My sister, Chloe Evans, became a shining star, playing a girl tormented by school bullying in her movies. Netizens called her the pristine white rose of the entertainment industry. She’d dive into icy water in winter, just to nail a single scene. Me? I was too delicate. The moment the crew asked me to wear a revealing top, I’d just pull my jacket tighter. After countless times she subtly, darkly pointed out my supposed malice, Furious netizens dragged me to the Public Judgment Tribunal. I was charged with four grave crimes: Violence, Cold-bloodedness, Negligence, and Promiscuity. But I just chuckled into the camera, reaching out to yank on my sister’s long hair. “You’re all so foolish, falling for a born monster.” This was a world where public judgment was rampant. All it took was a hundred thousand netizens petitioning together, and anyone could be sent to the Tribunal. I was a notorious, scandalous celebrity, not famous for my work, but infamous for my drama. Refusing to follow crew instructions, getting exposed for bullying the weak, willingly falling into promiscuity – I was constantly surrounded by negative press. Naturally, I was the perfect foil for my sister, Chloe Evans. Chloe wasn’t my biological sister; we just grew up in the same orphanage. But even so, comparing a pure, innocent “white flower” to a vicious, man-eating flower… Not to mention, Chloe frequently used social media to “encourage” me to be a better person, Deliberately highlighting my supposed malice. Netizens, predictably, were enraged. A hundred thousand of them united, listing my four grave charges. They successfully sent me to the Public Judgment Tribunal. The unyielding, impartial Judge of Truth would determine if my four charges were valid and if I’d go to jail. I sat expressionless in the defendant’s seat. The live chat for the trial instantly exploded. “Stella Stone is actually really pretty…” “Pretty face, rotten heart, that’s her, isn’t it!” “She’s a total bitch! She always bullied our Chloe at the orphanage.” “Hope this trial ends fast, Stella Stone deserves ten years behind bars!” Suddenly, Chloe Evans pulled a little kid with downcast eyes in front of me. “Sister, I hope you won’t be sentenced! The kids from the orphanage and I all hope you’ll be okay.” Watching her struggle to suppress the upward twitch of her lips, I let out a soft laugh. I reached out, gently stroking her silken black hair, then abruptly, violently, yanked it. I savored the pained expression on her face. “Do you think I’m as stupid as them? Do you really think I’d believe a born monster like you?” Chloe gasped faintly, wincing in pain. “Sister, you’re misunderstanding me…” I scoffed, pushing her away. “How can a woman who’s done so many bad things call Chloe a monster!” “Can the Judge please teach her a lesson?!” Chloe’s pathetic acting made me laugh internally, but a whole crowd of supporters willingly let themselves be fooled by her. I watched her feign quiet sobs, my expression indifferent. She truly was a born actress, no wonder she’d hurt so many and always gotten away with it. Chloe Evans, do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?

A video played on the big screen. The former orphanage director, Mrs. Thorne, sat in a wheelchair, tears welling in her eyes. “Stella, I don’t blame you for destroying my legs. Just admit your mistakes…” The live chat went silent for a moment, then scrolled frantically. “Stella Stone is sick, isn’t she? The director was so good, and she ruined her legs?” “OMG, so the director was replaced because Stella hurt her!” Some audience members shouted angry curses at me. Others, furious, couldn’t stop themselves from throwing shoes in my direction. “Heartless monster! Grew up in an orphanage and still hurt your own director!” “Bitch! So cruel to her director and sister! Who knows what else she’s done behind their backs!” “How can someone be so disgusting? Look at her, showing no remorse, it’s infuriating!” The Judge of Truth cleared his throat and had a staff member place a judgment device on me. The device would extract memory fragments from my mind, to be used as evidence in this trial. “Trial begins! First charge: Violence!” Mrs. Thorne also testified that I had been violent towards other children who grew up with me in the orphanage, bullying them on multiple occasions. She even presented a hospital diagnosis from that time. I scoffed. Did they think providing evidence automatically meant it was the truth? My extracted memory fragments began playing on the big screen, allowing the Judge of Truth to deliver his verdict under the supervision of all present. A little girl with two cute pigtails, her soft, pale face filled with anxiety. “Chloe, did they bully you again?” This was me at seven years old. The live chat was momentarily confused. “Stella Stone was this cute when she was little?” “Were she and Chloe Evans this close as kids?” Chloe, tearfully, threw herself into my arms. “Stella, how could they do this to me?” I looked at her torn princess dress, my heart aching. “They’re awful. I’ll go get them. Don’t be sad!” The scene shifted. The little girl, her cheeks puffed out, marched up to a group of kids a head taller than herself. “Liam Hayes, why do you always bully Chloe!” My childish voice rang out. The leading boy looked me up and down. “Little dummy, did Chloe send you to fight her battles again?” I froze for a moment. “What do you mean?” Liam tapped my head. “Told you you were dumb. She ran over to brag about her new dress herself.” “Chloe was just too happy, maybe…” I tugged at my fingers, awkward. Liam sighed. “Alex wanted to buy some study materials, and Mrs. Thorne said there was no money, but then she bought Chloe a new dress… Don’t be too kind, you’re just being used as a pawn.” I didn’t notice Chloe quietly following behind me. But the big screen clearly showed a strange look in her eyes, unfitting for a five-year-old child. It seemed to be jealousy, and perhaps anger. “Chloe Evans’s eyes are so creepy…” “Honestly, a five-year-old doesn’t understand anything. How could Stella Stone be violent towards others?” “Same! She’s still a kid herself. How could she bully other kids? And they seem pretty nice to Stella Stone.” Chloe sat in the audience, watching the live chat with a gloomy expression. Later that night, Chloe dragged me to the orphanage’s bike shed. Two small figures huddled together in the dark. I looked at the large safety pin she handed me, conflicted. “Chloe, this isn’t good! What if something happens?” Chloe smiled sweetly, pushing the pin into my hand. “It’s fine, it’s just to scare them a little! They don’t usually ride their bikes much anyway.” I pulled my hand back. “No! Chloe, I’m going back. Don’t do this either!” Chloe watched my retreating back, then picked up the pin from the ground, her face expressionless.

The next day, Mrs. Thorne suddenly announced a bicycle race. The winner would receive a new set of study materials. I watched Liam and his group, excited, with concern. Glancing at Chloe’s smug face, I secretly approached Liam. Tugging on his sleeve, I stammered. “Don’t ride your bikes, it’s really dangerous.” The boy scratched his head dismissively. “I’m really good at riding. I’ll show you later.” I opened my mouth, about to say more, but Chloe pulled me away. “Chloe, you didn’t last night…” Before I could finish, Chloe clapped her hand over my mouth. She looked around. “Stella Stone, I didn’t do anything, don’t talk nonsense!” Hearing that, I felt relieved, but an accident unfolded before my eyes. As they rode, a rope suddenly appeared on the track ahead. Liam’s bike crashed heavily to the ground, out of control. Alex’s and the other kids’ tires were flat, or their brakes were broken. My eyes widened as I watched them tumble in a heap. Glancing at Chloe’s joyful, childish face, I rushed over to help them up. Mrs. Thorne quickly called a car to take them to the hospital. Watching Mrs. Thorne’s seemingly anxious expression, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The video ended here… The live chat seemed to freeze, then slowly began to scroll after a long pause. “These kids’ injuries weren’t caused by Stella Stone!” “Stella Stone was so cute as a kid, I think she was pretty nice…” “Maybe she turned bad when she grew up!” I listened to the doubts from the audience, my expression aloof. The Judge of Truth gestured for the evidence team to present their proof. On the video, a handsome young man adjusted his glasses. “Hello everyone, I’m Alex Green, one of the kids from the orphanage supposedly bullied by Stella Stone… I think it’s necessary to clarify that all of us who grew up with Stella genuinely like her. The so-called diagnosis online is from our bicycle race injuries! I hope everyone stops spreading rumors and hurting genuinely good people.” The live chat couldn’t believe what they were hearing. “What the hell, this must be a helper Stella Stone hired!” “I think Chloe Evans is the one with issues… didn’t you see her stay in the bike shed that night?!” “Above user, this is a famous designer in the AI and tech industry now.” “Stella Stone just didn’t bully anyone, but she still did other bad things!” The Judge of Truth’s gaze was stern, and his gavel slammed down, sealing the verdict. “Stella Stone’s first charge: Violence, not guilty!” As the Judge’s words fell, Chloe Evans’s hand tightened subtly. The orphanage child she was pinching let out a small whimper of pain. I noticed the commotion she was causing, my eyes turning icy, sharp enough to cut. Chloe Evans, you and your accomplice won’t be smug for much longer!

“Second charge: Cold-bloodedness!” The Judge of Truth tapped his gavel. The trial resumed. I was accused of maliciously setting fire to the orphanage, which resulted in Mrs. Thorne’s legs being amputated. This memory extraction started a few days before the fire. In high school, I had already blossomed into a beautiful young woman. The pretty-faced Chloe Evans linked arms with me. “Stella, I heard a lot of famous entrepreneurs are coming to the orphanage’s donation gala tomorrow night!” I smiled faintly, pulling my arm away. “Really?” I wasn’t as easy to fool as I was when I was little. By this time, I had started to vaguely realize that Chloe’s words and actions didn’t align, and I was gradually distancing myself from her. Mrs. Thorne walked gently into the yard. “Stella, Chloe, dress nicely tomorrow, put on a good show, don’t show any weakness.” Watching her softly caress Chloe’s hair, a flicker of darkness crossed my eyes. Someone in the live chat noticed my expression. “What’s with Stella Stone’s expression? Is she jealous of our Chloe?!” “She’s definitely jealous that the director likes our Chloe!” Soon it was the day of the gala. I, who usually boarded at school, returned to the orphanage to help. While going to the storage room to get vases, I overheard Mrs. Thorne on the phone. “Mr. Sterling, I know your preferences. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange everything.” Standing by the wall, enveloped in shadow, I felt a deep unease. Maya Lee looked at my furrowed brow, concerned. “Sister Stella, what are you thinking about?” I stroked her head. She flinched, and my expression changed. “Has someone been bullying you?” Maya was a few years younger than me, and had only been at the orphanage for a couple of years. She was always good at reading people. When I occasionally returned to the orphanage for breaks, I’d often help her with her homework. Watching her tightly clutching her sleeve, her eyes darting away, my heart filled with questions. I suddenly grabbed her hand, rolling up her sleeve. “What… how did this happen?!” My voice trembled. Maya’s thin arms were a canvas of bruises and angry red welts. Maya cautiously looked around. Seeing no one, she burst into tears, burying her face in my embrace. Listening to her tearful whispers against my ear, my eyes burned, as if about to spill blood. “Can anyone in the live chat hear what the little girl is whispering to Stella Stone?” “Can’t hear it. This situation means her subconscious hid the conversation…” “She’s not planning something bad, is she?!” “Stella Stone’s expression is terrifying.” I followed Maya to her room. Another bed in the double room held a pale-faced girl. My face was grim. Maya met my gaze and nodded fiercely. In the video, I seemed about to rush out. But then I suddenly thought of something and stopped. I turned and poured a glass of water for the girl, bringing it to her dry lips. The audience whispered amongst themselves. “Stella Stone seems quite kind, actually!” “You don’t know her real thoughts, maybe she’s plotting something.” “Don’t forget she’s an arsonist!” At the gala, Mrs. Thorne enthusiastically greeted the orphanage children and donors for photos. Seeing the children’s fearful expressions, the anger in my heart burned uncontrollably. The orphanage grew quiet. Mrs. Thorne, all smiles, led the donors through the dormitories. I hid behind them, my face like frost, watching their sickening, laughing interactions. I gently twirled a lighter in my hand. “Look! She’s the one who set the fire at the orphanage!” “Stella Stone is so venomous! She wanted to burn the donors and the orphanage children to death!” “Is she some kind of sociopath?!” Chloe Evans’s lips curled into a faint smile, her expression serene as she looked at me. Her eyes gleamed with malice as she met my gaze, mouthing the words: *Stella Stone, arsonist, you’re done for!*

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To take advantage of my high-end nutritionist, Chloe and her husband moved right into my house. Whatever she wanted, I gave it to her. But two months later, she had a miscarriage due to the flu. When I went to comfort her, she stared at my stomach and hissed, “Why is it so unfair? Why didn’t *you* get the flu?” Her husband, Ryan, then lunged at me, stabbing me dozens of times. “Bitch! Is this how you took care of my wife? You killed my unborn son, and now you’ll pay for his life with yours!” After I died, they burned my body. They even lied to my husband, telling him I accidentally caused a fire myself. My husband fell into a deep depression and eventually slit his wrists out of sheer grief. And they? They simply moved into my home. My soul trembled with fury. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day Chloe and Ryan first moved into my house. “Oh my God, Aurora, your house is so huge! You say I’m your bestie, but you didn’t even prepare a room for me. I don’t care, I’m taking this room! Consider it a welcome gift for my son.” In a daze, I heard Chloe’s voice. Then, a deep male voice chimed in, “Exactly! Chloe’s always saying you’re her best friend, but you’re being so secretive. How about this, once the kids are born, we’ll arrange for them to get engaged. Our families would truly be inseparable!” A shiver ran down my spine as I heard those familiar words. Hadn’t I already died? Why was I hearing Chloe and Ryan’s voices again? The lingering ache of excruciating pain still reminded me that not long ago, Chloe and her husband, Ryan, had brutally murdered me. Chloe lost her three-month-old baby due to the flu, and she blamed my baby for killing hers. She pushed me down the stairs, and her husband savagely stabbed me with a knife. One, two, three… each stab plunged into my stomach. My baby and I were tortured, suffering unbearable pain. With my last breath, I only saw them dragging me into the kitchen, lighting a fire, ready to burn my body and destroy the evidence. Flames devoured my body. After the intense pain, I died completely. Chloe’s voice continued, “Hey, Aurora, I think Ryan’s idea is great. Look, my belly’s all pointy, definitely a boy, and yours is so round, everyone says round bellies mean girls. “We’re such good friends, an engagement for our kids would be perfect, wouldn’t it? You’ll agree, right?” Hearing those familiar words again, a chill shot up from my feet. I looked over and saw Chloe staring at me expectantly, her eyes filled with greed. It took me a while to realize I had been reborn. Reborn on the very day Chloe and Ryan moved into my house. It happened exactly the same way in my last life. I got pregnant first, and a week later, Chloe told me she’d also tested positive. But we were both only two months along, barely even showing. Yet she was already so sure she was having a boy and I was having a girl. She even proposed something crazy like an engagement. Back then, I just thought it was a joke and agreed. I never imagined Chloe would become increasingly outrageous because of it. Relying on my husband’s and my family’s wealth, she constantly demanded money and things. She’d say she needed to prepare the best for her son so he could become a high-achiever, ensuring his future mother-in-law had something to brag about. Whenever I hesitated to give her something, she’d whine, “Aurora, this is your future son-in-law in my belly! You said you only want one child, so won’t you eventually rely on my son to take care of you in your old age? Girls just aren’t as reliable. If you don’t want to give it to me, are you looking down on us?” At the time, I truly believed Chloe was my best friend, so I gave in to her every whim. Even if I felt any resentment, I dismissed it as me being petty or overly suspicious. But what happened in the end? They just used me as their personal ATM. She went out to a concert, caught the flu, and then blamed me for her miscarriage. When I went to comfort her, she snapped, “Why is it so unfair? Why didn’t *you* get the flu?” Her husband then savagely stabbed me dozens of times, “Bitch! Is this how you took care of my wife? You killed my unborn son, and now you’ll pay for his life with yours!” To vent their rage, they even burned my body to ashes.

