1 Before the Thanksgiving break, Ken promised he’d spend the entire break with me, helping with wedding preparations. But the night before the holiday officially began, he called to say something had come up at the lab and he wouldn’t be able to make it back. Ken has always been the cool, aloof, scholarly type. I should have trusted him completely. But just a few minutes before his call, I’d received a text confirming a hotel room booking in his name. I stared at the message, stunned. It was a well-known hotel for couples. At first, I thought my stuffy, unromantic professor had finally learned a thing or two about romance. Then he called with his excuse about the lab. Like hell I’d believe that. I floored the gas pedal and sped over. The room door was unlocked. A beautiful young woman, wrapped in a bath towel, was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a laptop. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. In fact, she offered a sweet smile. “Hello, Ms. Bernstein.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at Ken. His back was to us, deep in a phone conversation, completely oblivious to my arrival. “Ms. Bernstein, I’m one of Professor Miller’s students. My name is Zoe,” she said, her smile creating two charming dimples. “We had some data we hadn’t finished processing. The professor was worried that being in the lab so late, just the two of us, might damage my reputation if someone saw us. So he brought me here to work. Please don’t misunderstand.” She finished with a playful stick of her tongue. My heart sank like a stone. Ken was a man of few emotions, his world revolving around his experiments and his teaching. He’d never shown any particular concern for any woman. That included me, his fiancée of five years. But now, Zoe was telling me that Ken had gone out of his way to book a hotel room, all for the sake of her reputation. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Suddenly, I didn’t care about being poised and graceful anymore. “If you’re here to work, then work. Who are you trying to impress, sitting there with your bare arms on display?” The girl froze. She clearly hadn’t expected my sudden outburst. Her beautiful eyes instantly filled with tears. “I’m sorry, I’ll get dressed right now.” As she stood up, I noticed she had Ken’s jacket draped over her legs. The commotion finally caught Ken’s attention. He hung up the phone, his face a mask of surprise. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here. What about it?” My tone was sharp, and he realized I was angry. With an almost imperceptible sigh, the man started to pack his things to leave with me. “And get rid of that damn jacket,” I snapped, pointing at the coat in his hands. “You know I’m a germaphobe. How dare you let some clueless girl touch my things!” The tension in the room was thick. Zoe’s face was as white as a sheet. Ken frowned at me, but he put down the jacket and left with me. It was the first time I had ever lost my temper in front of him. In the past, a girl with a face as punchable as Zoe’s wouldn’t have escaped without a few slaps from me. But Ken was a refined, well-educated man. To fit the image of a professor’s wife, I had curbed my temper significantly. But he didn’t see it that way. “Zoe is just a kid. You shouldn’t have been so harsh with her.” A kid? I let out a cold laugh. “What kind of kid goes to a couples’ hotel with her professor? Ken, are you trying to sabotage your own career?” Ken slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop sent me lurching forward. “Audrey, watch your mouth! We were just there to process data!” I couldn’t remember him ever raising his voice at me like that. Ken was perfect, the object of countless young girls’ affections. But his mind was always on his experiments, and he never gave anyone outside his academic circle a second glance. That’s why I’d always felt so secure with him. But now, he had changed. “Ken, this is the first time we’ve ever fought over another woman.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face etched with exhaustion. “I don’t want to fight. You’re being unreasonable.” “I’m going to stay somewhere else for a few days. You need to cool down. We’ll talk when you’re ready.” The September night air in the city was chilly. Without a moment’s hesitation, my fiancé left me on a deserted street and drove away. I pulled my coat tighter around me. Suddenly, I had a feeling this wedding was not going to happen. I went home that night and came down with a high fever. I slept for a full day and night before I remembered that today was the day Ken and I were supposed to try on our wedding dress. But I’d been sick and hadn’t reminded him, and he hadn’t sent me a single message. Instead, Zoe’s social media was updated. The first post was a picture of a table laden with desserts, captioned: [Master said that eating sweet things makes you feel better. So Master doesn’t worry, I’m going to eat all of this!] My breath caught in my throat. I had asked Ken to take me to that dessert shop countless times, but he was always either “too busy” or he’d forget and stand me up. An indescribable feeling spread through my chest. I kept scrolling. The second post was taken at a bridal salon. She was wearing my custom-made wedding dress, a sweet smile on her face. Behind her, Ken’s gaze was tender. They looked like a loving couple. The caption read: [A little birdie told me to help out~ Master asked me to try on the wedding dress and give my opinion. Everyone, help me out, is there anything wrong with this dress?] My mind went blank. When I came to my senses, my hands and feet were cold. Trembling. A wave of nausea washed over me. It was like finding a swarm of cockroaches in a garden I’d lovingly tended for five years. The flowers were still there. But it was disgusting. For a moment, I wanted to march right up to Zoe and tear that dress off her. But you can’t just swat at cockroaches. It only makes things messier. I called my brother and asked to borrow one of his handsome friends. Then I instructed my housekeeper and driver to prepare some expensive gift baskets. Finally, I made a reservation at the most famous restaurant in the city. The next morning. I treated Ken’s students to a meal, and as a reward for their hard work, I gave each of them a gift basket. Everyone except Zoe. University students love to gossip. I answered all of their questions truthfully. The looks on their faces were a mixture of shock and disgust. Before the meal was even over, the story about Zoe was all over the campus confession page. After lunch, my brother’s friend, Leo, picked me up right on time to go to the bridal salon. Leo was handsome, with perfect model-like proportions. Compared to Ken’s cool demeanor, Leo had the eye-catching presence of a cover model. Most importantly, Leo was patient. No matter how many dresses I tried on, he was happy to change into a new suit for a photo with me. Thirty-two wedding dresses, and every single photo was perfect. It was an experience I had never had in my five years with Ken. Afterwards, I posted all the photos on social media. The caption read: [My fiancé was busy eating dessert with someone else, so I had to find a stand-in. Everyone, help me choose, which one looks best?] By the time I was done, Zoe’s world had imploded. Someone followed the clues from her social media posts and exposed her on the campus confession page. Zoe’s two-faced behavior at school had already earned her a fair share of enemies. This incident just gave them a reason to pounce. The situation escalated quickly, and Zoe was called into the dean’s office. She came out after a three-hour meeting, pale and with red-rimmed eyes. On her way back to the dorm, she was met with open jeers and laughter. Zoe couldn’t take it. She called Ken in tears, threatening to drop out of school. And so, two days later, Ken once again set foot in our marital home. “Audrey, do you really have to target my student like this?” “Causing such a scene right before the wedding, do you even want to get married anymore?” This was the second time in five years I had seen Ken truly angry. Both times, it was because of the same woman. I’m not one to get angry easily. By this point, I was just tired of it all. “Ken, I need you to understand something.” “I didn’t do this on a whim, and I’m not making things up.” It was a reminder. This whole mess started with him. When he realized this, he was the first to back down. “I don’t understand all that social etiquette stuff. I just do what I think is right without thinking too much about it.” “You told me that girls like to eat sweets. She was crying all night because of you. As your fiancé and her professor, I felt I should make it up to her.” “As for the wedding dress, the designer is going abroad. You were sick, and I was afraid you wouldn’t have time, so I asked Zoe to help.” His calm, steady eyes didn’t seem to be lying. For Ken, offering an explanation was a concession. He hadn’t made any unforgivable mistakes, so I didn’t need to keep pushing. Otherwise, our relationship would be over. “If there’s something you don’t understand, I can teach you. But I don’t like you creating conflict between us because of another woman.” With a man as dense as Ken, throwing tantrums was useless. Stating my needs was more effective than arguing. “And one more thing.” “You may be stuffy and boring in the eyes of the world, but I love that your emotional world is clean and untainted.” “Ken, I don’t tolerate any gray areas. I hope you don’t lose that quality.” The air was finally cleared. A smile spread across Ken’s face as he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t worry. You will always be my only wife.” Ken was never one to procrastinate. As soon as I made my feelings clear, he transferred Zoe to another professor’s supervision. I also went to the school and cleared up the rumors to save her from further embarrassment. Life returned to normal. We went back to the bridal salon to try on the dress again. I don’t like second-hand clothes. So I arranged with the designer to have an identical dress made after the alterations were complete. When I finally put on the wedding dress I’d been waiting for for over half a year, the gloom of the past few days vanished. Every detail of the dress was exactly as I had designed it. The perfect skirt accentuated my figure flawlessly. Ken was mesmerized. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “Audrey, you are the most beautiful bride.” Belatedly, Ken became jealous of the photos I’d taken with Leo and insisted on having a photo shoot with me that very day. The dressing rooms were separate.

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1 My husband developed a second personality right after I got pregnant. By night, my Adrian still loved me more than life itself. But by day, his other self was devoted to his young secretary. My rival, Andrew, told me repeatedly that Adrian was faking it, but I refused to believe him. Not until I went to Adrian’s office to drop off his lunch and overheard him on the phone with his best friend. “Adrian, man, this whole split personality act… You’re playing with fire. Aren’t you worried Ella will find out? You’re gonna regret this.” Adrian just scoffed. “It’s just a bit of fun, and I’ve got it covered. Besides, ten years is a long time. A man gets bored.” He continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “Once she has the baby and I’ve had my fun, I’ll just ‘recover.’ Just keep your mouth shut.” My hand flew to my belly, a chill seeping deep into my bones. I turned on my heel and dialed Andrew’s number. “You said you’d raise my child as your own. Your proposal… I accept.” “I’ll be there in three days to get you.” … “Who’s there?” The moment I hung up, the office door flew open. “Ella? What… what are you doing here?” Adrian’s eyes darted around, a flicker of panic in their depths. He quickly composed himself, his face hardening into the cold mask of his “other” self. “I’ve told you, Autumn is the one I love. This obsession of yours is pointless.” Before, I would have seen that flicker of panic as a sign of my real husband trying to break through. Now, I saw it for what it was: a shoddy performance. “Fine,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I get it.” I turned to leave, clutching the lunch box. “Wait!” Adrian’s hand clamped down on my arm, his face grim. “Did you hear anything just now?” The cloying scent of Autumn’s signature perfume, a scent he once told me he loathed, wafted from his suit. A wave of nausea rolled through me. I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “The man I see in the daytime only loves Autumn. What could I have possibly heard that would matter to you?” My gaze drifted to the wastebasket beside his desk. A tangle of used condom wrappers caught the light, and my blood ran cold. “It’s normal to desire the person you love,” he snapped, stepping in front of the bin to block my view. “Don’t start making a scene.” Even in our most passionate moments, he had never been this… prolific. The blisters on my hand, earned from cooking for him, suddenly burned with a searing pain. The lunch box, filled with the meal I’d spent all morning carefully preparing, slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The food scattered across the expensive rug. A muscle twitched in Adrian’s jaw. “Didn’t I tell you Autumn doesn’t like red meat?” he seethed. “If you can’t even do this right, maybe we should just get a divorce!” To keep his “daytime self” from divorcing me, I’d signed every humiliating contract he’d put in front of me. Autumn has a stressful job, so you will cook her a nutritious meal every day. Autumn’s commute is tiring, so you will give her our apartment and move to the suburbs. Autumn is sensitive, so you will tell everyone we are already divorced. … I lifted my chin, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. “Eat it or don’t. I’m done!” I was done with him, too. The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. My face went pale, and I stumbled toward the door, needing to get away. Just then, the door swung inward with reckless force, and a petite, doll-faced girl stumbled in. “Oops!” The impact sent me sprawling to the floor. “Careful, you little klutz,” Adrian cooed, catching her in his arms. He knelt down, his touch infinitely gentle as he checked her ankle, completely ignoring me on the ground. “You’ll twist your ankle again and then you’ll be whining to me about the pain.” I remembered a time when a simple prick from a sewing needle on my finger had brought tears to his eyes. “Ella, as long as I’m here, I’ll never let you get hurt again,” he had sworn, his voice thick with emotion. “When you hurt, I feel it a thousand times more.” That promise was now a mocking echo. “For God’s sake, Ella,” Adrian’s voice was laced with irritation. “She barely touched you. You’re not even bleeding. Stop being so dramatic.” The pain in my heart was as sharp as the cramps in my belly. I tried to push myself up, my hands slipping on the polished floor, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. A dreadful premonition began to form. “What are you, made of glass?” Autumn sneered, rolling her eyes. Then, the stiletto of her high heel dug viciously into my pregnant belly. “Ah!” A scream tore from my throat. Autumn just smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes. “See, Adrian? She’s got plenty of energy to scream. She’s fine. Just trying to get your attention.” A flash of alarm crossed Adrian’s face. “What did you do? She’s pregnant! The baby is innocent.” Autumn pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, sweetie, I was just trying to borrow some of her baby luck. I’m just a girl, how hard could I have possibly stepped?” Adrian’s resolve melted. He sighed, tapping her nose playfully. “You’re trouble.” Then he turned his glare on me. “Get up, Ella. Since the baby’s fine, stop the act. I told you, I’m not him. Don’t try to use the baby to manipulate me.” But it was him, the real Adrian, who had once pressed his ear to my belly, whispering promises of protection for me and our child. He really thought his performance was flawless, that I couldn’t see through his pathetic charade. I tried to speak, but a pain so intense it felt like a knife twisting in my gut ripped the air from my lungs. A dreadful warmth spread beneath me. Something was terribly wrong. Panic seized me. I crawled forward, ignoring the mess and the pain, and grabbed the cuff of his pants. “My stomach… it hurts so much. Adrian, please… help me. Help our baby.” “Autumn barely touched you. There’s a limit to how far you can take this act, I swear to…” He looked down, his impatient retort dying on his lips as he saw the spreading pool of crimson on the floor beneath me. Panic finally broke through his mask. He scooped me into his arms, his voice suddenly frantic, shifting back to the man I knew. “Don’t be scared, Ella, it’s me! The real me is back! I’m taking you to the hospital.” Even now, he couldn’t drop the act. A final wave of agony washed over me, and the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. It was flat. A raw panic clawed at my throat. “My baby? Where’s my baby?” A nurse rushed to my side, gently restraining me. “Easy, easy. You’ve been through a lot, and you need to rest. The baby is in the NICU incubator. He’s stable.” He. A boy. But I sensed a hesitation in her voice. Our eyes met, and she sighed, her expression softening with pity. “Your son was born prematurely, and the trauma… well, he’s not as strong as other newborns. He’s going to require very careful, dedicated care.” The knot of terror in my chest loosened slightly. I could do that. I could give him all the care in the world. After thanking the nurse, Adrian walked in. He helped me sit up, his eyes filled with a familiar, aching tenderness. “Ella, you suffered so much.” He held up a small, elegant box. “I went to The Gilded Spoon and got you your favorite blueberry cake. Will you have some?” The Gilded Spoon was on the opposite side of town from the hospital. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. But I love strawberry cake. Blueberry was her favorite. Seeing my silence, he pulled me into a hug, his voice cracking. “My love, I’m so sorry. I can only break through to protect you for a moment when you’re hurt. This is all my fault.” He pulled back and slapped himself hard across the face, then again, without a hint of hesitation, not caring about the bruises he’d have to explain at work tomorrow. The old me would have rushed to stop him, my heart breaking for his torment. Now, watching his one-man show, I only felt a cold, bitter amusement. “Bring Autumn in here,” he commanded a nurse. Autumn was brought in, her feet swollen, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Adrian kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to the ground. “You’re lucky Ella is okay,” he snarled. “Otherwise, your worthless life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. You dare glare at her? You’ll kneel in the hallway all night and think about what you did.” The punishment was meaningless. I just felt tired. Lying in the sterile bed, my eyes burned. I had to ask. “Adrian, do you really love me? Is there anything… anything at all you’ve been hiding from me?” He stroked my hair, a weary smile on his face. “Of course I love you. Why else would I have been able to fight through my condition to get you here? Ella, what could possibly make you think I’m hiding something from you?” Hearing his probing question, I just shook my head. “Nothing. Just asking.” “We’re childhood sweethearts. We’ve loved each other for ten years. Don’t let your mind wander. Get some rest, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll find a way to make this other me disappear for good.” He seemed to relax, then left the room. I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. Yes. Ten years. From high school sweethearts to husband and wife. But in the end, it couldn’t compete with a cheap thrill. He was still lying to me. And I was done with it. Before I fell asleep, I pushed my weakened body up, wanting to see my son. As I passed Autumn’s room, I saw the light was on. Through the crack in the door, I saw Adrian kneeling on her bed, gently massaging her legs, whispering soft words of comfort. He was so meticulous. He must have told her his ‘main personality’ broke through her punishment. I looked away and continued down the hall to the NICU. He was so tiny. His little face was pale, almost translucent, and he was sucking on his own fist. He looked so fragile, so perfect. My heart ached with a love so fierce it stole my breath. I traced the outline of his face on the glass, making a silent vow. Be strong, my little one. Just three more days. Then Mommy is taking you away from all this. In my dreams, I was back in the beginning. An eighteen-year-old Adrian, blushing furiously, handed me a love letter. “Ella, will you be my girlfriend? I’ll spend my whole life making you happy.” A twenty-year-old Adrian, shielding me with his own body as thugs beat him bloody. “How a woman dresses is her choice! It’s not an invitation for scum like you to harass her.” A twenty-four-year-old Adrian, down on one knee with a ring. “Ella, marry me. I promise to love you, cherish you, and be faithful to you for all my days.” A twenty-eight-year-old Adrian, his arm wrapped around Autumn, looking down at me with contempt. “So what if we had ten years, Ella? I’m bored. Autumn is the one I love now.” The Adrian in my dream blurred, and I woke to a searing pain in my cheek. My eyes flew open to see the real Adrian standing over me, his face a thunderous mask. “You are a vicious, heartless woman, Ella.” “Autumn already knew she was wrong, and you made her kneel all night? Do you have any idea she almost had a miscarriage?” “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Two burly security guards entered the room, each holding a baseball bat. My mind was a confused jumble, but I had the presence of mind to glance out the window. It was daytime. I was dragged from my bed and forced to my knees in front of Autumn. “Don’t you worry, my love,” Adrian said to her, his voice cold and menacing as he looked at me. “I’ll break her legs for you right now.” The bat slammed into my shin, and I screamed. How could I forget? The one time I’d called Autumn a homewrecker, Adrian had hired some thugs to corner me in an alley, just to “teach me a lesson.” I only got away after kneeling on the pavement and begging for his forgiveness, calling myself worthless a hundred times. Even though I’d seen him tending to Autumn’s swollen legs last night, I knew he would never admit it. He would only be crueler to me. The bones in my leg felt like they were shattering. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Adrian, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have made her kneel. I didn’t know she was pregnant. Please, just let me go.” I looked up at him, pleading, but he just kicked me hard in the stomach. A fresh wave of agony tore through me. His face was a mask of disappointment. “You’re still lying. You’ve been pregnant. You’re telling me you couldn’t tell that she was?” The wound from my C-section ripped open. Suddenly, I had no desire to argue. The Adrian I knew would have believed me without question. This man wouldn’t believe me if I tore my own heart out to prove my innocence. My consciousness began to fade. Just as I thought I would die from the pain, Adrian finally signaled for the men to stop. “So you don’t forget this lesson, you can stay here and reflect. I’ll have a doctor see to you in three hours.” … I lay crumpled on the cold hospital floor, a spectacle for every passerby. “Serves her right! Trying to break up a happy couple. What a homewrecker.” “He’s so handsome and she’s so beautiful. And he dotes on her! I heard he’s buying her a private island as a gift now that she’s pregnant.” I listened to their insults numbly, wincing as someone kicked my side. They didn’t know. I was Adrian’s wife. That island was where we got married. He promised we’d take our child there one day to show him where our love story began. Now, looking down at my numb, useless lower body, my heart turned to stone. Three hours later, no doctor came. I crawled back to his room. He was sitting by Autumn’s bed, peeling a pear for her. “Oh, Adrian, don’t share a pear with me! Don’t you know the superstition? It means we’ll be separated,” Autumn chirped, playfully pushing the fruit away. Adrian chuckled and apologized. “You’re right, you’re right. My mistake.” But that’s not what he used to say to me. “Ella, that’s just an old wives’ tale. We’ll never be separated.” He’d said, popping a piece of shared pear into my mouth. “See? If the tale were true, we’d be doomed to part ways now.” Today, his words had become a prophecy. I pushed the memory aside and looked at him, my voice flat. “Adrian. I want a divorce.” The knife in his hand stilled. A sudden, suffocating panic seemed to grip him, the fear of losing something vital. He avoided my eyes. “You still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Ella?” He gestured dismissively at my torn, dirty clothes. “I had a doctor sent for you. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up like this?” Autumn shook her head, pointing an accusing finger at me. “She’s not confused, Adrian! She’s doing this on purpose! She wants revenge. She wants to get rid of me.” She continued, her voice rising hysterically, “Think about it! When you’re gone, that other personality will find out what happened and he’ll kill me! Then she can have you all to herself!” Hearing this, Adrian seemed to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Enough. I don’t have time for your theatrics,” he said to me. “I’ll have a nurse take you back to your room.” I knew what he was thinking. He was sure I loved him too much to ever leave him. But he was wrong. I had no love left to give. That night, Adrian came to my room. He knelt by my bed, his fingers gently tracing the bandages on my legs. “Ella, I’ve already contacted the best orthopedic surgeons in the country. Don’t be afraid. They said there’s a 50% chance they can fix your legs. You’re going to be okay.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Ella, I know my illness has made you suffer. I’ll have someone break Autumn’s legs right now. Just… just don’t leave me, okay? Please?” He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and shining with tears in the moonlight. “I’ll die without you.” I reached out and gently touched the face of the man I had loved for a decade. “Really?” Adrian nodded desperately. “Sweetheart, you have to believe me.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell his lies from the truth anymore. It didn’t matter. I was leaving soon with my son. When I woke up next, I was being wheeled into an operating room. Autumn was leaning against Adrian, a smug look on her face. “I knew you’d try to have that other personality come after me. Good thing my Adrian hid me away.” Adrian stroked her hair, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “You never learn, do you, Ella? Go ahead. Amputate.” The hope of walking again was snuffed out, just like that. When I woke again, I had prosthetics. “Mr. Sterling says that while it may be painful, your duties to Miss Autumn cannot be delayed,” the doctor told me clinically. “He hopes you will adapt quickly.” At the same time, a text from Autumn arrived. You have five minutes to get over here. Or else something might happen to that little weakling of yours… The raw stumps of my legs screamed in protest against the unfamiliar press of the prosthetics, but I didn’t care. I scrambled into my wheelchair and rushed to the NICU. My son was sleeping peacefully in his incubator. My heart settled. I took a deep breath and went to see what new hell Autumn had devised. I kept my face a cold mask. “What do you want, Autumn? I’m warning you, if you touch my son, I will kill you.” She laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Is that a threat? Adrian cares about the baby in my belly. Yours is just a preemie destined to die young. He’ll always protect me.” I snapped. The slap echoed in the quiet room. No mother could hear someone curse her child like that and do nothing. “Say that again.” Instead of anger, she just smiled, a strange, twisted expression. “Oh, Ella, I know everything. I know you and Adrian aren’t really divorced. He just lied to me because he was afraid the stress would hurt my baby.” “But you’re in your thirties now. You’re old news. Why are you still clinging to him so shamelessly?” she taunted. “He deserves better. He deserves me.” I felt nothing. “I don’t want him anymore. If you want him, he’s all yours.” Autumn’s smile widened. “As long as his ‘main personality’ exists, I’ll never truly have him,” she said. “So I’ll just have to use you to provoke him. Push him until he finally kills that other part of himself for good.” I was about to tell her it was all an act when she suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bedside table, forced it into my hand, and plunged it deep into her own stomach. “Your son…” As I stared in shock, she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “A baby is nothing. Compared to Adrian, a baby is nothing at all.” The next second, Adrian burst through the door and saw the scene. A raw, primal scream tore from his throat. “Autumn! Don’t worry, I’ll get a doctor! You’re going to be okay!” “Yes, Adrian… I love you,” she whispered weakly. He carefully lifted her and rushed her to the operating room. Then he stormed back, his face contorted with rage, and kicked me so hard I flew across the room and slammed into the wall. “You’re a monster! That was an innocent child!” “No! It wasn’t me! She stabbed herself! The security cameras… check the cameras!” I fumbled for my phone, showing him the threatening text she’d sent. He shook his head, his face a canvas of pure disappointment. “I don’t need to. You’re still lying, even now. I saw it with my own eyes. Do you think I’m a fool?” “Since you refuse to repent,” he snarled, his eyes glinting with a terrifying coldness, “you’re going to feel the same pain.” He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the NICU. As I watched in horror, he reached behind my son’s incubator and yanked the power cord from the wall. “NO! Adrian, please! He’s a preemie, he’s so fragile! He’ll die! He’s your son, too!” “Whatever you’re angry about, take it out on me! Don’t hurt the baby, I’m begging you!” I sobbed, banging my head on the floor, pleading with him, but he just sneered. “Now you know how Autumn feels. Maybe this will finally teach you a lesson.” Half an hour later, a doctor appeared. “Miss Autumn is awake. The family can see her now.” “Remember this, Ella,” Adrian spat, his voice low and menacing. “If you ever hurt Autumn again, I will make you pay a hundred times over.” He turned and left without a backward glance. My hands trembling, I crawled to the outlet and plugged the cord back in. But inside the incubator, my son was perfectly still. … Three hours later, I was on a plane, leaving the country forever. At that exact moment, Adrian’s phone rang. It was his friend, Leo. “Adrian, bad news! Ella knows! She knows the split personality was a fake!” “You’ve got to get to the airport, man! She’s taking the baby and she’s leaving!”

