conditions, I hope my wish…” He paused after the long speech. Those beautiful eyes started sending electricity my way again. “Can be considered.” Ethan’s voice was already warm and magnetic, and that handsome face was staring right at me. I was getting dizzy. Floating. Was this a hallucination because Luke drove me crazy? I pinched my thigh hard under the table. Ouch. It hurt! Not a dream. Maybe my expression was getting too blank. It wasn’t until Ethan’s eyes filled with laughter that I realized I had lost my composure again. I quickly grabbed my cup for a tactical sip of water. Then I pretended to be calm. “Mr. Sterling.” “Do you mean… you want to marry me?” He looked at me. Nodded very seriously. “Yes.” “Miss Sullivan, I hope to have the honor of becoming your husband.”

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The day my childhood sweetheart and I had our worst fight, he slapped me across the face for the girl he loved. In return, I exploded and broke three of his ribs. He screamed for a divorce, but I refused. I thought we’d be stuck in this stalemate forever. But karma comes fast. Three months later, I fell hard for a sweet, innocent younger guy. He started chasing me for a title. So, I had to drag that familiar number out of my blocklist. When I called, a chirpy female voice answered: “Sarah, it’s too late. Even if you come crawling back like a dog, Luke won’t even look at you.” Facing her provocation, I said calmly, “Tell Luke I want a divorce.” The next second, the phone was snatched away, followed by a rustling noise, and then Luke’s voice, trembling with suppressed rage. He said, “Sarah, you wouldn’t dare.” 1 The year I hated Luke the most. I hit the girl he loved most, and he slapped me back, demanding a divorce. For years, all he ever said was that I should learn to be obedient, to be gentle like Chloe. This was the first time he brought up divorce. I didn’t agree. I pinned him to the floor, broke three of his ribs, and choked him until he passed out before he could say another word. Before Luke’s eyes rolled back, I left him with these final words: “Divorce? Not a chance. You want to drive me crazy? Then deal with the consequences. Chloe will be the mistress forever, and you both will live in my shadow for the rest of your lives.” Back then, I had a whole plan mapped out to torture them until death do us part. I hold grudges. Once I bite, I don’t let go. Three years of marriage. Luke turned me from a bride full of hope into a lunatic. That couple ruined me. I swore I’d spend my life making sure they never knew peace. I even bought property outside the city for a long-term war. But fate never tells you what’s coming next. I thought I’d be seeking revenge on Luke forever. But on the third day… I found a starving Liam collapsed on my doorstep. At the time, I heard Luke had woken up in the hospital, cursing me out to a room full of visitors. I excitedly put on my makeup, picked my most stunning red dress, and prepared to go enrage him further. But the moment I stepped out the gate, I tripped over a large, human-shaped object. Dazed, I turned him over and saw a young face. Liam had his luggage stolen, worked as a temp unloading cargo at a supermarket, and got scammed out of three days’ pay. He was delirious with hunger. In his daze, his hand grabbed the hem of my dress. I saw his lips moving and leaned in closer. Then I heard his faint, gasping voice: “Mom…” … After a long silence, I couldn’t help but ask, “…What?” No response. He had passed out from hunger. 2 Later, I learned why. Liam’s “Mom” was purely a hallucination brought on by starvation. When he was little, his biological mother abandoned him in a park. The last time he saw her, she was wearing a red dress just like mine. Collapsing at my door that day, seeing me squat down in my red dress through his blurry vision, he thought his mom had come to take him to heaven. When he confessed this, I threw my head back and laughed. Halfway through, realizing no one was laughing with me, I stopped. It wasn’t funny. Liam was squatting in front of me, his big, wet eyes looking at my manic face. No anger, no shyness, nothing but deep concern. He was tall—6’3″ when standing—very imposing. But his behavior was so harmless. Seeing me look at him, he got nervous, resting his chin on the sofa armrest, looking at me with those watery eyes. He said nothing, yet said everything. Realizing the malice of my laughter towards such a pure soul, I felt a pang of guilt, but I didn’t know how to apologize. Three years of a toxic marriage taught me to use aggression and shouting to mask my fragility. Three years spent entangled with Luke made me almost forget that before marrying him, I was the proudest heiress in the city. The confident, poised woman I used to be seemed buried deep in my memories. Now, I was full of resentment towards the world. I thought I’d be trapped in hate forever. But Liam reached out, pawing at my hand like a puppy. Until my palm opened, and he placed a pendant in it. It was the one Liam always wore. A gift from his parents when he was born. Back when he was loved. Later, his father died in an accident, and his mother remarried and abandoned him. This pendant was the only good memory the world had left him. But now, he took it off and placed it in my palm. He said, “This used to be the most important thing to me. Now, you are. I give it to you, hoping it makes you happy.” With that, he pushed my fingers closed around it and gently kissed my fist. It was the third month Liam had been living with me. I kept him with a mindset of amusement and manipulation, wanting to see what he wanted from me. But he did nothing. He just stood up, put on an apron, and went to the kitchen to cook me a nutritious meal. The spatula he held was the one I bought to use as a weapon against Luke’s head during our fights. In Liam’s hand, it looked small and toy-like, but his movements were agile, not clumsy at all. A smile played on the boy’s lips. Sunlight filtered through, reflecting in his light brown puppy eyes. Like a ghost possessed me, I walked up and asked why he was so happy. “Because I can cook for you.” Such a simple reason. Yet open to so many interpretations. Because someone was eating his food? Because he had a stable environment to cook in peace? Or simply because he liked cooking for me? Facing those eyes that easily saw through me, I suddenly didn’t want to dig any deeper. 3 Under my protection, Liam found a job. No one dared to bully this orphaned, honest, and kind-hearted poor boy anymore. He was nineteen. At eighteen, he got into a good college but couldn’t afford tuition. So he came to the city for work, thinking a big city meant more opportunities, only to be scammed as soon as he stepped off the train. Luckily, despite the rocky start, things were looking up. He got new ID documents, wore the clothes I bought him, and went to work full of energy every day. When he came back, he always carried bags of groceries. He thought I was too thin. When he held my slender wrists, he didn’t know how much strength to use, deep worry etched on his chiseled face. Honestly, I wasn’t petite. I even took boxing lessons to be able to punch that cheating couple, Luke and Chloe. But Liam was just too big. His past part-time jobs were all manual labor. Which meant he ate way more than the average person. So after his bag was stolen, he starved faster too. Now that he was full, he always wore a faint, happy smile. However, compared to his size, he was actually quite shy and sensitive. If I talked to him too much, he’d get embarrassed. According to his colleagues, Liam didn’t talk much at work. But no one found him hard to get along with. Because he worked all day long. His work, other people’s work—if you gave it to him, he did it. Unsurprisingly, Liam was friendly, sincere, and full of sunshine inside. Completely different from me. Current me was a bit too dark, constantly plotting how to torture my cheating husband and his little lover. Just