They then told Liam, who had just rushed home, “We came home and found Aurora in the kitchen getting ready to cook something, and there was a fire. It was horrible.” My husband was heartbroken. He eventually committed suicide by slitting his wrists. I cried and screamed beside him, but I couldn’t make him hear my voice. This time, I won’t be foolishly generous. So, this time, I told Chloe, “An engagement is out of the question. Our kids will choose their own partners when they’re older. Marriage should be about freedom, you know. As for this house, I can’t make that decision alone; I need to discuss it with my husband.” Chloe and Ryan’s suggestions were rejected, and their faces fell. Since Liam was still on a business trip, the issue of the house was temporarily put aside. It was a shame I’d agreed to let them move in *before* I was reborn; I’d have to find an excuse to kick them out later. However, I immediately had security cameras installed throughout the house. But just like in my previous life. Chloe and Ryan’s financial situation simply couldn’t support their “premium parenting plan.” During Chloe’s pregnancy, they not only wanted to freeload off my family’s high-end nutritionist. They even spent money hiring pianists, violinists, and vocalists to come to the house for musical prenatal education for her baby. Meanwhile, my home became a noisy, chaotic mess, driving me absolutely insane. Ryan had been working frantically, often staying late into the night. But soon, with such lavish spending, their wallets quickly emptied. Yet, neither of them was willing to halt their “premium parenting plan.” For this, they turned their attention to me. I watched through the security camera as Ryan stopped Chloe, who was looking for expensive organic snacks in the kitchen. “Chloe, we’re running low on cash. We can’t even afford to pay Mrs. Rodriguez next month. Why don’t you ask Aurora for some money?” Chloe looked surprised. “Already? How could that be? Don’t we have tens of thousands in savings?” Ryan sighed. “Tens of thousands is nowhere near enough. The teachers’ fees alone are six thousand a month, and we’ve already bought so many designer baby clothes for our son. We’re way over budget; our credit cards are maxed out.” Chloe frowned, annoyed. “That’s too fast. Fine, I’ll ask Aurora. She has so much money; a few hundred thousand is nothing to her. “Honestly, why is Aurora so stingy? She’s loaded, and her husband makes a ton of money too. But she’s so cheap with us, knowing we don’t have much, she doesn’t even offer to help.” That evening, Chloe stopped me as I was about to head back to my room after dinner. Watching Chloe’s overly sweet expression as she asked for money, I suddenly remembered my past life, how she always used that same look when she wanted something from me. As for the money, in my previous life, when she asked, I immediately gave her half a million dollars. Then she said, “Aurora, you’re so rich! I always see online how other best friends buy houses and cars for their friends, sniffle… I can’t believe I have such a good friend right here. My dear, sweet Aurora, can I pay you back in a few years?” I was easily swayed by her. I felt needed by my best friend and pitied her lack of money, so I immediately told her not to worry about paying it back. Only then, I didn’t notice the envy in her eyes. My kindness was misunderstood by her as showing off, making her feel even more entitled to my possessions. My generosity yielded no returns. This life, of course, I wouldn’t be so stupid, blindly giving without expecting anything in return, only to feed a hungry wolf.

So, I hesitated and said, “Ugh, I really want to help you guys. But, my liquid funds aren’t much. I’ve been planning to buy some things for my baby recently, and I’ve pretty much used it all up. I really don’t have anything extra.” Whether they believed me or not, if they asked for money, I’d just say I didn’t have any. I’d already bought a lot of things early on, precisely to guard against this. Chloe and Ryan’s faces instantly changed when they heard my words. Ryan’s face hardened, but he still forced a smile. “Aurora, if you don’t have a few hundred thousand, surely you have tens of thousands? Look, Chloe is your best friend, and her child will call you Auntie. You’re so wealthy; lending a little shouldn’t be that hard, right?” Here we go again, with the ‘best friend’ and ‘Auntie’ talk. That kind of relationship? I definitely wasn’t taking that bait this lifetime. So, I shook my head again. “It’s not that I don’t want to lend it to you. Look, I only have a few hundred bucks left in my bank account. If I didn’t have a chef at home, I wouldn’t even be able to afford my own meals.” As I spoke, I pulled out my phone and opened my bank’s text message notification to show them. Chloe frowned. “Aurora, why don’t you ask your husband for some money?” I sighed. “I absolutely can’t. He knows I’ve been buying too many things recently and said I was overspending, telling me to control myself. He won’t give it to me.” Chloe grew anxious. “What about your parents? Surely they’ll give it to you.” I still shook my head. “Oh, no, I can’t. Asking my parents for money at my age? How embarrassing would that be?” Seeing that I genuinely wouldn’t ask for money, Chloe took a deep breath, but couldn’t hold it in anymore. She exploded, “This and that! You keep making excuses about lending money! Do you even consider me your best friend?!” “Look at you, why did you buy so much stuff recently? It’s just a girl, why spend so much? You’re treating a future waste of space like a precious jewel!” My face instantly darkened. “Waste of space? Do you think the one you’re carrying is so precious? You have no money, yet you want to raise some noble young master? Don’t you think he should at least be worthy?” Chloe stumbled back, stunned by my words. Ryan, seeing me insult his “precious son,” was also furious. “How can you say something so nasty? Aurora, just because you’ve got a few lousy bucks, you think you’re hot stuff? Your husband’s never home, who knows if he’s got a side chick somewhere. “The only reason we’re staying at your place is because we consider you a good friend and came to keep you company. Besides, we’re asking to borrow money, not steal it! Do you really need to be so petty?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. Pay it back? With what? Their credit cards were already maxed out, and Chloe was only three months pregnant. Once the baby was born, it would be another huge expense. Chloe never worked, and they only had Ryan’s meager monthly salary. When would they ever pay back the hundreds of thousands they planned to borrow from me? They never intended to return the money from the start. So, my stance was firm. No matter what they said to pressure me, I wouldn’t budge. Chloe slammed her hand on the table and stood up. “Fine! Aurora, you’re something else. If you don’t consider me a good friend, then I don’t want anything to do with you either. We’re done! Don’t you ever expect my help again!” With that, she stormed out of my house. Ryan glared at me fiercely, then rushed out after her. I, however, breathed a sigh of relief. This was a perfect opportunity to kick them out. Chloe’s miscarriage was due in another two weeks.

In my last life, I was too kind to her, which made her reckless. Every time we fought, she’d threaten to cut ties, and every time, it was me who went to appease her, bringing expensive gifts to make up. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. I picked up my phone and called the cleaners. “There are some things in the house that need to be packed up.” Just like that, Ryan and Chloe’s belongings were packed and sent back to their place. There was no way they were moving back in this time. The day their things were returned, Chloe called to confront me. “Aurora! You actually sent my stuff back? Are you really going to cut ties with me?!” I rolled my eyes, replying coolly, “Didn’t you say you wanted to cut ties? I agreed. What? Were you hoping to make up with me?” “Don’t even think about it. You had so many people making noise in my house, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Now that you’re gone, I finally found some peace.” After saying that, I hung up and promptly blocked her number. But I hadn’t expected Chloe, unable to borrow money from me, still hadn’t given up on her “premium parenting plan.” Our mutual friends told me Chloe had suddenly become quite wealthy. She was not only wearing designer clothes but had even rented a larger apartment. She even flaunted her wealth on Ins, with the caption: 【My little darling, you were born to bring blessings. Ever since I had you, Mommy’s gotten richer and richer. Certain judgmental snobs will regret looking down on us~~】 I had a vague feeling something wasn’t right. Chloe becoming rich hadn’t happened in my past life. But right now, I couldn’t care less. As long as they didn’t bother me, I didn’t want anything to do with them. Yet, I was naive. This city wasn’t that big; it’s a small world, and you’re bound to run into jerks like them. One day, Liam was returning from his business trip, and I wanted to buy him a watch as a gift. I ended up running into Chloe and Ryan at the store. They were excitedly looking at a designer watch, a trendy model. At a glance, I knew it was worth $200,000. Chloe’s face lit up with excitement. “Honey, look at this one, I love it so much! Let’s get this!” Ryan stroked her belly, speaking lavishly, “Buy it!” Immediately, the sales associate prepared to write up the order. Chloe turned around and saw me behind her, freezing for a moment. But quickly, she raised her chin. “Hmph, some people, they think just because they have a little money, they can look down on their old friends. But then they see I’m rich, and they’re still coming crawling back to me.” As soon as she said that, the surrounding customers all looked at me. Their gazes were filled with curiosity, and disdain. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, ignoring her words. I walked straight to the familiar sales associate and said, “I reserved the ‘Dream Chaser’ model yesterday.” The sales associate’s eyes lit up. “Of course, please wait a moment.” Chloe’s eyes widened in astonishment when she heard me. “Dream Chaser? Isn’t that one $800,000?! You have that kind of money, and you told me you were broke?!” With that, she started to lunge forward to grab me. I dodged sideways, just about to retort, when I glimpsed a familiar necklace around her neck. This! Wasn’t this the gold necklace my mother had given me? “Where did you get that necklace?!” I practically screamed. Chloe’s accusatory expression stiffened, and she instantly touched her neck in a panic. “What, what necklace are you talking about? I don’t know what you mean!”

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The day I found out I was pregnant, a single sentence from my mother-in-law sent shivers down my spine. “You vile slut! My son’s barely been gone a year, and you’re already pregnant with another man’s child? How dare you disrespect his memory!” I stared at her in disbelief, my voice trembling with fear as I tried to explain: “Mom, what are you even saying?! This baby inside me, it’s Liam’s!” Martha’s fury erupted. She slapped me so hard my head snapped sideways, then grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragging me towards Liam’s gravestone. Looking at Liam’s photo on the gravestone, a wave of terror washed over me. “No way! This can’t be real!” Because all this past year, Liam has been right here with me. Just last night, he was in my bed! I stared at Liam’s memorial photo on the gravestone, my mind a sudden blank. Then I ran home like a maniac. “Liam! Liam!” But the living room was silent, save for the frantic pounding of my own heart. “Liam! Where are you?!” The bedroom was empty. The bedsheets were neatly folded, undisturbed. There was no sign of Liam anywhere. I stood in the center of the living room, my eyes frantically scanning the surroundings. His worn-out gray slippers were by the door, and the half-empty coffee mug he’d been drinking yesterday was still on the coffee table. These details screamed that Liam was here, that he’d never left this house. But Martha’s words, the photo on the gravestone – they pressed down on my heart, suffocating me. I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably. It took several tries to dial Liam’s number correctly. The phone rang three times, and then, finally, he answered. “Honey.” Liam’s voice, that familiar low rumble, came through the receiver. My eyes instantly welled up. “Liam! Where are you? Please come home! I’m so scared!” “What’s wrong? What happened?” Liam’s voice immediately tightened with concern. “Mom… Mom just said you died!” The more I spoke, the more agitated I became, tears streaming down my face. There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then Liam’s voice returned. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “But Mom dragged me to your gravestone! That photo, it was clearly you!” I couldn’t stop myself from crying. “Maybe Mom’s just been under too much stress lately, having another episode.” “I still have some things to handle here. I’ll be back in a few days.” “Stay safe at home, and take good care of yourself and our baby.” Liam gave a few more gentle reminders, his tone soothing. Hearing Liam’s words, a tiny sliver of hope, a small relief, settled in my chest. But just as I sat down on the sofa, a frantic knocking echoed from the front door. “Chloe! Open this door! Don’t you dare hide in there playing dead!” My heart seized up. I instinctively clutched the hem of my shirt and stood to open the door. The moment it opened, Martha burst in, followed by several relatives. Their faces were all grim, radiating anger. “You shameless slut! My son’s barely been gone a year, and you’re pregnant with another man’s bastard child! How dare you betray Liam?!” I retorted, my voice laced with defiance: “Mom! Why are you saying such things again! Liam is fine, he’ll be back in a few days! What kind of mother wishes death upon her own son?!” Martha’s face flushed red with rage, her chest heaving. “Still lying! You’re at your wit’s end and still won’t admit it!” “Liam’s been dead for a year! If it’s not another man’s child, then whose is it?!”

Aunt Carol, Liam’s aunt, quickly chimed in, supporting Martha: “That’s right, Chloe. Liam’s only been gone a year. Even if you did have a lover, you shouldn’t get pregnant so quickly! If word gets out, you’ll bring shame to the entire Miller family!” I looked at their self-righteous faces, a mix of anger and desperation churning inside me. I tried to patiently explain: “How could Liam be dead? He was just having dinner and chatting with me yesterday.” At that moment, Uncle Richard stared at me with an expression of horror and said: “Liam was hit by a car last year and died. You attended his funeral, Chloe, the *entire* funeral!” My gaze was locked on Uncle Richard’s face, and I forgot how to breathe. I was with Liam every single day. Just last night, he was holding me on the sofa, softly telling me he’d take me on a beach trip once he finished this busy period. Why were they all conspiring to lie to me? I suddenly remembered Liam’s company was in the middle of handing over some critical projects worth a fortune. My brother-in-law, Finn, always had his eyes on taking over the company. He’d repeatedly confronted Liam about it, even deliberately making things difficult during board meetings. Could it be him? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. My eyes, sharp as daggers, landed on Finn in the crowd. “Finn! Who else would want Liam dead so badly, who else would benefit from it?! You’ve always wanted to seize control of the company, and now you’re using these low-down, dirty tactics!” The surrounding relatives fell silent, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing in the living room. Finn instantly started trembling with rage. “You’re absolutely insane!” “Come on, come in here and see for yourself!” With that, Finn grabbed my hand and started dragging me towards Liam’s study. All year, Liam had repeatedly warned me that his study was strictly off-limits. He said it contained extremely important business documents and he was afraid I might accidentally misplace them. “Let go of me! Liam said no one is allowed in his study!” I struggled wildly, my throat raw from screaming. But Finn ignored my resistance, spitting out, full of resentment: “Today, I’m going to make you go in and see! See what your ‘alive’ Liam really looks like! It’s time for you to face reality!” I twisted my body with all my might, my nails digging into his arm. But his grip was too strong. I couldn’t break free, only being forcibly dragged along. With a loud *bang*, the study door was forcefully kicked open by Finn. Then, everyone gasped sharply at the scene inside. “Chloe! You monstrous slut!” After seeing the scene in the study, everyone’s suppressed anger completely exploded. Martha was the first to charge forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair with a force that felt like she was trying to rip my scalp clean off. “You ungrateful bitch! How could you do something like this?!” Her voice was high-pitched and vicious, laced with biting hatred. I winced in pain, tears instantly springing to my eyes. I struggled to get away, but the relatives next to me held my arms down firmly, preventing me from moving an inch. Dragged into the study, I finally managed to make out the room’s appearance. The room was meticulously clean. Liam’s usual laptop sat on the desk, its screen in sleep mode. It looked like a completely normal study! I cried out, questioning loudly: “What’s wrong with this?! What are you all trying to do?!” “Get out of here! These are all the company’s core confidential documents, no one is allowed to touch them!”

I pushed hard against the people surrounding me. I absolutely couldn’t let them desecrate Liam’s legacy. Finn, pushed by me, lost his footing slightly. Once he regained his balance, he roared: “Chloe, even now, you’re still playing games with us!” “Slap!” A sharp, ringing slap echoed in the study. My head snapped violently to the side. It was Martha who struck me, her eyes bloodshot, her expression terrifyingly distorted. “You beast! You have the nerve to say that?!” “You actually removed and hid Liam’s urn and memorial photo! Do you have any shame after all the good he did for you? Has your heart turned to stone?!” “To cover up the fact that you’re pregnant with another man’s baby, you even dared to touch his memorial photo! You’re not human! You’re a cold-blooded animal!” Looking at their furious faces, I felt it was utterly absurd. Liam was alive and well! What urn?! What memorial photo?! “I’m done wasting my breath on you!” I pulled out my phone with a sudden movement, my eyes firm. “I just talked to Liam! I’m calling him now; he’ll tell you himself!” I didn’t believe Liam’s voice could be faked. But the moment I saw the call interface, My entire body froze, and I even forgot to breathe. The call history was empty. Not a single second of call history! I had clearly just talked to Liam, so how could there be no call record?! His voice was still echoing in my ears; it couldn’t have been a hallucination. I must have accidentally deleted it in my panic! I quickly searched the call history recycling bin, my fingers frantically sliding across the screen, my fingertips trembling. But the recycling bin was empty, not even a single deleted record. It was glaringly blank. Not giving up, I opened my carrier’s app to check the call details for the past year. My heart pounded harder and harder, almost leaping out of my chest. The detailed bill was full of call records with colleagues and friends, but there was no record of Liam’s number, not once! How was this possible?! “Stop looking, you won’t find anything, because Liam died ages ago! He’s been dead for a year!” Then, Finn dragged out a dark red wooden box from the innermost corner of the bookshelf, covered in a thin layer of dust. He yanked open the box and forcefully shoved its contents in front of me. It was Liam’s memorial photo! In the photo, he wore a black suit, his smile stiff and unnatural. Next to the photo sat a small urn. Liam’s name and dates of birth and death were carved onto it in red paint, starkly visible. My mind went *buzz*, and the blood in my veins seemed to freeze instantly. “You’re all insane!” “To snatch control of the company, you fabricated these things and even cursed Liam to die! Aren’t you afraid of retribution?!” “If Liam knew you were doing this to him, he would never let you off when he gets back, he’d make you pay!” While I screamed at them, I pulled out my phone again, frantically searching for Liam’s number. But a robotic female voice, cold and detached, answered. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.” No longer in service! “Stop calling! His number was disconnected ages ago! Wake up!” “Liam passed away last year. The baby in your belly is someone else’s. Get rid of it now, don’t bring shame to the Miller family!”

“You’re lying!” I still couldn’t believe it, trembling with anger, tears streaming down my face. Seeing my reaction, Martha pointed a finger at my nose and cursed. “Still pretending! You won’t accept the truth until it’s staring you in the face, will you? You’re forcing our hand!” “This child must be aborted today, to protect our family’s reputation and avoid becoming the talk of the town!” “What are you waiting for? Get her! Don’t let her escape!” No sooner had she spoken than Aunt Carol rushed forward. She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me to the floor, making my scalp tingle with pain. Uncle Richard also stepped forward, delivering a brutal kick to my leg. I lost my balance and stumbled, falling to the ground, my knee hitting the floor with excruciating pain. “Stop! Please, stop! I’m pregnant, you can’t hit me!” I tightly shielded my belly with both hands, pleading loudly, my voice hoarse. This child was Liam’s and mine. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. Absolutely not! “Hit her! Hit her until she’s dead! Knock that baby out of her, let’s see how she pretends then!” Martha continued to shriek from the side, her eyes fierce, as if she wanted to devour me. I felt increasing pain all over my body, and my consciousness began to blur. My vision swam with black spots, but I still desperately protected my belly, refusing to let go. Then, a sudden, immense force kicked my abdomen. I screamed. I saw bright red blood instantly gush out from below, quickly staining the floor, a shocking sight. If Liam was really dead, how could I be pregnant with his child?! The thought spun in my mind, a vortex of endless despair, threatening to shatter my sanity. Until a loud *bang*. A familiar voice suddenly echoed from the doorway! “Stop!”