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Crestview Estates owed us $1.5 million in unpaid fees over ten years. They used all our services while secretly refusing to pay. A lawsuit went nowhere. I met their leader privately. He promised full payment by month’s end. On that day, our office belongings were dumped in the lobby. I went to see Mark Hanlon, the residents’ new leader. “Mark, have we offended someone? All our things are thrown out.” He took a slow drag. “Claire, we talked. Ten years of fees at once is too much.” He smirked. “Anything you can do, we can do ourselves.” “Here’s the deal: $100,000 clears the debt. Take it or leave it.” My silence filled the room. I hardened. “Professionals exist for a reason. You can manage yourselves. But the debt is owed.” Mark threw his glass at my feet. “There are hundreds of us. We’ll drag this out forever. You’ll be bankrupt first.” “Don’t like our offer? Get out. We don’t need you.” I nodded slowly. “Fine. When this place falls apart, don’t come crawling back.” “Whoever crawls back is the pathetic one!” 1 I returned to the lobby to find my staff picking their personal items out of the heap on the floor. A crowd of residents stood around, gloating. Someone was humming a cheerful tune. “Heard the news! She didn’t take the deal. That means no more HOA fees for us!” “Exactly! We can just look out for each other. Management just leeches off us anyway. Without us, they’re nothing!” “Right? And those key fobs that only let you go to your own floor, and having to sign in guests at the front gate? Such a pain. It’s all just for show!” “She got too greedy. A woman’s job, anyway. Mark can do it better. We can just vote on whatever we want to change. We’re all owners and managers now. Let those parasites find real jobs!” Mrs. Gable, a resident who always had to be the center of attention, squatted down and started wrestling with one of my employees over a box. “Don’t you touch that! This is community property now that you’re gone. It has nothing to do with you. If you fight me, I’ll fall over and say you pushed me!” “She’s right! You’ve been kicked out! Put it all down!” “I call dibs on this rice cooker! It’s at least fifty bucks online. Give it to me!” “You damn leeches, let go! You were bound to get fired. Don’t make us get physical!” “We’re about to start our own management. All this equipment is ready to go, and we don’t have to buy a thing. It’s perfect!” They descended like locusts, trying to snatch even the most meager of our personal belongings. These ungrateful people. They’d forgotten the ten years we’d spent tirelessly solving their problems. We operated at a loss every year, but we couldn’t stand to see the quality of life decline for the few who did pay their dues. Mrs. Gable was a hoarder. She’d shamelessly take things other people left outside their doors. We had pleaded with her countless times, but she never listened. Now that we were leaving, she was stirring up the mob to pick our bones clean, a final act of revenge. A hot, white rage surged through me. I spotted a cashmere scarf in the pile—a gift I had prepared years ago as an incentive to encourage fee payments. Amidst the chaotic grabbing, I pulled out a lighter and set it aflame. They froze, their eyes wide with alarm, fixed on the growing flame. “What… what are you doing?” Mrs. Gable stammered. My team, understanding my signal perfectly, quickly gathered what they could carry. I held the residents’ hostile gazes, escorting my employees out of the lobby before stomping out the fire with my boot. But the moment I turned my back, Mrs. Gable crouched down again, and a new wave of looting began. The air grew cold. I wrapped my arms around myself. Ten years of dedicated service, and in the end, we were worth less than the trash they were fighting over on the floor. My team looked utterly dejected. I felt it too, a deep, hollow ache in my chest. No matter how strong a front I put on, this place had been my life for a decade. How many decades does a person even get? I could say with absolute confidence that no other management company could have done a better job. Every corner of this community, every aspect of daily life, had been meticulously planned and managed by us to meet the residents’ needs. As for being replaced, I’d seen it coming. Three months ago, Mark Hanlon’s wife, Tiffany, started cozying up to our staff for no apparent reason. She kept mentioning the debt they owed us while asking to “learn” how to manage a community. She claimed she wanted the homeowners to understand our perspective and even recorded our general workflow on her phone. I couldn’t refuse without causing a scene. Mark had influence in the community group chat. If they started stirring up trouble online, it could make our daily work impossible. I never imagined that the simple tasks I showed her would become the basis for Mark’s confidence in ousting us. But there’s a reason no one else wanted this job. It was a ticking time bomb. 2 I went to the parking garage to get my car. Tiffany Hanlon was waiting for me. Draped in gold and designer brands, she was a stark contrast to my own disheveled state. She squeezed out a few crocodile tears and greeted me with feigned awkwardness. “Claire, honey, I had no idea everyone was so upset with you. I mean, we’ve gotten along so well these past few months. It feels so empty now that you’re just… gone.” I didn’t say a word, just opened my car door and got in. She deliberately stood in front of my car, then sidestepped with a theatrical little gasp, as if she’d just noticed. If our first meetings had been tinged with a thin veneer of politeness, her current arrogance was overflowing. “Fine. We won’t leave. Just pay the ten years of fees you owe,” I said coolly, raising an eyebrow. Her brow instantly furrowed, a wave of hostility radiating from her. She tilted her head back, her eyes practically shooting sparks. Then she spat on the ground, a contemptuous smile spreading across her face. “Pah! You actually took my polite act seriously? Why the hell would I give you money?” She climbed onto the hood of my car, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at my face. “You should take a good look in the mirror. We didn’t pay you for ten years, and you still worked, didn’t you? Just from recycling, you probably pocketed thousands every day from all the bottles you collected!” “How do we even calculate that? You lined your pockets with money that belongs to us. You should be grateful we’re not suing you to get it back!” She slid off the hood, her nails dragging across my window. “I’m not one to hold a grudge. If it weren’t for your incompetence, we never would have realized how useless property management is. My Mark wouldn’t have had this opportunity.” She gestured grandly at the parking spot. “Once you’re gone, this prime spot is all mine.” Her every move reeked of smug superiority. “Management is useless, is it?” I asked, my voice calm but my gaze sharp. “The delivery services for Crestview drop everything in the lobby. Most residents are working professionals who get home after the mail room closes. If we weren’t sorting every package and making sure they got delivered to your doors, your apartment would be a disaster zone.” “Every holiday, you’d complain that other communities gave out gifts. So I’d make dumplings in the management office for everyone. You’d all insist they were gifts and fight over them until every last one was gone. If your family couldn’t produce ‘gifts’ like that, the whole community would be camped on your doorstep demanding them!” I had only pointed out two minor things, but they hit their mark. The smugness drained from Tiffany’s face, replaced by a blotchy, angry red. Her voice rose, trembling slightly. “That’s none of your damn business! My Mark used to run a whole street when he was younger!” Her voice echoed in the empty garage, but she couldn’t meet my eyes. “You’re reacting so strongly. Looks like I hit a nerve,” I said calmly. “The public facilities in this community were paid for and are maintained by us. Your access fobs will all be deactivated tonight. The security gates will become useless decorations. I’ll be contacting the manufacturer to repossess them, so they don’t block your way.” “The elevator maintenance hasn’t been paid for in three years. As per the contract, they’ll be coming to disable them. Starting tomorrow, all residents will be taking the stairs.” Beads of sweat formed on Tiffany’s forehead. Each of these seemingly simple issues would be a nightmare for her and Mark to handle. I knew about Mark’s “management experience”—it consisted of shaking down local shops for protection money over a decade ago. In today’s world, the slightest show of force from him would trigger a massive backlash. We’re all homeowners here, what makes you so special? Tiffany swallowed hard and stumbled back a step. She shot me a furious glare, then took off her stiletto and viciously stabbed it into my tire. Again and again. The front left tire hissed and deflated. “No security cameras down here,” she spat. “A little reward for your smart mouth!” My fists clenched. I grabbed the heavy insulated thermos from my passenger seat and jumped out of the car, raising it to strike. But I stopped myself. If I hit her, she’d twist the story, and I’d likely lose my car in the legal mess. “I’ll take this loss,” I said through gritted teeth. I got back in the car and started the engine. Then I made two phone calls. “Our management contract has been terminated. You can come and collect your equipment.” 3 The next morning, I woke up to over a dozen missed calls from Mark. I’d silenced my phone for a peaceful night. I answered groggily. An angry torrent of words immediately assaulted my ear. “Claire, what the hell is this? You had the elevators disabled first thing in the morning! Everyone who lives on the 20th and 30th floors was late for work! We had to send some of the older folks to the hospital from the exertion!” On the security feed I still had access to, I could see Mark pacing frantically in our old office. I’d left the cameras active for this very reason. “Claire, sweetie, please help us out,” Tiffany cooed into the phone, her voice dripping with false sincerity. In the video, her expression was pure disgust. “Just have them turn the elevators back on. Give us some time to transition!” Mark took the phone back. “Claire, you should know better than to burn your bridges! You never know when you might need someone!” His voice rose to a yell. “You are a cold-hearted bitch! I’m giving you a chance to fix this. Get over here now so we can talk.” “Fix it?” I stretched luxuriously and chuckled. “Your wife stabbed my tire to send me a message. This is just my message back. Tit for tat. Seems fair to me.” There was a pause. On the monitor, I saw him cover the phone and exchange a few hushed words with Tiffany. After she nodded, he cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for a new tire. You solve this problem.” Tiffany forced a smile. “Claire, let’s be adults here. This is about business, not right and wrong. I was a little impulsive yesterday. I’m sorry.” “No,” I said simply. Mark’s temper flared. His body language on the screen screamed, My wife apologized, now do what you’re told. “Claire! Don’t push your luck! If you don’t help, it’ll just take me a few extra days to sort this out. But you’ll have lost me as a friend! You can just rot at home until society forgets you exist!” I hung up, not feeling a shred of anger. My housekeeper brought up breakfast, and I ate while watching the security feed. Mrs. Gable was dragging two huge plaid laundry bags full of cardboard boxes. Everyone dodged her. She stood at the entrance to her building and ran into Mark and Tiffany. “Mark, why isn’t the elevator working? You said you’d fix it today.” “Mrs. Gable, please don’t add to the chaos. Just leave your things in the lobby for now. We’ll let you know when the elevator is running.” Annoyed, Mrs. Gable started hauling her bags toward the stairs. “No way. I live on the thirtieth floor, and I’m taking these with me. What if someone steals them from the lobby?” Mark looked like he’d swallowed a bug and stalked off. A smile touched my lips. This was only day one. They were in for a long ride. After breakfast, my husband came home. Seeing my cheerful mood, he came over to watch the monitors with me. He hadn’t been worried at all when we were forced out. “I’ve already secured you the management contract for the new luxury villa complex. You can even bring your old team back,” he said. “I told you from the beginning, the Crestview Estates was a complicated mess. You should have been firm the first year they didn’t pay. Dragging it out was bound to end in an explosion.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m always in your corner. According to plan, Crestview is about to become infamous.” I snuggled into his embrace. His family’s property management company was one of the top three in the country. Without his backing, I never would have won the Crestview contract ten years ago. He was the one who gave me the freedom to take risks. Otherwise, that $1.5 million debt would have bankrupted me long ago. We spent the next few days together, taking our son to amusement parks. Life was good. I had my assistant manager move our team to the new villa complex. After the ordeal at Crestview, they found the new job, with fewer residents and even fewer demands, to be a dream. Plus, their salaries doubled. It was a blessing in disguise. Meanwhile, at Crestview Estates, the elevator problem festered. Mark tried to collect $20 from each household for repairs, but almost no one was willing to pay. Having tasted the sweetness of getting services for free, they weren’t about to start paying now. And Mark certainly wasn’t going to pay out of his own pocket. With the elevators out, a new problem emerged: food delivery. 4 Without the security gates, Crestview had become a semi-open community. I had always enforced strict zones outside the main lobby. E-scooters had designated parking, and traffic flowed in an orderly fashion. Now, delivery drivers zipped through the complex on their scooters at all hours. The grounds were a chaotic mess. You had to watch your step constantly to avoid being hit. “Watch it! You almost ran me over, you idiot!” a resident would yell. The drivers didn’t care. They were on a timer. They would ride right up to the building entrance, but they would only deliver to floors ten and below. Anything higher required a tip. Either you paid extra, or you had to come down to the tenth floor to get your food. After a week, the tenth-floor residents had had enough. I had a burner account in the residents’ group chat and saw the tirades firsthand. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HAVE SOME DAMN DECENCY! IF YOU CAN’T AFFORD DELIVERY, DON’T ORDER IT! OUR HALLWAY IS WORSE THAN THE LOBBY! STRANGERS ARE COMING AND GOING ALL DAY!” “The trash piling up outside my door is a mountain! My kid is scared to even leave the apartment!” “And the late-night orders wake me up constantly! The next time I see a delivery bag in my hallway, I’m throwing it out the window!” The residents on the upper floors fought back just as fiercely. “Tough luck you live on the tenth floor! There are twenty more floors above you! You throw one bag, we’ll see what happens. We’ll camp outside your door!” “Yeah, have a little consideration! You might be in a tough spot one day too. If you can cook, maybe I’ll buy from you instead!” “Some of us work night shifts! Are we not allowed to eat when we get home? Late-night delivery is already expensive. I shouldn’t have to pay extra just to get my own food! Let us live!” A lightbulb went off in Mark’s head. He seized the opportunity to bring up the elevator repairs again. This time, most of the residents paid up. The elevators were back in service. He posted on social media, a clear jab at me: “Elevator problem solved, easy peasy. Someone must be fuming right now!” Mark thought he was a genius, solving two problems at once. But he hadn’t implemented any rules about the e-scooters. The delivery drivers, looking to save even more time, found a new shortcut. They started riding their e-scooters directly into the elevators. Once one person did it, everyone followed. Until one day, an e-scooter battery spontaneously combusted inside an elevator. My phone blew up with calls from Mark. “Claire, you need to get over here right now,” he demanded.