because I missed the chance to gloat at Luke in the hospital didn’t mean I gave up on torturing him. Giving up on the man who was my childhood sweetheart for twenty-seven years, who spent his fiery youth chasing and protecting me, only to tire of me quickly after marriage and fall for a young girl who looked a bit like me. 4 I remembered the last time we met, in Luke’s office. I went to discuss divorce. Three years of marriage, but the honeymoon phase lasted only one. The remaining two years were spent in self-doubt and internal conflict. Eventually, I faced the failure of this marriage and wanted to have a proper talk with Luke. I didn’t expect Chloe to be hiding under his desk… They interacted right in front of me, exchanging glances. Treating me as part of their foreplay. Chloe even thought she was hidden well. Leaning against Luke’s leg, smiling slyly. And I, the moment Luke threw his head back with a satisfied groan, marched over, grabbed her hair, and dragged her out from under the desk. Chloe screamed as I slapped her, her pale face instantly swelling red. Behind me, Luke’s voice rang out. “Sarah.” I turned instinctively, only to be slapped so hard my vision blurred. It took me a while to recover. He looked down at me arrogantly. “Finally learned to fight for attention? Too bad, you look uglier by the minute.” Cruel words fell one after another. My world plunged into chaos and storms. I remembered when Luke first confessed to me. His eyes shining, he said, “You look like a princess when you hold your head high. I want to protect you forever.” But later: “She knows how to be submissive better than you. She knows how to please me. And you? You have to show sincerity, prove you love me more than she does.” He brought Chloe to important social events, hiding her timidly behind him. Guests whispered as we stood apart. I kept my back straight and head high, the crystal chandelier like a lonely crown above me. But when I took off my ring and walked away without looking back, he chased me, hugging me from behind in a quiet corner. “Really angry? Guess my wife does care about me.” His kisses landed on my neck, his tone lingering and ambiguous. “I just wanted to make you jealous. How can she compare to you? You’re the rose I raised myself.” He buried his face in my neck, laughing low. “You look so cute being stubborn and refusing to yield.” Back then, I thought Luke was crazy. I wanted to leave, but entangled by our families’ business interests, I endured again and again. Until they pushed too far. When I snapped back to reality, I had pinned Luke to the floor, smashing him with an ashtray, screaming, “I gave you too much face! You two hook up in front of me without shame, and you dare hit me?!” Luke’s face was a bloody mess, terrifying to look at. His little girl was huddled in the corner, trying to be invisible, terrified. “Sarah, learn to behave, or we divorce.” Even now, his eyes locked onto me, threatening. He always provoked me, then savored my breakdown from his high horse. Seeing his face twisted in pain, I suddenly laughed with relief. I said, “You know what, Luke? Intentional injury gets a heavy sentence, but domestic violence only gets a warning.” “As long as we’re married, I will torture you for life.” With that, I grinned, showing all my teeth. “Divorce? Keep dreaming.” My smile must have been maniacal because I saw clear fear in Luke’s eyes. As my hands closed around his neck, I admit I thought about dying with him. But was it worth it? Letting him die so easily? No. Yes, hatred for him was the only thing keeping me alive. I refused to look back, refused to admit my life was completely twisted. Now, I was a madwoman, a shrew. My reputation ruined, entangled with a man who didn’t love me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably again. The next second, a gentle touch met my palm. I turned and saw Liam resting his head on my knee. He gently pried open my hands, which I had clenched until my nails dug into the skin. After failing to calm me by massaging my palms or offering water, he pressed his cheek against my hand, finally pulling me out of the emotional storm. The boy stared at me with round puppy eyes, unmoving. I looked down at that face—youthful, tender, with deep features, looking a bit mixed-race. Liam was undoubtedly handsome, but his eyes were too clean, making it hard to have untoward thoughts. His cheeks and ears were red, but concern overrode his shyness. Seeing me look at him, he seemed to gather courage, took a deep breath, and pleaded, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, okay?” Then he gently lifted my other hand and placed it reverently on his head. When Liam first arrived, his short, stubbly hair felt great to touch. Back then, I joked that the condition for him staying was letting me pet his head whenever I wanted. Now, seeing his clumsy, silly attempt to please me, seeing the clarity in his eyes, I couldn’t help but ask: “Liam, lurking by my side for so long, what do you really want?”

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My daughter wanted a face tattoo—right in the middle of her forehead. I, being a sane mother, stopped her. She listened then, but after she turned eighteen, everything changed. She became a miserable corporate drone, while her old high school friends were becoming TikTok famous and driving Maseratis. She resented me. She was convinced I was the obstacle blocking her path to wealth. The hate festered until today, when she cornered me on the balcony with a knife, intent on stabbing me. I held up one hand to stop her, and with the other, I opened a PowerPoint presentation I’d been compiling since she was a toddler. “Hold on,” I said. “Let’s look at the receipts.” Chapter 1 My daughter, Chloe, is a moron. I’ve known this since she was little. Her favorite hobby is blaming me for her own incompetence. If she got a 50 on a math test, it was my fault for not arranging her breakfast bacon and eggs into a ‘100’. If her crush rejected her love letter, it was my fault for not buying her Sephora makeup. She has the exact same personality as her deadbeat father. Knowing this kid was a lost cause, I dragged her through college, paid her way, and we made a pact: once she graduated, we were done. No contact, dead to each other. I didn’t expect her to show up three years later. She was holding a phone, livestreaming, standing on my balcony surrounded by shattered glass. Her eyes were bloodshot, muttering into the camera: “Mom, if you had just let me be a streamer back then, I’d be driving a Maserati right now.” “Mom, you ruined my life. Do you know that? I’ve spent my whole life trying to heal from my unhappy childhood. I am repressed, I am lost, and I am suffocating.” The livestream chat was flying by, filled with agreement. [Toxic families are the worst. Parents with no vision really ruin everything.] [Talk about extinguishing a fire before it even starts. RIP your potential.] [Ignorant parents really do delay their kids’ lives.] I sighed. As Chloe took a step closer with the knife, I didn’t panic. I just reached out a hand to stop her. “Hold on.” “Why don’t we take a look at the ‘Growth Diary’ I’ve kept for you since you were small?” Chloe froze. She hadn’t expected this reaction. She glanced at the chat. Seeing that her viewers were curious about what I had documented, she decided to humor me. I opened the file. It was so massive it nearly crashed my laptop. It contained every event, big and small, regarding Chloe. I connected the laptop to a projector and threw the PowerPoint onto the living room wall for her viewers to see. “Mom, you destroyed me! Do you feel zero guilt?” Chloe sat on the sofa with me, burying her face in her hands, sobbing and rambling for the camera. She was really acting her heart out. I ignored it and clicked the first slide. Title: Chloe’s Growth Diary. Subtitle: Evidence for when she inevitably denies reality. The chat exploded. [This feels oppressive. Is she gonna invoice her