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But she already had a boyfriend she deeply loved. So, on the day Damian came to claim her, she knocked me out – me, with a face identical to hers – and sent me to him. Then, she and her boyfriend disappeared abroad without a trace. I was forced to marry Damian, never giving him a kind look. He, in turn, only treated me as a stand-in, offering a sweet word when pleased, a harsh slap when not. Ten years later, Chloe suddenly reappeared. She sought out Damian, claiming I had pushed her into a river, caused her amnesia, all to marry a rich man, thus making her miss ten years with him. Damian exploded in rage, immediately ordering me locked in the basement. Chloe, taking advantage of a visit, cruelly tightened an iron chain around my neck. “I’m sorry, little sister, but if you live, my lies will eventually be exposed!” She strangled me to death. As my last breath escaped, my eyes remained wide open, filled with bitter resentment. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe was first noticed by Damian. This time, I stepped forward. “Chloe, you go with your boyfriend. I’ll marry Damian in your place!” This time, the mob boss’s beloved *had* to be me!

“Mom, Dad, help me! I don’t want to marry Damian!” Chloe’s cries were so close, and suddenly, I snapped back, realizing I had been reborn. “Mom, Dad, Damian is a ruthless killer. They say he’s tortured so many women to death already!” “If I marry him, it’s a death sentence!” “Besides, I swore I’d only ever marry Liam. If I can’t be with Liam, I’d rather die!” Mom’s voice trembled with tears: “But we can’t afford to offend Damian, darling. If you don’t go, our whole family will be wiped out!” Dad wiped his eyes: “It’s my fault, I’m useless. I can’t protect my own daughter. At worst, let them beat me to death. If someone dies, surely they’ll think twice.” “Are you out of your mind? That’s Damian, the mob boss! What’s your life worth in his eyes?” Before Chloe could speak, I stepped forward. “Chloe, you go with your boyfriend. I’ll marry Damian in your place!” Everyone in the family stared at me in shock, especially Chloe. Her eyes nearly popped out. “Chloe and I are twins, we look exactly alike. If I marry him instead, Damian won’t ever know.” Mom hesitated: “It’s good that you’re willing to go for your sister, but Damian is so sharp. Can we really hide it from him forever?” “What if he finds out one day? Will he go easy on us?” Dad made up his mind: “Chloe, maybe you should leave. I’ll give you the fifty thousand dollars I’ve saved over the years. You and Liam can go to Australia. Damian’s reach shouldn’t extend that far.” Mom and Dad showed no concern about me marrying into Damian’s family. Their eyes were solely on their precious eldest daughter. As for me, their younger daughter, I was always expendable. Chloe lowered her head, thinking for a long time: “Mom, Dad, why don’t we just hold a funeral for Ava? Say she slipped and drowned in the river. That way, our family suddenly losing someone won’t seem so abrupt.” After discussing it, they immediately packed my things and put me into the car sent by the Damian family. In my previous life, I woke up in that car, terrified, and harbored hostility towards Damian after marrying him. Our ten-year marriage was a marriage of pure resentment. Honestly, outside of the rumors, Damian was handsome, charismatic, wealthy, powerful, and fiercely protective of his own. Marrying him, I had certainly landed a powerful protector and provider. The first thing Damian said when he saw me was: “I have only one requirement for you: obedience.”

I immediately grabbed his hand: “Darling, don’t worry. I’ll be absolutely obedient. If you tell me to go east, I’ll never go west!” Damian paused, then gestured for his assistant. “Get everything ready for my wife. As my wife, she shouldn’t look so… modest.” And just like that, I was showered with high-end luxury goods. Even diamond watches filled an entire cabinet. During the day, Damian handled business, and I stayed home, cooking him delicious meals, always trying new recipes. From three meals a day to after-dinner desserts, I did everything myself. In the evenings, I transformed into a tender kitten, making sure Damian was completely comfortable and happy. Gradually, Damian’s demeanor towards me became less formal. He even started taking me to public events. One day, Mom called me home, claiming Dad was gravely ill. As soon as I entered the house, I saw Dad sprawled on the couch, picking his teeth. In front of him was a large pork knuckle, gnawed clean. “Dad, you’re not sick?” “If I hadn’t made your mother use that excuse, would you have come back?!” Mom sharply poked my temple with her finger: “You ungrateful daughter! You’re living the good life at Damian’s, completely abandoning your parents, aren’t you?!” “Mom, I remember the day I married into Damian’s family, you sent me a message saying that from then on, whether my life was good or bad, it had nothing to do with the Jiang family. And that I shouldn’t contact you again, dead or alive.” “Those were your words, weren’t they? I still have that message.” Mom glared at me: “You heartless child! Your parents did that to avoid dragging you down!” “Now you’re enjoying the good life, so you’re abandoning your family, is that it?!” “Didn’t Damian give you money? From what I know, he sends you a generous monthly allowance. And this big villa, wasn’t that bought by Damian for you? Is all this not enough? What else do you want?” Mom’s anger intensified: “Have you forgotten you have an older sister?!” “Mom, careful what you say. An older sister? I don’t have one. My only sister drowned, remember?” “Don’t play dumb with me, this is our house! I’ll tell you straight: give your sister a hundred million, and we’ll never bother you again.” “A hundred million? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?!” Dad got agitated and yelled at me: “Damian’s assets are worth hundreds of billions! We’re only asking for a hundred million! If you can’t even come up with that, then you shouldn’t be Damian’s wife!” I scoffed: “No money. And whether or not I’m Damian’s wife isn’t something you get to decide!” We parted on bad terms. A month later, Mom called again. “Ava, darling, Mom was thoughtless before, and I apologize. Are you free this weekend? Mom will cook some dishes, come home for dinner.” In the two years I had been married to Damian, this was the first time Mom had invited me home for dinner. Before I could reply, Mom started crying. “Ava, Mom is getting old. Your dad and I aren’t in good health. Every time we see each other, it’s one less time.” My heart softened in the end: “Okay, I’ll be back this weekend.” When I went home that weekend, Mom was incredibly warm towards me. She pulled me into the house. The dinner table was already set, filled with all my favorite dishes. Just as I sat down at the table, someone emerged from the bedroom. “Chloe? You’re back?” Seeing Chloe’s face, my heart began to pound. By rights, Chloe shouldn’t have returned for another eight years.

“Long time no see, little sister.” She sat beside me, sizing me up. “That outfit must be tens of thousands, huh.” She glanced at the bracelet on my wrist: “That’s probably over ten thousand too. Damian really splurges on you, doesn’t he?” She sighed again: “You’ve got it good, you don’t know how much your sister suffered these past two years abroad.” “Chloe, didn’t you say back then that as long as you could be with Liam, you’d be willing to be a beggar?” “What Liam? You don’t have a Liam!” “Let me be clear: I’m back to reclaim my identity. From now on, you go back to being yourself, you’re Ava, and I am Chloe.” “After dinner, you’ll take off these clothes and jewelry and give them to me. I’ll go back to Damian’s in your place. We’re switching back.” Chloe’s shamelessness made me laugh, bitterly. “Chloe, you’re really good at taking advantage. What makes you think that after two years of desperately trying to please Damian and finally establishing myself in his house, I would just hand it all over to you?” Chloe slammed her hand on the table: “Damian was supposed to marry *me* back then! You’ve taken my place for all these years, and you think you can just keep it?!” “You were the one who refused to marry him, almost dragging our whole family down with you! I sacrificed myself to take your place; you should be grateful to me!” “And my ability to win Damian’s favor and become the lady of the house? That’s my capability! Do you think you can just come back now and completely replace me?!” Chloe shot up from her chair, yelling at me: “You’re out of line! I’ve already been more than fair letting you enjoy my identity and good fortune at Damian’s for two years!” “If you don’t switch back with me, do you believe I’ll go straight to Damian and expose you?!” “I’ll tell him you were jealous of me and pushed me into the river, causing my amnesia! Then not only will you have to give my identity back, but you’ll also face the consequences of deceiving Damian. Let’s see how you die then!” I stood up calmly: “Fine, go ahead and tell him. We can all die together, for all I care.” “I recorded your conversation from back then, demanding I take your place. We can play it for Damian together. If we’re going to die, we’ll die together. The whole family, nice and neat.” Mom suddenly rushed over and slapped me. “Today, you *must* switch back with your sister, or I’ll kill myself right here!” I covered my face, tears streaming down. “Mom, before I saw Chloe, I truly believed you and Dad cared about me.” “But now it seems you only have one daughter in your eyes, and that’s Chloe.” “I won’t switch back with her. You can forget that ever happening!” I turned to leave, wanting to get out of this mess as quickly as possible. But as soon as I took a step, a heavy blow landed on the back of my head. I immediately collapsed into a pool of blood. The pain at the back of my head made me tremble uncontrollably. I could even feel the blood gushing out. Chloe held the ceramic bear figurine she had used to hit me – a birthday gift I’d given her. Mom was terrified: “Chloe, you hit her too hard! You didn’t kill her, did you?!” Chloe saw I was still conscious and let out a sigh of relief. “She’s still alive, isn’t she?” She squatted down and patted my face: “Ava, it’s your fault for not listening. If you had just obediently switched back with me, none of this would have happened.” I started to feel dizzy, but I bit down hard, forcing myself to stay conscious.

Chloe was still absorbed in her own world: “To look exactly like you, I specifically lost twenty pounds and got the same hairstyle.” “Once I put on your clothes, even Mom and Dad won’t be able to tell us apart, let alone Damian.” “From now on, you’ll be a good little Ava, or don’t blame your sister for being heartless.” Mom and Dad were starting to strip my clothes off when there was a sudden knock at the door. The whole family tensed up instantly. Chloe asked: “Who is it?” “It’s me.” It was Damian! I was about to shout when Dad clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the room. “Chloe, why aren’t you opening the door yet?” Seeing this, Mom quickly pulled the rug over the bloodstain on the floor. Only then did Chloe open the door: “Why are you here?” “I was in the area, so I thought I’d pick you up.” Damian frowned, looking at Chloe: “You weren’t wearing those clothes when you came.” “I got my clothes dirty earlier, so I just changed into an old outfit.” “Perfect timing for you to pick me up. Let’s go.” From the bedroom, I could clearly hear their conversation. If Chloe left like this, I would certainly repeat the tragedy of my past life. Chloe wouldn’t let me live, because only dead people keep secrets. Dad glared at me fiercely, mouthing words for me to stay silent. I nodded obediently, but my left hand had already found the leg of a chair. Then, I pulled with all my might, tipping the chair over, which landed with a loud *thump*. Dad was furious. He grabbed my hair and slapped my face hard. “What was that sound?” Damian stopped, turning to look towards the bedroom. Chloe immediately blocked his path: “It’s nothing. Maybe the cat knocked over a chair.” Damian quickly walked to the bedroom door. He bent down and picked up something crimson from the floor. “This is blood.” He tried the doorknob and found it locked. “That blood? It’s probably just the cat in heat. It’s so messy, I’ll take you to wash your hands.” Chloe said, trying to pull Damian away. “Open the door.” “My dad’s drunk and sleeping in there. We really shouldn’t disturb him.” I took advantage of Dad’s momentary distraction, slipped off my bracelet, and threw it hard against the door. *Clang!* Damian’s brow furrowed even deeper. He stepped back, then kicked the door open with a single powerful blow. And then he saw me, covered in blood, with Dad pinning me down and whipping me with his belt. Damian froze. The entire family froze. Mom quickly stepped forward: “Son-in-law, this is Ava, Chloe’s twin sister.” “Ava? Isn’t she dead?” “She just went missing after falling into the river. We all thought she was dead, but someone saved her. She had amnesia, and only recently recovered her memories and found her way back.” “Then why is she wearing Chloe’s clothes?” Chloe stood in front of Damian: “Well, my sister has always been very envious of me being married to you. So she wanted to experience what it was like to be me. I just lent her my clothes and jewelry to try on.” “And her injuries, and all this blood on the floor? What about that?” “It was Ava. She insisted on playing a ‘switch identities’ game with me. She said she was so envious of my life and wanted to be Mrs. Damian for a few days.” “Of course, I couldn’t agree. Then she just started throwing a fit, and Dad accidentally pushed her, and she fell and hit her head.” Chloe put on a pitiful expression: “We didn’t want you to see such a spectacle, so we just had to lock her in the room.” I desperately shook my head at Damian, struggling to force out a single word: “No!” Chloe blocked me with her body: “Sister, I know you’ve had a hard life away from home these past two years, but that’s no reason for you to be so unreasonable.” “Mom, Dad, my sister’s badly hurt. Hurry and take her to the hospital.” Dad immediately hoisted me up. As I passed by Damian, a burn scar on my arm was exposed. It was a burn I’d gotten accidentally while cooking for Damian. That scar had, at the time, brought us closer. Damian grabbed my arm. “Wait!”

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Four months pregnant, and my husband, Liam, a renowned OB-GYN, was with me to pick up my prenatal test results. The smile on his lips vanished the moment his eyes landed on the report, his face freezing in horror as he seized my hand, intent on forcing me into an abortion. I stood there, stunned. Just moments ago, Dr. Miller, the attending physician, had clearly stated that the baby was perfectly healthy! I pulled my hand free, confronting him. “Why an abortion?!” He didn’t answer, but I could see he was already booking the procedure. When I tried to run, he clamped down on my arm, his grip like steel. “This child absolutely cannot stay!” Clutching my stomach, I quickly called my parents, both also OB-GYNs. My father, who had always adored me, raised his fist, ready to strike my belly. Mom’s face was a mask of terror, as she shook her head frantically. “No, this won’t do.” “Find a few men, and lock them in a room with Aria.” I couldn’t understand why they wanted to get rid of my baby like this. I tried to escape. But they still managed to drag me into a dark, secluded room and lock me inside. As the bleeding started, I knew my baby was gone. Mom came to pick me up, smiling. I frantically demanded to know why they had done this to me. She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned around and admitted me to a mental institution. I was tortured to death in that hospital. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day we were supposed to pick up the prenatal test results.