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1 At thirty-two, my mother launched an all-out, indiscriminate matchmaking assault on me. I promptly broke up with my supermodel boyfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was aghast. “Are you insane? Weren’t you obsessed with Julian Chase’s face and that body? You’re really letting him go?” I scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. A guy like him is fun for a fling, a little excitement. But marry him? Do I want to spend the rest of my life cycling between catching him cheating and forgiving him?” The words had barely left my mouth when a familiar voice, cold as ice, spoke from behind me. “So, Claire. Is that the reason you dumped me?” … Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment I shared with Julian, I ran into a woman walking out. She wore a flimsy slip dress, loosely covered by Julian’s silk shirt. Barefoot, she dangled a pair of limited-edition heels from her fingers. I recognized her—a rising young designer Julian had been working with recently. Allie. Barely twenty, bursting with youth. I instinctively stepped back, hiding in the shadows of the elevator bay. A few seconds later, Julian followed her out. He was wrapped in nothing but a towel, his hair still dripping, his skin flushed. He leaned against the doorframe, lit a long, thin cigarette, and looked utterly languid. After a moment, he tossed an unopened, brand-new watch box at her. “Here.” Allie’s eyes lit up. She threw herself at him with a delighted squeal. “Oh my god! Is this the Celestial collection? Julian, you’re the best!” “Picked it up in Milan during fashion week. It was nothing.” “I love you to death, baby!” Allie tried to kiss him. But Julian’s patience had worn thin. He frowned slightly, turning his head to avoid her lips. “Alright, that’s enough. Get going.” The girl wasn’t offended. She pouted, half-joking, half-complaining. “So cruel. Use me and toss me aside. Just a minute ago in bed you were calling me your little vixen.” She hugged the watch box gleefully and blew him a kiss before she left. “Bye! See you at the studio tomorrow.” Only after she was gone did I step out of the shadows. Julian clearly hadn’t expected me back from my business trip so soon. He froze for a second before his usual mask of indifference slipped back into place. “You’re back. Didn’t think to call?” I stared at him. “My flight was changed. It was late, I didn’t want to wake you.” A fresh, incriminating red mark bloomed on his collarbone, yet he showed no shame. He walked over, reaching for my suitcase. “You must be exhausted. I’ll run you a bath.” As he bent down, the towel loosened, revealing more of his sculpted torso. It was as if the last five minutes had never happened. Seeing me stand motionless, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” Then, realization dawned, and a lazy smile played on his lips. “Miss me?” He leaned in close, his skin smelling of my body wash and another woman’s perfume. His hand expertly slipped under the hem of my shirt. “Then let’s get down to business first, and then—” Years of runway work and gym sessions had left his fingertips with faint calluses. They traced a path across my skin, sending a familiar shiver through me. I closed my eyes and, with a wave of exhaustion, pushed him away. I had to admit, I was addicted to Julian’s body. I’d pursued him in the first place after a single, breathtaking glance backstage at a fashion show. But maybe it was the dozen hours I’d just spent on a plane, or maybe it was the woman who had just left, but right now, all I felt was a rising nausea. I had zero interest. Julian was rarely rejected by me. He stared, stunned for a moment, and his face darkened. “What’s the attitude for?” I looked down and saw a woman’s earring, not mine, lying on the entryway rug. Julian obviously saw it too. He clicked his tongue, his expression turning impatient. A heavy silence fell between us. He pulled another cigarette from the case and lit it, smoke curling around his face. “She’s just a designer. Got drunk, had nowhere to go. I let her crash for the night.” “We didn’t do anything.” 2 I looked at him, our gazes obscured by a veil of white smoke. We couldn’t see each other’s expressions, but we both knew how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn’t the first time Julian had cheated. He was born to live among a garden of women. He was like this when I met him. At the time, my company was launching a high-end fashion collaboration. My best friend took me to meet the top supermodel of the moment, warning me that while his look was unique, his temper was foul. I’d never been impressed by models, always thinking them empty, beautiful shells. Until Julian walked in. He wore a simple black turtleneck, his posture impeccable, a few strands of hair falling across his high-bridged nose. The moment he entered, the air in the conference room seemed to still. That face, that body—it was the work of a biased creator. He glanced up, and his deep-set eyes swept over us with a careless detachment. I didn’t hear a single word he said that day. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to make him mine. After the meeting, people swarmed him, trying to get his number, but he coldly rebuffed them all. Only I persisted, waiting for him in the parking garage. After twenty-six years of being single, it was the boldest I had ever been. Julian was either annoyed by my persistence or intrigued by the novelty of it. In any case, I became his girlfriend. And that’s how it had been, until now. But I knew that in our four years together, Julian had never truly loved me. Or rather, he loved parts of me. He loved that I was independent, that I was sensible, that I could handle the messy PR crises that followed him around. He loved that I never questioned the gossip that swirled around him. Whenever I caught him, he’d offer a flimsy excuse, and I would forgive him. He once sneered that I was too pragmatic, not very womanly. He’d also joked that the day he met his true soulmate, he’d kick me to the curb without a second thought. Our entire relationship was held together by my tolerance alone. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring people home anymore,” I said, my voice low, my eyes fixed on the expensive piece of jewelry on the floor. A flicker of derision crossed Julian’s eyes. He had no intention of placating me. “Since when did you get so serious?” He leaned closer, blowing smoke in my face, his eyes glinting with malice. “Can’t handle it?” “If you can’t handle it, you can get the hell out.” He had said those words to me countless times over the past four years. Each time, it ended with me lowering my head, apologizing, and begging him not to be angry. Over time, he’d learned exactly how to control me. He knew that when he said that, I was powerless. I turned away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Julian’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His brow was prominent, giving his neutral expression a severe, intimidating edge. “Claire, quit while you’re ahead. Don’t push it.” I shook off his hand and went into the guest room. A few moments later, the front door slammed shut with a deafening crash. Julian was gone. He was angry. I knew it. In our relationship, I was always the one to compromise, to soothe his ego. I had never given him the cold shoulder like I had tonight. I turned over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my mom had sent another picture of a man. “Claire, this is the one Aunt Linda introduced. A university professor, stable and reliable. You’re thirty-two this year. It’s time to think about settling down.” I switched to my work chat. My boss had tagged me. “Claire, HQ is opening a new brand strategy department and they need a director. I think you’re a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a completely different level. Think about it.” My mom wanted me to come home for blind dates. My company was offering me a promotion to headquarters, which was located in my hometown. The timing, the opportunity, the circumstances—it seemed there was truly no reason for me to stay in this city any longer. I sighed. Honestly, I really did like Julian. He was handsome enough, his body was incredible, and we were perfect for each other in bed. Most importantly, he was the perfect player. Being with him was easy. I didn’t have to think about the future, and I wasn’t responsible for him. The first few years of my career were incredibly stressful. I just wanted someone to blow off steam with, but I was a hopeless snob when it came to looks. I was picky, until I met Julian. The best years of his prime were spent with me. He and his body soothed me through countless late nights when I was drowning in KPIs. And although he had a constant stream of women, he was meticulous about it—all his flings had to provide clean health screenings. I was always careful, so I wasn’t worried about catching anything. Finding another… partner… who was this compatible would be difficult. But that couldn’t be helped. Dating was one thing; marriage was another. I liked Julian a lot. But I also knew, with absolute clarity, that he was not a man to build a life with. The game was over. 3 Julian didn’t come home that night. For the next few days, he completely vanished. My texts went unanswered. My calls went straight to voicemail. Then, a red exclamation mark appeared next to my messages. He had blocked me. It was his signature move: the cold shoulder. It had happened before. Julian was a master of the silent treatment. Each time, I’d have to hunt him down at his agency or his gym, swallow my pride, and coax him until he finally unblocked me. But this time, I was busy wrapping up my work. I didn’t have time for his games. That evening, I was booking a flight to headquarters when my phone rang. It was Julian’s assistant. The music on his end was deafening, mixed with the laughter of men and women. “Ms. Sullivan? Julian’s had a bit too much to drink. He’s at the Rosemary Club. Would you be able to come pick him up?” Julian loved to party. He came from a wealthy family; modeling was just a hobby that he happened to be good at. I’d once asked him why he didn’t just take over the family business. He’d scoffed and said his father’s mistresses and illegitimate children were already tearing each other apart over the inheritance, and he couldn’t be bothered to join the fight. His grandfather’s and mother’s shares would eventually be his anyway. He just wanted to live his life as he pleased. Julian had zero ambition, which was the complete opposite of me. Whenever I landed a big account or got a promotion, I’d tell him, and he’d seem utterly bored. He once said dismissively that working yourself to death for a salary that couldn’t even buy one of his watches was pointless. I knew we were fundamentally different people. We had nothing in common except for physical chemistry. I didn’t understand his soul; I only craved his body. He ignored my ambitions and only valued my compliance. It was for the best. That way, when we parted, neither of us would be heartbroken. I thought for a moment and said I would go. I put down the phone and glanced at my flight details. Ten a.m., the day after tomorrow. I sighed. I hadn’t wanted to break up just yet. Julian and I were just so good in bed. With the stress of changing jobs, I was hoping for one last romp. I clicked my tongue, a little disappointed. But since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. … When I arrived at the club, Julian was surrounded by a crowd in a VIP booth. Men and women, all impossibly glamorous and young. It was no surprise. Julian was handsome, rich, and generous. On him, even promiscuity seemed like a charming, model-esque eccentricity. I touched the fine lines around my own eyes, remembering something Julian had once said. “Claire, you’re thirty-two. Can’t you take better care of yourself? Stop living so rough.” No wonder he was tired of me. He was surrounded by girls in their early twenties. I stood on the edge of the crowd, my eyes meeting his. He saw me but looked away almost immediately. Allie was flushed, practically draped over him, her voice syrupy. “Come on, Julian, just one more drink.” Julian smiled. Under the club lights, his deep-set eyes shimmered, breathtakingly handsome but utterly devoid of warmth. “Drinking like this is boring. You feed it to me.” “How?” Julian said nothing, just lowered his gaze to her lips. A half-second later, Allie understood. A flash of ecstasy crossed her face. She tilted her head back and downed the glass of whiskey in one go. Then Julian grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, hard. It wasn’t a tender kiss; it was a punishment, an assertion of power. Allie tilted her head back to receive it, the corners of her eyes turning red from lack of oxygen. Liquor dribbled from the corner of their joined lips. The atmosphere around them erupted. Screams and whistles filled the air. I knew he was doing it on purpose. He was punishing me for not placating him that day, for daring to give him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I walked right up to their booth that the crowd quieted down, all eyes on me, waiting for the show. Julian looked up, his expression blank. “What are you doing here?” I looked at that face and was hit with a wave of nostalgia for the countless nights we’d spent entangled over the past four years. In the heat of the moment, we had even said we loved each other. Did it hurt? A little, maybe. But it wasn’t unbearable. After all, I had always known this was who Julian was. A flirt, always chasing the next new thing, incapable of saying no. Selfish, raised on a pedestal, always the center of his own universe, with no regard for anyone else’s feelings. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Julian, you’ve gone too far.” He looked at me. He was sitting, and I was standing, yet I felt as if he was looking down on me. He still had that same detached expression, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips. “Too far? You can always break up with me. I’m not stopping you.” I said nothing, just looked at him. I couldn’t count how many times he had threatened me with a breakup. Eighty? A hundred? A friend next to him must have thought he was going too far. “Come on, Julian, that’s enough. Look at Claire, she’s about to cry.” In fact, my eyes were red. If you’re going to act, you have to commit. As a single tear fell onto the carpet, I saw Julian’s expression flicker. The hand holding his cigarette twitched, but he remained silent, his gaze cold. The next second, I spoke softly. “Fine, Julian.” “Let’s break up.” The expression on Julian’s face froze. For a second, I thought he was going to flip the table. But instead, he laughed. The smile didn’t reach his eyes; it looked like it was squeezed out from between his teeth. “Alright, Claire. You’ve got guts now. But you remember this: I, Julian Chase, never go back for seconds. Don’t come crawling back to me like a goddamn dog.” “I won’t,” I said, nodding and wiping away my tears. Then I turned and walked away without looking back. Julian didn’t come home that night. I spent the night deleting all his contact information and packing my remaining belongings. The next morning, I was on the earliest flight to headquarters. As the plane soared into the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash. 4 I had no further contact with Julian. Life at headquarters quickly fell into a routine. I adapted to the new department’s pace and even went on a date with a man my mother had arranged. Across from me, a thirty-year-old man in a stiff suit was pontificating. “I believe that women, before thirty, should prioritize family. Being too career-driven isn’t a good thing. What I mean is, after we’re married, you should focus more on the home, taking care of the children…” As he droned on, I smiled and stirred my coffee, fighting the urge to throw it in his self-satisfied face. When he finally finished, he pushed up his glasses. “Did you get all that? Do you have any objections?” I maintained my smile. “None at all. However, Mr. Harris, I don’t think we’re a good match. Let’s just split the bill.” I left him muttering about how “women over thirty can’t be picky” and “old maids…” In the weeks since I’d been back, my mother had set me up on no fewer than ten blind dates. Some of them were decent men, on paper. But after four years with a man who looked like Julian, I found it impossible to feel any spark of interest in these average men. This gloomy mood persisted until the corporate strategy meeting on Monday. Everyone was already there, the room silent and tense. “What’s going on?” I whispered to the colleague next to me. She leaned in. “The board brought in the heir apparent. He’s parachuting in to get a feel for the domestic market before he takes over the entire Asia-Pacific region. They say this Mr. Ekhardt is an Ivy League law grad, worked in M&A on Wall Street with a perfect record. He started his own VC firm when he came back and took it to the top in just a few years. The old chairman had to basically bribe him with shares to get him to come back. He’s a real killer. Be careful what you say.” A few moments later, a man in a dark grey three-piece suit walked in. He wore no tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. As he stepped into the room, an assistant respectfully took his briefcase. I looked up. For a second, it felt like everyone in the room had stopped breathing. The first thing that hit you was his presence—an aura of absolute command. He had a neutral expression, but everyone, including me, instinctively sat up straighter, afraid to meet his gaze. The second thing I noticed was his eyes—almond-shaped, tilting up slightly at the corners, framed by thin, gold-rimmed glasses. Behind the lenses, his gaze was cold and analytical. He was incredibly handsome, a completely different type from Julian. If Julian was a scorching, brilliant flame, this man was a frozen undercurrent in the deep sea. “Apologies, my flight was delayed. I’m late.” His voice was cool and crisp. He sat at the head of the table. “My name is Pierce Ekhardt. As of today, I’m in charge of corporate strategy. I’ve already reviewed all departmental reports and the last three years of financials. Let’s begin with Group A. Each person has three minutes to present their results from the past year and their plans for the future.” One by one, department heads went up, their voices trembling. Pierce was as sharp as the rumors claimed, pointing out every loophole and doctored number with precision. “I don’t like wasting time, and I don’t like being treated like an idiot,” he said, his voice level. “I prefer to communicate efficiently with intelligent people. If that proves ineffective, I will consider other methods.” He wasn’t yelling, but the directors he’d called out were sweating through their shirts. When it was my turn, my palms were slick with sweat. But I was well-prepared, and my performance over the past year was strong. Once I started speaking, my confidence returned. My education and my career were my pride, my foundation. I never slacked off at work. Pierce didn’t interrupt me. Through his glasses, I thought I saw a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. When I finished, I signaled that my presentation was complete. He nodded. “Claire Sullivan. Good work. From now on, all reports will be held to this standard.” … After Pierce’s arrival, the entire department was thrown into a trial by fire. He ruthlessly cut redundant projects and people, but he also brought in top-tier resources that had previously been out of our reach. We were working longer hours, but our projected year-end bonuses had doubled. My colleagues, especially the younger women, were captivated by him. Two new interns, perhaps having read too many romance novels, tried to get his attention. One publicly contradicted him in a meeting. The other “accidentally” spilled coffee on his custom suit and tried to wipe it off. The first one was gone the next day. The second was packing her desk that afternoon. After that, the women in the office learned their lesson. But the gossip in the break room continued. “I heard he’s single. Not even a rumor of a girlfriend. Do you think he’s inexperienced?” “No way! A man like that? People are lining up. He probably just has ridiculously high standards.” “Oh my god, did you see him in that three-piece suit today? That shoulder-to-waist ratio… If I could land him, I’d give him my entire paycheck!” … Listening to them, a thought sparked in my mind. Without Julian, this Pierce Ekhardt seemed like a far more intriguing prey. This man… I wanted to try. 5 I began to strategically place myself in Pierce’s path. He arrived an hour early every day. Three times a week, I would “happen” to catch the same elevator. It was usually just the two of us. I kept my words brief, a polite “Good morning, Mr. Ekhardt,” and then stood quietly. Every day at three p.m., like clockwork, I went to the break room for a black coffee. He usually took his break around the same time. I made sure never to run into him in the break room, always leaving just before he arrived, but making sure he saw my back as I left. Occasionally, I worked late. He would pass my desk on his way out. In short, I maximized my visibility without ever saying an unnecessary word. Finally, on the twelfth time he saw me working late, he stopped and walked over to my desk. “I’ve noticed you’ve been staying late a lot. Is the project running into trouble?” I feigned surprise, then hesitated before handing him the proposal I was working on. “It’s about the Eastside commercial real estate project. I’m a little concerned about some of the legal clauses in the partner’s contract, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I wanted to study it more.” Pierce sat down naturally in the empty chair beside me. “Let me see.” He smelled of cool cedarwood, a scent that mingled with my own subtle woody perfume, creating an unexpectedly intimate atmosphere. “This project’s risk assessment is an A-minus. It’s viable. Look at their financials from last year, their cash flow is healthy, and…” He spoke eloquently, and I listened intently, interjecting with a few highly technical questions. After he answered each one, I let my face break into a smile of comprehension. “Oh, I see! Thank you, Mr. Ekhardt. I hadn’t thought of it from that angle at all.” “You have strong professional skills, you just lack a bit of experience. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” He made a rare joke. “Go home early. I don’t want people thinking I’m some kind of tyrant.” I nodded, gathered my files, and we walked downstairs together. Just as we stepped out of the building, a cold wind carrying a fine mist hit me. I hesitated and stopped. Pierce, who had been walking toward his car, turned back. “What is it?” I waved a hand. “It’s nothing, Mr. Ekhardt. You go ahead. I… I just remembered I left something upstairs.” He didn’t press, just nodded and left. Five minutes later, his car pulled out of the underground garage. I was still standing under the awning at the company entrance. Pierce rolled down the window. “Didn’t drive?” I looked embarrassed. “No. It’s raining, so hailing a ride is slow. It’s fine, Mr. Ekhardt, I’ll just wait a bit longer.” “Get in,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.” … On the way, Pierce and I talked quite a bit. He seemed surprised to find that we shared the same views on many financial news stories. Even a very niche management studies book I was reading was one of his favorites. Pierce’s demeanor gradually shifted from polite and distant to more engaged and talkative. He was so engrossed in our conversation that he drove right past my apartment complex without slowing down. I was about to point it out when he realized it himself. “Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away.” After he pulled over, I thanked him again. Pierce just nodded, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but he held back. “Is something wrong, Mr. Ekhardt?” I asked, looking at him. “The scent you’re wearing… it’s nice.” The moment the words were out, he seemed to regret them, looking down and falling silent. I hid a smile. “Well, Mr. Ekhardt. See you tomorrow.”