for every cent spent since childhood?] [No wonder the streamer hates her mom.] [Support the streamer! A woman without maternal love doesn’t deserve to be a mother.] I scrolled to the second slide: The Table of Contents. There were over a hundred subheadings. I asked, “Tell me, what exactly are you dissatisfied with regarding your upbringing? Speak up. I’ll answer every point.” Chloe was shocked by my PPT. It took her a while to stammer out an accusation: “When I was little… we went to Grandma’s house. I broke something, and you slapped me in front of all the relatives.” “Do you know how much trauma a slap causes a person?” Chapter 2 The chat immediately started empathizing. [I get it. Once I broke a bowl and my dad nearly broke my arm.] [Don’t cry over spilled milk. I wish parents understood this.] I thought Chloe sounded like a braying donkey with her crying. I dug a finger in my ear, then moved the mouse to navigate to that specific page. The slide was dense with text recording the event. Date: February 9, 1997. Lunar New Year, Day 3. Visiting Grandma. Entry: The child insisted on jumping up and down on the wooden cover of the outhouse cesspit. She fell into the shit. She ruined her new clothes, but seeing as she had already swallowed a few mouthfuls of sewage and was crying hysterically, I held back my temper. The chat filled with “Hahahaha.” I glanced at my daughter’s face. Veins popped on Chloe’s forehead. She slammed her fist on the sofa. “Don’t change the subject! Why did you slap me in front of everyone later?” [Almost got distracted by the mom. She’s posting her daughter’s embarrassing moments just to whitewash herself, right?] [Is it just me, or is this terrifying? Socially executing your daughter with childhood stories.] [Honestly, my heart aches for the streamer. Parents never empathize. No wonder Asian households produce so much depression.] I sighed helplessly and scrolled to the next slide. The text read clearly: We told Chloe to light incense for her late Grandfather. She held the incense and asked why Grandpa had turned into a jar. She asked if Grandpa learned the art of ‘Bone Shrinking Kung Fu’. We laughed through tears at her innocent words and didn’t think much of it. Later, while we were eating, we heard a loud crash. Chloe had smashed my father’s urn. A gust of wind blew through the open door, and my father drifted away in the breeze. He was literally scattered to the winds. She said she ‘wanted to see how Grandpa fit inside.’ My mother passed out cold on the spot. I walked over and slapped her twice. Damn kid. The chat moved beyond “Hahahaha.” [Sis… the fact that you’re still alive is proof of a mother’s love.] [Just a slap? I would have been beaten to death.] Seeing the tide turning against her, Chloe started wailing. “Were you not at fault too? You guys just brushed me off! You didn’t explain it clearly! I was so little, I didn’t know what death meant!” The chat, fickle as grass in the wind, swayed back to her. [True, the adults share responsibility. Kids are just curious.] “Fine! Breaking the urn was my fault! But what about the next year? I was helping Uncle chop firewood, and you beat me again! Just because I was the older sister and didn’t let my cousin play with the axe?” The chat empathized again. [As an older sister, I was always told to yield to my brother. But I was a kid too!] [Why can’t parents ever protect their own children?] I looked at the chat, speechless, then turned to my daughter. “Are you sure you want me to say it?” Chapter 3 Chloe froze for a second, then grit her teeth. “Mom, what else can you twist? If you just apologize to me, I’m willing to forgive you. As long as you stop blocking my streaming career.” [Asian parents will spend their whole lives avoiding an apology.] [I’m crying. I’ve spent my life begging for a ‘sorry’.] I smiled. “Since you put it that way, let me help you recall why I beat you that time.” Date: January 30, 1998. Lunar New Year, Day 3. Entry: I didn’t want to bring Chloe to her grandmother’s, but Grandma missed her. This time, we didn’t let her near the altar. My brother was chopping wood with a large axe. Chloe wanted to try. My brother pushed her away, saying it was dangerous, and told her to go play. Chloe insisted on helping. My brother refused, saying the logs were too big, but promised she could help with kindling tomorrow. Chloe nodded innocently. I let my guard down and went to the kitchen. Suddenly, I heard my mother scream. I ran out to the yard. My mother had fainted (again). My nephew was wrestling Chloe for the axe. And on the chopping block lay my father’s wooden memorial tablet, split perfectly in two. Chloe got a severe beating that day. [Fortune Teller: You have two tribulations after death. Grandpa: Huh?] [Who chops up their grandpa’s spirit tablet for firewood?!] My daughter was losing her mind. She cried, snot and tears flowing freely. Just as I was about to ask if I was being too harsh, she looked up, eyes bloodshot. “These were mistakes I made when I was little! But why did you murder my dog, Buster? Just because Dad gave him to me?!” The chat boiled over instantly. This time, they attacked me. [She’s venomous. Anyone who abuses pets deserves to be struck by lightning.] [I can’t stand this. The mother is psychologically twisted. The daughter’s mistakes were childhood ignorance, but the mother is an adult killing animals? That’s terrifying.] [I had a pet rabbit once. My mom cooked it and forced me to eat it.] Chloe seemed certain I had no evidence for this. She grabbed my hand, stopping the mouse, and screamed, “Answer me! Don’t use your fake evidence to distract everyone! Just answer one sentence: Did you kill Buster? Yes or no!” I looked at my daughter’s sad face, seeing the calculation in her eyes. I nodded and admitted it. “Yes, it was me.” [Holy sh*t, she admitted it. So gross. Some people are just sick. No wonder the daughter wants to kill her.] [An unhappy childhood really takes a lifetime to heal. The daughter is so gentle, only asking for an apology.] Seeing the support rolling in and convinced I had no proof, Chloe’s voice grew firmer. “Mom, you will always be my mom. As long as you admit you wronged me all these years, and call Dad to apologize to him too, I’m willing to let everything go and live with you again.” [The streamer is too kind. A villain like this mom deserves to die, just like the dog she killed.] [So Asian parents only care about grades, not their child’s mental health? They don’t care about anything except achievement.] [She probably killed the dog because it distracted the daughter from studying. Right in front of her face, too.] Chloe’s eyes were swollen red, snot dripping as she yelled, “Mom, is apologizing to me that hard?” I looked at my suffering daughter, my heart as still as water. [God, look at that cold expression. Is that really a mother looking at her daughter?] [The mom doesn’t know how lucky she is to have such a good daughter.] I spoke calmly. “Are you so sure I don’t have evidence from back then?” Chloe went rigid. Her voice trembled. “Your so-called evidence is just you typing on a keyboard! You can type whatever you want!” [True. Text evidence isn’t convincing. Especially regarding animal abuse, text won’t convince me.] [This person isn’t fit to be a mother. She’s an animal.] I smiled faintly, remembering all the losses I suffered with her deadbeat father because I didn’t keep receipts. “Of course I have more than text…” I shook off Chloe’s hand and scrolled to Slide 157. A photo of my daughter and the so-called “puppy.” The word “puppy” obscured the key information. The “puppy” was actually a massive, aggressive breed, sitting as tall as ten-year-old Chloe. When Buster’s photo appeared, the chat jumped. [That… is a puppy? Feels like it could bite my head off.] [Don’t be scared guys, that dog eats people and leaves.] I stared dead at Chloe. “Do you want me to repeat why Buster was euthanized?” She dodged my gaze. But thinking of something, she stared