Liam looked at me, his face beaming with joy. “Sweetheart, this is our first child. I can’t wait for the day they’re born.” “Come on, love, let’s go. The hospital will get crowded soon.” Hearing Liam’s urging, I snapped back to reality. It was only when my hand brushed against my slightly rounded belly that I knew for sure: I had been reborn. And I had returned to this exact day—the day we were going to the hospital for my prenatal test results. In my previous life, ever since I got pregnant, Liam had been incredibly careful, looking after my body. He bought a new baby item every single day and even chose hundreds of names. The hospital where I had my check-ups was his workplace, yet he would still take time off specifically to accompany me. Liam’s anticipation and affection for our baby were undeniable. Four months into my pregnancy, we went for our usual check-up. After Dr. Miller confirmed the baby was healthy and ruled out Down syndrome, Liam, being an OB-GYN himself, glanced at the report. But his smile suddenly froze, replaced by a look of sheer terror. Without a word, he grabbed my hand, intent on booking an abortion procedure. I stood there, stunned, and yanked my hand away. “Liam, the baby’s fine, isn’t it? Why would we terminate?” But Liam didn’t answer me. He continued to tap away on his phone, navigating the abortion appointment process. I tried to snatch his phone away. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes bloodshot, as he roared at me, “Aria, this child absolutely cannot stay!” His actions terrified me. My heart pounded against my ribs, threatening to burst out, and my legs felt weak beneath me. While Liam was busy arranging the procedure, I quickly messaged my parents, who were also OB-GYNs. Mom and Dad arrived quickly. Seeing them, Liam didn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, a faint smile played on his lips. I shrank back, seeking refuge in Mom’s arms. Dad immediately punched Liam in the face. “The baby’s perfectly healthy! Why are you trying to abort it?” Liam said nothing, simply handed the prenatal report to Dad. The moment Dad saw the report, the anger on his face turned into terror. His eyes widened, and his hands trembled as he held the paper. He raised his fist, about to strike my stomach. Luckily, Mom stepped in front of me. The punch landed on Mom instead, and she yelled, “Are you out of your mind?!” “Aria’s carrying your grandchild!” Dad sneered, then handed the prenatal report to Mom. Mom, who had been protecting me moments before, went pale as if she’d seen a ghost. She pushed me out of her embrace, shaking her head frantically. “No… no, this won’t do.” By now, I sensed something was terribly wrong with that report. I quickly asked Mom, “Mom, what’s going on? What’s wrong with my baby?” But Mom ignored me, still lost in her own panic. “This won’t work!” She grabbed Dad’s hand. “It’s too obvious here at the hospital. I have an idea.” “Find a few men, and lock them in a room with Aria.” I stood frozen, my entire body numb. I couldn’t understand why they all changed so drastically after seeing that one prenatal report. What was the truth? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me? Seeing Mom and Dad preparing to take me away, I turned and ran. But Dad caught me with a swift move, pulling me back. I cried, begging them to let me go, to at least tell me the truth. But they forcibly shoved me into the car and gagged me. 2. Moreover, they locked me in a dark, secluded room with five naked men! I was so terrified I nearly collapsed, frantically pounding on the door, begging them to let me out. But outside, there wasn’t a sound. The men dragged me to the floor. The moment I resisted, they hit me. My baby, just a pool of blood, dried on the floor. A week later, Mom, Dad, and Liam came to pick me up. Mom smiled at me. “Aria, we’re going home.” I sneered, unable to comprehend how she could pretend nothing had happened. I raged, questioning, “Why? Why did you do this to me?!” Mom’s face instantly went cold. Dad slapped me across the face. “You ungrateful slut!” I was stunned. Then, Mom’s gaze turned chillingly dark, piercing right through me. “Aria’s confused. Take her to a mental institution.” From the moment I was forcibly admitted, Liam arranged for someone to torture me every single day. My husband, who once adored me, now practically wished me dead. Three months later, I was tortured until my last breath. But even at the moment of death, I still didn’t understand why they all wanted me dead after seeing that prenatal report. The fear from my previous life flooded my mind, my hand instinctively caressing my slightly warm lower abdomen. I took a deep breath. This time, I was determined to find out exactly what happened! Upon arriving at the hospital, I made sure to get the prenatal report first. Even after Dr. Miller confirmed the baby was healthy, I immediately took the report from her. I thought, as long as Liam didn’t see the report, nothing bad would happen. But to my surprise, as soon as I stepped out of Dr. Miller’s office, Liam asked for the report, just like in my previous life. My heart skipped a beat, but I forced a smile and asked, “Why do you want my report?” Liam smiled back. “I’m the baby’s father, and an OB-GYN. Isn’t it normal for me to look at it?” “Dr. Miller, your colleague, just confirmed that both the baby and I are perfectly healthy. Don’t you trust her professional judgment?” “No, it’s not that. I just want to understand the situation so I can take better care of you.” But I deliberately put the report into my bag right in front of him. “Well, I’m not letting you see it today.” Liam probably thought I was just being playfully stubborn, so he went along with it. “Alright, if you don’t want me to see it, fine. As long as you’re healthy.” I smiled and hugged his arm. “I’m just going to the restroom. We’ll head home when I get back.” I grabbed my bag and headed for the bathroom. I had indeed scanned the prenatal report earlier, but because I was so quick, I hadn’t noticed anything unusual. I decided to take a good look in the restroom, to figure out what was so wrong that it made them all change completely. But the moment I reached the restroom, my heart pounded: the prenatal report was gone! I rushed out, and from a distance, I saw Liam, his face pale. The prenatal report that should have been in my bag was now in his hand! Liam saw me and strode quickly towards me. My first instinct was to run, but he still managed to grab my arm. His eyes were bloodshot, staring intensely at me. “Aria, this child can’t stay. We’re getting an abortion right now!” In my previous life, I died without ever understanding why my usually gentle husband turned into a completely different person after seeing that report! The cruelty in Liam’s eyes was something I had never witnessed before. My body trembled, but because this wasn’t my first time experiencing it, I quickly screamed, “Help! Someone’s trying to get rid of my baby!” Hospitals are usually bustling, and my cry instantly drew a crowd. Liam seemed shocked by my outburst. But then, I sank to my knees, right in front of him. “Liam, Dr. Miller clearly said this baby is healthy. Why are you forcing me to get an abortion?” Liam gritted his teeth, hissing, “You slut, shut up!” He tried to drag me away, but onlookers had already stepped in. A man forcibly pulled him away from me. “What do you think you’re doing?!” “Oh my God, trying to abort a healthy baby? Don’t want to raise it?” “If you didn’t want a child, why didn’t you think about that when you were having fun?” “Forcing a pregnant woman to abort is illegal! Call the police!” Liam’s breathing was ragged, his jaw clenched, glaring fiercely at me. But amidst the crowd, there was nothing he could do. To my shock, he suddenly smiled at me, then turned and called my parents. 3. Mom and Dad arrived to find Liam and me surrounded by a crowd. They didn’t need to ask; it was clear something had happened. Mom protectively pulled me into her embrace, but the moment she touched me, I shivered. The kind strangers explained what had just happened to my parents. Dad raised his hand, ready to slap Liam. But before his palm could land, Liam held up the prenatal report. “Dad, don’t look!” I tried to rush forward and snatch the report away. But Dad was faster, taking it and glancing at it. Instantly, his eyes flickered. I hesitantly called out, “Dad?” When he looked at me again, Dad’s eyes were bloodshot. His raised hand came down, without hesitation, across my face. “You animal! Liam telling you to abort was for your own good!” I was completely crushed. But I gritted my teeth, trying to reason, “But Dr. Miller already said the baby in my belly is perfectly healthy!” “I’m an OB-GYN too! How dare you argue with me?!” Seeing Dad about to punch my stomach, Mom quickly rushed over, shielding me. “Are you insane? Your daughter is pregnant!” Mom yelled at Dad. But Dad wasn’t angry; he just sneered. “You pity her? This slut doesn’t deserve to be our daughter! She doesn’t even deserve to be our child!” After Dad said that, everyone around us was shocked. They started pointing fingers at Dad, criticizing how a father could speak to his daughter like that. Mom was gasping for air, but she knew Dad was usually gentle. There had to be something terribly wrong with that prenatal report. “Let me see that prenatal report!” I quickly stepped forward to stop Mom, my eyes pleading with her. “Mom, Dr. Miller already said the baby is healthy, please don’t look, okay?” “Mom, if you don’t believe me, you can go ask that doctor.” I knew that if Mom saw the report, she would disown me instantly, just like them. Mom hugged me, trying to soothe me. “Don’t worry, it must be a mistake by your father and Liam, those incompetent doctors.” “Your mom used to be the head of Obstetrics and Gynecology. Trust my expertise.” I shook my head frantically. “No, Mom, please don’t. You don’t have to look. I believe you, just please don’t look.” But the more I tried to stop her, the more curious Mom became about what was on that report. Seeing that Mom insisted on looking, I suddenly dropped to my knees. “Mom, if you look at that report, you’ll stop loving me instantly, just like them.” “No, Aria, I’ve been working for years; I’ve seen all kinds of reports. And even if the baby isn’t Liam’s, I’ll still stand by you without hesitation. You’re the person I love most in this world.” Her gaze was gentle, urging me to trust her. Ultimately, I couldn’t stop Mom. The moment she saw the prenatal report, that gentleness vanished, and a sinister glint flashed in her eyes. It made me tremble all over. Mom’s face turned pale, and she gave me a bitter smile. She wasn’t as overtly emotional as Dad and Liam. And that, paradoxically, made her even more terrifying. Her voice was icy. “It’s nothing, Aria. The baby is fine. Get up, let’s go home.” Mom said everything was fine, but the hand she reached out to me was trembling uncontrollably. She was clearly suppressing her emotions. “No, I’m not going home.” I quickly stood up and retreated further into the crowd. Mom frowned, her expression turning menacing. “Aria, what are you doing? You’re pregnant; what if something happens to you out here?” 4. Seeing Mom and Dad about to grab me, I quickly clutched onto two passersby, kneeling and begging them. “Please, save me! I can’t go back with them, they’ll make me lose my baby!” The passersby hesitated. Though I was pregnant, I clearly seemed emotionally unstable. And they were my family, so the strangers weren’t sure how to intervene. Fortunately, someone finally stepped forward to speak up for me. “She’s pregnant, after all, and clearly emotional right now. You shouldn’t force her.” “Exactly, what if you hurt the baby?” But Mom and Dad seemed deaf to their words, their faces distorted as they advanced on me. “Aria, do you have a persecution complex?” “Come home with us now, stop disrupting the hospital’s order!” Mom and Dad forcibly grabbed me. The kind strangers tried to block them. “You’re in a hospital right now. She’s a pregnant woman, she’s distressed. She should see a doctor to check if the baby’s affected.” “We’re OB-GYNs! Does she still need to see a doctor?!” Dad roared at the man. The kind strangers hesitated. Liam took the opportunity to yank me out of the crowd, dragging me mercilessly across the floor. Even the most well-meaning bystanders didn’t dare to physically fight my family. But just then, a hand blocked Liam’s path. “Who told you to drag a pregnant woman like that?!” A police officer barked, and Liam finally let go. Mom and Dad quickly said, “Officer, this pregnant woman is our daughter. She has some mental issues, we’re just taking her home.” The officer looked at me suspiciously. I quickly denied it. “No, they want to kill my healthy baby!” The three behind me froze, but a triumphant smirk appeared on their faces. I continued, “If you don’t believe me, you can check the hospital’s surveillance footage. They really all want to kill my baby.” The officer had the hospital staff pull up the footage. After watching it, a female officer shielded me behind her. She questioned them, “Why are you trying to terminate this healthy pregnancy?!” Mom and Dad sneered. Liam just looked at me coldly. “Forcing a pregnant woman to abort is against the law!” Liam remained unfazed. I grabbed the officer’s hand. “Let me see my prenatal report.” Every one of them had changed after seeing that report. I believed the truth had to be on it. At the officer’s request, Liam reluctantly handed over the prenatal report. But when I saw the report again, I finally understood why this child had to be terminated.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299259”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #玄幻Fantasy

Everyone thought I was dead. A perfectly timed car crash, a funeral live-streamed across every platform. My supposed best friend, Serena Thorne, stood before my memorial photo, wearing my favorite black dress, her face streaming with tears. She choked out that she would carry on my legacy, completing the screenplay we had co-written. Flashbulbs, like a galaxy of stars, twinkled for her from the audience. Later, that screenplay won an Oscar for Best Screenplay. She became a celebrated genius writer, showered with fame and fortune. She moved into my house, drove my car, and even my usually aloof cat seemed to adore her. She had stolen almost everything from me. Almost. I stood in a quiet corner of the funeral, masked, watching the grand spectacle with a cold gaze. I wasn’t dead. I just wanted to see how ugly a person’s greed could become when unbound. Now, the performance was over. It was time for the “dead woman” to make her entrance. At my memorial service, Serena cried so hard she nearly fainted. She wore the custom-made black velvet gown I’d designed, its hem trailing on the floor like a dark, blooming rose. I hadn’t even had the chance to wear it once. “Ava, how could you just leave like this…?” She clung to my memorial photo, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Her voice, amplified by the microphone, filled the hall, broken and heart-wrenching. Cameras zoomed in on her face. Every angle, every tear perfectly timed. You’d think *her* mother had died, not me. I stood in the least conspicuous corner, hidden behind a baseball cap and a mask, watching her perfectly made-up, sorrowful face on the big screen. I almost burst out laughing. A entertainment reporter, Maya, whispered to her colleague, Chloe: “Serena is truly devoted. Ava Hayes was lucky to have a friend like her.” Chloe sighed, “Absolutely. I heard Serena painstakingly organized every word of Ava’s posthumous screenplay. She’s even going to star in it herself, to fulfill her best friend’s last wish. It’s incredibly touching.” As I listened, I pulled a mint from my pocket, peeled back the wrapper, and popped it into my mouth. The cool sweetness melted on my tongue. Touching? I thought it was pretty “touching” too. Using my life, my script, to secure her fame, fortune, and a stellar performance of grief? What a profitable deal for her. The somber music continued to play in the hall, and guests wore expressions of profound sorrow. My agent, the company CEO, directors I’d worked with. Even a few so-called “friends” from the industry took turns giving eulogies. Each one echoed the same sentiments of regret and remembrance. I was almost falling asleep. Until Julian Maxwell stepped up to the podium. The room suddenly fell silent. He was the industry’s top investor, and the biggest financier behind my “posthumous work.” A man who rarely appeared even for high-profile business interviews was here in person today. He didn’t use notes, just stood there. His dark suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long, lean frame, a towering presence. His gaze swept across the room, finally resting on my enormous black and white memorial photo. “Ava Hayes was a genius.” He spoke, his voice deep. It resonated through the speakers with a compelling authority. “Her passing is a loss for the entire industry.” He didn’t say much else, just those two sentences, then bowed slightly to my photo. Serena immediately rushed to meet him, her eyes red as she looked up, a picture of utter vulnerability and dependence. “Mr. Maxwell, thank you for coming. Ava, wherever she is, would certainly be grateful.” Julian’s gaze skimmed over her, utterly devoid of emotion. “How are the preparations for the script coming along?” “You needn’t worry,” Serena immediately assured him, “I will certainly fulfill Ava’s last wish and make ‘The Cage’ a masterpiece.” Julian nodded, said nothing more, and turned to step down from the stage. He passed the corner where I stood. For a fleeting second, as he walked by, his footsteps faltered, and his gaze seemed to drift towards me. My heart pounded, and I pulled the brim of my cap lower. He couldn’t have recognized me. My current appearance was starkly different from my public image. Short hair, thick-rimmed glasses, a faded tracksuit. And a few strategically placed freckles. Not just him, even my own mother would probably hesitate. He paused for only a second before continuing on his way, long strides eating up the distance. I exhaled slowly. The most poignant part of the service was over; what remained were just formalities. I wasn’t interested in staying any longer and turned to slip away. Just as I reached the exit, I heard Serena’s voice behind me. “Miss, please wait.” My steps faltered, but I didn’t turn around. A hand rested on my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a friend of Ava’s?” Her voice, just behind me, was perfectly modulated—a touch hoarse and polite. I slowly turned. When she saw my face, a flicker of something almost imperceptible—disappointment—crossed her eyes. As if she was surprised by how ordinary I looked. “No, I’m not,” I mumbled, my voice deliberately muffled, “I’m just a fan of hers, came to pay my respects.” “Oh, I see,” Serena instantly adopted an emotional expression, gripping my hand. “Thank you. Ava would be so happy to know she had fans like you.” Her hand was cold, her nails adorned with sparkling rhinestones. “She was a great actress,” I said. “Yes,” Serena sighed, tears welling up again. “She always said her biggest dream was to win the Golden Lion for Best Screenplay, but… it’s okay. I’ll fulfill it for her.” As she spoke, she squeezed my hand, as if trying to convey some profound connection. A truly stellar performance. Well, she did learn from the best – me. I pulled my hand away, nodded at her, and walked out. Another second, and I swear I would have ripped her hair extensions right out. Stepping out of the funeral home, the sunlight stung my eyes. I hailed a taxi and gave an address. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror: “Heading to the cemetery, miss?” “Yes.” “Isn’t that where the big star Ava Hayes’ memorial was held today? It’s all over the internet.” “It is.” “What a shame, so young.” The taxi driver was quite chatty. “I heard her best friend, Serena, is going to finish her legacy project. What a good person.” I leaned against the window, watching the city blur by. “Yes,” I echoed. “Quite the… wonderful person.”