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My fiancé accused me of murder. That’s how I ended up in prison. On the day of my public trial, the court live-streamed the proceedings for the entire nation to see. The man who once loved me, Aiden, pushed me onto the Memory Trial platform, a fate reserved for the worst death row inmates. But they didn’t know something crucial. Buried in my mind was the proof: the real killer, his perfect first love, framing me for her crime. 1. Today was the day of my execution. Shackled at the wrists and ankles, I was led from my cell to the courtroom by two stern-faced guards. As we entered, my fiancé, Aiden, lunged forward. His hands clamped around my throat, his voice a raw, furious roar. “Murderer! Why did you pull the plug on my mom’s oxygen?” He shook me, his face contorted with rage. “Killing my mother wasn’t enough for you? You had to put Livia’s sister in a coma, too!” I stared at him, my eyes hollow and empty. “I told you I didn’t do it. Would you believe me now?” “Bullshit! My mother treated you like a daughter! Why would you do this?” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Give me back my mom!” Police officers finally managed to tear him away, dragging him back as they shoved me toward the stand. I remained silent, letting them move me like a doll. A year ago, Aiden himself had pointed the finger at me. The motive they’d invented was simple: I was jealous of Livia, the woman he’d loved before me. I was bitter that his mother, Mrs. Vance, had never approved of our marriage. But it was all a lie. I was innocent. “Order in the court!” the judge’s gavel cracked against the wood. “This court hereby declares that the death sentence for the defendant will be carried out immediately—” “Wait!” Aiden’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the room. “Your Honor, I formally request a Memory Trial for the defendant,” he said, his face a mask of grim determination. “Letting her die so easily would be a mercy she doesn’t deserve.” The judge conferred with his associates for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. “At the plaintiff’s request, the court orders a Memory Trial to be conducted for the defendant!” Still, I said nothing. No protest, no plea. The guards forced me onto the Memory Trial platform. The technology was new, developed only six months ago to prevent criminals from denying their guilt or recanting confessions. It was a tool to force the truth into the light. The process was agony. A needle-thin neural probe would be inserted directly into the brain to extract memories. It felt like every thought, every feeling, was being violently vacuumed out of your skull. Most death row inmates couldn’t withstand the pain; many died halfway through, their hearts giving out from the sheer torment. As they prepared the gleaming silver apparatus, I looked at Aiden one last time. “Aiden, I have one question for you.” His face was glacial, his eyes filled with a disgust that pierced me deeper than any needle could. “Ask it.” “After my memories are displayed for the world to see… will you regret any of this?” Aiden let out a short, harsh laugh. “Never.” A wave of numb despair washed over me. It was done. “Memory Trial commencing! Execution protocol officially initiated.” The probe plunged into my skull. My body convulsed, a scream tearing from my throat, but in the depths of that white-hot pain, I felt a strange sense of release. After a year of this living hell, I was finally free. On the massive screen above the courtroom, my stolen memories began to flicker to life. 2. The first scene was the hospital. Aiden’s mother, Mrs. Vance, was recovering from heart surgery. I was holding a container of homemade soup, about to go into her room, when I heard voices from inside. A heated argument. Mrs. Vance’s voice was frail, barely a whisper. “I will never… allow you to marry into this family…” “All those filthy things you’ve done… You’re not worthy…” Then, another voice, sharp and cruel. “You old hag. Once you’re dead, I’ll walk into the Vance family whenever I please!” My heart seized. I threw the door open. Livia was standing by the hospital bed, holding the clear plastic oxygen tube in her hand. On the bed, Mrs. Vance’s eyes were wide with terror, her face turning a horrifying shade of blue as she clawed at her own throat. I stared, frozen in disbelief. “Livia, what are you doing?” A flicker of panic crossed her face before it settled back into a chilling calm. “I was just helping Mrs. Vance adjust her oxygen tube.” I snapped out of my shock, snatching the tube from her hand and slamming the emergency call button on the wall. I tried to reconnect the tube, but it was too late. The heart monitor beside the bed began to scream, a single, piercing tone. “The tube was fine, Livia! What the hell were you thinking, pulling it out?” I yelled, my voice shaking. Livia just smiled, a venomous, triumphant little smirk. “Emma, did you really think marrying into the Vance family would make you a princess? Dream on. I was Aiden’s first love. All I have to do is cry a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” Just then, the door burst open. Doctors and nurses rushed in, and right behind them were Aiden and his father. “What happened?” Aiden demanded, his eyes wide. “Aiden, it was Livia! She—” “Aiden! Mr. Vance! Emma killed her!” Livia shrieked, bursting into tears and pointing a trembling finger at me. “She pulled out Mrs. Vance’s oxygen tube!” I stood there, stunned into silence. “No, I didn’t, I—” Aiden’s gaze fell to my hands. I was still holding the tube. From behind his back, where only I could see, Livia shot me a look of pure, wicked victory. “Emma, why would you do this?!” Aiden screamed, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. “It wasn’t me, Aiden, you have to believe me! It wasn’t me!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, but his grief had already turned to blind rage. The sharp crack of his hand across my face echoed in the sterile room. Mrs. Vance couldn’t be revived. She was gone. The hospital room descended into chaos. As the first memory faded from the screen, a stunned silence fell over the courtroom. Aiden stared, his face ashen. “How is that possible? Livia swore she saw Emma pull the tube.” He looked at the screen, then at his father, his expression a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. “Dad… did we get it wrong? The Memory Trial… it can’t lie, can it?” Mr. Vance was equally stunned. All he and Aiden had seen that day was me, Emma, holding the murder weapon. They had never imagined a scene like this. The courtroom gallery erupted in murmurs. “Wait, so she didn’t do it? She was framed!” Aiden, snapping back to reality, shouted at the judge. “What about Livia’s sister, Julia? Emma was the one who ran her off the road! She’s still in a coma because of her!” The judge gestured to the technicians. The process continued, pulling another memory from the depths of my screaming mind.

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The moment my son was born, my best friend, Lydia, shoved my husband aside, her eyes gleaming with a manic light. She snatched our newborn from the nurse’s arms and declared, her voice ringing through the delivery room: “Your son is the great villain of this world! But don’t you worry. I will be the one to save him. In the end, I will marry him, and we’ll be together forever!” My husband and I were stunned, but we dismissed it as a bizarre, tasteless joke. She was just being dramatic. For years, Lydia doted on our son. She was a constant presence, always the first to arrive whenever danger was near. Despite her “protection,” our son was plagued by tragedy. He was diagnosed with autism, then severe depression, among a host of other issues. We poured every penny we had into his treatment. Then, on his tenth birthday, a runaway truck slammed into our car. As I lay dying on the pavement, I saw her looming over me. “A villain’s life is meant to be full of suffering,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “How else am I supposed to save him? How else will he learn to love me?” “You two just wouldn’t die,” she sighed, as if bored. “I gave him all those illnesses, and you still weren’t worn down to nothing. I had to handle it myself. What a pain.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back, months before my son was born. We immediately booked a flight out of the country, leaving our son in the care of his grandparents. Then we returned home with a baby girl. Let’s see her try to marry my son now. 1 A shrill alarm cut through the silence. I gasped, my eyes flying open, my chest heaving. Lydia’s name glowed on my phone screen. My hand trembled as I fumbled to answer it, her excited voice chirping from the speaker. “Clara! Your due date is any day now, right? When are you heading to the hospital? I want to be there with you.” I instinctively looked down at my swollen belly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was back. My son hadn’t been born yet. There was still time to fix everything. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s too much trouble, Lydia. You have work. My husband, Noah, will be with me. That’s all I need.” Her voice instantly sharpened. “Absolutely not! He’s my future husband! I have to be the first one to see him! No one is stealing that spot from me!” Her words were a venom-tipped needle, plunging deep into my soul. A chilling dread washed over me, cold as ice. In my last life, Lydia had become obsessed the moment I got pregnant. She called my belly her “little husband.” She bought piles of baby clothes, embroidering them with her initials and the words “Property of His Future Wife,” then forced them on me. When my son was born, she’d acted like a woman possessed, shoving everyone out of the way to be the first to hold him. Her eyes had burned with a feverish intensity as she’d made her grand pronouncement. “Your son is destined to be the villain of this story. He’ll suffer endlessly before becoming the nation’s wealthiest man. But because of all that pain, he’ll be corrupted and turn against the story’s true hero and heroine. In the end, they’ll have him sent to prison and executed.” “But don’t worry,” she’d added with a beatific smile. “With me here, I’ll save him. I will marry him, and we’ll be together forever!” At the time, we thought she’d just read one too many fantasy novels. Her behavior was extreme, but we’d been friends for so long. We wrote it off as a joke. For the next ten years, Lydia was a constant presence, more attentive to our son than we were. And just as she’d predicted, his life was one disaster after another. But every single time, Lydia was there, miraculously appearing just in time to prevent the worst from happening. Because of this, our son grew closer to her than to us. At a young age, he was already learning how to take care of her, to soothe her. But it wasn’t enough. He was diagnosed with one psychological disorder after another. We took him to countless specialists, bankrupted ourselves paying for treatments, and exhausted our spirits, but he never got better. In fact, he only got worse as he grew older. On his tenth birthday, Lydia recommended a new doctor. Clinging to a final shred of hope, we drove to the appointment. On the way, a truck lost control and crushed our car. In my dying moments, I finally understood. Every illness, every accident, every ounce of his suffering had been orchestrated by her. All for her so-called “redemption.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the hatred boiling in my gut. I kept my voice light. “Alright, then. It should be in the next few days. I’ll call you the second we head to the hospital.” “Perfect. It’s a date.” The moment she hung up, I threw off the covers and went to find my husband. This time, I would keep my son away from Lydia, no matter the cost. Noah was in his study, wrapping up work before his paternity leave. He saw me and rushed to my side, his hands gently steadying me. “You should be resting. Is everything okay?” I gripped his hand, hesitating for only a second before looking him straight in the eye. “Noah, do you trust me?” He guided me to the sofa, his voice calm and slow. “You’re my wife. Of course, I trust you. Sit down. Tell me what’s wrong.” The tension in my shoulders began to ease. I let out a long breath and told him everything, from my rebirth to the phone call. “I know it sounds insane,” I finished, my voice catching in a sob as the memories of my past life flooded back. “But I lived it. Or, if you can’t believe that, just think of it as a premonition, a nightmare that felt too real. I just don’t want our child to…” 2 Noah wrapped his arms around me, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “I believe you. What do you want to do?” “Let’s leave. Let’s get out of this city, go somewhere else to have the baby.” My due date was just days away. The best plan was to put as much distance as possible between us and Lydia, then figure out the rest later. Noah took my hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. “Okay. I’ll book the flights. We can leave right now.” He quickly packed a bag while I changed. A few minutes later, he was helping me to the door. The moment he opened it, a cold dread shot up my spine. My blood turned to ice. Lydia. She was standing on our doorstep. How? In my past life, she hadn’t shown up here. Noah’s hand on my back was a silent source of strength. I forced a smile. “Lydia, what are you doing here?” Her gaze flickered to the suitcase in Noah’s hand, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re about to give birth. I was worried, so I decided to stay with you for the next few days.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “Are you two headed to the hospital already? You were supposed to call me. Why were you leaving without a word? Or were you trying to keep me from my little husband?” My heart skipped a beat. Noah stepped in front of me, his voice perfectly calm. “You’ve misunderstood, Lydia. Clara’s been feeling a lot of movement the last couple of days. We were just heading to a private wellness retreat owned by a friend of mine. It’s quiet, and they have doctors on call 24/7. It’s safer.” Before I could say a word, Lydia’s gaze, sharp and venomous, pinned me in place. “Great, I’ll come with you. It’s perfect! I need to get the nursery ready for my little husband!” She chattered on, completely ignoring us as she linked her arm through mine. Her grip was surprisingly strong. This wasn’t the time to fight her. If she became truly suspicious, getting away would be impossible. Noah and I exchanged a look. We had no choice. We took Lydia with us to the retreat. It was clear now. To escape her, we had to go somewhere she could never find us. At the retreat, Lydia never left my side, a 24/7 shadow. She spent hours just staring at my belly, her eyes glowing with a proprietary zeal. She wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Once, I accidentally brushed my own hand against it, and she slapped it away. “He’s my future husband,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Her glare was so poisonous that I flinched, snatching my hand back as if I’d been burned. The baby was moving more and more frequently now, and Lydia’s anticipation grew with each passing day. She stroked my stomach, her face alight with excitement. “Clara, I can’t wait to meet him. Why don’t you just have the C-section today?” A shiver of pure horror went through me. I stared at her in disbelief. “What? It’s not time yet! A premature C-section is dangerous for both of us!” “No, it’s not. I already asked the doctor. He’s fully developed. It’s perfectly fine to deliver him now.” I’d had enough. I shoved her hand away. “No! Don’t you even think about it!” Her face darkened for a moment, then softened into an apologetic smile. “Oh, Clara, I’m sorry. I was just talking nonsense. Don’t be angry with me.” I closed my eyes, a deep sense of unease settling in my stomach. I tossed and turned all night, only managing to drift off as the sun began to rise. In a hazy dream, I felt the bed was moving. My eyes snapped open. Lydia, along with a doctor and two nurses, were wheeling me down the hall toward an operating room. “What are you doing? Stop!” I screamed. Lydia just smiled, patting my arm. “Don’t worry, Clara. You’ll get to meet our baby soon. I’ll be right here.” “I don’t consent to this! This is illegal! Stop right now!” The medical staff ignored me. I struggled to get up, but Lydia and the nurses held me down. “Just listen to me, Clara,” she cooed. “It’ll be better for everyone if our little husband comes out early.” “Now!” she barked at the doctor. “Inject the anesthetic! Quiet her down!” The cold sting of an alcohol swab on my arm. The glint of a needle poised to pierce my skin. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair washing over me.