back. “Mom, even if Buster chewed up your purse, you didn’t have to kill him!” The chat was led astray again. [Big or small, abuse is wrong!] [This woman is scary. A few words and a pic almost swayed me, but the point is she killed a pet!] I looked at my unrepentant daughter and dropped the Hammer. I scrolled to the next slide. Chapter 4 Chloe is shrewd. She assumed that since the incident happened in a small county town years ago, even if it made the news, the records would be gone. She was wrong. If I’m building a chain of evidence, I ensure integrity. Text isn’t enough, so I kept the images. I zoomed in on the photo in the PPT. It was a scan of an old newspaper. I moved the mouse slowly to ensure everyone in the livestream could read the text. The bold black headline read: UNLEASHED AGGRESSIVE DOG MAULS INFANT GIRL’S FACE. Below it was a photo of Buster, muzzle covered in blood, staring ferociously at the camera. And a photo of a baby girl, pixelated, but clearly missing a large chunk of flesh from her cheek. I sighed. Even looking at it now, I felt guilt towards that little girl. I had always opposed my ex-husband getting that dog for Chloe. I planned to send it to a friend’s farm to be kept in a kennel. But my ex-husband, while I was at work, secretly told Chloe to take Buster out to “prove he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” And so, the tragedy happened. The next slide showed Buster being euthanized, along with the vet records. [My god. Just euthanasia? If I were that baby’s parent, I would have stewed that dog.] [I actually found the article. The auntie isn’t lying. She paid for the girl’s reconstructive surgery and compensation. The dad who bought the dog went into hiding. Auntie has morals.] [Raising a demon child is exhausting. No wonder she cut contact.] Chloe froze. She hadn’t expected me to keep such complete evidence. She panicked for a moment, stuttering, “You… I… You…” Seeing she had nothing to say, the chat turned on her, calling her a plague, a psycho, trying to pin her sins on her “native family.” Chloe panicked, but after a moment, her eyes lit up. She found an angle. “Mom, that incident was my fault. But why did you read a boy’s love letter to me in front of the whole class?” “Your own daughter is precious, but other people’s sons can be bullied by you?” The comment section exploded again. The netizens couldn’t sit still. [This mom is insane. That counts as abuse, right?] [Taking back what I said about her morals. Publicly humiliating a child is low no matter the reason.] [Die, b*tch. You deserve your daughter trying to kill you.] Chloe avoided my gaze. I looked at her calmly. “Are you sure you want me to say it?”

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My father liked silence. He said noise was a sign of the lower classes, so he installed a decibel meter in our house. Speaking above 40 decibels was a one-dollar fine. Laughing over 60 decibels cost five. Crying was a capital offense: ten dollars a second. When I was four, I broke my arm. I didn’t make a sound. I bit through two of my own teeth and saved my father a few hundred dollars in “noise fees.” My father praised me for being sensible. He called me a “cost-effective” child. I treasured that compliment, carefully maintaining the dead silence of our home. Until that stormy night, when a burglar broke in. The man had a knife. He crept toward my sleeping mother. I was hiding in the closet, watching through a crack in the door. I saw everything. I wanted to scream, to shout, to wake my father. But then I glanced at the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand went to my empty pocket. I didn’t have enough allowance. A single scream would cost hundreds. I couldn’t afford it. … The walls of our house were white. The numbers on the decibel meter were red—the brightest thing in the house. I sat at the dining table, staring at the number: 28. Safe. My father sat at the head of the table, holding a newspaper. The sound of him turning a page was whisper-soft. My mother was in the kitchen, the sound of her knife on the cutting board as delicate as embroidery. I didn’t dare breathe too deeply. Taking too loud a breath also came with a fee. My father had explained it once. The air outside was free, but the air inside our house was contained by the walls he had paid for. Using a resource required payment. A bowl of plain noodles sat in front of me. No meat. Meat cost extra, and my account was in the red. Last week, I had accidentally broken a glass. The glass was fifty cents, the cleanup fee was a dollar, the “startle fee” was two dollars, and the fine for the decibel meter spiking to 80 was twenty dollars. My allowance was now deep in the negative. This week, it was only plain noodles for me. “Arthur, the child is still growing,” my mother said, carrying a dish out from the kitchen. Her voice was a low murmur. The meter twitched: 35. Still in the safe zone. My father lowered his newspaper and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Grace, rules are rules.” “She broke a glass and made a noise. She has to face the consequences. It’s called accountability.” My mother bit her lip, not daring to say more. She placed a dish of stir-fried pork in the center of the table. The aroma drifted over, and I swallowed hard. My stomach betrayed me with a loud gurgle. Grrrrmble— It was a little too loud. I looked up at the wall in terror. 41. I was done for. My father’s chopsticks froze mid-air. He pulled out his phone and opened the black accounting app. “Stomach noise. 1 decibel over the limit.” “One-dollar fine.” “It’s on your tab. You now owe me twenty-four dollars and fifty cents.” I lowered my head, tears welling in my eyes. Don’t cry. Crying costs money. Ten dollars a second. I couldn’t afford to cry. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, forcing the tears back. “Eat,” my father said, picking up a piece of pork and putting it in his mouth. “Remember, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. And there’s no such thing as free noise.” The doorbell suddenly rang, a series of sharp, urgent presses. The decibel meter instantly shot to 70. My father’s brow furrowed, his face darkening. “Who could be so ill-mannered?” My mother rushed to open the door. The moment it opened, my aunt Lynn burst in. She was carrying a large cake box and a giant LEGO set. “Anna! Happy birthday!” My aunt’s voice was loud and full of life. The decibel meter danced wildly. 75, 80, 85… My father’s face was as black as soot. “That’s enough! Five-dollar entry fee, thirty-dollar noise fee.” “Card or cash?” My aunt stood there, stunned. She looked from the decibel meter on the wall to me, huddled in my chair. “Arthur, are you insane?” “It’s Anna’s fifth birthday! And you’re charging me a noise fee?” My father stood up, blocking her path. “This is my house. In my territory, you follow my rules. And this cake and toy… did you get my approval?” “There is no spare room in this house for such garbage.” My aunt’s hands were trembling with rage. She slammed the cake down on the table. BANG! The meter redlined. “I’m leaving it right here! Anna, come on, Auntie will cut you a slice!” She took my hand. Her hand was so warm. But I didn’t dare move. I looked at my father. “Anna, it’s your choice,” he said. “Eat the cake, and this week’s debt doubles. Don’t eat it, and I’ll deduct one dollar from your debt.” I pulled my hand back. If my debt doubled, I would owe almost fifty dollars. I wouldn’t even get noodles next week. I’d be drinking plain water. “I… I don’t want any,” I whispered. My voice was barely audible. My aunt stared at me in disbelief. “Anna? What are you afraid of?” “Auntie is here. He won’t dare do anything to you!” I shook my head. She didn’t understand. After she left, my father would add everything to my tab. With interest. I couldn’t afford it. “Did you hear her?” My father sat back down, a cold smirk on his lips. “The child is more sensible than you are. She understands cost-effectiveness.” My aunt took a deep breath and knelt, looking me in the eye. “Anna, tell me the truth.” “Do you want to eat the cake?” “Forget the money. Forget your father. Just tell me, do you want it?” I looked at the cake. It had a beautiful little rabbit on it. The frosting had to be so sweet. I wanted it. I dreamed of things like this. But… I glanced at the number on the wall. “No,” I lied. My aunt’s eyes turned red. She shot to her feet, pointing a finger at my father’s nose. “Arthur, this is abuse! What do you think your child is?” My father slowly wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I am teaching her how to survive. Your kind of spoiling is what will ruin her.” “Now, please leave. You have exceeded the noise limit for far too long. I will send you the bill.” My aunt was shaking with fury. She looked like she was about to smash something, but then she saw the terror in my eyes, and she restrained herself. “Fine, Arthur. Just fine. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Aunt Lynn left. The moment the door closed, the house returned to its dead silence. 28 decibels. My father nodded in satisfaction. The noodles were cold and congealed. They were disgusting, but I shoveled them into my mouth, not daring to make a sound. I had earned this meal by refusing the cake. It was the cheapest resource for survival in this house. That night, I lay in my small bed, clutching a coin in my hand. My aunt had secretly slipped it into my pocket before she left. “Anna,” she had whispered, “take this. If there’s ever an emergency, use it to buy yourself a chance.” I didn’t know what “buying a chance” meant. But I knew this one-dollar coin was the only money I truly owned. It was my last defense in a world where everything had a price. I woke up in the middle of the night, burning with fever. My throat felt like I had swallowed hot coals, and my head was heavy as lead. I groggily touched my forehead. It was scalding. I was sick. My first thought wasn’t pain, but fear. Being sick meant spending money. Doctor’s fees, medicine, tests. My father said that illness was a failure of self-management. It was negligence. All costs were to be borne by the patient. I curled up under the covers, shivering. I wanted water. But the kitchen was past my father’s bedroom. Walking would make noise. Opening the door would make noise. Pouring water would make noise. If I woke him, there would be a massive fine. I endured it. My throat was parched. I opened my mouth, trying to breathe in some cool air, but even the air felt hot. “Mommy…” I mouthed the word silently, tears running into my ears. I didn’t dare make a sound. If no one found out, I wasn’t really sick. If I didn’t take medicine, it wouldn’t cost anything. With these thoughts, I drifted back into a feverish sleep. Nightmares came one after another. I dreamed the decibel meter was a monster, its mouth wide open to devour me. I dreamed that bills fell like snowflakes, burying me alive. When I woke again, it was morning. My father was shaking me. “What time is it? Get up.” His voice was stern. I tried to sit up, but I had no strength. The world went black, and I fell back onto the pillow with a soft thud. The bedframe creaked. I glanced at the meter. I was still under the limit. My father frowned and touched my forehead. He quickly pulled his hand back. “You’re burning up.” He looked at his watch. “103.1.” “We need to go to the hospital.” He took out his phone and opened the calculator. “Round trip taxi fare, sixty dollars.” “Registration fee, fifty dollars.” “Blood test, eighty dollars.” “Medicine, probably two hundred.” “Lost wages, I’ll have to take a half-day off, that’s five hundred.” “Total, eight hundred and ninety dollars.” He shoved the phone screen in my face. “Your account is in the negative. How do you propose to handle this?” I was delirious with fever, the numbers a blurry mess. “Daddy… I feel sick…” I said weakly. “Feeling sick is not an excuse to default on your debt,” he said coldly. “Sign this IOU. Interest will be triple the bank rate. You can pay me back, with interest, when you grow up.” He took a paper from his briefcase. It was covered in fine print, clearly prepared in advance. “Sign.” He pushed the pen into my hand. My hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t hold it. It fell to the floor with a clatter. He picked it up and forced it back into my hand. My mother rushed in. She had heard the commotion. When she saw my flushed face, she screamed. “Anna!” The decibel meter flashed red. My father glared at her. “What are you shouting for? Fifty-dollar fine.” She ignored him and threw her arms around me. Her tears were cool on my hot skin. “Arthur, have you lost your mind?” “The child is burning up, and you’re making her sign an IOU? Take her to the hospital!” It was the first time I had ever heard my mother speak so loudly. My father sneered. “Are you paying for it?” “I manage your salary. Every penny of your money is budgeted.” “This is an unbudgeted expense. Someone has to cover it.” “Either she signs, or you do.” “Sign it, and I’ll start the car.” My mother held me, her body trembling. She looked at me, limp and feverish in her arms, then at my father’s cold face. “I’ll sign.” In the car, I leaned against my mother. The air conditioning was blasting. My father didn’t speak. He was listening to a financial news station. When a stock went up, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. When one went down, his brow furrowed. His daughter, delirious in the back seat, was not his concern. As long as I didn’t die, I was a recoverable asset. At the hospital, when the nurse gave me the injection, I didn’t cry. “You’re a brave little girl,” she said. “Not even a peep.” She didn’t know I didn’t dare make a peep. If I cried, it would cost another ten dollars. That was several days’ worth of my mother’s grocery money. I watched the fluid in the IV tube. Drip. Drip. That was money. Flowing into my veins. I felt myself becoming more and more expensive. And less and less worthy of being alive. I was a liability. My father was right. If I hadn’t gotten sick, that eight hundred and ninety dollars could have bought so many shares, earned so much interest. It was all my fault. We got home late that night. My fever had gone down a little, but I was still dizzy. My father posted the bill on the fridge, in the most prominent spot. “Grace, remember to pay this back. I’ll deduct it from next month’s household budget.” I lay on the sofa, staring at the decibel meter. 25. The house was as quiet as a tomb, the only sound the tap-tap-tapping of my father’s keyboard. He was updating his ledger. Every expense was meticulously recorded, including the five-dollar parking fee from today. That, too, went on my tab. I felt my pocket. The coin was still there. Aunt Lynn’s coin. It wasn’t on my father’s ledger. It was my only secret. My only hope. I wondered, if one day I could save up many, many coins, could I buy my freedom from my father? Could I buy the right to cry out loud, to laugh out loud? But for now, I only had one dollar. Not even enough to buy a single scream. The rain was coming down hard, thunder rattling the windows. The numbers on the decibel meter kept jumping. 