I didn’t go home. That “home” was now Serena’s. I rented a small apartment in the suburbs, old but clean. My landlady, a woman in her fifties, didn’t follow celebrity news and had no idea who I was. My new identity was Lynn Miller, a freelance writer. Back in the apartment, the first thing I did was open my laptop. Out of the top ten trending topics on social media, five were about Serena and me. * Serena Vows to Honor Ava’s Legacy Project * Ava Hayes Memorial Service * Julian Maxwell Makes Surprise Appearance at Ava Hayes Memorial * Serena and Ava: A Heartfelt Friendship * #PitySerena I clicked on the #PitySerena hashtag. The comments section was flooded with her fans and an army of paid trolls. “Don’t cry, Serena! You have to live well for Ava!” “OMG, what an epic friendship, I’m ugly-crying right now!” “Am I the only one who noticed the way Mr. Maxwell looked at Serena? I’m sensing some serious chemistry.” “Hold up, no baseless rumors! Our Serena is focused on her career and honoring Ava’s memory. Don’t spread false gossip!” I scrolled through the comments, eating an entire bucket of instant noodles, my face devoid of emotion. My stomach burned, a sensation far more potent than any chili ever could be. My phone vibrated. It was a message from my private detective. [That Serena woman moved the last few things out of your house today, including your Ragdoll cat, Mochi.] Attached was a photo of Serena, holding Mochi, smiling gently at the camera. The background was my familiar living room. Below the photo, there was a video clip. In the video, Serena shoved Mochi into a cat carrier. Her assistant, Jessica, asked, “Serena, are you really taking the cat? Aren’t you allergic to cat fur?” Serena waved her hand dismissively. “Allergic or not, I have to take it. Ava’s fans all know how much she doted on this cat. If I don’t take it, how will I maintain my ‘devoted friend’ image? Just a few days on allergy meds, it’ll be fine.” I closed the video and tossed my phone aside. Mochi was a rescue cat I’d adopted, severely injured and almost dead. I’d nursed her back to health, feeding her spoonful by spoonful. She was only affectionate with me. Serena was severely allergic to cat fur; even a touch would bring out a rash. She was willing to endure that for an image. She truly was ruthless. I stood up and walked to the window. Outside, apartment buildings stretched endlessly, a sea of twinkling lights, none of them mine. On the day of the crash, I was driving home from my studio. A large truck suddenly swerved into my lane from the side. I instinctively swerved the steering wheel hard to the right. My car hit the guardrail and flipped over. Before losing consciousness, I saw the truck driver jump out and glance in my direction. Then he ran off without looking back. His eyes held no panic, only the cold satisfaction of a completed mission. When I woke up, I was in a remote private clinic. My rescuer was my college mentor, now a doctor at this clinic. He said I was brought in covered in blood, with no identification. Meanwhile, the news was already plastered everywhere, screaming “Award-Winning Actress Ava Hayes Dies in Car Crash.” The police announced that the “victim” was a woman roughly my height, but whose face was tragically mangled. Where did this poor body double come from? I didn’t need to think to know whose doing it was. Serena. She probably thought I was a goner, so she decided to finish the job, making sure I was “dead” beyond any doubt. That way, no one could ever compete with her for that screenplay. The script I’d poured three years into, the one destined for the Golden Lion Award: ‘The Cage’. I sneered. Did she really think that if I died, all those things would become hers? Naive. I opened my laptop and logged into an encrypted email account. There was one unread email, one I’d scheduled to send to myself a few minutes before my “car crash.” The email contained only one attachment. It was the complete screenplay of ‘The Cage’, from the first draft to the final version. Every revision record, my creative process, photos of my handwritten notes, everything was there. The file’s timestamp was the best evidence. I backed up the file again, saving it to an even more secure hard drive. Serena, you want my things? Fine. I’ll give them to you. I’ll even be the one to lift you up, place you in the brightest spotlight, and let you bask in everyone’s praise and adoration. And then… I’ll let you experience what it’s like to fall from the highest pedestal, straight into the dirt. The real show was just beginning.

For the next month, I didn’t leave my apartment. Every day, I watched the news, observing Serena’s meticulous steps as she claimed ‘The Cage’ as her own. She gave a deeply intimate interview on the country’s most prestigious talk show. On the program, she tearfully recounted her “creative journey” with me. “This screenplay, it was truly something Ava and I conceived together. Many late nights, we’d be curled up on the sofa, snacking and chatting. I’d throw out an idea, she’d expand on it, then I’d build on that… Now, she’s gone, and I’m left to raise our shared child alone.” The host, visibly moved, offered her a tissue. “What was the hardest part of the creative process for you?” “The loneliness,” Serena dabbed at her eyes. “Before, when I hit a wall, I could just turn and see her. Now, I can only hold her photo and imagine her still beside me.” After that episode aired, Serena’s social media followers skyrocketed by five million. She became synonymous with “talent, beauty, and profound devotion.” The production team for ‘The Cage’ was officially established. The lead actress was Serena herself. The director was Director Thompson, renowned in the industry for his commercial blockbusters. Everything proceeded smoothly. I watched Serena’s triumphant smile on my laptop screen during the kick-off ceremony, then closed the browser. The time was right. I made a phone call. It rang for a long time before someone picked up. “Hello? Who’s this?” A young, wary male voice answered. “Is this Director Liam Reed?” I asked. “Who are you? Why are you calling my private number?” His voice was impatient. “I have a screenplay here I’d like you to take a look at.” “A screenplay?” He scoffed. “I’m busy right now. Don’t bother me.” He sounded like he was about to hang up. “A screenplay about plagiarism and betrayal.” I said slowly. “The protagonist is an unknown young director whose idea is stolen by a popular actress, and he’s then blacklisted by the entire industry. What do you think of that story?” The other end of the line went instantly silent. Several seconds passed before Liam’s voice returned, carrying a barely perceptible tremor. “Who are you?” Liam Reed. A truly talented emerging director. He had been Serena’s college classmate and had openly pursued her. A year ago, a short film he directed even picked up a minor international award. Upon returning home, Serena had approached him, expressing interest in collaboration. Liam, deeply touched, had unreservedly shared a screenplay concept he’d been developing for a long time. But Serena immediately took his concept and used it for a web series she was starring in. The web series became a massive hit. Serena’s career advanced significantly. When Liam confronted her, she slandered him, accusing him of riding her coattails. She then used her connections to ensure Liam couldn’t get any work in the industry. No one in the industry knew about these details. I had my private detective dig them up. Serena had climbed over too many bodies to reach the top, and she’d left too many fingerprints. “My identity isn’t important,” I said into the phone. “What *is* important is that I want to give you a chance to reclaim what’s rightfully yours.” We met in a secluded coffee shop. Liam looked far more haggard than his actual age. Heavy dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, and an expression filled with wariness and distrust. “How do you know all this?” He stared intently at me. I didn’t answer. Instead, I pushed a brown envelope across the table. “This is the original screenplay for ‘The Cage.’ Take a look.” He paused, then suspiciously opened the envelope and pulled out the script. After only a few pages, his expression shifted. From shock, to anger, then to disbelief. “This… this can’t be…” He looked up at me, his voice trembling. “I saw the synopsis Serena released, and it’s completely different in its details from this… This version… it’s far superior to hers!” “Because this is the original,” I said. “Written by Ava Hayes.” “Then Serena’s version is…” “What do you think?” I countered. Liam wasn’t stupid. He understood instantly. “She… she even dared to steal Ava Hayes’s work?!” “What wouldn’t she dare?” I said flatly. “Dead people can’t speak.” Liam’s breathing grew heavy. The script in his hands was clutched tightly. Betrayed by the person he trusted most, stripped of his most important creation. He understood that feeling better than anyone. “Why are you looking for me?” He asked, two sparks igniting in his eyes. “What do you want me to do?” “It’s simple.” I leaned slightly forward, looking into his eyes. “I want you to use this original screenplay to enter the ‘Emerging Talent Director Program’ hosted by the Maxwell Group.” Julian Maxwell’s company had recently launched a competition. Its purpose was to discover promising new directors and invest in their projects. This was Liam’s only chance. And the first step in my plan. “Using Ava’s screenplay?” Liam frowned. “What does that make me? A thief too?” “No,” I shook my head. “The copyright for this screenplay is legally mine.” I pulled another document from my bag and slid it across to him. It was a copyright transfer agreement, bearing Ava Hayes’s handwritten signature. Of course, it was forged. But it was convincing enough for others to believe it was real. The beneficiary line bore my new name. Lynn Miller. Liam stared at the contract, utterly stunned. “You… what’s your connection to Ava Hayes?” “An old acquaintance,” I gave him a vague answer. “You just need to decide whether to do it or not.” I stood up. “If you do, you’ll not only get a chance to create a great work but also personally bring Serena Thorne down. If you don’t, you’ll stay cooped up in your rented apartment, watching the person who stole your hard work bask in glory.” I placed the choice in his hands. But I knew how he would choose. For a genius pushed to the brink, nothing was more tempting than revenge.

Liam didn’t disappoint me. Three days later, he registered for the “Emerging Talent Director Program” with the original screenplay of ‘The Cage’. In the preliminary round, the judges only reviewed the screenplays. I knew better than anyone how undeniably strong that script was. It effortlessly stood out from hundreds of other projects, advancing to the semi-finals. This news quickly spread through the industry. An unknown young director entering a competition with a screenplay sharing the same name as popular actress Serena Thorne’s “posthumous work.” It was inherently sensational. Serena’s team reacted immediately. Her studio posted a statement on Ins. [Some clowns are always trying to ride coattails with clumsy, laughable tactics. We have already instructed our lawyers. We advise certain individuals to act wisely. @LiamReed] Attached was a photo of a legal letter. The implication was clear: Liam was a plagiarist. Serena’s fans swarmed Liam’s Ins account, tearing into him online, relentlessly slamming him. [Shameless! Exploiting the dead for clout?] [Do you know how hard our Serena worked to organize her best friend’s legacy project? And you plagiarize it?] [Get out of the directing world! Scumbag!] Liam’s Ins account was overwhelmed within a day. He called me, his voice trembling with suppressed rage and a hint of panic. “They… how can they spread such lies!” “You’ll get used to it,” My tone was calm. “This is just the appetizer.” “So, what do I do now? Should I respond?” “No,” I said. “You don’t have to do anything. Just focus on preparing for your semi-finals. I’ll handle the rest.” After hanging up, I logged into an old, rarely used social media burner account. I used this account to discreetly monitor competitors; it had few followers, and no one knew it was me. I drafted a post and published it. [Interesting. Whose screenplay is it really? One says it’s a best friend’s legacy, the other claims it’s their original work. One is already successful, the other is a newcomer. On the surface, it looks like the newcomer is just trying to ride someone else’s fame. But what if? What if the newcomer is telling the truth? Now *that* would be a story. Waiting for the results of the Maxwell Group competition. Money talks, right?] I didn’t mention any names, just posed a possibility. But the internet never lacked for drama-lovers and self-proclaimed online sleuths hungry for justice. My post was quickly picked up and shared by several gossip accounts and influencers. [Intriguing, whose script is this anyway?] [Chilling thought… if a celebrity really stole from a rookie, that’s seriously messed up.] [Ava Hayes is gone, so there’s no way to confirm anything. It’s all up to her ‘best friend’ now.] The tide of public opinion began to shift subtly. Of course, this level of public speculation wasn’t enough to shake Serena’s foundation. Her team’s PR was highly effective, quickly suppressing these “dissenting voices.” But it didn’t matter. I never expected to take her down with a few guesses alone. I just needed to muddy the waters. To draw everyone’s attention to the Maxwell Group competition. I wanted this showdown to play out on a completely public, authoritative stage. I wanted Serena to be utterly disgraced in front of the entire world. A week later, the semi-finals began. The format required directors to present their screenplays in person to the judges. And this time, there was an additional judge. Julian Maxwell. He was personally presiding over the judging panel. This instantly elevated the competition’s profile even further. I didn’t go to the venue. But I had people on the inside. Not long after Liam entered, I received a message. [Serena Thorne is here too, with her legal team.] I looked at the message on my phone, a faint smile playing on my lips. She’d come. The fish had taken the bait. She probably thought that by showing up, by adopting the stance of the original creator. And by having her lawyers pressure the Maxwell Group, that nobody, Liam, would be scared into withdrawing. Unfortunately, she miscalculated one thing. Julian Maxwell, of all people, absolutely detested being threatened. Another thirty minutes passed. My phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered. “Miss Miller?” A clear, cold male voice came from the other end. It was Julian Maxwell’s assistant. “That’s me.” “Mr. Maxwell would like to meet you. Now, in his office on the top floor of the Maxwell Tower.” What had to come, would come. Julian wasn’t foolish. With such a commotion, it was impossible he wouldn’t investigate. Given his resources, it was only a matter of time before he uncovered Lynn Miller’s identity and my connection to Liam. “Alright,” I replied calmly. “I’ll be there in half an hour.” After hanging up, I changed my clothes. A simple white blouse, a pair of jeans. I washed off the freckles and put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. It made me look sharper, more formidable. I was going to meet the biggest player in this game. I had to make him believe that the cards in my hand were stronger than Serena’s.

Maxwell Tower, top floor. Julian Maxwell’s office was as vast as a small soccer field. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of half the city’s nightscape. When I entered, he was on the phone, his back to me, standing by the window. His tall figure, silhouetted against the glittering city lights, seemed somewhat solitary. His assistant led me to the sofa area, poured me a glass of water, then quietly exited. I sat still, not looking at him or surveying the surroundings. About five minutes later, he finished his call. Footsteps approached, stopping in front of me. A faint scent of cedarwood wafted over. It was his signature cologne. He didn’t sit, just stood, looking down at me. His gaze was like an X-ray, trying to see right through me. “Miss Miller.” He spoke, his voice giving nothing away. “Mr. Maxwell.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. He was strikingly handsome, with a kind of aggressive good looks. Sharp brows, piercing eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin lips. They say men with thin lips are heartless. I never believed it before, but now I did. “The screenplay for ‘The Cage’ is in your possession.” He stated it as a fact. “Yes,” I nodded. “Ava Hayes gave it to you?” “You could say that.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if judging the truthfulness of my words. “What’s your relationship with her?” “Someone she trusted.” These were the same questions Liam had asked me. Julian was silent for a few seconds, then sat down on the single armchair opposite me. His legs crossed, his posture composed. But the more composed he was, the more I knew he wasn’t calm inside. “Serena Thorne was also here today,” he said. “She told me the script Liam Reed has was stolen, that it’s corporate espionage.” “Of course, she would say that,” I smiled faintly. “False accusations are her specialty.” “What evidence do you have to prove yours is the original version?” Julian stared at me, asking each word precisely. “Evidence?” I took a small USB drive from my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “Mr. Maxwell, perhaps you should take a look at this first.” He gestured, and the assistant immediately stepped forward. He took the USB drive and inserted it into Julian’s desktop computer. Soon, the projection screen on the wall lit up. Playing was a video. The scene was a warmly decorated study. Ava Hayes—or rather, *I*—was wearing comfortable loungewear, sitting at a desk. Manuscript paper and a laptop were spread out on the table. “…Regarding the male lead’s childhood trauma, I feel the previous setup was too simplistic. If we made him witness his mother being domestically abused as a child, wouldn’t it have more impact? That way, his later-life paranoia and insecurity would have a clear origin…” The video showed me talking to the camera. It was as if I was discussing the plot with someone, or perhaps just thinking aloud. This was a habit I had when writing. I would record my inspirations and ideas on video. It made it easier to review and organize later. This video was recorded when I was brainstorming the core concept of ‘The Cage.’ It detailed the male lead’s character backstory. This specific detail, in the “censored” version of the script Serena had released, was changed to a cliché “divorced parents, lack of love from childhood.” The difference in quality was instantly undeniable. The video was short, only a few minutes. After it finished, the office was utterly silent. Julian Maxwell’s face had gone beyond mere annoyance. He looked at the familiar face on the screen, his eyes swirling with complex emotions. “How much of this do you have?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse. “Enough to meticulously reconstruct the entire creative journey of the script,” I replied calmly. This was my trump card. I never go into battle unprepared. Serena thought she had stolen a printed manuscript. She didn’t know how many backups, how many records of the creative process, I had kept. Each piece of evidence was enough to drag her to hell. Julian leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a long while, he opened his eyes again and looked at me. “What do you want?” He was smart. He knew I hadn’t shown him these things to make him “seek justice” for Ava Hayes. I was here to negotiate. “I want the Maxwell Group to invest in Liam Reed,” I said. “Is that all?” “Of course not.” I smiled faintly. “I want the Maxwell Group to withdraw all investment from Serena Thorne’s version of ‘The Cage.’ And, Mr. Maxwell, I want you to personally attend the launch event for Liam Reed’s version of ‘The Cage.’” This was my true objective. I didn’t just want Serena’s project halted. I wanted Julian Maxwell, the man at the pinnacle of capital, to personally endorse my screenplay. I wanted everyone to know who the chosen one was. This was undoubtedly a direct slap in Serena’s face. And in the most brutal way possible. Julian looked at me, his eyes unfathomably deep. “Miss Miller,” He suddenly changed the subject. “The ring on your hand is very unique.” I instinctively glanced at my right hand. On my index finger, I wore a very plain silver ring. The design was simple, with a single letter engraved on the inside. A ‘Z’. *Zhao*. It was my own name. I had worn it for many years, almost never taking it off. My heart plummeted. He… recognized me?

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On our wedding day, Julian went live across all social media, delivering a passionate declaration: “Happy wedding day, my beloved wife.” The very next second, he brutally ripped off my veil, a wicked smirk on his face: “Happy divorce, Aurora.” The tears of joy I’d been shedding froze on my cheeks. The entire ballroom erupted in laughter. As I stared in horrified disbelief, he pulled his assistant, stunning in a slinky gown, into his arms. “If you hadn’t insisted on fighting her for that necklace a week ago, I wouldn’t be doing this to you. “When you finally apologize and she’s calmed down, *then* I’ll actually marry you.” But he forgot, that necklace was a family heirloom, left to me by my mother. The Vance family’s legacy. I became the internet’s biggest joke. Meanwhile, Julian and his assistant’s ‘couple’ went absolutely viral. It was three months later, after he’d finished globetrotting with his assistant, that he casually asked: “Has she apologized yet?” “Mr. Caldwell, Ms. Aurora… she got married.”