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When it was time to announce year-end bonuses, I declared that everyone’s would be doubled. The company group chat instantly erupted. A flood of insults, all aimed at me, filled the screen. Assuming they thought it was too little, I immediately announced the bonus would be increased to ten times the original amount. That only made them angrier. This time, someone smashed up my office. Baffled, I gritted my teeth and raised it to one hundred times. The next morning, the moment I stepped into the company building, my employees swarmed me. Without a word, they beat me to death. Even as I died, I had no idea why. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day I was supposed to announce the year-end bonuses. … I stared at the message I had just typed out, the one announcing the doubled bonus. A jolt of terror shot through me, and I frantically deleted every word. The memory of being killed by my own staff for being too generous was a chilling, incomprehensible puzzle. I’d always treated my employees well. More than well. They had every benefit imaginable, a four-day work week, and a strict no-overtime policy. I even had a suggestion box, and I personally reviewed and implemented every reasonable idea they submitted. They had even nominated me for the city’s “Five-Star Employer” award, and the certificate hung proudly in my office. As I wracked my brain, my boyfriend, Liam, walked in with a gentle smile. “Ava, the team sent me as their ambassador to ask about the year-end bonus. Have you made a decision?” I froze. In my previous life, Liam had died trying to protect me. This was about both of our lives now. I had to be careful. After a moment’s thought, I asked tentatively, “What’s the consensus? I’d rather hear what everyone wants.” Liam shook his head with a helpless smile. “I knew you’d say that, so I already asked around. But they all said they’d follow your lead.” The ball was back in my court. I weighed my options, then tapped my desk lightly. “How about we just stick to last year’s standard?” Playing it safe was the only logical move. “That could work…” Liam nodded, but then he hesitated. “But business was way up this year. If the bonus is the same, do you think people might be… disappointed?” My heart leaped into my throat. “Okay, new plan,” I said quickly. “In addition to the standard bonus, everyone gets a thirty-thousand-dollar gift card!” Last time, the escalating cash bonus was the problem. If I changed it to a physical gift, surely that would be fine, right? Liam agreed it was a good idea and posted the announcement in the group chat. I watched my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. Thankfully, the first reply was a big thumbs-up emoji. More followed, a cascade of positive reactions. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. It seemed I’d dodged the bullet. But just as I was about to turn to other work, Liam’s face went pale. “Ava, look at the chat. Now.” My stomach tightened. I opened the app again. A new wave of messages was flooding in. “We doubled last year’s performance, and our CEO graciously gives us a $30k shopping spree. How wonderful.” “Innovate Corp’s numbers are half of ours, but their benefits are double. Our CEO is just so generous.” “When did our boss become so ‘magnanimous’?” … The messages were dripping with sarcasm. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but something felt wrong. I knew Innovate Corp’s benefits package. Their year-end bonus barely hit twenty thousand dollars. Our standard bonus alone was forty thousand, not to mention the thirty-thousand-dollar gift card. The math didn’t add up. While I was puzzling over it, Liam was already panicking. “Ava, they’re clearly not happy with this! We need a new plan, fast!” I gritted my teeth. If gift cards weren’t the answer, I’d try something else. I had Liam type out a new announcement. “In addition to the previously mentioned benefits, every employee will also receive the latest top-of-the-line iPhone and an iPad.” The moment the message was sent, the chat went silent. But I remained tense, bracing for another explosion. Half an hour passed. Still nothing. Liam was the first to relax, managing a weak smile. “I guess they’re satisfied now. They’re probably just too embarrassed to backtrack after all the complaining.” I finally let myself breathe. But as I set my phone down, a few new messages popped up. It was from my manager, Jenna. “Ms. Vance, I’ve muted everyone in the group. They were being completely unreasonable, insulting you over a bonus! It was disgraceful.” “Don’t you worry, I’ll have a word with them. I promise this will never happen again.” She even added a few fawning emojis, clearly proud of herself. My brain exploded. I hit the voice message button, my voice a furious hiss. “Who told you to do that?! Unmute them in the next three seconds or you’re fired!” Not two seconds after my voice message went through, the chat detonated again, every message aimed directly at me. “What a power move from our dear CEO. First, she nickel-and-dimes our benefits, and now she’s trying to silence us!” “Heh, so much for her ‘Five-Star Employer’ image. The mask is finally off.” “Why are we even wasting time talking to this black-hearted capitalist? Let’s just file a complaint with the Department of Labor. We’ll sue her for everything she’s worth!” … Reading the messages, my world spun. I had offered everything I could think of. The benefits package was far more generous than any other year. I couldn’t understand why they were getting angrier, why they were attacking me with such venom. Liam was pacing beside me like a caged animal, muttering, “What do we do, what do we do?” He even suggested trying to multiply the cash bonus again. I shot that idea down instantly. After a moment of frantic thought, I made a decision: I would talk to them face-to-face and find out what they really wanted. But when I stood before them and asked, they all just stared back, silent and stony-faced. This was even stranger. “If you’re unhappy with my bonus proposals, you need to tell me what you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “How can I fix this if you don’t talk to me?” An employee named Rebecca sneered. “Ms. Vance, you know exactly what this is about. Why are you putting on this act?” “If you want to exploit us, just say so. You don’t have to play these games. It’s exhausting for everyone.” Another employee, Jessica, scoffed. “Exactly. And here I thought you were some kind of saint. Turns out you were just setting a trap for us all along.” “I’ve seen shameless bosses before, but you take the cake. You make me sick.” A chorus of angry murmurs rose from the crowd. Everyone was glaring at me as if I’d personally wronged them. After being inexplicably attacked for so long, even my patience wore thin. “You were unhappy with the bonus, so I kept adding more! The benefits I’m offering now are better than any other company in our industry!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “And if you’re still not satisfied, you can just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen!” “But you won’t say anything! You just stand there and insult me! How is that supposed to solve anything?” I thought that, surely, someone would finally tell me the truth. Instead, they all just smirked at me, their silence more unnerving than their anger. A chill ran down my spine as I looked at their faces, remembering how these same people had killed me. I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard a few mocking laughs. “See? She’s running away. Guilty conscience.” “She played the innocent victim so well, I almost bought it.” The insults followed me all the way back to my office. I collapsed into my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. I had done everything I could, but I was no closer to understanding why my generosity was being met with such hatred. If this continued, I didn’t know what I was going to do. My phone rang. It was Liam. “Ava, I’ve been thinking. It has to be about the money. They just want a bigger cash bonus. I know you said no when I suggested it before.” “You’re worried about the company’s finances. I get it. So, I’ll cover the difference personally.” “I’ve already sent out the announcement for you: everyone’s bonus has been increased to ten times the original amount!” My mind went blank with sheer terror. “Liam, undo it, right now—” I shrieked into the phone. But it was too late. A roar of fury erupted from outside, growing louder by the second. The next thing I knew, the glass wall of my office shattered. The door frame splintered as someone kicked it in. I scrambled into the reinforced supply closet I’d had installed for emergencies, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle my own screams. The sounds of destruction continued for another ten minutes before finally fading. When I was sure it was safe, I crept out. The office was a disaster zone. A wave of cold fear washed over me. Based on my last life, a ten-times bonus wasn’t a death sentence, but if they had caught me, I wouldn’t have walked away unscathed. I called Liam. My frustration with him boiled over. “Liam, from this moment on, you are not to make a single decision without my explicit approval. Do you understand me?” He sounded completely bewildered, but after another stern warning, he meekly agreed. Jenna called soon after. She explained that it was just a few hot-headed male employees who had trashed the office. Most people weren’t involved, and the situation was now under control. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked her to schedule an all-hands meeting. Next, I called my bank manager. I requested ten million dollars in cash, delivered immediately with a team of armed guards. In the conference room, my employees stared in stunned silence at the mountain of cash stacked behind me and the line of armed guards standing along the wall. Liam and Jenna looked just as confused, clearly wondering what I had up my sleeve. I let my gaze sweep across the room. “Given everyone’s hard work this year,” I began, my voice clear and firm, “I have decided to increase the year-end bonus to one hundred times the standard amount. It will be paid out today, in cash.” The room exploded. Not with cheers, but with rage. Nearly every face was contorted with fury. I could feel the murderous intent radiating from them. If it weren’t for the armed guards, I have no doubt they would have rushed me right then and there. No one moved, but a tidal wave of curses washed over me. “Ava, we worked our asses off to build this company, and this is how you repay us? You’re trying to ruin us! Are you even human?” “You do this, and you’ll have my family’s blood on your hands! I’ll haunt you from my grave!” “I’m going to kill you, Ava!” A few employees couldn’t control themselves. They grabbed chairs and charged at me, their faces promising violence. The guards intercepted them easily. The others stayed put, but their glares were filled with a venom that made my skin crawl. I took a steadying breath. “I’m not here to threaten anyone,” I continued. “I just want to know one thing. Giving you a bonus should be a good thing. Why are you all so against it?”