40, 50, 60… But this was natural noise. My father couldn’t fine God. He could only put in his earplugs and shut his bedroom door. My mother was already asleep. She was exhausted from taking care of me and being berated by my father. I couldn’t sleep. My arm still ached where the IV had been. I wanted water, but I didn’t dare move. The thunder outside drowned out everything—including the sound of a window being pried open. Click. It was a tiny sound. You would have missed it if you weren’t listening. But I heard it. In this house, I was more sensitive to sound than a cat. I opened my eyes. A dark figure was climbing in through the window. A man in a black raincoat, holding a knife. The blade gleamed a ghastly white in the flashes of lightning. My heart seized. A burglar! There was a burglar in the house! I wanted to scream. The word “Help!” was on the tip of my tongue. But then I saw the decibel meter. The living room was dark, but the red number glowed with perfect clarity: 35. If I screamed, it would definitely go over 100. That was a capital offense. A huge fine… My mind raced, calculating. A single scream was ten dollars, minimum. Continued screaming would be charged by the second. If I woke my father, there would be an additional fee for emotional distress. My account was negative. My mother’s budget for next month was already gone. We couldn’t afford it. The burglar crept toward the bedroom. My parents’ room. Was he going to kill them? Or just steal things? If my father’s hidden cash was stolen, he would go insane. He would take his fury out on me and my mother. No. I couldn’t let him go in there. I had to do something. But I couldn’t make a sound. Noise cost money. I was sweating, my body trembling with panic. My hand found the coin in my pocket. The cool, hard metal. My entire fortune. One dollar. What could it buy? Not a piece of candy. Not a sheet of paper. But. It could make a small sound. A sound that wouldn’t go over the limit. The burglar’s hand was on the bedroom doorknob. His knife was raised. There was no time. I took a deep breath, and with a flick of my wrist, I sent the coin rolling across the floor. Ting— The coin spun across the wood, hitting the leg of a table with a clear, crisp sound. It wasn’t loud enough to be jarring over the thunder. The decibel meter jumped to 38. No violation. No fine. The burglar froze. He whipped his head around, his eyes locking on the closet in the corner of the living room. I was hiding in that closet. Through the crack in the door, our eyes met. His eyes were vicious. He abandoned the bedroom and turned toward me. One step. Two steps. His leather shoes made dull thuds on the floor. I clamped my hand over my mouth, my nails digging into my skin. Don’t scream. Whatever you do, don’t scream. He reached the closet. He yanked the door open. I was exposed, a small body curled into a tight ball. The burglar sneered. He hadn’t expected to find a child awake. He raised the knife and lunged. I closed my eyes. I didn’t move. Dodging would mean bumping into the closet walls. That would make noise. That would be a fine. Shhhk. The knife slid into my stomach. A cold shock, then a searing, fiery pain. A hundred times worse than my broken arm. I wanted to scream. A primal urge to release the agony. But I opened my eyes and saw the decibel meter: 32. Good. I hadn’t made a sound. I had held it in. Blood poured out, staining my pajamas, pooling on the floor. The burglar paused. He had probably never seen a child take a knife to the gut without a sound. He must have thought I was mute, or paralyzed with fear. He pulled the knife out. Another wave of excruciating pain. My body convulsed. My teeth bit through my lip, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. But still, I made no sound. The burglar grunted. He wiped the blood from his knife on my pajamas, then turned to ransack the cabinet behind me. That was where my father hid his emergency cash. I watched as he pulled out a small iron box. It was my father’s prized possession, filled with cash and gold bars. The burglar dumped the contents into his bag, zipped it up, and left. He climbed back out the window and vanished into the rainy night. The house was quiet again. Only the sound of the thunder, and the sound of my blood dripping onto the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387780”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The seventh year Sophia was abroad, the year her heart, which I’d shattered, finally healed enough for her to bring a new boyfriend home to meet her parents, was also the year the hospital gave me my final verdict. Seven years of fighting cancer, and I had lost. I could go home to die. When she saw my mother wheeling me out, Sophia’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well. Seven years. You look like hell. Can’t even walk on your own two feet now?” Her voice dripped with contempt, but I just calmly tugged the sleeve of my puffer jacket down, hiding the dense constellation of needle marks on the back of my hand. “It’s nothing. I took a bad fall, just a fracture.” Another smirk. “Since you’re so fragile, you can be a groomsman for my fiancé. I’m getting married soon, you know.” I managed a weak, placid smile. “I can’t. I have to go somewhere… very far away.” With that, I patted my mother’s hand, a silent plea for her to wheel me home, now. 1 Back home, my mother had just helped me into bed when Sophia’s mother showed up at our door. She stepped inside, her eyes darting toward me, her words hesitant. “Liam, I… I have a favor to ask. An improper one.” Her face was flushed. She didn’t have to say another word. I knew. It was the same look she’d worn seven years ago. I remembered it perfectly. The moment she’d learned about my diagnosis, she’d burst into my hospital room, frantic, a shadow of guilt in her eyes. I hadn’t even processed the word ‘cancer’ myself. I was terrified, sobbing like my life was already over, and she just dropped to her knees in front of me. “Liam, I’m begging you. Don’t drag Sophia down with you. She just got her acceptance letter. If she finds out you have cancer, she’ll never leave.” “You and Sophia grew up together, you’ve been in love for so long. Please, for my sake, don’t ruin her future. Break up with her. Please.” “I’ve already worked it all out. I’ve arranged for a girl to help. All you have to do is pretend to kiss her downstairs. Let Sophia ‘catch’ you. Then you just have to pretend to break her heart.” Because of her words, the first thing I did after my diagnosis wasn’t to seek treatment. It was to stage a cold, cruel betrayal. I forced a breakup, and with it, I forced Sophia out of the country. Just as I expected, Sophia’s mother finally got the words out, her voice thick with feigned remorse. “Liam, don’t blame me. I have no choice. Sophia’s fiancé now… he was with her through grad school and his PhD. They’re a perfect match in every way. I just… I can’t let anything ruin such a perfect marriage.” She wrung her hands. “You know how attached she’s always been to you. If… if she found out the truth about what happened back then, I’m afraid… I’m so afraid…” Her eyes hardened. “So, can you just avoid seeing her for a while? You’re… you’re dying anyway, aren’t you? It’s not like you should be going out much. Right?” At the word “dying,” my mother snapped. She slammed a pack of my adult diapers onto the bed, her body trembling with rage. Seeing she was about to explode, I quickly grabbed her arm, then turned my calm gaze to Sophia’s mother. “Ma’am, I can promise you I won’t tell Sophia the truth about seven years ago. But I can’t promise not to see her.” I couldn’t. For seven agonizing years, there wasn’t a moment I didn’t think of her. When the chemo became unbearable, I would clutch an old photo of us, the faded image giving me the strength to endure. I’d gone through dozens of surgeries, big and small. A few times, I was rushed to the ER, slipping away, unable to wake up. It was my mother’s voice, raw and desperate at my bedside, that pulled me back. “Liam, don’t you remember? You promised you would live! You said you’d go find her, clear up the misunderstanding yourself!” “You promised that when you were better, I would take you to find her! If you die, you’ll never see Sophia again!” Her cries, always laced with Sophia’s name, were the lifeline that dragged me back from the brink, time and time again. But in the end, I still lost the fight. And Sophia had a new life, a new love. She was getting married. Still, just to be near her for a little while, in my final days… that would be enough. It was why, when the doctor said leaving the hospital meant certain death, I still forced myself out of that bed. I had to see her. 2 I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Just after Sophia’s mother left, I drifted into an exhausted sleep. When I woke, I heard her voice outside my room. Sophia’s voice. In my home. I was stunned. Seven years ago, she hated me with every fiber of her being. She’d stood outside my door for three days and three nights, her face streaked with tears, demanding to know why I betrayed her. When I coldly told her I didn’t love her anymore, she slapped me, her hand shaking, over and over again. After that, she couldn’t even stand the sight of me. If she saw me in the hallway, she’d turn and walk the other way. Passing my apartment, she’d physically cringe. She stopped going to the corner store we used to visit together. The mere mention of my name was enough to make her snap at whoever said it. “Why are you talking about Liam? You might not find it disgusting, but I do.” The day she left for the airport, I ran out in a downpour, desperate for one last look. When she saw me, she just scoffed, took off the matching ring we’d bought together, and smashed it on the ground at my feet along with the phone that held all our photos. Then she walked away without a backward glance. But now, seven years later, she was here. It only took a moment, peering through the crack in my bedroom door, to understand why. She was holding her fiancé’s hand tightly. “Auntie, are you still upset about what happened seven years ago? Is that why you don’t want Liam to help us pick a wedding planner and rings?” She sounded so reasonable, so detached. “I’m over Liam. We grew up together, after all. If we can’t be lovers, we can at least be friends.” The man beside her, Ryan, chimed in smoothly. “It’s alright, Ma’am. Sophia told me all about her history with Liam. I know he cheated back then, but they were young. It takes two to tango, I’m sure Sophia wasn’t perfect either.” He smiled, a perfect, charming smile. “Besides, I should thank him. If he hadn’t let Sophia go, I never would have met such an amazing woman.” He put his arm around her. “So really, there’s no need to dwell on the past. It was my idea to ask Liam for help. We’ve been out of the country for seven years, we’re out of touch. We can’t just let the older generation decide everything, their sense of style is… a little dated.” Seven years ago, my greatest wish was for Sophia to forget me, to move on. But hearing her speak of our past so calmly, hearing her share our story with another man… a thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. My mother, however, was focused on Ryan’s words. Cheated. Let her go. Her eyes flared with rage. Her lips trembled, and she finally roared at Sophia. “You’re just as shameless as your mother!” My heart seized. I forced my weak body to sit up. “Mom,” I called out, my voice strained. “Come in here. Help me into my wheelchair. I’ll talk to them.” 3 My mother came in, her face still a mask of fury. But I just reached out and hugged her. “Mom, please. Let me do this. Think of it as… my dying wish.” Her eyes instantly welled with tears, but she nodded. She went to the closet, got my wig, and helped me into my jacket. The moment she wheeled me out, Sophia’s brow furrowed. “What is wrong with you? You were lazy as a kid, and you’re even lazier now. It’s just a broken leg. You’re making your mother wait on you hand and foot at her age.” Her disgust was a physical blow. I forced a smile. “The doctor said it’s a bad break. I have to stay off it for a while.” Ryan stepped forward, his expression all sympathy. “Don’t mind Sophia, Liam. She got used to being blunt overseas. She’s like this with everyone.” He grinned, adding, “Except me, of course.” A fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. Sophia was cold to everyone, it was true. But with me, before… I pushed the thought away and looked at Ryan. “Are you sure you want me to help you pick a wedding planner?” “Of course, of course,” he said, nodding eagerly. I nodded back. “If you really need me, I’ll go with you.” After a few more minutes of strained pleasantries, they left. That night, my phone rang. It was Sophia. She told me to be ready tomorrow. We were going to the wedding planner’s office. My fingers gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I was greedy for the sound of her voice, but my stomach was in knots. It had been seven years since I’d heard her speak to me like this, one-on-one, over the phone. We used to do it every night, tucked into our beds, her voice lulling me to sleep. As I was lost in the memory, a man’s voice echoed faintly through the receiver. “Sophia, come on. Let me dry your hair…” The sound jolted me back to reality. “Okay,” I managed to choke out. The second she heard my reply, she hung up. The dial tone droned in my ear. A familiar sting pricked my eyes, and I fought to swallow the tears back down. I’d prepared myself for this. But seeing it, hearing it—the girl who was once my entire world now belonging to someone else—it still hurt more than I could have imagined. 4 Sophia had told me to be ready at 10 a.m. Anxious, I had my mom wheel me downstairs at 9:30, just to be safe. But by noon, she still hadn’t shown up. The calls I made went straight to voicemail. My mother tried to coax me back upstairs several times, but I refused. It had taken so much of my dwindling strength just to get out of the apartment. This might be my last time outdoors. I wasn’t going to waste it. Finally, at 1 p.m., my phone rang. It was Sophia. They were on their way down. My mom was visibly upset, and it took all my effort to convince her to put on a neutral face. Once I was settled in the back seat of their car, Ryan turned to me with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that, Liam. Sophia and I… well, we were up a little late last night. We both overslept this morning. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.” My hand clenched into a fist in my lap. From the driver’s seat, Sophia glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her expression cold. “Why are you explaining anything to him?” she said flatly to Ryan. The words were like a shard of ice in my chest. I said nothing, just turned and waved a final, weak goodbye to my mother on the curb. Sophia drove fast, erratically. The car lurched and swayed, and a familiar wave of nausea rose in my throat. I gritted my teeth and held it down. I couldn’t help but remember. Seven years ago, when she first got her license, she would drive me everywhere in her dad’s car. She knew I got carsick easily, so she always drove with painstaking care, smooth and steady. I always got sick in taxis and buses, but never, not once, in Sophia’s car. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes. My weak body, unable to brace itself, was thrown hard against the seatback. A violent heave convulsed my stomach, and a soft whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it. Sophia heard it. A cruel laugh echoed from the front seat. “What, Liam? Did you really think I’d still drive carefully for you? No sudden stops, no sharp turns?” I silently wiped away a tear that had escaped and traced a path down my temple. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “You should be careful for Ryan now. He’s the one you’re with.” She laughed again, a sharp, bitter sound. “You’re damn right about that.” Then she floored it. My body slammed against the seat again, a sharp pain radiating through my back. But this time, a small, sad smile touched my lips. Hate was better than indifference. At least in her heart, while I was still alive, I still held a place. 5 The agonizing drive didn’t last much longer. We arrived at our destination. Ryan helped me out of the car while Sophia unfolded my wheelchair. For a fleeting second, as she leaned over me, I caught the scent of her hair, that familiar, light fragrance. My eyes burned, and for a moment, I thought I would break down. I used to love burying my face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. The moment was gone as quickly as it came. They settled me into the chair and immediately stepped back. Sophia pulled two wet wipes from her purse and began scrubbing her hands with a frantic energy. Ryan gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry about that, Liam. She’s a bit of a germaphobe. Can’t stand being touched by any man… except for me.” I looked down, my jaw tight, pretending I hadn’t seen her disgusted scrubbing, pretending I hadn’t heard his words. I let them wheel me into a Chinese restaurant, their hands linked together. At the table, Sophia took charge, ordering several spicy dishes without even glancing at the menu. I recognized them immediately. My heart sank. I never ate spicy food. She never used to, either. It was painfully obvious who they were for. I wasn’t about to torture myself. These days, even eating was a struggle, let alone something so harsh. I quietly asked the waiter for a simple, clear vegetable soup. For some reason, this set Sophia off. “You’re already thin as a ghost, and now you’re eating like a rabbit.” Her sudden, sharp concern sent a wave of bittersweet warmth through my chest. But it vanished as quickly as it came. I smiled faintly. “Jessica likes me lean. Says I’ll look better in a tux when we get married.” Jessica. The name Sophia’s mother had fabricated for my affair. The girl I hadn’t seen since Sophia left the country. Sophia’s face went pale with rage. Ryan immediately jumped in, laughing it off. “Don’t mind her, Liam. Sophia’s a doctor now, so she gets worked up whenever she sees someone dieting. She used to yell at me about it all the time back in the States.” He turned to her, his smile unwavering. “Right, Sophia?” But Sophia wasn’t looking at him. She shot to her feet, shoving her chair back with a screech. “I’m going to the restroom.” Without another glance at either of us, she stalked away. Watching her retreating back, a familiar ache spread through me. Had I screwed it up again? Ruined her new life, sabotaged her new love? Guilt churned in my stomach. Across the table, Ryan’s smile vanished. He picked up a glass of hot water and, in one swift motion, flung it directly in my face. “You think I’m an idiot, Liam?” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “Playing the victim, trying to win my fiancée back with your little pity party.” The hot water stung my skin, but I just clenched my fists, my voice filled with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry. If I gave you the wrong impression, I apologize.” He scoffed and stood up, circling the table to loom over me. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, twisting it tight. “You think faking a broken leg is going to make her come running back to you?” “Let me tell you something. Sophia is mine for life. Don’t think you can just waltz back in and snatch her away because you were her first love.” His grip tightened, cutting off my air. I could tolerate the water; I deserved it for indulging my selfish desire to be near her. But I didn’t want a public scene. I just wanted a few peaceful moments. I tried to stay calm, patting his hand weakly. “Ryan, I’m sorry. I really am.” But then he let out a short, sharp laugh. Before I could react, he released my collar and slammed his fist into my nose. A blinding flash of pain, and blood gushed warm and sticky down my face. On instinct, I shoved him back. “What are you doing? Touch me again and I’m calling the police.” But as my hand made contact, something bizarre happened. Ryan stumbled backward as if hit by a truck, crashing into the wall behind him. His head hit the plaster with a sickening thud, and he slid to the floor, blood trickling from his forehead. “Help!” he screamed, his voice filled with theatrical panic. “He’s trying to kill me! Someone help!” I stared at my hands in disbelief. I’d been sick for seven years. Getting dressed was exhausting. Sometimes I couldn’t even hold a glass of water steady. There was no way I had the strength to push him that hard. My shove had been defensive, a desperate attempt to create space. While I was still reeling, Sophia reappeared. She saw Ryan on the floor and rushed to his side. “Ryan! Ryan, are you okay?” He clutched her hand, his face a mask of pain and fear. “Sophia… it was Liam. He’s trying to kill me.” His words came out in ragged gasps. “The moment you left, he started insulting me. He said you were just trash he threw away, that he could have you back anytime he wanted and you’d come crawling back. I couldn’t take it… I threw some water on him.” “But that just made him angrier! He called me a worthless piece of crap, a loser who picks up his sloppy seconds! I lost my temper and I hit him. And then… then he just shoved me. He threw me against the wall.” I listened, frozen, as his lies filled the air. My lips trembled, and it took several tries before I could form words. “Sophia, listen to me… it wasn’t like that.” “I… I didn’t.” Her face contorted into a mask of pure fury. “You are the most vile person I have ever known, Liam!” she shrieked, her voice echoing through the restaurant. “Seven years ago, you shamelessly cheated on me with another woman. And now that I’m about to get married, you decide you want me back? You attack my fiancé?” She marched over to me, her hand flashing out, slapping me hard across the face, once, twice, three times. Then, with a furious scream, she grabbed the back of my wheelchair and shoved it with all her might. The chair slammed into the table. Dishes shattered on the floor. The table overturned, and my wheelchair tipped with it. My head struck the corner of the table with a sickening crack, and the world exploded in a flash of white. My ears rang, my body convulsed. Through a blurry haze, I saw Sophia ignore me completely. She was on the floor, cradling Ryan, kissing his forehead as he moaned about his head hurting. “Ryan, honey, are you okay? I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” She helped him to his feet, and without a single glance back at me, they left. As they disappeared through the door, I saw Ryan look over his shoulder, a triumphant, mocking smile on his face. And I… I started to laugh. A wet, broken laugh that turned into tears. I remembered my senior year of high school. I’d taken a job as a busboy at a bar to save up for Sophia’s graduation present. One night, a customer with certain… tastes… wouldn’t leave me alone. I fought him off, throwing a dozen punches, but he left my face a swollen, bloody mess. When I got home, Sophia took one look at me and burst into tears. She kissed every bruise, every cut on my face, sobbing into my chest, asking me why I would be so stupid, why I would get so hurt over a stupid gift. Back then, her world revolved around me. Now, her world revolved around another man. My heart ached with a pain that felt like it was tearing me apart, but underneath it, there was a strange sense of relief. It was good. The girl I loved more than life itself would have someone else to cherish her, to love her with that same intensity, long after I was gone. The world was spinning. Blood and tears mixed, dripping from my face. Restaurant staff were gathering around me. I could feel my life draining away, a familiar sensation from all the times I’d almost given up. But I couldn’t close my eyes. I had to protect her. I couldn’t let the girl I loved get in trouble because of me. Staying conscious was agony, but I held on. I had to. Finally, the flashing lights of an ambulance, the uniforms of paramedics and police. Strength gave out. I grabbed an officer’s arm, my grip surprisingly tight. “Tell my mother… not to press charges,” I rasped, each word a monumental effort. “Tell her… this was my choice.” “Tell her… I’m sorry. I… I can’t be with her anymore.” My heart felt hollow, but strangely, there were no regrets. I had fought cancer for seven years, waited for seven years, all for one dream. To see Sophia one last time. I had seen her. My dream was fulfilled. It was enough.

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