“Mr. Caldwell, he’s the one who didn’t want to marry me.” The study was dimly lit. Julian’s father sat at his desk, his face etched with worry. He sighed. “I truly believed, with how close our families have always been, that our children could also… “Never mind, never mind… “Matters of the heart truly aren’t something you can force.” He handed me the engagement agreement and a check, both clearly marked “VOID.” “You should leave. Fill in whatever number you want on the check.” I walked out. Leaving the check behind. Our families had been close for generations, arranging my engagement to Julian. Of course, it was also about status and mutual advantage. But truthfully, aside from Julian himself, the Caldwell family had never wronged me. And I wouldn’t take a single dime from Mr. Caldwell. Stepping out of the mansion, I looked at the blazing sun, vaguely recalling that my first meeting with Julian had also been on such a bright, sunny day. He was like a rose on a high cliff, formidable and unapproachable, and I fell for him at first sight. But he sized me up, then sneered: “You’re not bad looking, but don’t even *think* about things that aren’t meant for you.” I thought he was talking about the Caldwell family fortune. He thought I was a gold-digger. For three years, I tried to make him understand I wasn’t after his money. It wasn’t until Seraphina returned from overseas and he eagerly brought her in as his personal assistant that I finally understood. He was talking about *his love*. I couldn’t accept that I’d wasted three years, so I clung to our engagement. But now. I tore the agreement to shreds and threw it into the trash. Then, a new message popped up on my phone: 【I’m leaving. If you’re really sure you won’t say yes, we won’t ever see each other again.】 【I agree.】 Not long after I sent the message, my phone rang. “You’re not just playing hard to get with him, are you?” “I swear, as Eleanor Vance’s daughter, I’m not lying to you.” On the other end, he took a few shaky breaths. Finally, he choked out one sentence: “I’ll treat you well.” I smiled. For Arthur, that was the biggest declaration of love he could make. My flight ticket arrived soon after. Departing tonight. I returned to the mansion to pack my bags. As I pushed open the door, I found Julian, who rarely showed his face at the mansion, actually waiting for me. “Have you thought it over?” In the darkness, his voice was chillingly low. “The necklace, are you going to give it to her?” I clutched the necklace around my neck. “Seraphina comes from a humble background; she’s only just started to experience luxury these past couple of years. She’s not even upset you *usurped her position*, she just liked your necklace. What, that’s not enough for you?” He walked closer, leaning over me. “Do you want me to really cancel our engagement?” That was his biggest threat to me. I used to feel so unwilling to let go. I felt like I was here first. Even if Seraphina had met him earlier, she had never truly loved him. Otherwise, why would she marry a rich old guy? Why would she instantly divorce him when she found her name wasn’t in his will, only to come back to Julian? I smiled. “Wouldn’t that be… exactly what you wanted?” I looked into his eyes. He frowned. Then, he turned and picked up two round-the-world tickets. One was his. The other… My heart seized up – It was my name? I was stunned – I had once said I wanted to travel the world before getting married. Would he actually buy me a ticket? The next second, the ticket was ripped to shreds. He tossed them carelessly, and the pieces fluttered down, landing on my hair, on my shoulders. He picked up his phone. “Rebook the tickets, for Seraphina and me. “Yes, I changed my mind.” With that, he glanced down at my astonished face, a sneer playing on his lips. He brushed past my shoulder, walking away from me.

As for Julian buying me a ticket, I was more inclined to believe he was just putting on a show of a loving couple for his father. Someone who hated me as much as he did would never genuinely do something good for me. I touched the necklace around my neck. I closed my eyes – This was the only memento my mother left me. It was also the Vance family’s legacy, passed down through generations. I would never, ever give it to anyone. I took off the necklace, carefully placed it in a velvet box, and packed it into my suitcase. I had planned to leave that night, but an electronic invitation landed in my inbox. It was for my mother’s fifth anniversary memorial concert. Inviting me, her only descendant, to perform her classic compositions. I hesitated for a moment. I called Arthur. “Can I come a couple of days later?” A moment of silence. “Are you having second thoughts?” “How could I?” I laughed. “I have something I absolutely must do.” “…Alright, I trust you, and I’ll wait for you.” A warm feeling welled up in my heart. I nodded. “Okay.” The concert was in two days. During these two days, I didn’t send Julian a single message. And he, as always, never contacted me first. I enjoyed the peace, focusing on practicing my mother’s pieces. Though I knew them by heart, I still wanted to present my best at my mother’s memorial concert. That morning, I woke up early, washed, and did my makeup. But, the moment I opened the red velvet box, the necklace was gone. I froze. A bad premonition crept into my heart. I called Julian. Through the phone, the background music of a concert hall sent a chill down my spine. “Are you at a concert? Did you take my necklace?!” Julian’s voice was nonchalant. “Seraphina has never performed at an event like this. She’s always dreamed of being a musician, but due to her family circumstances, she never had the chance. For you, a descendant of a renowned musical family, these occasions are plentiful. Seraphina’s birthday is coming up; just consider this your birthday gift to her.” “Julian!!” My furious shout echoed through the room. But then, the dial tone ‘beeped’ through the receiver. He’d hung up. I called again; no answer. I rushed to the venue as fast as I could. The moment I stepped out of the car, the music emanating from inside made my blood run cold – No! This song absolutely cannot be played in this setting!

On the concert stage, a familiar figure, wearing a mask, elegantly sat at the piano. And around her neck was my mother’s necklace! Under the expectant gaze of the audience, Seraphina’s graceful fingers lifted, pressing down on the first note. “No!” I tried to shout for her to stop. But the venue was too large; my voice couldn’t reach far enough. By the time I rushed to the VIP seating, someone suddenly stood up. “What song is that?! Don’t you know the composer of that melody promoted hateful ideologies?!” “Eleanor Vance was a celebrated humanitarian composer, a symbol of peace! You’re playing music by a composer known for hate speech – what does that mean?!” “This is a concert to honor Eleanor Vance! As her daughter, you’re not playing her classic compositions, but instead a controversial melody – what are your intentions?!” Audience members started standing up. If it weren’t for security holding them back, they would have likely stormed the stage by now. Seraphina stood up, startled. I could almost imagine the terrified expression beneath her mask. Julian rose from the VIP seating, giving a few quick instructions to his bodyguards. The next second, the furious crowd was held back by Julian’s men, five meters from the stage. He, meanwhile, escorted Seraphina backstage. I pushed aside the backstage curtain. “Seraphina!” Without a word, I lunged for her neck. But a hand firmly grabbed my wrist. “Let go!” I desperately tried to get to Seraphina, when Julian’s voice came from above me: “Have you made enough of a scene?! “Seraphina doesn’t mind you taking *her* place in my life, yet you’re constantly targeting her! What’s wrong with you?! “She’s not asking for anything valuable, just a simple apology and a cheap necklace! This concert might be insignificant to you, but it’s *her dream*! “Can’t you have a heart?!” “Slap!” My hand landed hard on his face. “Julian, darling!” Seraphina shrieked and threw herself at him. Julian looked at me in disbelief. “You… hit me?” I was breathing heavily. “First, this is a concert to honor my mother. “Second, that necklace is the Vance family’s legacy! Only I, a Vance, have the right to wear it!” Julian flinched. But Seraphina burst into tears. “Aurora, you’re lying! Why aren’t you usually celebrating, but suddenly you are now that it’s almost my birthday and I want to hold a concert? “You just look down on me, you don’t want me to achieve my dreams! You could have just said so, I would have stepped aside! Why lay a hand on Julian, darling?!” She cried even harder after that. I was furious and about to speak, but the organizer’s voice from outside interrupted me. “Excuse me, everyone, that’s not Ms. Vance’s daughter at all; our staff made a mistake. Please, calm down.” “Impossible!” The angry voices of the audience roared through the microphone across the venue. “She’s wearing the Vance family heirloom around her neck! I recognized it immediately!” “Exactly! Who else but a Vance would have that necklace?!” “Unless you bring out the *real* one, we won’t believe you! Do you dare? Do you dare?!” The organizer was extremely flustered. “We’re coordinating, we’re coordinating right now…” “Julian, darling!” Seraphina shrank into Julian’s arms. I glared at him. “Julian, make her go out there.” “Julian, darling…” Seraphina’s tears fell instantly. She pressed even closer to Julian. “Julian!” I gritted my teeth. “This is entirely her fault!” Julian paused. He raised his hand. And took off Seraphina’s necklace. “Aurora, switch outfits with her.” I thought I’d misheard. “You… you want me to admit that I played *that* song?” Julian gave a silent affirmation. “My mother was a humanitarian composer! How could I play that kind of music?! “It’s Seraphina’s poor judgment and lack of understanding! What does that have to do with me?!” “Seraphina was just careless for a moment!” Julian raised his voice. He pulled Seraphina closer. “She’s not a trained musician; her knowledge of composers isn’t as extensive as yours. You can’t be so harsh on her. “I promise you, just this once. After this, I’ll marry you.” “I refuse!” With that, I strode forward, trying to snatch the necklace. But Julian was too tall. He easily dodged me, extending the necklace out the window. “No!”

Julian held the necklace out the window with one hand, effortlessly restraining me with the other. “Are you going to let her bear all the rumors and scorn?” My eyes welled up. “So *I* can bear it, then?” A flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I will marry you. No one will dare bully Julian Caldwell’s wife.” I clutched the lapel of his jacket. “But,” he changed his tone, “If you don’t agree, I’ll just have to destroy this necklace.” “Wait!” Watching the necklace hang precariously from his fingers, swaying with the breeze. My hands trembled. “I’ll go out…” The curtain was pulled back, and I, wearing Seraphina’s dress, was pushed out. A microphone ‘thumped!’ against my forehead. Angry shouts filled my ears. “Traitor! How could you betray your mother’s legacy?!” “How can your mother rest in peace in her grave knowing you played *that* song?!” Tears streamed down my face. I bit down hard. “I’m sorry…” “What good is ‘sorry’?! If you’re truly remorseful, go die!” “That’s right! Die!” “Die!” My body trembled. I gritted my teeth. I bent down. “I’m sorry…” Rotten vegetables, shoes, and even phones were hurled at me. My forehead was bleeding from the impact. I looked up, and a familiar figure appeared behind the crowd. Julian stood behind everyone, watching me. For a moment, I actually thought I saw a flicker of heartache in his eyes. I guess… I must have been concussed. Julian turned and left. When I stumbled back backstage, the necklace was indeed resting perfectly in the red velvet box. It had even been polished, looking brand new. “Here, Julian, darling, left it for you.” Seraphina reluctantly pushed the box towards me. My hands trembled. Just as I was about to touch the necklace, another hand snatched it away. Seraphina’s chilling smile flashed before my eyes. The next second. “Smash!” The necklace hit the ground, shattering into pieces. “Did you really think I’d give it to you?” Seraphina laughed mockingly. “Dream on!” “Slap!” A bloody handprint appeared on her face. She fell heavily to the ground. “Bitch!” I raised my hand again. But my wrist was suddenly yanked. “Slap!” My face burned. I fell to the ground. Julian never hit women. Even when he couldn’t stand me, at most, he’d just mock me. Even when I slapped him, he wouldn’t hit back. This time, for Seraphina. He laid a hand on me. His leather shoe ground harshly on the shattered fragments of the necklace. “The necklace was already given to you, why did you still hit her?” “Julian…” “Enough!” He gritted his teeth. “I thought you were just a bit willful, but I never realized you were even more despicable than I imagined! It’s a miracle your mother didn’t live to see your monstrous face!” “You!” I coughed up a mouthful of blood. I was already injured. Now, consumed by anger, my vision completely blurred. The previous voices became panicked. “Aurora?” “Aurora, wake up!” I was pulled into an embrace. Hazily, I thought I heard Seraphina’s voice. “Julian, darling! Where are you going, leaving me behind?!” I woke up again, my cheek being gently stroked. Feeling me stir, the hand quickly withdrew. “When you’re better, go apologize to her.”

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On the third day my son went missing, I hacked into every smart system in our building. All 202 residents, from octogenarians to infants, were locked inside their homes. I sent my first message to the residents’ SnapChat group: “My son, Leo, is somewhere in this building. From now on, every hour, I’ll expose one family’s secret. If we don’t find Leo, we all die.” A multi-millionaire CEO in the group exploded in rage: “Are you insane?! What does your son being missing have to do with us?! I demand you stop this immediately!” I typed out my second message, attaching a screenshot of an encrypted financial statement. “@Mr. Henderson from 1502, you have fifty-nine minutes left. Friendly reminder: check your offshore accounts. See if the IRS would be interested.” I knew my son was watching someone in this building. … Three minutes earlier, the group chat was still full of fake sympathy. “@Sarah Miller from 801, any news on Leo? We’re all so worried.” “Yeah, Sarah, just say the word if you need help. We can even crowdfund for you.” “Did building management check the surveillance footage? What did the police say?” I leaned against the cold wall, staring at the warm words on my phone screen. Leo had been missing for 72 hours. Three days. The critical hours were slipping away, second by second. The police said the last surveillance footage showed Leo in the ground floor lobby. He was waving, seemingly at someone he knew, then skipped into the elevator of Tower B. “The Zenith Tower” is one of the most exclusive residential buildings in the city, with tight security; you need facial recognition to get in and out. The police checked all visitor logs. Nothing. So, whoever took Leo had to be a resident of this building. They went door-to-door, but everyone claimed they hadn’t seen him. The officer tried to calm me: “Please, don’t get too agitated, ma’am. We’ll expand our search.” Expand the search? My son was in this cage of steel and concrete! I took a deep breath, typed the last string of code into my laptop, and hit Enter. Instantly, the entire building emitted a low hum. All elevators stopped, all electronic door locks engaged automatically, the central air conditioning ceased, and I physically cut off the internet signal, leaving only a private network I’d set up. The residents’ SnapChat group blew up. “What the hell?! Did the power go out?!” “It’s not a blackout! All smart home systems are haywire!” “The doors won’t open! Management! Where the hell is building management?!” I calmly sent my first message to the group. After a second of dead silence, curses and panic erupted like a burst dam. Mr. Henderson from 1502 was a flashy CEO who’d made his fortune in fintech. He was the first to lash out: “You’re effing crazy! This is illegal detainment! I’m calling the police right now!” I sent out the screenshot I’d prepared. It was an internal financial statement from his company, showing a massive sum of money routed through a dozen shell companies, ultimately ending up in an offshore tax haven. I typed: “Mr. Henderson, you can certainly call the police. But when they arrive, they might want to talk to you first about commercial fraud and tax evasion. After all, the amount looks like enough to get you a life sentence.” Mr. Henderson went silent instantly. The group fell quiet again. I looked at Leo’s photo on the wall; he was smiling, showing his adorable little fangs. “Fifty-eight minutes left,” I whispered to the empty air. “Mommy will find you.” Chapter Two Ten minutes later, police sirens wailed downstairs. Detective Hayes, leading the team, shouted through a megaphone: “Sarah Miller! Calm down! Your actions constitute a serious crime! Restore the building’s systems immediately, and we can discuss everything!” I walked to the window and pulled open a sliver of the curtain. Downstairs, police lights flashed, the area was cordoned off, and media reporters, like sharks smelling blood, were trying to break through the perimeter. I didn’t respond to Detective Hayes. Instead, I sent my second message to the residents’ SnapChat group. “Dear neighbors, I know you’re innocent, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want my son back. From now on, I need you to do three things. First, you can knock on each other’s doors to confirm if your neighbors are okay. Then, think back carefully to three days ago, between 4 PM and 6 PM. Who did you see? What unusual sounds did you hear? Finally, send any clues to me or hand them over to Detective Hayes downstairs.” “Remember, you’re not just saving my son; you’re saving yourselves. After all, no one wants their deepest, darkest secrets to become everyone’s favorite scandal.” Those words hit a raw nerve for everyone in this building. What kind of people lived in The Zenith Tower? Entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers, celebrities… Everyone wore a dazzling mask, but how much filth and disgrace lay hidden beneath? Someone in the group immediately responded. “@Professor Thorne from 1204, why is there so much noise from your place? Are you renovating?” “@Mrs. Davies from 1808, isn’t your husband away on a business trip? I thought I heard a man’s voice from your apartment.” “@Everyone, who can get into the building’s surveillance room? I can’t possibly see every corner on my own!” Panic and suspicion began to spread. The thin facade of neighborly harmony was ripped apart by my single act. Detective Hayes was still pleading downstairs: “Sarah Miller, we understand how you feel, but you can’t solve problems the wrong way! You’re defying the law!” I picked up a Bluetooth speaker, placed it by the window, and turned the volume to maximum. “Detective Hayes, you heard them. The power of the people is immense. My neighbors will find the clues you couldn’t find in three days, in just one hour.” “And don’t even think about breaking in or cutting the power. The building’s fire safety system and gas lines are also connected to my network. I wouldn’t want any ‘accidents’ to happen.” Detective Hayes went silent instantly. A young officer next to him whispered: “Detective, the tech team says the subject is a top-level expert. The firewall is too complex; it’ll take at least six hours to crack.” Six hours? It’ll be too late by then. Detective Hayes picked up his megaphone, his voice hoarse: “Alright! We’ll search! We’ll help you search! Just don’t do anything reckless!” I watched the countdown on the screen: thirty-five minutes. Chapter Three The first hour’s countdown ended. In the residents’ group, there were over a dozen clues, some believable, some not, but none pointed to Leo. Mr. Henderson sent an angry emoji to the group: “Sarah Miller! Time’s up! What the hell do you want?!” Many people chimed in, thinking I was just bluffing. I didn’t reply. Instead, I dropped a link directly into the group. It was a cloud drive with only one video file. The video’s thumbnail showed Mr. Henderson from 1502 and a new female intern from his company. The location: his office’s breakroom. The time: last week, when his wife was abroad visiting their daughter. The entire building heard a roar of rage and crashing sounds coming from unit 1502. I calmly typed the next line. “Next up, @Dr. Reed from 2101. Fifty-nine minutes left.” Dr. Reed from 2101 was a famous cardiac surgeon in the city, highly respected, and often appeared on TV shows. He immediately replied in the group: “Ms. Miller, I don’t know why you’re targeting me. Everything at my home is normal, and I’m willing to cooperate with any police investigation.” His posture was humble, seeming completely above board. Detective Hayes shouted downstairs again: “Sarah Miller! You’re already breaking the law! Publishing someone else’s private information is a crime!” I sneered. Talk about privacy with a scumbag who might have killed my son? I replied to Detective Hayes: “If Dr. Reed’s privacy can buy back my son’s life, I’m willing to go to jail.” “Detective Hayes, I advise you not to just focus on me. Check my neighbors too. The killer might be among them.” That statement instantly shattered any semblance of shared outrage that had just started to build in the building. Yes, someone in here, or a group of people, took my Leo. Who was it? My gaze fell on the most insignificant clue. It was from Chloe, a young tenant in 703. She said that three days ago in the afternoon, she thought she heard the faint, intermittent sound of a child playing with marbles in the hallway. It was very clear. Marbles? Leo’s favorite toy was a set of glass marbles. I remembered he had a few in his pocket when he left that day. What floor did the sound come from? The girl said she wasn’t sure. It sounded like it was coming from upstairs, or maybe downstairs. The soundproofing in this building was excellent. Hearing it meant the source wasn’t far. I immediately pulled up the hallway surveillance for the 7th, 8th, and 6th floors. But just like what the police had seen before, there was nothing. No, wait. I rewound the surveillance footage from my door at 801, back to 4:30 PM, three days ago. In the frame, the rug by my door was empty. I fast-forwarded the timeline. 4:40 PM. A cleaning lady pushed her cart past. 4:41 PM. The cleaning lady left. And on the edge of the rug by my door, something new appeared. A blue glass marble. Chapter Four My heart pounded. This marble was the first physical evidence since Leo disappeared! Why was it at my door? Was it a signal left by Leo himself, or a taunt from the culprit? The cleaning lady! I immediately @ the building manager in the group: “Send me the list and photos of all cleaning staff on duty recently! Now!” The building manager was terrified and didn’t dare to delay. Within seconds, a list came through. The cleaning lady in the photo was Mrs. Stone, in her fifties, with an honest, trustworthy face. I sent the surveillance screenshot to the group: “@Everyone, who knows this Mrs. Stone? Which floors does she clean? Where is she now?” Someone in the group immediately replied. “Mrs. Stone is a lovely lady, very hardworking.” “She usually handles the higher floors, 12th to 22nd.” “I don’t think she came in today?” I immediately had a bad feeling. I switched my computer screen and began to hack into the city’s traffic surveillance system. My husband, Ryan, is a cybersecurity architect. Over the years, being around him, I’d picked up a few things. And the tools he left on his home computer were top-notch. I entered Mrs. Stone’s ID number, which I’d gotten from the building manager. Soon, I located her address: an old, run-down neighborhood. At the same time, Detective Hayes’s team was in motion. “Sarah Miller, we’ve sent officers to find this cleaning lady! Don’t get agitated, it might just be a coincidence!” A coincidence? There aren’t that many coincidences in the world. While tracking the police car’s route to the old neighborhood, I kept a close eye on the residents’ group chat. Only ten minutes remained on the second hour’s countdown. Dr. Reed from 2101 suddenly posted a very long message in the group. He said: “Ms. Miller, I understand your feelings as a mother. How about this: I’m willing to offer a one-million-dollar reward for anyone who can provide information about Leo. I’ll pay for it myself, just please stop doing things that harm everyone.” His words instantly won him a lot of goodwill. “Dr. Reed is such a good person!” “Sarah Miller, did you hear that? Dr. Reed said he’d pay! What more do you want?” If I didn’t have dirt on him, would he be so kind? I ignored him and said to my computer: “Ryan, are you ready?” From the computer’s speakers, my husband’s tired but resolute voice replied: “Ready. Can activate anytime.” Ryan was in the USA, across the Pacific. He was my backup, and my last resort. Countdown, final minute. In the group, everyone held their breath, waiting to see what earth-shattering scandal would be exposed about Dr. Reed. Dr. Reed himself was so nervous he sent countless “please” emojis in the group. Time was up. I didn’t send any link. I just sent one sentence. “@Dr. Reed from 2101, your wife just threw all three of your computers and all your hard drives out the window.” Downstairs, there were gasps and the loud crash of heavy objects falling. Immediately followed by Dr. Reed’s hysterical roar from unit 210 I closed the residents’ SnapChat group. I knew Dr. Reed was finished. The records of all the illegal organ transplants he’d performed over the years were enough to get him a life sentence. Finally, I got a call from Detective Hayes. His voice was filled with shock and disbelief. “Sarah Miller… we found the cleaning lady.” “She hanged herself… in her home.” Chapter Five My mind went blank with a loud 嗡. The lead was gone, again. Detective Hayes’s urgent voice came through the phone: “Sarah Miller! Listen to me! This might be more complicated than we thought! You need to lift the system lockdown immediately! We need to get in and investigate! Mrs. Stone’s death might be directly connected to your son’s disappearance!”

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On the night of my 50th birthday, after years of our marriage being little more than a formality, my husband, Michael, actually came to my bed. I thought it was his birthday gift to me, but as soon as he was done, he said: “Let’s get a divorce. Just like last time, you can have all the assets.” Tears streaming down my face, I nodded in agreement. The woman he’d been seeing five years ago was back, and she had a child with her. The day we finalized the divorce, I handed him a paternity test report. This wasn’t the first time Michael had asked for a divorce. The last time was five years ago. He claimed he’d racked up gambling debts and wanted a “fake” divorce to protect our family assets. But there’s no such thing as a “fake” divorce in this world; a divorce certificate is always real. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe him, mostly because we divorced but didn’t separate. I still stayed home, managing the household and caring for our large family. Only, he rarely came home, and his phone was often unreachable. I worried, but then I thought, *this is just how it is when you’re hiding from debt*, and I settled my mind. About half a year later, he told me the gambling debts were sorted, and we remarried. I always thought he’d handled the whole thing quite cleverly. Until one evening, Michael’s friend, David, called, saying Michael was too drunk and I needed to pick him up. I stood outside the private room and overheard their conversation: “Dude, I told you long ago, those massage parlor girls are unreliable. It’s normal for them to run off.” “Exactly, those kinds of women are just for fun, not worth getting upset over. Move on.” “I can’t! I poured ten grand into her ‘services’ to boost her numbers! She just left, treating me like a fool!” “Come on, Michael, stop drinking. Sarah’s so good to you – sweet, understanding, and she keeps your home perfect. Go back to her.” The sound of a glass shattering inside jolted me awake from my dream of a happy marriage. My lip was bleeding where I’d bitten it, and tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably. So, there had been *her* between us. Who was she? When did it start? So many times, I wanted to ask, but the words caught in my throat. I was terrified that if I asked, this family would truly fall apart. That incident became a knot in my heart, a constant ache in my chest. Now, who was he divorcing me for this time? My grandson’s cries pulled me back to reality. I was about to go comfort him when Michael grabbed my arm. “Why aren’t you asking *why*? Why are you agreeing so easily?” It seemed he had a whole list of excuses ready, but I couldn’t be fooled a second time. I pretended to be concerned and asked: “How much do you owe this time?” He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he hugged me tightly: “Those bastards ganged up on me. This time, I might have to hide out for a while. The family’s all on you.” Seeing my tears, he seemed convinced he’d fooled me. He let out a sigh of relief and fell peacefully asleep. Soon, his snores filled the room. I quietly picked up his phone. There were no strangers on SnapChat. But on TikTok, all his recent likes were for the same woman. I tapped on her profile. Her videos were almost all daily clips of a little boy. Just as I was wondering about it, the woman’s profile picture flashed.

“Baby’s birthday tomorrow. Can you come be with him?” My heart pounded. I didn’t need to think twice; the woman from five years ago was back. The next morning, Michael whistled as he combed his hair, shaving his beard with unusual care. I quietly followed him out the door. He, who was usually so stingy, actually walked into a high-end department store. After buying two sets of kids’ clothes, he entered a fancy bakery, pointing to a cake decorated with an Ultraman figure and asking the price. The clerk enthusiastically asked: “Is it for your grandson’s birthday, sir? How many candles do you need?” Michael’s face flushed, embarrassed, and he nodded, holding up four fingers. Watching his face, beaming with happiness, my heart ached as if pierced by needles. He’d lecture Chloe if she bought clothes for Leo that cost more than twenty dollars, but he ordered a hundred-dollar cake without batting an eye. Afraid I’d be suspicious if he didn’t come home for dinner, he arranged to have lunch with Jessica and her son. The moment he saw the boy, his face lit up, and he picked him up, spinning him around. They went into the children’s play area at the mall. I stood by the entrance, looking at the price list, a bitter feeling rising in my chest. Two adults and one child: $39.99. My hands trembling, I sent him a text: “Let’s go to the courthouse to schedule our divorce tomorrow.” His reply came quickly: “Okay.” I stared at that single word, stunned and numb for a long time. All these years of our marriage, ultimately, couldn’t compete with their mere six months together. The next day, Michael took my hand as we walked out the door. When the city hall clerk asked the reason for the divorce, Michael blurted out: “Irreconcilable differences.” The clerk smiled, shaking her head: “Sir, you’re just discovering irreconcilable differences after 30 years of marriage? Marriage isn’t easy; maybe you should think it over before deciding.” But I couldn’t wait. The thought of that woman’s face made it hard for me to breathe. “I have cancer. I don’t want to burden him. Just get it done for us.” At that, the room fell silent. The clerk looked at Michael, shook her head, and sighed deeply. The moment I walked out of city hall, I suddenly felt a wave of relief, as if a huge boulder had been lifted from my chest. Michael grabbed my hand, tentatively saying: “Then I’ll move to David’s place for now, to hide out. With a grandson now, we can’t let those people find our home.” “Okay. Will you come back in 30 days?” “Of course, I will. Without the divorce certificate, those guys won’t believe me.” “Alright, I’ll wait for you right here then. You must come.” That night, Michael packed some personal belongings and hurried out of the house. Before he left, he even reminded me not to forget to change his paralyzed mother’s adult diapers. The very next day after he left, a group of men suddenly showed up at our recycling yard, carrying bats. They shouted loudly, “Michael! Come out!”

I was inside, doing the accounts, when the shouting outside startled me. As soon as I reached the door, the men surrounded me, their faces menacing, as if ready to strike at any moment. Seeing me, the bald leader barked: “Get Michael out here!” “He’s not here.” “Not here? Then *you* pay the money he owes!” With that, two men grabbed my arms, while the others started rummaging through everything. A drawer full of cash and the money from my fanny pack were taken to their boss. The man looked at it—all small bills, only a few hundred dollars in total. Enraged, he grabbed a handful of money and savagely flung it at my face. “Tell Michael, if he doesn’t pay up, I’ll kill him!” As soon as he spoke, a black bag was thrown over my head, and I was shoved to the ground. “What are you doing!” I shrieked, but no one answered. A flurry of punches and kicks came without warning, pain assaulting me from every part of my body. A heavy kick landed on my stomach, and I gasped, unable to make another sound, one thought repeating in my mind: *Maybe I was wrong about Michael. This time, he really is in debt.* My consciousness slowly blurred, and I lay motionless on the ground. They took the black bag off my head, checked my breathing, confirming I wasn’t dead. “Boss, I think she’s passed out.” “Alright, Old Michael just said to scare her a bit, not kill her.” The footsteps gradually receded into the distance. But my heart ached more than my body. Michael would go to such lengths, even having me beaten, just to make me believe he was truly in debt. Five days in the hospital, my phone was eerily silent. Only Daniel called once, about Leo. Hearing I was in the hospital, he just said he’d visit when he had time, but he never showed up. After being discharged, I immediately bought a plane ticket.

The plane landed in an unfamiliar southern city. Humid air washed over me. I went to my best friend Brenda’s house. She had just retired, her husband had passed away, and she had no children. It was the freest time of her life. It had been years, but Brenda was as warm as ever, holding my hand and asking endless questions. When she heard I was divorced, she cheered: “You should’ve left him ages ago! That jerk never deserved you.” Her words surprised me. For 30 years, I’d always felt like I had married above my station. Michael and I both came from humble backgrounds, introduced and married. Everyone in our village said I’d hit the jackpot; Michael’s family was one of the wealthiest there, and he was tall and good-looking. In front of him, I always felt a bit insecure, so I just tried my best to take care of him. Not long after we married, we followed his father thousands of miles away to the city to start a business. After Daniel was born, the recycling yard business thrived, and more and more rumors of Michael’s shenanigans reached my ears. But they were always just rumors. Michael had always been gentle and attentive to me, so I never truly doubted him. Brenda poured me a glass of red wine and asked about my plans. “Take me to a spa. I want to know what a foot massage feels like.” “No problem.” In the private room at the spa, the lights were dim, the music soft. Brenda saw my cautious demeanor and couldn’t help but tease: “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a spa before.” My face flushed, and I gave an embarrassed smile. Brenda scoffed in disbelief: “A guy like Michael, he’s probably had hundreds of massages outside, if not thousands. You, Sarah, you’re just too naive.” The masseur was a young guy in his twenties. Every time he called me “ma’am,” I got goosebumps. *Is this how Michael got caught, with all those “sirs” from the massage parlor girls?* Lost in thought, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, my phone had a dozen missed calls and dozens of messages. Daniel and Chloe were frantic: “Mom, Leo’s still crying after his milk. What should we do?” “Mom, Grandma Martha’s adult diapers are gone. Where do you buy them?” “Mom, when are you coming home?” Before I could finish reading the messages, Daniel’s call came through again: “Mom, where are you? When are you coming back?” Leo’s crying could be heard in the background. My nose tingled. “I’m out enjoying myself for a few days. I’ll be back soon. You two handle it for now.” Daniel fell silent. The sound of Leo’s crying and dishes clattering grew clearer. Afraid I’d give in, I immediately hung up, but tears still flowed stubbornly. After three days of fun with Brenda, Daniel’s messages started to change. From anxious inquiries, they turned into subtle reproaches. The last message was a direct accusation: “How can you be so selfish, Mom? At your age, you’re still not home, not acting like a grandmother should.” Reading those words, my heart felt like it had been brutally stabbed. Since marrying Michael, I had never rested. Even with a fever, I would get up in the middle of the night to feed Leo and change his diapers. I raised Daniel, and then came Leo. Both Daniel and Chloe worked, so Leo had slept with me since he was born. Every two hours, I’d get up to warm the breast milk Chloe had stored in the fridge for him. After six months, half my hair was gone. I touched my thinning hair and asked Brenda: “Where can I get a hair treatment?” Brenda laughed at me: “Hair treatment? Seriously, Sarah? That’s so old school. Leave it to me.” Brenda took me to a hair salon. Soon, my hair was dark again, making me look 10 years younger instantly. When it was time to pay, I suddenly thought to check my bank balance. Seven figures! I stared at the number, counting it several times. I couldn’t believe Michael was so rich! Yet I’d been picking through discount vegetables at the supermarket, waiting until 8 PM for meat sales, taking the bus instead of a taxi, haggling with grocers over a few cents. All these years, Michael and I had been living in two completely different worlds. As Brenda and I were binging a show with face masks on, Michael showed up. “You’ve had your fun. Come home with me. Everything’s a mess.” Seeing Michael’s anger about to boil over, Brenda stepped between us, smiling at Michael. “Oh, it’s all my fault. I asked Sarah to stay with me for a few days, I forgot she had a whole family to take care of.” She politely invited Michael in and specifically brewed him tea. “Michael, have some tea first. I’ll help Sarah pack her bags.” Brenda winked at me, and I followed her into the bedroom. I thought she was going to encourage reconciliation, but instead, she leaned in and whispered: “You haven’t gotten the divorce certificate yet, don’t burn your bridges too soon. Figure out a way to make him leave with nothing, otherwise, won’t that woman and her kid just get everything?” “But he gave me all the assets, didn’t he?” “You’re naive! He definitely didn’t give you everything. He’s tricking you into this divorce so he can be with that woman. If he gave *you* all his money, how would he support his child?” Her words hit me like a revelation. I quickly packed my bags and went home with Michael. I didn’t have proof of his infidelity, but I was going to make sure he left with nothing. Back home, Michael was still out all the time. I hired a daytime housekeeper and stopped doing any chores myself. With my free time, I followed Michael and found Jessica’s house. After two days of staking out their apartment complex’s recycling room, I successfully retrieved the trash she’d thrown out. With only a week left until the final divorce, the DNA test results for her child came back. The result was a huge shock! 6 I arranged to meet Jessica at a coffee shop, and she readily agreed. She was wearing a dress, her figure curvy, looking around 30 years old, with a composed demeanor.

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“Dad went to pick up sis today,” my son, Leo, said from the backseat. “What sis?” My hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Just sis!” He fiddled with his backpack. “Dad said I couldn’t tell you, Mom.” Red light. I slammed on the brakes. “Honey, what does sis look like?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “She’s really pretty, with long hair. And she has a big Mickey Mouse backpack.” “How old is she?” “I don’t know. A little bit older than me, maybe.” My son is five and a half. “Mom, what’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I forced a smile. “Mommy’s just a little tired today.” My phone rang. It was Mark. I didn’t answer. Friday, 5:30 PM. As soon as we got home, I asked Leo directly, “Where is this sister?” “Over on Willow Creek.” He said innocently. “Dad took me there, and he bought me fries.” “What’s the address?” “I don’t know the house number, but it has a really big slide.” Willow Creek. That’s an upscale neighborhood in the East District. Properties there cost a fortune. “How many times have you been?” “Three times, I think.” Leo mused. “Oh, wait, four! Last time Dad even bought sis a cake.” My hands were shaking. “Go to your room and play with your toys, sweetie.” As soon as I closed the door to his room, I called Mark. It connected on the third ring. “Amelia.” “Willow Creek?” Silence on the other end for three agonizing seconds. “How…how did you know?” “So it’s true?” “Amelia, I can explain…” “Explain what? That you have a daughter? Or explain how long you’ve been hiding her from me?” “It’s not what you think…” “Then what is it?!” I sneered. “How old is the child?” “Five.” His voice was barely a whisper. Five. We’ve been married for six years. “Who is she?” “That…” “Tell me!” “You don’t know her.” “Her name.” “Sarah Harris.” My mind went blank. “I’ll go see the child this weekend.” I heard myself say. “Send me the address.” “Amelia, please don’t get agitated…” “I’m perfectly calm.” I hung up. My phone immediately rang again. It was him. I turned it off. Just then, the front door opened. It was my mom, Eleanor. She’d said she’d come over to help with Leo today. “What’s wrong, honey? You look awful.” “Mom…” I burst into tears. An hour later, I’d told her everything. My mom’s face went from red to white, then white to red. “Divorce.” She uttered only one word. “Mom…” “Divorce immediately.” Her voice was eerily calm. “I’ll have your brother, David, come over tomorrow.” “But what about Leo?” “Leo stays with you. You take the house, the cars, everything.” She spoke with absolute certainty. “And that woman and her child? They won’t get a single penny.” Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock. Mark was home. He saw my mom and froze. “My mother-in-law is here too.” “Too?” My mom scoffed. “Wouldn’t it be more convenient if I wasn’t here?” “Mother-in-law, please let me explain…” “Explain what? Explain that you’re keeping a mistress and a child outside our home?” “It’s not like that…” “Then what is it like?” My mom stood up. “Tell me clearly, what exactly is going on with that child?” He glanced at me. “Speak!” My mom slammed her hand on the table. “She’s an old girlfriend.” He finally began. “After we broke up, she found out she was pregnant, but she didn’t tell me. Not until the child was three, and she found me…” “And then?” “And then I… I couldn’t just abandon them.” “Couldn’t abandon them?” My mom laughed, a chilling sound. “So you secretly kept them, mother and daughter, behind my daughter’s back?” “I only gave her child support…” “How much?” I cut in. “What?” “How much every month?” He stayed silent. I opened my banking app and typed in my password. In the transaction history, on the 15th of every month, there was a fixed transfer: $8,000. “Eight thousand.” I said. “Eight thousand a month, for five years. How much is that?” “Four hundred eighty thousand.” My mom calculated for me. “Four hundred eighty thousand! Your son’s kindergarten costs $20,000 a year, and he’s giving that bastard child eight thousand a month?” “Mom, don’t talk about the child like that…” He pleaded. “I’m not your mom!” My mom pointed to the door. “Get out. Get out now!” “Mother-in-law…” “I said get out!” Just then, Leo’s bedroom door opened. My son stood in the doorway, his eyes red-rimmed. “Mommy, why are you fighting?” My heart sank. “It’s nothing, sweetie…” “Is it because of sis?” He started to cry. “I shouldn’t have said anything, Daddy said not to tell…” Mark’s face changed. “Leo, you…” “You taught your son to lie?” My mom looked utterly disgusted. “I didn’t…” “You made a five-year-old child keep your secret. What is that if not lying?” I picked up Leo and retreated to the bedroom. I closed the door, but the arguing outside continued. My phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. “Is this Mrs. Miller?” A woman’s voice. “It is. Who’s this?” “This is Sarah Harris.” My hand trembled. “We need to talk.” She said. “Tomorrow at 3 PM, at the Starbucks on Willow Creek.” “Okay.” I heard myself say. After hanging up, my phone vibrated again. It was a bank text: “Your joint account just had an outflow of $100,000. Current balance: $23,678.” One hundred thousand?! I immediately stormed out of the bedroom. “You just transferred a hundred thousand dollars?” He froze. “To whom?” “I…” “Tell me!” “Sarah needed to change apartments. She was short on the down payment…” I laughed. I finally laughed. “Mom, you’re right. Divorce.” My voice was eerily calm. “We’ll go tomorrow.” “Amelia…” “Don’t call me Amelia.” I looked at him. “From now on, we’re strangers.” “Just listen to me…” “I won’t.” I grabbed my purse. “Tomorrow at 3 PM, I’m meeting Sarah. After that, I’m going to see a lawyer. The day after tomorrow, we’ll go to the courthouse.” “What about Leo?” “He stays with me.” “I have parental rights too…” “You want parental rights?” My mom sneered. “Fine, we’ll see you in court. Let’s see if a judge will award custody to a man who has an illegitimate child, transfers marital assets, and deceives his wife!” His face went white. “And,” my mom continued, “this house was bought by my daughter before marriage. You have no claim to it.” That was true. When we bought the house, I paid the down payment. He only added his name to the deed. “Mom, let’s go.” I took Leo’s hand. “Where are we going?” “A hotel.” “Good.” The moment the door closed, I heard him say, “Amelia, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t look back. In the elevator, my mom suddenly asked, “Can we get that hundred thousand back?” “Probably.” I said. “It’s a joint account; large expenditures require both parties’ consent.” “Good.” She nodded. “Tomorrow, I’ll have your brother, David, go with you to see that woman.” “No need.” I said calmly. “I’ll go by myself.” The elevator reached the ground floor. As we walked out, Leo suddenly asked, “Mommy, will I not have a sister anymore?” I crouched down, looking at him. “Honey, you’ll always be Mommy’s only precious one.” “What about Daddy?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. Friday, 9:30 PM. In the hotel room, Leo was already asleep. My mom was on the balcony, making a call, probably to David. I stared at my phone. Thirty-seven missed calls, all from Mark. And SnapChat messages, 99+. I didn’t look at a single one. My phone rang again. This time, it was Mark’s mom, Brenda. I hesitated, then answered. “Amelia, dear…” Her voice sounded a little panicked. “Mom.” “Did you… have a fight?” More than just a fight. I sneered. “Mom, do you know about that child?” Silence on the other end. “You knew?” My voice rose. “Amelia, listen to me…” “You knew all along?” “I… I only found out last year…” Last year. Last year, the child was four. “So you hid it from me for a year?” “I was doing it for the good of the family…” “For the good of the family?” I laughed. “So letting me stay in the dark, letting my husband transfer eight thousand to another woman every month, was for the good of the family?” “But after all, that’s also our family’s child…” I hung up. My mom came in from the balcony. “Who was that?” “Brenda.” “What did she say?” “She knew all along.” My mom’s face darkened. “She knew and didn’t tell you?” “She said it was for the good of the family.” “For what family?” My mom laughed, bitterly. “Her son has another woman and child outside, and she thinks that’s good? Letting my daughter be a fool, that’s for the good of the family?” I didn’t speak. My phone rang again. Still Brenda. I didn’t answer. She sent a SnapChat message: “Amelia, please don’t get upset. Can we meet and talk tomorrow? Some things aren’t what you think…” Not what I think? Then what are they? I threw my phone onto the bed. “Mom, I want to sleep for a bit.” “Okay, you sleep.” She sighed. “You’ve been through so much these past years.” I closed my eyes. Been through so much? It was more than that. I thought of these six years of marriage. I thought of our wedding, when he told me he would take care of me for a lifetime. I thought of the day Leo was born, when he said, “Thank you for giving me a family.” I thought of every month when he said he was handing over his entire salary, and I believed I had everything. Turns out, all I had was a lie. No. I didn’t even have a lie. All I had was ignorance of the truth. My phone vibrated non-stop. I opened my eyes, picked it up, and looked. It was Mark’s SnapChat messages: Amelia, please don’t be like this. I really know I messed up. Can we just talk this through? Leo is still small, we can’t get divorced. I swear, I’ll never see Sarah again. I’ll get that hundred thousand back. Amelia, we can’t just end like this. I read them, deleted the chat history. Blocked him. At 2 AM, my mom’s phone rang. She answered, then handed it to me. “It’s David.” “Hey sis.” My brother’s voice was grave. “Mom told me everything. Don’t worry, I’ll go with you tomorrow.” “No need, I can handle it myself.” “Don’t be stubborn.” “I’m not. I’m calm. I just want to face this alone.” “Alright then, but I’ve already contacted a lawyer for you. Tomorrow at 5 PM, after you see that woman, go to the law firm.” “Okay.” “Also, about that hundred thousand, go to the bank and freeze the joint account first.” “I know.” “Sis, don’t be scared. You still have me.” After hanging up, I suddenly started to cry. For six years, I thought I had a family. Only now did I realize, my real family had been behind me all along. Saturday, 10 AM. I went to the bank. “Madam, freezing a joint account requires both parties to be present…” the staff member said. “Here’s a lawyer’s letter.” I handed it over. “My husband is suspected of illegally transferring joint marital assets.” The staff member read it, and their attitude immediately changed. “Please wait.” Half an hour later, the account was successfully frozen. And the $100,000 transfer? A recall request had been initiated. Stepping out of the bank, I sent Mark a SnapChat message: Account frozen. $100,000 recall initiated. After meeting Sarah at 3 PM, I’m seeing a lawyer. See you at the courthouse the day after tomorrow. After sending it, I blocked him again. My phone immediately rang. It was Brenda. “Amelia, how could you freeze the account?!” She yelled into the phone. “That’s my money.” “That’s your joint marital property!” “Exactly. So he can’t unilaterally dispose of it.” “But if you do this, how will he live?” I laughed. “Mom, are you worried about how he’ll live, or are you worried he won’t be able to transfer money to Sarah anymore?” “Amelia, how can you talk like that?” “How am I talking? Mom, I ask you, these six years, have I ever wronged your family?” She fell silent. “I haven’t, have I? Every holiday I give you money, I take care of your daily needs, I gave you a grandson, and I still have to work to support the family. Have I ever complained?” “No, but…” “But what? But I shouldn’t have found out about his illegitimate daughter? But I should have pretended not to know and continued to be a fool?” “That’s not what I mean…” “Then what do you mean? Mom, just tell me directly.” A long silence on the other end. “Amelia, can you please, for Leo’s sake, give him another chance?” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because he’s not worth it.” I hung up. Back at the hotel, my mom had already packed Leo’s things. “Honey, how about going to the amusement park with Grandma today?” “Yay!” Leo jumped for joy. “What about Mommy?” He suddenly asked. “Mommy has something to do, I’ll pick you up tonight.” “Is Mommy going to see sis?” I froze. “No.” I crouched down, looking at him. “Honey, how much do you remember about sis?” “I remember!” He tilted his head, thinking. “Sis lives in a very beautiful house, and there’s a very gentle auntie there.” “What does the auntie look like?” “Very pretty, long hair, and she speaks softly.” “Dad and the auntie…” I gritted my teeth. “How do Dad and the auntie interact?” “Dad hugs the auntie.” Leo said naturally. “And he kisses her cheek.” My heart felt like it was being sliced by a knife. “Just like Daddy used to kiss Mommy.” He added. Used to. Yes, used to. Now he barely touched me. I thought it was because of work. Turns out, there was someone else. “Alright, honey, go have fun with Grandma.” I stood up, trying to keep my voice normal. “Mommy, are you crying?” “No, something got in my eye.” After seeing my mom and Leo off, I started to get ready. Makeup, change of clothes, organize my purse. The woman in the mirror looked perfectly calm. But only I knew, my hands were shaking the whole time. 2:30 PM, I arrived at Starbucks early. Ordered a coffee, sat in a corner. Every second of waiting felt like a year. Exactly 3 PM, a woman walked in. She was young, looked no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Long hair, white dress, carrying an LV bag. She saw me and walked over. “Mrs. Miller?” “Ms. Harris.” She sat down and ordered a latte. Then, she looked at me and smiled. “You’re calmer than I expected.” “You’re younger than I expected.” I smiled back. We stared at each other for a few seconds. “So?” I spoke first. “What did you want to talk about?” “I think we need to talk.” She was very calm. “About Mark.” Mark was my husband’s name. “Talk about what?” “His allegiance.” She was direct. “Mrs. Miller, you must know that Mark is in a lot of pain right now.” “Oh?” “He’s stuck between us, it’s very difficult for him.” I laughed. “He’s finding it difficult? He didn’t find it difficult when he was secretly keeping another woman and child from me, did he?” “That’s because he hadn’t figured out how to tell you yet.” “Hadn’t figured it out? For five years, hadn’t figured it out?” She fell silent. “Ms. Harris, I don’t want to beat around the bush.” I looked at her. “What exactly do you want?” “I want a complete family.” She said. “I want Chloe to have a father.” “Chloe is the daughter’s name?” “Yes.” “Pretty name.” I nodded. “But, that’s not my problem.” “What do you mean?” “Your daughter needs a father. That’s between you and Mark. It has nothing to do with me.” “But Mark is your husband.” “Yes, so?” “So you divorce him, and he can marry me.” I finally understood. “You want me to initiate the divorce?” “Yes.” She was very frank. “Mrs. Miller, I know this sounds impolite, but we’re both adults. Let’s just be straightforward.” “Fine, let’s be straightforward.” I leaned back in my chair. “What do you want to say?” “Mark says your marriage has been a sham for a long time.” “Oh?” “He says you haven’t had marital relations for over a year.” “And?” “And he says he’s always wanted a divorce, but you wouldn’t agree.” I chuckled aloud. “I wouldn’t agree?” “Yes, he says you threatened him that if he divorced you, you’d make him leave with nothing.” “What else did he say?” “He said you’re very materialistic, and you only married him because of his house.” My smile froze. “He said that?” “Yes.” She was serious. “Mrs. Miller, I have no ill will, I just want you to know that your marriage is meaningless. It’s better to part amicably.” “Part amicably.” I repeated. “And then let him marry you?” “Yes.” “You know, Ms. Harris.” I suddenly said. “Not a single word you’ve said is true.” She flinched. “I bought the house, I paid the down payment, and I’m paying the mortgage.” I spoke slowly, distinctly. “These six years, I handed over every cent of my salary to him. He said he wanted to start a business, and I used all my savings to support him. Marital relations? We were intimate just last month. A sham? Last week he said he wanted to take me on a trip.” Her face changed. “You…” “And there’s more.” I cut her off. “Do you know where that eight thousand dollars he gives you every month comes from?” “It’s… it’s his salary…” “No, it’s my salary.” I smiled. “He’s been unemployed for a long time. I’m supporting him now.” “Impossible…” “You can choose not to believe me.” I pulled out my phone. “Here are our bank statements. See for yourself.” She took my phone, her face growing paler and paler. “How could this be…” “How could this be? Because he’s a liar.” I took my phone back. “Ms. Harris, I don’t know what he told you, but I can tell you that every word he said was a lie.” “I don’t believe it!” She stood up. “He wouldn’t lie to me!” “Then ask him.” I said calmly. “Ask him if he’s unemployed, ask him if the money he gives you every month is my salary, ask him if that hundred thousand dollars was from my savings.” “You…” “And, I’ve already recalled that hundred thousand dollars, and the joint account is frozen.” I stood up. “Ms. Harris, it was nice to meet you, but I’m afraid we won’t be seeing each other again.” “What do you mean?” “It means, your business with him, you two solve it yourselves.” I picked up my bag. “I’m getting a divorce, but not to make things easier for you two. I’m doing it for myself.” “Wait!” She grabbed my arm. “What about Chloe?!” “Your daughter, you’re responsible for her.” I pulled my arm away. “Just as I will be responsible for my son.” Stepping out of the coffee shop, my legs were shaking. But I forced myself to walk to my car, got in, and closed the door. Then, I collapsed onto the steering wheel and cried. Saturday, 5 PM. The law firm. “Mrs. Miller, based on your description, this case is quite straightforward.” The lawyer was very professional. “Firstly, the house was purchased by you before marriage; it’s your personal property. Secondly, your husband had an affair and unilaterally transferred joint marital assets, which is legally very advantageous for you.”

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