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The day Vivian Blackwood demanded a divorce for that celebrity—again—was the day I finally gave in. The hand holding her cigarette froze mid-air. After a beat, a smirk played on her lips. “What’s this? Playing nice for a change?” “Found out that throwing a fit gets you nowhere, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I slipped the wedding band from my finger and placed it on the table between us. My voice was steady. “No. I’m just done fighting.” 1 After a long, heavy silence, Vivian stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. She leaned against the wall, her voice a low, casual drawl. “It’s not that I’m in a rush, you know.” “It’s just that Kevin’s career is really taking off.” “And you constantly harassing him… it’s just so tiresome, darling.” I didn’t answer. With deliberate, careful strokes, I signed my name—Leo Vance—on the divorce agreement. Only then did I look up. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.” Vivian’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Then she pushed herself off the wall, a new, almost imperceptible edge of irritation in her voice. “Good. See that it doesn’t.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” An involuntary shudder ran through me. The last time she’d pushed for a divorce, I had shattered. In a fit of despair, I leaked the explicit, taunting photos Kevin had sent me. Vivian’s response was swift and brutal. She sued me for defamation. Her fans doxed me, plastering my personal information all over the internet until I was forced into a humiliating public apology. I remember the look on her face in the courtroom when the verdict was announced. She watched me crumble with the cool, detached air of a spectator, utterly in control. Then she’d leaned in, a triumphant arch in her eyebrow, and whispered, “Darling, pleased with the outcome?” It’s strange. The memory was a suffocating, soul-crushing pain back then. But now, thinking back on it… My heart was a flatline. All I felt was a bitter, mocking irony. As I walked out the front door, luggage in hand, I glanced at the plane ticket in my pocket. It finally dawned on me, with a slow, creeping sense of finality. I was finally letting go of the love that had wrecked me. 2 On the massive screen in the city square, Kevin Reed grinned, the picture of confident charm in a luxury brand ad. The image blurred, merging with the memory of a snarling, defiant boy who had clawed his way into my life to tear it apart. Vivian had been right about one thing. Kevin’s career was on a meteoric rise. The leaked photos, far from damaging him, had been spun into a victory. His “unapologetic honesty” was hailed by his fanbase as the mark of a “fearless modern man.” But the first time I knew—truly knew—about Vivian’s affair, it was because Kevin himself had made sure of it. That first discovery sent me into a blind rage. I stormed the Blackwood family estate, determined to make every single one of them see the filth Vivian had dragged their name through. In the fallout, our friends all gave me the same advice. Be the bigger person. Let it go. But I couldn’t. I hated her. I hated Vivian for her betrayal, and I hated her for turning me into this hysterical, raving lunatic. While I was falling apart, she was out living her life, wrapped around her new plaything. I refused to give in. I wouldn’t be the one to quietly disappear. Then the paparazzi caught them, photos of them checking into a hotel splashed across every tabloid. The scandal was massive. To protect Kevin’s career and reputation, Vivian did the unthinkable. She went public with their relationship. Every entertainment headline was a fairytale spin: “Heiress Finds Love with Rising Star.” It was the final blow. I snapped. I stormed into her corporate office, screaming, shouting, a man possessed. Vivian, ever the strategist, calmly had Kevin escorted out, which only fueled my meltdown. I grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from her desk and threw it, splitting her forehead open. I called her trash, a whore who belonged in the gutter. When the storm of my fury finally broke, she stood there, blood trickling down her face, her expression unreadable. “You’re right,” she said, her voice ice. “I am trash. I did cheat. If you can’t handle it, then divorce me!” The words hung in the air, stunning us both into silence. But I was the first to break it, my voice raw and torn, more unhinged than ever before. “Why the hell should I divorce you?!” “Why should I make it easy for you and that little parasite?!” “Vivian, you and he can spend the rest of your goddamn lives branded as the cheating bitch and the homewrecker you are!” 3 We didn’t speak after that day. Vivian stopped coming home altogether. The only updates I got on her life were from Kevin’s smug social media posts, each one a carefully curated tableau of their love. Battered from all sides, I made a desperate, scorched-earth decision. I posted our marriage certificate online, laying bare the truth of their affair. But before the story could even gain traction, Vivian moved against me. She paid off my mother’s specialist, a top surgeon, ensuring he remained “unavailable” abroad, effectively holding my mother’s life hostage. Then she gave me her ultimatum: retract my statement and publicly declare the marriage certificate a fake. The moment I understood what she had done, the blood drained from my face. I was so numb with shock I didn’t even register the triumphant smirk on Kevin’s face as he stood beside her. A strangled cry tore from my throat. “Vivian, you know her condition! You know she can’t wait!” “You know this will kill her!” “How could you be so cruel?” But she was unmoved, calmly lighting another cigarette. She waited until I was an exhausted, sobbing heap on the floor. Only then did she extinguish the flame. “Darling,” she said, her voice devoid of all warmth, “don’t ever expect me to go easy on you.” “Now, go make your statement. Don’t ruin him.” In that moment, a vise clamped around my heart. The world went gray. I was a fish gasping on dry land, suffocating in a world without air, without hope. I couldn’t believe the woman standing before me was the one I had once loved. And that was the day I truly decided it was over. 4 But the humiliation was far from finished. My mother’s life was on the line. I had no choice. I went online and confessed to the world that the marriage certificate was a forgery, that I was a jealous, obsessed liar. To this day, the comment section of that post is a cesspool of hatred directed at me. “Dude, are you that desperate for attention?” “Psycho. Can’t believe he’d lie about our boy Kevin being a homewrecker. What a pathetic piece of trash.” “Someone needs to slap some sense into this guy.” “I’ll chip in five bucks for the crowdfund.” “Ten from me.” … I moved through those days in a fog, a walking ghost. My only refuge was my mother’s bedside, where I could pretend the world outside didn’t exist. But even without seeing the internet, my mother knew something was wrong. My gaunt face and hollow eyes told a story I couldn’t hide. One afternoon, she sighed, her hand frail in mine, and started talking about the past. About me and Vivian. The love of your youth is always the purest. In high school, Vivian had a crush on me, but she was too insecure, too proud to ever say it. Instead, she’d follow me from a distance every day, a silent guardian making sure I got home safe. Until the day a group of thugs cornered me. Vivian launched herself at them to protect me. They broke three of her ribs, but she never relented, shielding me with her own body until they gave up and left. After that, falling in love was as natural as breathing. This was before the Blackwoods claimed her. She was still just a scrappy girl living with her grandmother, perpetually hungry and wearing clothes that were little more than rags. It was my mother who helped her, slipping her money for food, even paying her school fees when she couldn’t. And now, my mother’s past kindness had become the knife twisting in my gut. She had no idea what her son was enduring. Looking at her face, growing more fragile each day, I thought, Let it be. This is enough. At least I still have my mother. At least I haven’t lost everything. But fate has a cruel way of toying with those who are already broken. 5 When the hospital called with the news that my mother was critical, I ran. I raced for the hospital like a madman, only to be swarmed at my own front door. Kevin’s fans. They had found my address. They surrounded me, a self-righteous mob hungry for justice. I couldn’t break through. Panic clawed at my throat, my eyes burning with unshed tears as I tried to explain, to plead with them. But no one listened. “Wow, still living in your little fantasy world? How pathetic can you get?” “You had a lot of nerve slandering Kevin. Who are you crying for now?” In the struggle, someone shoved me hard. “Just apologize, you loser!” I stumbled and fell, landing hard on the pavement. I heard a snicker from the crowd. The sharp pain in my knee was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. Defeated, I gave in. Like a puppet on a string, I faced their phones and cameras and began to apologize. “I was wrong. I was delusional.” “I’m so sorry for what I did to Kevin. It was all my fault.” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The mob, their crusade won, finally dispersed with triumphant smiles. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?” But by the time I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the hospital, it was too late. For a split second, I thought I was trapped in a long nightmare. A dream where, when I woke up, I would still be a little boy curled up in my mother’s arms. A dream where I had never met Vivian Blackwood, never been ground into dust by a world that despised me. But reality delivered the final, fatal blow. I had chosen the wrong person to love, and it had cost me my mother’s last moments. 6 That day, I knelt by her bedside and cried until there were no tears left. The nurse who had cared for her told me my mother’s last words. “She kept calling your name at the end.” “She said… she said that whatever reason you had for not being here, she didn’t blame you.” “She just wanted you and your wife to be happy together.” I clutched my mother’s cold, still hand, sitting on the floor in a stupor, the silence of the room pressing in on me. The days that followed are a blur. The trip back to my hometown, the cremation, the funeral. Finally, I sat alone in the quiet memorial hall and made one last call to Vivian. At the very least, she should pay her respects to the woman who thought of her even at the end. When she answered, I realized my voice was a raw, unrecognizable rasp. “Mom’s gone,” I said. But the voice that came through the line wasn’t hers. It was Kevin’s, bright and sickeningly cheerful. “Well, congratulations.” “Vivian’s a bit busy right now, though. We’re planning our next ‘couple goals’ post for Instagram. Can’t keep the fans waiting.” In the background, I heard Vivian’s muffled voice, “Who is it?” I ended the call. I sat in that hall all night, a silent vigil with the dead. Then, with a calm I hadn’t felt in years, I returned to the city. I bought a plane ticket. Liquidated my assets. And agreed to Vivian Blackwood’s divorce. 7 Let the past be the past. Before boarding, I sat in the airport lounge and set my final revenge in motion. I was never the type to go down without a fight. I packaged up all the incriminating corporate data I had gathered and sent it to Vivian’s biggest rival. Once the wire transfer confirming my payment hit my account, a strange sense of peace washed over me. Online, the storm of hate against me still raged. Every trending topic seemed to feature my face photoshopped into some new, grotesque meme. And pinned to the top of Kevin’s profile was the sanctimonious post he’d made the day I was forced to recant. Kevin Reed: What goes around, comes around. Throw all the mud you want. I’ve never been afraid of a fight. The comments were a sea of sycophantic pity. “So unlucky for Kevin and Vivian to get tangled up with this creep. My heart goes out to them.” “This is how a real man handles things. That other guy trying to ruin his reputation with dirty tricks isn’t a man at all.” “Kevin is too kind. He should have sued him into oblivion.” A cold, humorless smile touched my lips.

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1 All because he lost a game of truth or dare, my husband made out with his secretary in my car. When she sent me the video, I forwarded it straight to him. “Is Cole Industries going bankrupt, Landon? Can’t even afford a motel room for your affairs? Has to be in my car?” His reply came as a voice message, his tone thick with post-coital satisfaction. “This was a business arrangement, Sophia. Did you really think I was your husband? It was a dare. Can’t you even handle a game?” A cold smile touched my lips. Fine. I would make him understand. When you do something you shouldn’t have, you pay the price. … I immediately put a hold on the massive overseas contract Cole Industries was set to sign next week. A moment later, my phone lit up with a barrage of calls from my husband, Landon Cole. My secretary handled every one of them. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. Ms. Ingram is in a meeting.” He wanted to play the silent game? I could play, too. It didn’t take long for the door to my office to be kicked open. Landon stormed in, slamming his palm on my desk. “Sophia, have you lost your mind? That’s a three-hundred-million-dollar deal! You’re going to bankrupt my company over a stupid dare?!” The typically cool and composed CEO of Cole Industries, losing control like this over a secretary. I set down the financial report I was reading and met his furious, distorted gaze. “You have fifteen minutes.” Ten minutes later, a picture arrived on my phone. The interior of my Maybach was spotless, undergoing a professional deep clean. I immediately notified our overseas division. “The signing proceeds as planned.” Then, I sent Landon a photo of my own. The Patek Philippe watch he treasured was smashed to pieces. His favorite limited-edition collectible was submerged in a filthy mop bucket. “This was a dare, too, Landon. Remember my boundaries. This is just a warning. Cross them again, and you’ll face consequences you can’t even imagine.” Silence from his end. I knew he was incandescent with rage. But I was angrier. He was the one who pushed for our families to merge through marriage. He was the one who rejected the idea of an open relationship. For six years, we went from polite respect to a genuine partnership. Especially after our son was born, I poured everything I had into our family, ensuring both Ingram Corp and Cole Industries flourished. I thought we would support each other until we were old and gray, ready to retire from our empires. But he was the one who shattered our stable, happy life. That temporary hold on a three-hundred-million-dollar deal was just a taste of what was to come. 2 That night, for the first time in our marriage, Landon didn’t come home. The next day, I walked into the Cole Industries headquarters and took the executive elevator straight to his floor. The reception area was empty. Our secretaries were usually stationed here. I hadn’t brought mine today, but where was his? Brazen laughter drifted from his office. Through the blinds, I saw his secretary, Chloe, dutifully blow-drying his hair. Landon was leaning back in his chair, relaxed, chatting and smiling with her. He had always been a man who valued his personal space, who never let anyone but me linger in his office. But the tenderness he showed Chloe now was a dagger to my heart. Even more glaring was the custom silver necklace sparkling on her neck. It was the one he had picked out for me on his last business trip, my birthday present. Chloe was just an intern. She could sell every organ in her body and still not afford a single diamond chip on that chain. I pushed the door open. Chloe dropped the hair dryer as if electrocuted, quickly smoothing her hair. “Ms. Ingram, what brings you to this part of the building?” I gave her a glacial look. “I’m the General Manager of this company. I don’t need an intern’s permission to be here.” “Now go get the head of HR. I have some questions about the company’s new, lowered hiring standards.” Chloe shot a desperate look at Landon. He gestured for her to leave, to wait out the storm. As she turned to go, my voice stopped her, cold and sharp. “Take off the necklace.” She froze, her hand flying to her throat as she looked pleadingly at Landon. My eyes were locked on him. “Explain. Why is my birthday present on her neck?” “I still have the deposit receipt in my desk drawer.” Landon’s expression soured with impatience. “She’s my secretary. She represents my image.” “You threw a fit and had my car professionally cleaned just because she sat in it, making her a laughingstock. What’s wrong with me giving her a necklace to help her save face?” “Your own secretary wears custom-tailored suits you paid for, doesn’t she?” I scoffed. “My secretary is a woman of substance who earns her compensation through merit. What has this… thing… done to deserve anything?” I pointed a finger at Chloe. “Or is it because she’s just that good at servicing her boss?” Landon’s face turned to stone, fury blazing in his eyes. “It’s just a necklace, Sophia! A compensation for the trouble you caused her!” “I’ll buy you a better one for your birthday, alright?” 3 I laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “A custom piece? Her? What part of her status makes her worthy?” “Landon, one’s actions should always match one’s station in life.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to an icy whisper. “A son-in-law of the Ingram family is expected at high-society events.” “But for a Mr. Cole to get an invitation to those same circles… money alone is not enough.” He erupted. “Sophia, we have important work to discuss! Chloe has put an immense amount of effort into this deal. I need you to leave, now!” He was shouting at me. For this worthless creature. “Fine,” I said with a chilling smile. “Let’s see what your brilliant secretary is really capable of.” Landon, fuming, slammed the contract down on the table and stormed out. Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk before trotting after him on her high heels. Before the sound of their footsteps faded completely, I made a call. “Proceed as planned. Make sure Mr. Davidson gives them a warm welcome.” Then, I ordered a coffee and settled into a chair by the floor-to-ceiling window. I’d barely taken two sips when my phone rang. It was Landon. His screaming was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Sophia, you manipulative bitch!” “Davidson tore up the contract in front of everyone! He called Chloe a common club girl who slept her way to the top!” “He even mocked me, called me a kept man living off his wife’s power, trying to have his cake and eat it too!” “This was you! I was blind to ever marry you!” I calmly set down my cup. “People will say what they want. How can I control that?” “If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.” Before I could finish, he shrieked. “The deal is dead, and Chloe ran off in tears! Are you satisfied now?” The corner of my mouth lifted. “Satisfied? I’m just putting things back in their proper place.” He hung up. I called HR and had every trace of Chloe Vance erased from the company. I thought I had given Landon enough dignity, enough of a chance. If he would just behave, we could move on. But he had no intention of taking the lifeline I offered. 4 Our son was burning up with a fever, clinging to me. I stayed home with him, holding his hand through the IV drip, trying to distract him with toys. When Landon prepared to leave, our son’s small voice stopped him. “Daddy, don’t go!” Landon hesitated for a moment, then sat back down. Seeing the happy smile on my son’s face, I felt a flicker of reassurance. Maybe giving him another chance was the right thing to do. But the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment. It was Chloe, her voice thick with tears. “Mr. Cole, someone’s following me! The internet is full of people calling me a homewrecker, a gold-digger, a slut!” “Is Ms. Ingram trying to drive me to my death? Please, just tell her I’ll stay away from you. Tell her to leave me alone!” I didn’t even look up, continuing to build a block tower with my son. I expected Chloe would face some backlash, but she was exaggerating. Landon, however, reacted as if he’d been electrocuted. He slammed his phone onto the coffee table with a crash. Our son burst into tears, terrified by the sudden noise. Instead of comforting him, Landon pointed a shaking finger at me. “Enough, Sophia! I am sick and tired of you playing games with people’s lives, acting like you control everything!” “You already got rid of Chloe, why won’t you just leave her alone?” “I may have married you, but I didn’t sell myself to you! You don’t get to control every aspect of my life!” My own temper snapped. “If you want to scream, get out!” I pointed to the door. “Don’t you dare scare our son!” He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You want to destroy her, Sophia? Fine. I’ll be the one to protect her.” He turned his back on our son’s wailing cries and slammed the door behind him. I watched him go, my gaze hardening. He had truly lost his mind. After getting our son to sleep, I opened my laptop. The morning’s gossip about Chloe the homewrecker had vanished. To protect this trash, Landon had actually deployed the company’s PR team. Pathetic. I was about to close the laptop when I saw it. An official statement from Cole Industries. It praised Chloe’s professional excellence, condemned the “malicious rumors,” and threatened legal action. At the same time, a message from HR popped up on my phone. Landon had officially promoted Chloe to Manager of Operations, complete with an executive office and a vice president’s benefit package. My secretary forwarded me a screenshot of Chloe’s latest social media post. A picture of her in a designer gown, the infamous necklace glittering at her throat, a picture of pure, smug victory. I looked at the messages and let out a soft, cold laugh. Alright, Landon. If you’re so determined to prop up this parasite, don’t blame me for what comes next. After setting my plans for Cole Industries in motion, I rushed home, only to find my son gone. I frantically questioned the nanny, who told me with a trembling voice, “Sir… Sir came back. He took the young master…” The rage I had been suppressing finally erupted. My secretary tracked Landon’s location to an amusement park, and I drove there as fast as I could. I saw them ahead. Landon and Chloe, whispering intimately to each other, completely oblivious to our son stumbling to keep up behind them. His little face was flushed with fever, slick with sweat. His voice was a choked, pleading sob. “Daddy… slow down… it hurts… wait for me…” A vicious smile touched Chloe’s lips. Casually, she stuck her foot out. Thump. My son fell hard, the shock silencing him for a moment before he let out a heart-wrenching wail. Landon instinctively moved to help him, but Chloe spoke first, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, Mr. Cole… do you think he dislikes me so much that he’d fall on purpose and pretend to cry?” At her words, Landon froze, his hand dropping. He looked down at our son with disapproval. “Auntie Chloe was nice enough to bring you out to play, and you’re faking falls? Why are you being so difficult?” I flew toward them like an arrow released from a bow, scooping up my son, who was now sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. Fury threatened to consume me whole. Landon’s face paled. He stammered, “Chloe said I shouldn’t have left him when he was sick… she suggested bringing him here to make it up to him…” I stared at him, my eyes like chips of ice. “A two-year-old with a fever. What could he possibly do at an amusement park?” “Watch you two lovebirds parade around? Or get deliberately tripped by your whore?” The air went still. Chloe’s triumphant smirk froze on her face. Landon’s pupils contracted, his expression shifting from shock to anger. “Sophia, don’t twist our good intentions! We were just—” I cut him off, clutching my terrified son to my chest. “Landon, I want a divorce.”

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A year after my breakup with Nathan, we ran into each other at a maternity shop. He was standing in the formula aisle. When he looked up and saw me, a flash of panic crossed his eyes. “I’m buying formula for my son,” he said, his voice a little strained. “He’s six months old.” “Congratulations,” I replied softly. He seemed taken aback. “You don’t hate me?” How could I not? But in that moment, as I felt the flutter of life in my own womb, the absurdity of my past self became painfully clear. A year ago, he had left me for another woman’s pregnancy test, and I had pathetically prayed that I, too, could get pregnant just to keep him. All that soul-crushing desperation, the feeling that he was the only one for me, now seemed like nothing more than a self-indulgent obsession. “It’s all in the past.” 01 After I spoke, I turned to leave. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Thea, wait…” I glanced down at his hand, then gently pulled mine free. “Is there something you need?” “It’s been a long time. Do you want to grab a coffee?” He pointed to the corner café just outside the shop, his tone tentative. “It’s right there. Still the same one you used to love.” He remembered. I could spend an entire afternoon sipping cappuccinos at that café, watching the shadows of the sycamore trees from the window seat. We had spent countless weekends there—me reading, him working, occasionally looking up to share a smile that would last for ages. But that was a long time ago. So long it felt like another lifetime. “No, thank you.” I said it quietly and turned toward the checkout counter. Nathan quickly fell into step beside me, a note of urgency in his voice. “Thea, you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” “No.” He stopped. “Then why…” “There’s just no need.” I cut him off, enunciating each word with calm precision. “Nathan, there’s nothing left for us to say.” His expression shifted, his lips parting as if to argue, but I didn’t give him the chance. I walked past him to the register. The cashier smiled as she took my basket and began scanning the items with practiced efficiency. Prenatal vitamins, maternity formula… Nathan stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the pregnancy products piling up on the counter, his brow furrowing deeper with each item. By the time I left the shop, the sky had darkened. The clouds hung low and heavy, the air thick with the oppressive heat that comes before a storm. I pulled out my phone to call a car, but the screen lit up before I could. “Honey, it’s about to rain. Where are you? I’ll come get you.” His voice was full of warmth and concern, an undisguised affection that made the corners of my mouth lift into a smile. “I’m at the maternity shop on South Street.” “Stay put. Don’t wander off. I’ll be there in five.” “Okay.” Just as I hung up, a black Mercedes pulled up to the curb. Nathan got out and walked over to me. “Let me give you a ride.” I shook my head. “That’s okay. My husband is coming to pick me up.” The moment the word “husband” left my lips, Nathan’s pupils contracted. He stared at me for a few seconds before forcing a complicated smile. “You’re still trying to get back at me.” His voice was filled with absolute certainty. He thought I was using a fictional “husband” to make him jealous. He thought I couldn’t let him go. He thought… I didn’t bother to explain. I just looked at him calmly. “You’re overthinking it, Nathan.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me, continuing his own monologue. “Thea, there shouldn’t be this much distance between us.” Distance? I almost laughed out loud. Who was it that threw a fake marriage certificate in my face and told me coldly, “We were never legally married”? Who was it that signed the papers to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital when I was at my breaking point? And who was it that, when I needed him most, chose Ava and the child in her womb? And now he was saying there shouldn’t be distance? “Nathan.” I looked at him, my voice soft but every word sharp. “Do you know what creates distance?” He stared at me, confused. “Distance is for people who still have feelings left to protect.” I offered a small, empty smile. “But between you and me, there are no feelings left.” “So it isn’t about distance, and it isn’t about forgiveness.” “We’re just strangers.” 02 A year ago, I cut a business trip short to surprise Nathan. Instead, I walked into a scene that would haunt my nightmares. In the living room, Nathan’s hand rested gently on the swollen belly of another woman. It was Ava. My sister. Both sets of our parents were there. “Ava is already five months along,” Nathan’s mother said, her tone laced with reproach. “When are you going to give her and the baby the legitimacy they deserve?” Ava quickly shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “Please, Mrs. Cole, don’t pressure Nate…” She bit her lip, her voice catching in a sob. “I just wanted to give him a child. He still loves Thea the most.” Nathan’s mother sighed, patting her hand. “You’re too kind, dear.” My own mother echoed the sigh. “But a child needs a proper name, a proper family.” She looked at Nathan’s father. “What do you think we should do?” He was silent for a moment before turning to Nathan. “What are your plans for Thea?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. “We’ll keep it from her for now.” “We’ll tell her after the baby is born.” In that instant, the keys slipped from my hand and clattered onto the floor. Every head in the room snapped toward the doorway. Toward me. The color drained from Nathan’s face. “Thea? What are you… You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.” Ava stood up, starting toward me. “Sister, let me explain…” “Explain what?” My eyes were glued to her stomach, the prominent, taunting curve of it. “Explain that you’re carrying his child?” Tears streamed down Ava’s face. “Sister, I’m so sorry, I never wanted this, but…” I walked over to her and slapped her, hard. The sound echoed in the silent room. Ava cupped her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. Nathan’s mother shot to her feet, shielding Ava. “Thea! Have you lost your mind?” “She’s pregnant! What if you hurt the baby?” I started to laugh. A broken, hysterical laugh that brought tears to my eyes. “I’ve lost my mind?” I pointed at myself, then at them. “Yes, I must be crazy to have let all of you fool me for so long!” Nathan reached for me. “Thea, calm down, let me explain…” “Don’t touch me!” I shoved his hand away with a strength that surprised even me. “Nathan, what right do you have to touch me?” He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. I looked at him, the tears finally breaking free. “How long were you going to hide it? Until she gave birth? Until the baby had his name on the birth certificate?” Nathan’s lips moved, but no words came out. His mother stepped forward, her face a mask of disapproval. “Thea, have you made enough of a scene?” “You can’t have children. Is the Cole family line supposed to end with you?” “Ava was kind enough to help you, and this is how you repay her?” But I was the one who couldn’t have children because I had saved his life. 03 The day Nathan got his driver’s license, he was as giddy as a child. “Thea, I’m taking you for a drive!” He grabbed my hand, his eyes shining with excitement. I laughed and agreed. The entire drive, he talked about our future. Then, a truck lost control and came hurtling toward us. It was loaded with steel rebar. I saw it getting closer and closer. There was no time to think. On pure instinct, I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw myself in front of Nathan, shielding him with my body. The rebar pierced through me. Pain. So much pain I couldn’t even breathe. Nathan’s face was covered in blood. My blood. His mouth was moving, shouting something, but I couldn’t hear him. I could only see his tears, falling one by one. All I could think was, Thank god. Thank god Nathan is okay. The surgery was a success. But the doctor’s face was grim as he looked at my chart. “Her uterus is severely damaged. The chances of a natural conception are less than five percent.” In that moment, I saw the expression on his mother’s face change. She quickly pulled Nathan out of the room. Lying in my hospital bed, I could hear their argument in the hallway. “What are we going to do…” “The Cole family can’t be without an heir…” His father’s voice was calm. “Ava is the family’s biological daughter. She and Nathan are a much better match, really.” “Enough!” Nathan’s voice cut them off. He burst back into the room and came to my bedside, taking my hand. “I told you, I’m only marrying Thea.” His hand was warm, almost feverish, his eyes red-rimmed. His mother followed him in. “Nathan! You can’t…” He cut her off, his voice resolute. “Mom, Thea took that hit for me.” “Without her, I’d be the one lying in this bed.” “I won’t marry anyone else.” He looked at me, his eyes full of conviction. “Thea, as soon as you’re better, we’ll get married, okay?” I nodded, tears streaming down my face. Back then, I thought he truly loved me. I didn’t know it was all just part of a long deception. I should have seen the signs. The day I was discharged from the hospital, Ava moved into their house under the pretext of taking care of me. She learned to cook Nathan’s favorite dishes better than I could. She learned to brew his father’s favorite tea more skillfully than I could. She even learned to play mahjong with his mother, a game I didn’t even know the rules to. His mother was always praising her. “Ava is such a wonderful girl.” And my own parents would always say, “Thank goodness we found Ava again. What would this family do without her?” In that house, I was the outsider. 04 My eyes were red as I screamed, my voice raw. “I will never acknowledge that child!” “I will make sure that child is forever known as a bastard!” Nathan stood there, his eyes fixed on me. “Thea, he’s not a bastard.” I froze. “What do you mean?” “We have a marriage certificate. Ava is the mistress, which makes the child a bastard…” “The ceremony three years ago was a sham,” Nathan interrupted. “The officiant was an actor I hired.” “Our marriage certificate… it’s fake.” My mind went blank. The photos, the official-looking seal, the signatures… All fake? “That’s impossible.” I whispered, “We were… we…” Nathan looked at me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t find our names in any official registry.” His mother approached, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Thea, don’t blame us.” “This is for the good of both families.” “Look, now Ava is having a baby. The Cole family has an heir. Isn’t that wonderful?” Ava hid behind Nathan, whispering, “Sister, I know you’re hurting.” “But Nate needs a child.” “I didn’t have a choice.” As she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, making her look like the victim whose happiness I was trying to destroy. My parents stood to the side, silent. I could see a flicker of guilt in their eyes. But in the end, they chose silence. Because Ava was their biological daughter. And I was just the one they had adopted. “Fake.” I mumbled the word, my voice growing louder. “It was all fake, all of it…” Nathan reached out to steady me, and I shrieked. “Don’t touch me!” Like a madwoman, I started grabbing anything I could find and hurling it at him. Vases, picture frames, teacups… Anything within reach became a projectile. Ava cowered behind him, watching me with terror in her eyes. His mother frowned in disgust. “Has she gone completely insane?” Insane? Maybe. Maybe I really was insane. How else could I have been foolish enough to believe him for three years? How else could I have believed I actually had a family? Nathan lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me. The next day, I was admitted to Spring Mountain Psychiatric Hospital. At first, he would visit. Then, his visits became less and less frequent. During that time, I even started to hallucinate. I kept thinking I had a child. Maybe if I had a child, I could pathetically hold on to Nathan. My phone buzzed, pulling me from the memory. A message from my doctor with my latest ultrasound report. 8 weeks gestation, fetal development is normal. I smiled and saved the report. It reminded me of how I once carefully saved a marriage certificate. A certificate that turned out to be a lie. But this report was real. My marriage is real. And the baby in my womb is real. The doctor’s “less than 5% chance” had become a reality. It wasn’t a miracle. It was Wyatt. He found the best traditional medicine specialists in the country, and for a year, they painstakingly helped me heal. It was Wyatt who spent a whole year convincing me that I could still have a complete life. “Thea.” Nathan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a black Maybach glided to a stop beside us. The door opened, and Wyatt stepped out. He walked straight to me, pulling me behind him and shielding me from Nathan’s gaze with his own body. “Mr. Cole,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Please stay away from my wife.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387189”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel