After graduation, my niece’s diary, titled “The Agony of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof,” went viral. She moved in with us right before her senior year. To make her feel comfortable, I’d occasionally ask her to help with some light chores. When graduation came, both she and my daughter got into Harvard University. News stations were clamoring to report on our story, asking how I managed to raise two straight-A students. Just as I was cheerfully sharing my parenting tips, my niece pulled out a diary. Its content: The Agony of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof. My niece became an internet sensation, while I was cyberbullied and doxxed by furious netizens. “Auntie, my parents sent you money for my expenses every month. So why did I have to live like a mouse in your house, tiptoeing around? You deserve everything that’s coming to you.” Ultimately, thanks to my niece’s “accidental” location reveal, “righteous” netizens pushed me into a river, and I drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment my husband’s brother dropped his daughter off at our house. Heh, the pain of being a dependent, huh? This time, you’ll get to experience what *real* dependency feels like.

“Eleanor, I really appreciate your help. Skylar’s the same age as your Mia, and taking care of one kid is the same as taking care of two, right? I’ll transfer the living expenses to your account every month, so please bear with us.” Looking at the familiar SnapChat message from my husband’s brother, David, and the $100 deposit notification in my banking app, I finally confirmed I’d been reborn. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that $100. They really had it all figured out. Because my daughter was in her senior year, and I’m a freelance writer with a flexible schedule, I’d rented an apartment near the school so Mia could commute. David and his wife, Brenda, found out and used the excuse of going out of state for work to send Skylar to live with me. Then they said they’d give me $100 a month for her living expenses. I knew that $100 wasn’t even enough for her food. Not to mention all the extra expenses a teenage girl has. But she was family, a child I’d watched grow up since she was tiny. Could I really have refused? And just like that, Skylar moved in. Fearing the young girl would overthink things, I told her that her parents sent me money for her living expenses every month—though I didn’t tell her how much—and encouraged her to treat this place like her own home. And anything my daughter had, I’d buy one for her too. From small things like a single pen or school supply, to larger expenses like pocket money and tutoring classes. I never once treated her poorly just because she wasn’t my biological daughter. At first, when she volunteered to do chores, I’d even refuse. But later, I worried she’d feel useless and hurt her pride, so I agreed to let her do some light, quick tasks. Ultimately, both girls got into Harvard, and I was incredibly proud. I felt all the effort I’d put into caring for them both had paid off. But I never imagined it was all one-sided, my own wishful thinking. And that I’d raised an ungrateful viper. The memory of being cyberbullied and dying a terrible death in my previous life flashed through my mind. This time, I wouldn’t go soft on her again.

“Auntie, what did my dad tell you?” Skylar stretched her neck, craning closer to me. She was clearly trying to read my SnapChat conversation with her dad. In my last life, to keep her from finding out her heartless parents had dumped her on me with only $100, I quickly closed my phone, hiding the message. But she misinterpreted it, thinking I didn’t want her to know how much money her parents had given me. She believed I intended to pocket the money for Mia and myself. It wasn’t until after graduation, when our families completely fell apart, that I learned from Mia that Skylar often called her parents, crying about how terrible her life was here. And her parents would get furious on the other end, cursing me out and saying how I was supposedly treating their daughter so harshly despite receiving living expenses—but they never told Skylar that the “living expenses” were only $100. After yelling at me, they’d tell Skylar that this was just how it was when you lived at someone else’s house, and to “just bear with it until graduation.” Recalling all that, this time I simply handed her my phone, letting her see exactly what kind of parents she had. “Here, your parents said you could live at my house, but they only gave $100, which isn’t even enough for your rent.” Yes, $100 wasn’t even enough for *her* rent. Because it was an apartment in a highly-rated school district, rent was roughly three thousand dollars a month. If you divided it by person, it should be at least a thousand dollars a month. Yet, she lived here for three years for free and never appreciated it, showing no gratitude in the end. Then, I sighed dramatically. “This school district rent is so expensive, it’s about three thousand a month. I have no idea what your parents were thinking; $100 isn’t even enough for your food.” She was still a young girl, and her face instantly flushed red. “Auntie, I don’t eat much.” Mia, behind me, tugged quietly at my sleeve, signaling that maybe I was being too harsh. I patted Mia’s hand, then turned back to Skylar. “Anyway, I’m still your aunt. So, I won’t ask you for rent. Every month, you’ll eat with us; whatever we eat, you eat. But don’t expect anything extra.” “I understand, Auntie.” Seeing Skylar lower her head, looking pitiful, I almost felt soft again, to be honest. But wasn’t it exactly this innocent act that fooled me in my last life? Indeed, academic achievement doesn’t equal good character. Even if she got into the best university, it wouldn’t change the rotten core inside her.

After school started, It wasn’t long before the first act of me being the biggest fool in my last life came around. Both in my last life and this one, I still couldn’t understand. How could parents not even pay their child’s tuition? Were they really just expecting others to raise their kid? In my last life, I paid for Mia’s tuition on my phone. I had no idea Skylar’s tuition hadn’t been paid. Not until Skylar’s homeroom teacher called and asked me to come to school. That’s when I found out. Yes, David and Brenda had directly put *my* information in the child’s guardian contact section. When I arrived at school, I saw Skylar standing in the office, head down. It was clearly her parents’ fault, but she looked as if she’d committed some terrible mistake, and it broke my heart. I quickly paid her tuition. Then I told her to go back to class and study hard. “Auntie, why didn’t Mia’s homeroom teacher call you?” Looking at Skylar’s pitiful expression, How could I say: “I already paid my daughter’s tuition, who knew your parents simply don’t care about you?” Fearing she might resent her parents later, I suppressed my anger towards David and Brenda and patiently explained: “This is all Auntie’s fault. I paid Mia’s tuition a long time ago. Your parents just transferred your tuition to me yesterday, and I was so busy with you two starting school that I completely forgot!” Yet, later, in her public diary, she wrote this: “My parents clearly transferred my tuition and living expenses to Auntie a long time ago, but Auntie refused to pay my tuition until I was called out by the teacher in front of the whole class. Only then did she reluctantly pay the tuition that should have been settled before school even started. This small incident, however, became an unforgettable scar for me throughout my senior year.” After the second time I hung up on Skylar’s homeroom teacher, My phone once again showed a missed call notification. I finally picked it up, exasperated. “Hello, is this Skylar’s guardian?” “What’s wrong?” “It’s like this, we need you to come to school for a moment.” “I understand.” Although it was still unavoidable to go to their school, this time I wasn’t so flustered. I carefully tidied myself up. Then I went to a local bakery and bought a strawberry cake Mia liked, and ordered her a bubble tea. High school is stressful, and eating some favorite desserts can relieve it. But in the last life, because I had to raise two children, and when buying anything, I always had to buy two copies. Plus various tutoring fees, rent, etc., Mark and I were also under considerable financial pressure. So I rarely bought these non-essential treats for the kids. But this time I wouldn’t treat Skylar equally. So there was no need to save this little snack.

After leisurely taking care of all that, I arrived at Ms. Davison’s office about an hour and a half later. As soon as I stepped into the office, Skylar and the teacher’s eyes both turned to me. I casually placed the items I was holding on a nearby shelf before walking over. “Sorry, Ms. Davison, I’m a little late. Is there something wrong?” Perhaps because I was so slow, Ms. Davison seemed a bit impatient, and even though she maintained a polite facade, her tone was quite cold. “It’s like this, Skylar’s guardian. Classes officially started today, but we haven’t received the child’s tuition yet. Did you perhaps get too busy with work and forget to pay it?” “Oh?” I covered my mouth with both hands, feigning great surprise. My gasp made the other teachers in the office turn their heads to look at us. “Skylar hasn’t paid tuition?” “That’s right, Skylar’s guardian. This isn’t good for the school or for the child.” “Oh, Ms. Davison, I’m really not too clear about this. Her parents just dropped her off at my doorstep and then took off for out of state. They only gave me $100 for her living expenses; they didn’t transfer any other money, so I had no idea about this tuition. By the way, Ms. Davison, I’m not Skylar’s guardian, I’m just her aunt. My daughter is actually in your first-period class.” This school assigned classes based on entrance exam scores. My daughter, Mia, who I’d raised since she was little, ranked among the top ten in the entire city on her entrance exams, so she naturally got into the top class. Her grades had always been consistently excellent, never dropping out of the top tier, even by her senior year. Skylar, while not terrible, was in the fifth class, certainly not considered top-tier. In my last life, to improve her grades, watching her slowly climb from the fifth class to the first, I put in so much effort. I even often asked Mia to sacrifice her own study time to explain problems to Skylar. When Ms. Davison heard I was just a relative, not the parent, and that my own child was in their top class, her tone immediately softened considerably. “Is that so? I saw your contact information filled out in the child’s guardian section, so I naturally called you.” “Alright, Ms. Davison, I’ll call her parents right now.” I had just taken out my phone. Skylar suddenly tugged at my sleeve. “Auntie, did my parents not transfer my tuition to you?” “What nonsense are you talking about, child? Didn’t you see my SnapChat conversation with your dad yesterday? He only transferred $100, which isn’t even enough for food. How could it possibly cover tuition?” Perhaps the gazes of the surrounding teachers and the occasional student walking in were too intense. My niece’s face turned completely red. “How about you pay it for me first, Auntie? I’ll have my parents pay you back when I get home.” “Skylar, what are you saying? Tuition for the year is twelve thousand dollars! I just paid Mia’s tuition, plus rent and utilities. Rent alone is thirty-six thousand a year! I’m completely broke right now; all I have left is the $100 your parents transferred yesterday. How about I just give this $100 to Ms. Davison?” Ms. Davison saw what was happening. She pushed up her glasses and said to me, “How about you give her parents a call?” “Alright, Ms. Davison, I was just about to.” With that, I gently pulled Skylar’s hand away from mine, called David, and put him on speakerphone. “Hello, Eleanor.” “David, did you and Brenda get too busy and forget to pay Skylar’s tuition?” “Huh? Eleanor, isn’t Skylar living with you now?” Hearing that, I really wanted to peel off his face and see how thick his skin was. “Yes, she is! You two just drop her off without a word, and then expect me to cover everything. I’m her aunt, so I won’t charge for rent and utilities, but $100 a month? What kind of food can a child eat on that? I won’t even mention all that, but how could you forget something as important as tuition? I’m in the teacher’s office right now; you can explain it to her yourself.” He clearly hadn’t expected me to directly confront him and even bring up the $100. Ms. Davison greeted him several times with “Hello, parent,” before he finally reacted. “Oh, oh, hello, Ms. Davison. Um, well, my wife and I are out of state right now. We’ve entrusted Skylar’s care to her aunt. So, maybe…” Hearing that, I interjected. “David, even though Skylar isn’t my biological child, she’s family, I watched her grow up. I’d love to pay her tuition, but I just paid Mia’s tuition, and with rent and utilities, I’ve already spent over fifty thousand dollars. I genuinely don’t have any money left. “If you two can’t come up with it, maybe you should try borrowing from other relatives?” Ms. Davison also spoke up sternly. “Parent, according to school regulations, if tuition isn’t paid, the child may need to go home for self-study until the tuition is settled before returning to school.” “Alright, alright, I’ll transfer the tuition to her aunt right away, okay? Ms. Davison, please let Skylar take the phone.” Skylar tremblingly took the phone from Ms. Davison’s hand and carefully called out, “Dad.” “You little brat, always spending my money! You’ve cost me so much since you were little! I’m telling you, you better get into a good university after graduation, or you won’t be worthy of me or your mom.” After cursing her out, he hung up. And as soon as I received the tuition transfer from David, I didn’t waste a single second, immediately transferring it to Ms. Davison.

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My grandma was 50 when she found out she was the true heiress of a powerful family. My whole family buzzed with excitement, already plotting how to cash in on Grandma’s newfound status. Grandpa dreamed of using the money to find a younger woman to dote on him. Uncle Shane calculated how to land a cushy executive position where he could line his pockets. Even my cousin, Kevin, just seven years old, was demanding a sprawling mansion in the most exclusive part of the city. Grandma, as always, agreed to everything. She smiled, looking at me, “Lily, what do *you* want?” But a cold dread washed over me. Because I saw it clearly. A flicker of murderous intent in Grandma’s eyes. When we found out Grandma was Eleanor Albright, the long-lost daughter of the Albright Group’s founder, our entire family went wild. Grandpa immediately started scheming: “Audrey’s back with the rich folks, and as her husband, I’m certainly coming along. I don’t need much over there, just a dedicated driver and a few nannies to cater to my every whim. No problem, right?” “Dad, that’s nothing!” Uncle Shane chuckled, puffing out his chest with ambitious pride. “Mom is the Albright Group CEO’s own daughter! Me, as her only son, I should at least be made a Vice President, shouldn’t I? And Kevin, he *has* to go to the best private school!” Kevin is my cousin, seven years old this year, and the only male heir in our generation. Right now, he was tugging on Grandma’s sleeve, yelling at the top of his lungs: “Old hag, a mansion! Buy me a mansion in the city center!” No one objected to this address. Because that’s exactly how they’d called Grandma for years. “Alright, whatever you want.” Grandma smiled, agreeing to every request. Everyone was ecstatic, imagining their lives were about to take off, like a sudden lottery win for the whole family. Only I stood silently in the corner, saying nothing. “Lily, is there anything you want?” Grandma asked me directly. I shook my head, only asking: “Grandma, two months ago, how did you survive?” The moment I spoke, my family’s faces instantly changed.

Two months ago, Grandma fell ill. But no one in the family paid any attention. Just like before, when Grandma was sick, they’d accuse her of faking illnesses to get out of chores. “She’s just an old woman, so what if she’s sick?” “She can tough it out herself, why waste money on a doctor?” There was always farm work to be done, the pigs were squealing from hunger, and a large family was still waiting to be fed. Grandma had no choice but to endure, and keep busy. Only I would help Grandma shoulder some of the burden. I often snuck to the back woods to gather wild herbs, which Grandma would chew and swallow. It eased the pain. But it was a temporary fix, never a real cure. Until two months ago— Kevin fell from a tree and was injured, needing a blood transfusion. Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda were too stingy to buy blood from the blood bank, so they directly pushed Grandma forward. “Take hers, she’s tough as nails! She can handle it!” Grandma was already very weak then. But she was still pushed out like livestock. Blood was slowly drawn from her frail, withered arms. And it also drained Grandma’s last bit of strength. Grandma suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. She collapsed like a helpless reed, swaying before it finally collapsed. “Worthless old woman!” “We were counting on you to take care of Kevin, and now you’re just being lazy again!” Even at this point, Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda still refused to spend a single dime on Grandma’s medical care. They crowded around Kevin, showering him with concern. They left Grandma on the cold ground, left to her own devices. Ten days later, when Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda returned from the county clinic, I found Grandma gone. “Where’s Grandma?” I asked them. “Don’t know, probably dead.” Aunt Brenda said indifferently. “She was coughing all the time, I was worried she’d infect Kevin.” Grandpa, upon hearing this, did show a flicker of concern. “If the old woman’s dead, who’ll feed the pigs? Who’ll cook? Who’ll take care of me?” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. “Daisy can do it. We’ve raised this good-for-nothing burden for so long, it’s time she did more work.” They all called me “Daisy.” Only Grandma called me “Lily.” She said I was a child they wished for. But in truth, no one wished for me, except her. My mother didn’t wish for me. Because she gave birth to a girl, she was constantly mocked in the village. She died in childbirth trying for a second baby. My father didn’t wish for me. After Mom died, he quickly remarried, dumping me on Grandma like unwanted baggage. Grandpa didn’t wish for me. He called me a good-for-nothing burden, wishing he could have just thrown me into the back woods to perish in the wilderness, like the other baby girls Grandma had given birth to. Uncle Shane and Aunt Brenda wished for me even less. Especially after Aunt Brenda gave birth to Kevin, I, this “superfluous” girl, wasn’t even fit to tie Kevin’s shoelaces in their eyes. Only Grandma truly wished for me and treated me well. I ignored my family’s curses, running out with my worn-out shoes. Gasping for breath, I ran for half a day. Finally, late at night, I reached the county clinic. I asked them if they had seen my Grandma. “A few days ago, an old woman did collapse here,” A nurse said. “Her family refused to pay for treatment. After she woke up, she walked off towards the mountains.” My heart sank. Some old people in the village, when they knew their end was near, would go into the mountains to wait for death. Was Grandma doing the same? “When did you last see her?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Roughly… seven or eight days ago.” Seven or eight days. If Grandma had had the strength, she would have returned home long ago. It was hard to imagine how she, penniless and severely ill, could have survived. I was filled with despair, believing I’d never see Grandma again. But unexpectedly, two months passed. Grandma not only returned. But also became Eleanor Albright, the true heiress of the Albright Group.

“Silly child, your Grandma has a strong will to live.” Facing my tearful questions, Grandma simply stroked my head calmly. She slowly explained— That day, she truly believed she wouldn’t make it, so she wanted to go into the mountains, to find a quiet place to lie down. But she hadn’t walked far before she was rescued. “The people who rescued me were sent by the Albright family. They said I left a record when my blood was drawn at the county clinic – something called Rh-negative blood, which is very rare. My biological parents’ genealogical agency had been searching for women with this blood type for years.” Subsequently, an emergency DNA comparison confirmed that Grandma was indeed the Albright Group CEO’s biological daughter, lost for fifty years. This experience left everyone gasping. Aunt Brenda’s eyes darted around, then she let out a sharp, fawning laugh, slapping her thigh in realization: “Oh my! So Mom being recognized by the wealthy family is all thanks to our Kevin, then! If it wasn’t for giving Kevin a blood transfusion, Mom would never have had the chance to leave a blood type record!” “Exactly!” Uncle Shane immediately puffed out his chest, as if he had performed a monumental service. “Mom was even hesitant about the blood draw! If we hadn’t been decisive and insisted on it, this staggering fortune would have been missed!” “That’s right, Audrey.” Grandpa knocked his pipe against the sole of his shoe, concluding self-righteously: “People shouldn’t forget their roots. Ultimately, our family was the reason you could return to a wealthy background, wasn’t it? You should really repay us well!” I couldn’t stand it anymore: “That’s nonsense! You never let Grandma see a doctor, otherwise, how could she have waited until she was 50 to be found? She was discovered the moment her blood was drawn, which means the Albright family had been looking for her all along! You’re the ones who held her back!” “You good-for-nothing brat, what do you know?!” Aunt Brenda immediately put her hands on her hips, spittle practically flying in my face. “Which woman in the village didn’t go through the same? Get a headache or fever and lie down like a lady? Who doesn’t just grab some wild herbs to deal with it? It’s still all thanks to Kevin! Otherwise, her?” She sneered, glancing dismissively at Grandma. “She could rot in some forgotten ditch and no one would even care!” I was shaking with anger. But Grandma gently raised a hand, stopping the argument. “Alright, alright, we’re family, let’s not fight.” She paused, her gaze slowly sweeping across their greedy faces. “The Albright family said that to thank you for taking care of me all these years, they specially booked a banquet at an exclusive restaurant in the city, and want our whole family to come.” The moment her words fell, the four pairs of eyes opposite her lit up instantly. “Go! Of course, we’ll go!” Uncle Shane rubbed his hands excitedly. “This is an invitation from the Albright Group!” Grandpa slapped his thigh: “Let’s go! Let the whole village see, our family is about to become rich and powerful!” Aunt Brenda was already planning what to wear. Even Kevin shook his head, clamoring to eat lobster. I looked at their ecstatic, greedy faces, and then at Grandma, calm as still water. Suddenly, I felt something was off. The Grandma who returned seemed different from before. Her eyes were no longer that numb, murky dead water. Instead, they were like a bottomless ancient well. Calm, yet holding a chilling, deep coldness.

That afternoon, the Albright family’s motorcade arrived on time. Three black Rolls-Royces lined up in front of our dilapidated village entrance. Half the village ran out to watch the spectacle. “Wow, this car must be worth tens of thousands!” “More than that! Look at the emblem, it’s easily over a million!” The chauffeur, impeccably dressed in a suit, respectfully opened the car door. Grandpa was the first to scramble in, flopping onto the leather seat, his hands running over the armrest: “This leather is softer than our cowhide!” He turned and shouted at the chauffeur: “Young man, how much is this car? Get me one too!” The chauffeur smiled politely: “Sir, this is a custom model, globally limited edition.” “Limited is good!” Grandpa laughed. “The more limited, the more prestigious! It matches my status!” Uncle Shane pulled Kevin into the second car and immediately pulled out his phone for a selfie: “Come on, Kevin, smile! This will be our standard ride from now on!” Kevin pressed his face against the window, showing off to the kids outside: “See? Luxury car pick-up! It’s all mine!” Aunt Brenda rummaged through the car’s mini-fridge, gasping in surprise: “Champagne! Imported chocolates! Oh my god, one bottle of this wine is enough for our family’s entire year’s expenses!” She unceremoniously opened a bottle and gulped down a few mouthfuls. “Drink slowly,” Uncle Shane pretended to caution her, but then reached out and grabbed a handful of chocolates, stuffing them into his pocket. Grandma and I sat in the third car. The car was quiet. Grandma closed her eyes, resting, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. “Grandma,” I whispered, “Are you really… taking them back to the city?” She opened her eyes, her gaze calmly falling on my face. “Lily,” she said, “Have you ever seen a monkey show?” I shook my head. “The monkeys jump and prance on stage, and the more delighted and ridiculous they are, the happier the audience becomes.” She paused, the light and shadows from outside the window flickering across her face. “They are performing a show now. We just need to watch carefully.”

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Caleb Thorne, the cold CEO, pressed me against the mirror, his grip tight around my neck. He was lost in a haze of desire, his endearments, “babe,” growing more impassioned with each whisper. Before I met Caleb, I never imagined I had such a wild side. We’d been everywhere – his office desk in the CEO’s suite, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at art exhibitions, by the railings of a yacht… Whenever Caleb wanted me, I’d succumb to his every whim. But this time, after it was over, I felt like a discarded rag, carelessly tossed aside. Looking at my disheveled reflection in the mirror, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Then, I dialed Mr. Blackwood. “That disabled heir from the Hayes family? I’ll marry him.” … “Really?” His voice on the other end of the line was barely able to contain his excitement. “That’s my girl! You always were my good daughter, you…” “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I cut him off. “I have conditions.” Mr. Blackwood was visibly stunned, a forced smile finally creeping onto his face a moment later. “Of course, darling. Name them, your father will agree to anything.” “We’ll discuss it when I get back.” With that, I hung up. I couldn’t stand to hear that sickening voice a second longer. “Who were you talking to just now?” Caleb walked out, towel-drying his hair, his tone lazy. “My best friend.” My indifferent reply made a flicker of surprise flash in Caleb’s eyes. But he quickly dismissed it. Perhaps I was just having a minor tantrum, and he could easily smooth it over with a few sweet words. But right now, he didn’t have time. “I’m heading out for a bit. Be a good girl and wait for me. I’ll bring you back some gourmet macarons.” Caleb buttoned the last button on his shirt, ready to leave. I let out a cold laugh. “Are you off for ‘business,’ or a date?” “What?” Caleb was busy replying to a message on his phone, a small smile playing on his lips every now and then. He wasn’t even listening to me. “Nothing. Drive safe. Don’t get hit by a car.” I kicked aside the shredded dress and changed into a more appropriate outfit. He looked up, seeing me give him a playful look, and chuckled. “Don’t be silly. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” As I watched his back disappear, my eyes hardened. Just five hours earlier, at a banquet. I stepped onto the balcony to get some air when I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace. “Caleb, what are you…” Before I could finish, his hand was already inside my dress. His hot breath on my face made me tremble uncontrollably. “This… this isn’t a good place…” I pleaded, shame coloring my cheeks, but he only intensified his movements. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want anyone to find us, and you don’t want me to ruin your dress, then be a good girl and listen.” The next second, I gave up all resistance, lost in his passionate kiss. The way I whispered “Caleb” in my passion only added to my allure. After it ended. I hugged him, cautiously asking, “Caleb, I’ll be twenty-eight next month. Are you going to marry me?” His body stiffened, his eyes regaining their usual calm and distant look. “Just a little longer, it’ll be soon.” “I’ve already picked out the wedding ring.” He finished, then kissed my forehead. Watching his figure disappear around the corner, a hint of joy spread across my face. I stumbled as I put my scattered clothes back on, then walked briskly towards the private room. But at the door, I heard laughter spilling out from inside. “I never would’ve thought Aria Blackwood was such a slut!” “How else could she be Caleb’s practice dummy?” I gasped, clamping a hand over my mouth, frozen in place. The voices from inside continued. “Thorne, it’s been long enough. You must have perfected your technique by now, right?” “In high school, you liked that girl, and we all offered to help you pursue her, but you insisted on finding someone to ‘practice’ with first, to give her the perfect romance experience.” “Now your first love is coming back. Isn’t it time for Aria Blackwood to make her exit?” Outside the door, my fingertips dug into my palms, I was so tense I didn’t even feel the pain. I was waiting for Caleb’s answer. But the private room remained silent for a long time, until someone couldn’t help but ask: “Thorne, you haven’t actually fallen for Aria Blackwood, have you?” “You’re not getting soft?” Caleb swirled his drink, the emotion in his eyes dark and unreadable. “She’s nothing but a tool I can discard anytime. Does she even deserve me to feel soft?” I felt like a heavy hammer had just struck my heart. I covered my ears, turned, and fled, returning home to bury my face in my pillow and sob. When Caleb came back, he didn’t ask why I was crying. He just forcibly pulled me up, saying he had to punish me severely for leaving without a word. I drove, following Caleb to the airport. I watched him escort a girl in a white dress into a car, the tenderness in his eyes enough to burn anyone who saw it. Finally, he put his arm around her waist and walked into a hotel. Watching his retreating back, my thoughts drifted back to the past. When I first met Caleb, he was a student three years my junior. I was the problem student my professor was desperate to get rid of, while he was the star student my professor adored. My professor introduced us. My first impression of him was simply that he was handsome. But beyond that, I had no other thoughts. Our paths crossed more often because our professor took a hands-off approach. After I graduated, our contact lessened. Until one time, I was heavily drunk, and I felt like I’d been drugged. My head was spinning fiercely. In a panic, I ran into the nearest hotel and unexpectedly bumped into Caleb. That night, as I was about to pass out, that innocent-looking young man became my antidote. The next morning, I woke up and looked at him sleeping, my cheeks burning crimson. It wasn’t shyness; it was guilt. I wanted to pretend nothing had happened and sneak away. But Caleb opened his eyes. “Hey, Professor, you slept with me and now you want to run? That’s irresponsible, isn’t it?” After that, I avoided him. But he, as if he’d discovered a new fascination, pursued me relentlessly. Finally, on a rainy night, he cornered me, his eyes serious: “Aria Blackwood, let’s give us a try?” I hesitated for a long time, but eventually couldn’t resist his wronged yet expectant gaze, and I nodded. We started dating, the kind everyone gossiped about. In our first year, his friends teased, “You two are so in love, when are you getting married?” Caleb replied indifferently, “No rush.” The second year, someone asked again, and he still said, “No rush.” The third year, when asked again, he remained silent. I didn’t care; I could wait. I waited and waited, until I uncovered this truth. Caleb had never intended for us to have a future. The person he truly loved wasn’t me. From beginning to end, I was just a practice dummy. My thoughts dispersed, I’d been waiting outside the hotel for two hours. My hands trembled as I dialed Caleb’s number, wanting to confront him, wanting an answer, but the call never connected. After a long time. I received an unfamiliar text message. [Caleb is too tired, he’s already asleep. Stop calling him.] The sender seemed to fear I wouldn’t believe them, so they also sent a picture of Caleb sleeping. I suddenly laughed out loud, my laughter sounding particularly harsh in the confined car. As I laughed, tears silently streamed down my face. I thought I was loved, and I’d been secretly happy for a long time. But it was all fake. In this vast world, love had only gifted me with hollow joy. From now on, I wouldn’t love anymore. I drove back to the Blackwood family home. Mr. Blackwood rushed to greet me, a wide, uncontrollable smile on his face. “Aria, did you really agree to marry Julian Hayes?” I glanced at Selena Reed, my father’s mistress, sitting on the sofa. I hated that homewrecker who had destroyed my parents’ relationship. But Selena just smiled at me, greed flickering in her eyes. “I told you, I have conditions.” “If you don’t agree, I won’t marry him.” After I spoke, Mr. Blackwood and Selena exchanged a look. Then he eagerly asked, “What conditions? Tell me!” I spoke each word clearly: “I want to sever all ties with the Blackwood family.” Mr. Blackwood’s pupils constricted. “And, I want half a billion dollars as my settlement.” The living room fell into a dead silence. The color drained from Mr. Blackwood’s face. He looked at me in disbelief: “You… what did you say?” “Are you insane?! Aria Blackwood! I’m your biological father!” “Do you think by cutting ties, you’re no longer my daughter?!” I scoffed. “Father?” “Have you ever fulfilled a father’s responsibilities?!” Mr. Blackwood choked. I swept a cold gaze over him: “When you, for the sake of this mistress, forced my mother to cut her wrists and die right in front of me, did you ever think you were my father?” “When you’re forcing me to marry that disabled man from the Hayes family, did you ever think you were my father?!” “What, now that you know my marriage to the Hayes family will bring you immense profit, you suddenly decide to act like a father?” “Don’t you think it’s a little too late?!” “Or, aren’t you afraid I might offend the Hayes family, incur their wrath, and drag you down with me?” I finished, crossing my arms, looking at him with scorn. Mr. Blackwood trembled with rage: “Fine! Sever ties, then! Fine!” “But that half a billion? You can forget about it!” “Alright, then I won’t get married.” I spread my hands, utterly unconcerned. Mr. Blackwood’s expression froze. He finally gritted his teeth and said: “I’ll give it to you!” “But the Hayes family said you have to marry him in two weeks!” I gave a casual nod and started heading upstairs. Selena seized the opportunity and suddenly spoke: “Darling, since Aria is getting married, can my niece move in?” “You know my niece; she lost her parents when she was little, and I’m her only family left.” “She just came back from overseas today and didn’t want to bother me, so she’s staying in a hotel.” Mr. Blackwood stared at my retreating back, raising his voice a few notches: “Is that so?” “Since Aria Blackwood no longer acknowledges me as her father, then let her move out tomorrow, and let your niece move in.” “That way your niece can keep you company.” I paused, my heart aching almost to the point of suffocation. “Perfect. Only a scumbag like you could abandon your own daughter to raise someone else’s child.” I continued upstairs, but Selena hypocritically grabbed my arm, feigning concern: “Aria, how can you talk to your father like that?” “We’re family, isn’t there anything we can’t overcome? If you don’t have the Blackwood family behind you…” I sharply yanked my hand away, looking at her coldly. “What? Do you think just because I’m getting married, you can finally marry this scumbag?” “Let me tell you, don’t dream about it.” “You’ll never escape the title of mistress your entire life!” “You’ll die as nothing more than Mr. Blackwood’s kept woman, never his legitimate wife!” Selena’s face instantly went ashen, and she stumbled back a few steps. She instinctively retorted, “Impossible…” I swept a dismissive glance over her. “Oh really? I’ll be watching.” I turned and walked away, each step feeling like it took all my strength. Only after I slammed the door shut did all my energy drain, my legs giving out as I slid onto the cold floor, burying my face in my knees, letting silent tears soak my arms. The next day, around noon. A cacophony of noise erupted outside my room. “What the hell is going on?” Annoyed, I threw open the door. “What are you doing, all of you! Can’t you keep it down?!” “You must be Aria, right?” “I’m so sorry, Aria, I’ll tell them to be quieter.” Daisy Miller blinked her eyes, feigning innocence, and spoke softly. I froze, my entire body stiffening, unable to move. I hadn’t expected that Selena’s niece, mentioned last night, would turn out to be Caleb Thorne’s beloved first love. This coincidence was truly laughable. “Nice to meet you, Aria. I’m Daisy Miller.” Daisy extended her hand, a sweet smile on her face. I glanced at her hand, scoffed, and turned to slam the door shut. “Aria Blackwood! Have you lost all your manners?!” Mr. Blackwood twisted the doorknob, found the door locked, and angrily pounded on the panel. “Get out! You said you’re cutting ties with me, so what are you still doing clinging on here?!” My nails dug deeply into my palms. I turned, grabbed my jacket from the sofa, pulled out my bank card from a drawer, and haphazardly stuffed them into my suitcase. Daisy’s soft, sweet voice suddenly squeezed through the door crack: “Uncle, is Aria angry?” Mr. Blackwood’s voice immediately softened: “Don’t mind her. I spoiled her growing up; she has no manners, unlike you, who’s so sensible.” “I… moving in so suddenly, it’s only natural for Aria to be angry… It’s just… I’m afraid she’ll resent me forever.” Daisy’s voice carried a hint of grievance. “She wouldn’t dare!” Mr. Blackwood’s voice suddenly rose, then quickly lowered. “Don’t worry, she’s getting married and moving to Northmont City soon. This house will be rid of her.” The suitcase zipper clicked shut. I dragged my luggage towards the door. “Move. Don’t block my way.” My voice was as cold as ice. Daisy seemed startled, instinctively stepping back a few paces, giving me enough room to leave. “Ungrateful daughter!” “Where do you think you’re going?!” “Don’t forget what you promised!” Mr. Blackwood roared. “The moment the money’s in my account, I’ll book my flight to Northmont City,” I replied without looking back. As I passed Daisy, I gave her a fleeting glance, catching a flicker of suppressed triumph in her eyes. Just as I suspected, she and her aunt were two of a kind. Caleb Thorne must be blind to cherish someone like her. News of me being kicked out of the Blackwood home quickly spread. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the most luxurious presidential suite in South City, pouring myself glass after glass of red wine. When I was ten, Mr. Blackwood had an affair, and my mother discovered it. My mother, who loved him deeply, was hysterical, sobbing until she almost fainted. But Mr. Blackwood showed no remorse, openly bringing Selena Reed in and out of the Blackwood mansion. For three whole years, they flaunted their affection shamelessly in front of my mother, deliberately provoking her. Finally, my mother, unable to bear it any longer, took her own life in front of thirteen-year-old me. From that day on, I hated Mr. Blackwood, and I hated Selena Reed. I even almost tried to kill my own father. But I was caught. I was forced to move out of the Blackwood home, attending school alone, eating alone, growing up alone. It wasn’t until I met Caleb Thorne that my loneliness ended. Though it was only for a short year, it left an indelible mark on my heart. I never dared to hope for Caleb, but he had once given me hope. It was only for a brief year, but it was enough to stir a ripple in my heart. I had never harbored wild fantasies about Caleb Thorne, but he had given me hope. The doorbell rang abruptly. I sat on the sofa, my eyes vacant. Hearing the sound, I paused slightly, struggled to my feet, my steps unsteady, and went to open the door. Standing outside was Caleb Thorne. A trace of imperceptible anxiety flickered in his brows, his gaze lingering on my slightly disheveled clothes and swollen eyes for a moment. “Caleb Thorne, you’re here.” I spoke softly, my voice hoarse from crying. Caleb didn’t immediately enter, instead taking in my state, his eyes complex. “Argued with your father again?” His voice was deep. “Got kicked out? What, still didn’t think to come to me?” His words made my nose sting, and my eyes instantly welled up. In the past, whenever I argued with Mr. Blackwood, Caleb would always be the first to find me, take me away from that suffocating environment, and bring me to his place. He would always say, “Aria, why are you trying to tough it out alone again? Why didn’t you come to me?” Back then, I always thought Caleb must be madly in love with me. Although he never said “I love you,” he was always silently by my side, doing many things only someone who loved me would do. Now that I think about it— Love that couldn’t be spoken, was it truly love? He clearly harbored feelings for Daisy Miller, and he was never short of other women. What did that make me? My eyes red, my pent-up emotions exploded. I raised my hand and slapped Caleb Thorne, hard and fast. Caleb clearly hadn’t expected me to act out like that. The crisp sound echoed as my hand connected with his cheek. He frowned, a flash of hurt and anger quickly crossing his face, but he suppressed it the next second. He didn’t hit back, nor did he speak. Instead, he simply wrapped one arm around my waist, lifting me into his arms. I struggled in shock, yelling, “Let me go! Get away from me, you damn scumbag!” Caleb carried me, letting me kick and hit him, and walked straight to the hotel’s large bed. The next day. I opened my eyes with a groan of discomfort. Suddenly, Caleb’s voice, thick with sleep but brooking no argument, resonated in my ears: “Sweetheart, come home with me.” I curled my hands, my eyes lowered, my voice still a little hoarse: “No need.” “Your place… isn’t my home.” “Besides, I’m only staying at this hotel for two weeks.” *In two weeks, I’ll be gone.* I left those words unsaid. Caleb’s brows instantly furrowed, a surge of inexplicable anger rising within him, as if I’d not only refused his kindness but something more. He suppressed the irritation and said lazily: “Suit yourself.” “I was only offering to take you in temporarily because you’re homeless now, out of pity.” Pity me? His words cut like a knife, and my heart gave a sharp pang. An inexplicable cold war began between us. It wasn’t until three days later that Caleb reached out to me, trying to mend things. “Sweetheart…” He had just started speaking when his phone rang with a special notification sound. Caleb immediately pulled out his phone to check it. I caught a glimpse of the contact name: Daisy. [Caleb, it’s been a while. Let’s have dinner together.] After reading the message, he turned and left without a word. As if he remembered something, he left me with a phrase: “Sweetheart, I have some things to take care of. I’ll come find you later.” I watched his eager back disappear, and let out a self-deprecating laugh. Late at night. I drifted off to sleep, but my hands were clutched to my stomach. My stomach was wracked with intense, cramping pain. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, and my consciousness began to fade. I felt as though I was seeing flashbacks of our time together. Caleb would buy me priceless necklaces and personally put them on me, promising to buy me diamonds for a lifetime. Caleb would light fireworks across the city for three days and nights to celebrate my birthday, smiling as he said he would give me all he had, without reservation. Caleb would make a wish during a rare meteor shower, saying he would stay with me until the end of time, never letting go… His vows still echoed in my ears, but those words were just empty promises he used to appease me. He had never intended for us to grow old together. When Caleb arrived, he saw my pale face. “What’s wrong with you? You look awful!” He rushed forward, helping me up, a hint of panic in his voice. I weakly said, “My stomach… it hurts so much.” “Did you skip meals again?” He frowned, his voice carrying a hint of reproach. I looked at him, the stomach pain making it almost impossible to speak. “Never mind, I’ll take you to the hospital.” With that, Caleb picked me up on his back and started walking out. Halfway there, his phone rang again. Caleb saw it was Daisy calling, and answered without thinking. Immediately, sobs came from the other end. “Caleb, my… my aunt fainted… Uncle isn’t home… I don’t know what to do, can you please come help me?” Daisy’s voice clearly reached my ears. Caleb hung up, his eyes flickering with apology: “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry… something came up with the company… I have to go deal with it right away.” “Can you take a taxi to the hospital? I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done, okay?” “I’ll call a cab for you, it’ll be here right away.” Rain mixed with cold sweat, dripping from my forehead. I watched his car disappear into the rainy night, forcing a bitter smile. The icy rain instantly soaked my clothes, chilling my heart. I waited a long time, but the cab Caleb said he’d called never arrived. I struggled to pull out my phone to call one myself, but my hands were shaking too much to operate it. The intense stomach pain made it almost impossible to breathe; I could only gasp for air. Before I completely lost consciousness, I vaguely mumbled: “It’s a good thing I decided not to love you anymore, Caleb Thorne…” When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a hospital. A nurse informed me that a kind passerby had found me collapsed on the street and brought me in. Just then, Daisy’s voice, thick with suppressed sobs, came from outside the door: “It’s all my fault, I panicked in a crisis and instinctively called for your help, and as a result… Aria… she fainted outside…” “Caleb, how could you come help me first?” “Aria will be so angry when she finds out…” “She already doesn’t approve of me living at the Blackwood family home, now this…” Caleb’s warm fingers gently wiped away her tears. “It’s not your fault.” “Don’t be scared. If she bullies you, I’ll protect you.” His voice was exceptionally gentle, a warmth I had never felt from him. “If I had another chance, I’d still help you.” He murmured, “Who told her she couldn’t even take care of herself? Consider this a punishment.” I clutched my heart on the hospital bed. Just a little longer, and I’d be able to let go completely. One day, I wouldn’t love Caleb Thorne anymore. “You’ve been running around so much, you must be tired.” “Go back and rest.” Caleb softly coaxed her. After a long while, Daisy left with a hint of awkwardness. Once the hospital room door closed again, Caleb finally noticed that I was awake on the bed, staring intently at him. There was no trace of guilt on his face, and he asked as usual, “You’re awake? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” My face was pale, and I shook my head slightly. In the past, learning the truth of him abandoning me would have sent me into a rage, throwing things and chasing him out. But now, I was exceptionally calm, neither crying nor making a scene. Caleb frowned slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Are you angry?” He asked tentatively. I replied expressionlessly: “No.” As if the matter was truly over. I quietly recovered in the hospital, no longer trying to be close to him as before. Caleb, meanwhile, came to see me every day after work. On the day of my discharge, Mr. Blackwood suddenly called. “The money’s transferred to you, and I’ve booked your flight.” His voice was filled with suppressed anger. “Don’t forget what you promised!” A cold smile played on my lips: “Understood.” “Don’t be too upset.” I added lightly, “When I marry, the Hayes family’s betrothal gift is a staggering billion dollars. You’re not losing out.” Mr. Blackwood remained silent, simply hanging up the phone in a huff. When Caleb came to pick me up, he said to me, unprompted: “Aria, I know you’re still angry.” “I’ll take you somewhere fun; maybe that’ll cheer you up?” I frowned, just about to refuse, when he pulled me into the car. The club lights were dim and hazy. Entering suddenly, I felt a little disoriented. “Aria, you’re here!” “Caleb said there was an exciting show, so he invited me along.” Daisy suddenly appeared in front of me, affectionately linking her arm in mine. I paused, a mocking smile twisting my lips. *How ridiculous.* With Daisy here, how could he genuinely try to make *me* happy? But my heart, it seemed, didn’t ache as much as it used to. “Aria…” Daisy’s affected voice interrupted my thoughts. I frowned slightly, then forcefully shook off her hand. “Who’s your sister? Don’t try to claim kinship!” Daisy looked at Caleb with a wronged expression, biting her lip as she explained, “My aunt is your father’s wife, so naturally, you’re my older sister.” I let out a cold laugh: “Your aunt is Mr. Blackwood’s mistress, or rather, his homewrecker. But she certainly isn’t his wife!” “A mistress’s niece, where do you get off calling me your sister?” “It’s laughable!” Caleb saw Daisy’s pitiful expression and couldn’t help but snap: “Enough! Aria Blackwood!” “It’s just a title. Why be so petty?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, said nothing, and walked straight to a seat. The two of them sat down beside me. Suddenly, a scream erupted from the stage. Staff pushed out an iron cage, where two adult Tibetan Mastiffs paced restlessly inside. “The special show is about to begin!” the excited host yelled. “Little Chili versus Big Dragon! Who do you think will win?” I frowned deeply. Such bloody fighting and betting shows were common at this club, but I always detested them. Just as I was about to leave, Daisy grabbed me: “Don’t you like watching, Aria?” “I absolutely love it.” I was about to retort when something suddenly went wrong. The latch on the iron cage holding the two Tibetan Mastiffs suddenly came loose. The two mastiffs crashed through the cage door and immediately lunged at the nearest person. The host was the first victim. The scene descended into chaos. I watched Caleb directly bypass me, grab Daisy’s hand, and shield her entirely in his embrace as he headed for the emergency exit. Meanwhile, I stood closest to one of the mastiffs, able to clearly see the drool dripping from its fangs. My eyes filled with terror, and I unconsciously cried out, “Caleb… save me…” Caleb, hearing my plea, merely shot a cold glance over his shoulder, then unhesitatingly protected Daisy and quickly left. The next second, the two mastiffs pounced on me, who was frozen in place. “Ah—!” Excruciating pain tore through me instantly. In a daze, I felt as though I was about to be devoured by the two beasts. “Bang! Bang!” Two gunshots pierced the deadly silence, and the two mastiffs collapsed to the ground. When I woke again, the pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and I was back in a hospital bed. The first person I saw was Daisy Miller. “Aria, you’re finally awake.” Daisy feigned concern. “You scared me to death.” I scoffed, propped myself up, my gaze like a knife: “Daisy Miller, Caleb’s not here. Can you really keep up this act? It’s sickening.” Daisy’s lips twitched, and she instantly dropped her pretense: “Aria Blackwood, what are you so proud of?” “Caleb Thorne doesn’t care about you, and you can’t go back to the Blackwood family home. Who are you trying to impress?” “It must hurt, watching him protect me first, right?” She leaned closer, her voice laced with glee: “Too bad those beasts didn’t finish you off.” My eyes suddenly turned cold and sharp as I stared directly at her: “You’re the one who ordered those two mastiffs to be released, aren’t you?” Daisy met my gaze without flinching, a smile playing on her lips: “I did. What are you going to do about it?” “I want you dead. What can you do to stop me?” I slowly raised my eyelids and let out a scoff: “Daisy Miller, you dare to mess with me without checking my background?” “I’m the kind of person who would kill my own father.” Before I finished speaking, I moved suddenly, grabbing Daisy’s head and slamming it against the wall behind her. “Ah—!” Daisy let out a bloodcurdling scream. When Caleb Thorne returned to the hospital room, he saw Daisy lying on the ground, barely conscious. Seeing the situation, he immediately slapped me across the face, his expression livid: “Aria Blackwood! Are you crazy?!” “Just because I saved her first, you tried to kill her?” My eyes were bloodshot, and I forced down the metallic taste in my mouth, hissing, “She tried to kill me with those mastiffs!” “Even so, you can’t kill her!” Caleb roared. His words were like a poisoned knife, piercing my heart. I suddenly let out a desolate laugh. “Since I’ve already done it, Mr. Thorne, how do you plan to deal with me?” “A leg.” Caleb’s voice was as cold as ice. “Then I won’t pursue this matter any further.” I abruptly looked up, my eyes filled with disbelief. For Daisy Miller, he wanted to break my leg? I struggled desperately. But Caleb had already motioned for his bodyguards to step forward and restrain me tightly. “Sweetheart, this is what you owe Daisy.” Caleb’s voice was devoid of warmth. He finished, then picked up Daisy, his eyes filled with anxiety. I stared at his disappearing back, my eyes filled with despair. The rubber baton in the bodyguard’s hand suddenly fell, striking my knee heavily. Excruciating pain instantly spread through my entire body. My vision went black, and I almost fainted. I curled up on the ground, large tears mixing with cold sweat as they rolled down my face. Caleb Thorne was truly ruthless. When I woke again, my leg was in a cast. But I still felt an immense amount of pain. “Have you learned your lesson this time?” Caleb stood by the bed, his voice devoid of any emotion. I kept my lips tightly sealed, ignoring him completely. Caleb frowned deeply, and his lips moved as if to speak. But a nurse suddenly pushed the door open and announced, “Mr. Thorne, Ms. Miller is awake.” He glanced at me. “Wait for me to come back.” With that, he left without looking back. Watching his hurried retreating figure, I softly said: “Caleb Thorne, I won’t wait anymore.” Two hours later. Pushed in a wheelchair by a bodyguard, I arrived at the airport. After sending Caleb Thorne a breakup text, I tossed my phone into a trash can the moment the screen went dark. Then, resolutely, I boarded the flight to Northmont City.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298789”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic

When I caught Julian with his mistress, after his car was rear-ended, he just leaned out the window and smiled at the paparazzi. “Got a scandal on your hands? Make sure you find my wife. She *loves* dealing with this kind of news.” Whenever my name, Mrs. Thorne, came up, everyone in the social circle would say the same thing, almost in unison: “She was a nobody who snagged a rich husband. She’d never dare to leave.” No one remembered that when Julian married me, he’d graciously introduced me, almost as if he was doing them a favor: “This is my wife. She’s young, so please be patient with her.” Everyone assumed I’d throw money at the paparazzi, just like I always did. They thought I’d smooth over the gossip, and keep up the facade of a loving power couple with Julian. But this time, I simply walked into Grandfather Thorne’s study. “It’s been three years. You should let me go.” There’s an unwritten rule among Hong Kong’s tabloids. If a entertainment reporter’s monthly performance isn’t up to par, they just need to stake out Julian Thorne, CEO of Concord Group. He cycles through a new lover every month, flaunting them openly, making it effortless to snap a picture. Men will be men, a little scandal is normal. But his wife, she has to maintain appearances, uphold her reputation. If you capture his latest affair, just take the evidence to her and name your price. She’ll pay for it all. However, old habits sometimes meet new circumstances. When a rookie paparazzo from the Daily Scoop brought a video to Julian, only to be sent to me, I had just arrived home from the office. My villa sat atop Victoria Peak, offering a panoramic view of the entire Victoria Harbour skyline. The voice on my phone continued, unskilled yet surprisingly shrewd, asking for an outrageous amount. “Mrs. Thorne, it’s just two million. That’s like, what you pay for a handbag, right? Just two million to buy off your husband’s scandal. Such a bargain! If you’ve decided, just call this number…” This paparazzo wasn’t very bright. His first time tailing Julian, and the second time he was brazen enough to knock on Julian’s car window. Julian’s cars were hard to identify; he changed them frequently, with hundreds in his garage. Yet, for those few days, he kept driving the same one. In the video the paparazzo sent me, Julian lowered his window. In the passenger seat sat a woman dressed provocatively. Last month, when I received photos, that seat was occupied by a rising starlet from mainland China. Julian took off his sunglasses, revealing an almost flawless face to the camera. He crooked a finger at the paparazzo. As the man approached, Julian’s voice was languid, coaxing him gently, “Newbie? So clueless. After you take the pictures, you go to my wife. I won’t give you a dime.” “Don’t have my wife’s contact information?” He pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled a few numbers, and casually tossed it into the paparazzo’s arms. Then, he glanced at the woman beside him and clicked his tongue, “Get out.” She leaned in, whining, “Mr. Thorne, didn’t you say three days? It’s only been a few hours…” Julian tossed a card at her, then pressed the unlock button. “You got caught in just a few hours. Get out, or do you want me to physically kick you out? Scram.” I turned off the video, my face calm, and sat at the dining table. The maid had meticulously laid out dinner, dish after dish. The clock in the grand hall chimed eight times.

I looked up at the clock, a gift Julian had brought me from France seven years ago, now swaying listlessly, looking worn. I applied to Hong Kong University at seventeen and met Julian when I was eighteen. Back then, he was understated, except for his perfectly sculpted face. He knew everything, but he’d pretend to be clumsy, saying he’d forgotten it all and needed me to teach him. After just half a month, people who knew him whispered to me, “You think he’s just a pretty face? He’s the heir to Concord Group, and his dad’s running for office.” Later, Julian left campus. He wouldn’t listen to reason, driving back and forth between Hong Kong University and Central every day. For those few years, we argued occasionally, but loved each other constantly. My heart would close, then open, then close again. At twenty-five, after countless obstacles, I married Julian. That wedding for the ages is still documented in old newspapers. One small tabloid, desperate for attention, ran a headline that overshadowed all the major papers. It was sensational, but completely disrespectful. Julian saw the paper the morning after our wedding. After reading it, he silently placed his water glass on top of the paper. I later learned that sensational paper turned out to be the last one that tabloid ever published. Looking back, piece by piece, I realized how deeply Julian and I had once been in love. But how did it all come to this, like that old clock, its swing utterly lifeless? In the quiet of the grand hall, the elevator’s digital display flickered, stopping at the third floor just as the doors slid open. Julian emerged, his suit jacket casually draped over his arm. Even the harsh overhead light in the elevator couldn’t diminish the sharp angles of his face. I glanced at him, then looked away, refocusing on the dishes before me. A minute later, I heard the soft thud of his jacket being tossed onto the sofa. Immediately, a hint of oud and the warmth of his body enveloped me. Julian stood behind me, hands braced on the table, as if he was about to pull me into an embrace. His voice was nonchalant, “Good evening, Mrs. Thorne. Let’s see, how much is this latest news worth?” My phone lay on the table. He tapped a few times, navigating to my messages. “Two million? Journalists’ appetites these days are smaller than your dinner bill. Anyone would think my net worth has depreciated.” I put down my forks, sitting up straight, maintaining a half-fist’s distance from his chest. Instead of answering, I changed the subject. “I won’t approve Anastasia’s direct placement as Head of Public Relations. Her application will be rejected.” Sure enough, at the mention of that name, Julian straightened up, the encompassing presence instantly vanishing. He sat opposite me, hands resting on the back of his chair, his gaze drifting to the beautiful night outside the window. “Her matters don’t concern you.” “Or perhaps…” Julian’s gaze shifted back, propping his chin, he looked at me, “You just don’t like her?” I looked straight into his eyes, searching for something, but found nothing. Outsiders only saw that Julian’s parade of lovers never stopped these past two years. No one knew he was actually using them as a smokescreen for Anastasia. Two years ago, Julian sent her abroad for a ‘gold-plating’ education, intending for her to be directly placed in the company upon her return. It wasn’t that I disliked her; I was simply being practical. Concord Group’s hiring criteria are incredibly strict. A candidate’s primary degree must be from a QS Top 30 university, otherwise, they’re not even considered. Anastasia only has a high school diploma. She worked at a department store at eighteen. The ‘gold-plating’ school was a diploma mill. There’s no way to justify her hiring, even if we were trying to make an exception for talent. My voice was faint. “I’m speaking about company business, not personal feelings.” Julian didn’t reply. After a moment, I heard a voice message from his phone. A voice, syrupy sweet and undeniably seductive: “Mr. Thorne, my little undies are still in your car. When would be a good time for me to pick them up?” The phone’s speaker seemed intentionally loud, the words echoed mockingly in my ears. Julian looked at me, raising the phone to his lips, his voice lazy, “Wrong number, miss.” I gazed at his indifferent expression, trying to recall how he used to love me.

In the beginning, Julian would still confess and apologize. The gift he sent Anastasia was incredibly valuable, and it inadvertently took the spot I’d originally reserved. The circle of the wealthy is too small; a single clue can unravel a massive scandal. Julian rushed home, handing over all his phone, bank cards, and a dozen other account passwords. “She helped me with a small favor. Alex picked out the gift. I’ll give him hell for it later.” He only offered a brief explanation, and I believed him. There was no reason not to. But that day, Anastasia, somehow learning about the big fight Julian and I had, appeared. On a rainy day, she knelt dramatically at the villa’s entrance: “Mrs. Thorne, there’s truly nothing between Mr. Thorne and me. You must believe us.” It was so clearly an attempt to cover up something, it just screamed ‘guilty!’ Anger burned away all rationality, so I didn’t see the flicker of pity in Julian’s eyes as he looked down from the floor-to-ceiling window that day. A man feeling pity for a woman might be the start of a romance for two, but for three, it’s a dangerous game. But none of that truly mattered; the hardest days were long behind me. If I remembered correctly, today was November 27th, leaving only a few days until my three-year term with Grandfather Thorne expired. I looked at Julian, about to speak. He suddenly received a call. The voice from the other end faintly leaked out. It was Anastasia’s voice: “The electricity in my house is out. It’s pitch black, and I’m a little scared.” “Wait there, I’m coming.” Julian stood up, glanced at me, and I swallowed the words on my tongue. Since I didn’t speak, he walked out without a backward glance. After Julian left, I drove to the Thorne family’s old estate. The Thorne estate was a sprawling compound of century-old mansions. Inside, the decor was a blend of East and West, a mix of antique and modern. Upon entering, Julian’s mother, Vivian, was sitting on the sofa, a maid massaging her shoulders. Hearing my arrival, she turned, glanced at me, then closed her eyes again. I didn’t bother her, going straight upstairs to the study. “Grandfather…” I considered my words carefully. “Three years have passed. I want to leave the Thorne family.” I knew then that Julian had outwardly sent Anastasia away, but in reality, he was sending her abroad to study. When I found out he was still flying back and forth between Hong Kong and Australia while I was hospitalized, I completely gave up hope. It was then that I sought out Grandfather Thorne, just as the Thorne family was facing internal turmoil. He asked me to stay for three more years, promising that if Julian remained incorrigible, he would personally arrange for me to leave the family. The armchair creaked softly. Grandfather Thorne opened his eyes, looking at me, and asked, “I thought three years would make you accustomed to things. Why do you still want to leave?” Seeing my silence, he sighed. “When you first wanted to marry into the Thorne family, you should have anticipated this. Look at Vivian. When she was young, she was even fiercer than you. Yet, in the end, didn’t she hold onto the title of Mrs. Thorne? All those illegitimate children couldn’t stir up a ripple, and the son she bore, Julian, is still the sole heir to the Thorne family.” Vivian was Julian’s mother, this woman, who now leads a life of quiet devotion, had an extraordinary force of personality in her youth. “Do you know what she relied on?” “What?” “She relied on my endorsement. As long as I say so, no one can steal your position as Mrs. Thorne. With my backing, those other women won’t threaten you.” “Besides, I’m not talking to you about feelings; I’m talking about a transaction. You’ve performed exceptionally well these past few years, both in the company and for the Thorne family. You’ve held everything together. It would take time and effort for us to cultivate another person like you. You can calculate whether leaving the Thorne family is worth it.” If we were to talk strictly about transactions and not feelings, this was undoubtedly the most advantageous deal. I poured him some tea and said softly, “You know, if it wasn’t about feelings, I wouldn’t even be here right now.” I had considered it too, holding firmly onto the title of legitimate wife, no matter how hard outsiders tried, they couldn’t enter the Thorne family’s doors. But I didn’t marry Julian to become Mrs. Thorne; I became Mrs. Thorne because I married Julian. Back then, I pushed him away, telling him his marriage wasn’t free, yet he still had the nerve to date me. Julian frowned, “What do you mean my marriage isn’t free? I have plenty of ways to marry you. You can’t go a day without seeing me, and you’re already talking about marrying someone else? Do you think I’m a good-for-nothing?” I didn’t believe him. What ‘ways’ could possibly bypass so many obstacles? Later, he didn’t bring it up again. He just gradually took over Concord Group, slowly integrating himself into the heart of the Thorne family. After graduation, I also successfully joined Concord Group, starting as an intern. Back then, I trained during the day, and Julian coached me personally at night, allowing me to grow incredibly fast. By the time we brought up marriage again, he was firmly established in the Thorne family, and no one dared to utter a word of dissent. He respected Grandfather Thorne, however, and the next day, he came up with a scheme to make the Old Master see reason. “You little rascal, did you really think I was old and senile, out of my mind?” Grandfather Thorne scoffed. “You dragged some pretty boy with slicked-back hair from an entertainment company, holding hands, ready to register their marriage. Did he think I’d be scared? I just turned a blind eye. I indulged you, and still you’re not satisfied.” “Now, after only a few years, you’re making a fuss about divorce again.” “Let me be clear. Once you leave the Thorne family, I won’t let you return. Think it over carefully before you decide.” I bowed my head, replaying the fleeting seven years of my marriage in my mind. “Leaving the Thorne family is something I’ve waited three years for.” He waved his hand. “Finish up your current affairs. Someone will contact you then.” When I came downstairs, Julian’s mother was still sitting on the sofa. I walked to the door, then turned back. “In the future, I won’t be able to offer you my well wishes. I hope you remain in good health.” After saying this, I turned and walked out. The living room of the Thorne estate was dimly lit. Vivian, shrouded in the dim light, looked straight ahead. All the light in the room seemed to be carried away by the figure walking swiftly out. As she watched, it was as if she saw a younger Vivian, walking out. Aunt Lee bent down and whispered in her ear, “Madam, it’s late. It’s time for bed.” The living room fell dim again. Vivian retracted her gaze. “Let’s go.” **TO BE CONTINUED…**

As I got into the car, I remembered I had to deal with my current affairs. I immediately arranged for the paparazzo to collect a check the next morning, buying off all of Julian’s gossip from today. The next time I received a message from Julian was a few days later. After Anastasia returned, he had reined himself in considerably. Remembering my deal with Grandfather Thorne, I told my driver to make a detour to pick Julian up. The door was open when we arrived. Inside, a group of people were playing cards, and Anastasia was among them. She had just won a big hand. The man opposite her flattered, “Ms. Anastasia, you’re on a roll tonight! You’re dominating the table; I’m about to lose my shirt. Have a heart, spare us!” Anastasia smiled, about to speak. Julian looked up and saw me at the doorway. He took a drag from his cigarette and scoffed, “The one standing at the door is your actual Mrs. Thorne. Are you blind, calling random women by her title? No wonder you can’t win a hand all night.” The man saw me and stood up in a panic. “M-Mrs. Thorne…” Anastasia, seeing me, paled. At this scene, I knew Julian was doing it on purpose. He always did this – deliberately made me watch, doing everything he could to force me into a divorce and make way, yet he’d stubbornly refuse to actually divorce me. His reason was simple enough: “She’s young and naive. I can keep her around for fun, but who would seriously marry her? One Mrs. Thorne is enough, and that’s you.” I surveyed the people in the room, left my driver behind, instructing him to pick up Julian later. Then I nodded politely and turned to leave. I had just reached the door when Anastasia blocked my path. The girl who was eighteen two years ago was now barely twenty, still fresh-faced and vibrant. She was slightly breathless, her voice a delicate whisper, “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t mean to break up your family. I tried to leave, I tried to forget, but I couldn’t.” “I can’t forget Mr. Thorne. I love him very much, but please believe me, deep down, I really didn’t intend to destroy your family.” “Mr. Thorne and I… we just met too late. If he had met me back then, I would have been Mrs. Thorne…” “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Anyway, I genuinely want to apologize to you. If there’s a next life, I’ll be your servant to atone.” “But in this life, I can’t give Mr. Thorne back to you. I’m sorry.” I looked her up and down. Two years ago, she could only afford clothes costing a few tens of dollars. Now, she was covered head to toe in understated luxury, a pair of shoes on her feet worth three years of her department store salary. There are many sparrows. I used to be one; now it’s Anastasia. I didn’t speak, and I wouldn’t stoop to speaking with her. I wouldn’t try to appeal to morality or conscience to awaken a mistress. If she knew how to spell ‘morals,’ she wouldn’t be so thrilled to be a mistress. “You should divorce Mr. Thorne!” Her voice called out behind me, “Release him!” Inside, the people exchanged glances. Someone dared to look at Julian, whose face was icy. “Julian, aren’t you going after Mrs. Thorne? When women get angry, they might actually file for divorce!” Julian looked at the image of the two-million-dollar check, lost in thought. After a moment, he chuckled, “Wouldn’t divorce be great? Free as a bird.”

Julian Thorne was the last in the family to find out about my divorce. When he heard the news, he raised an eyebrow at the person who delivered it. “What kind of joke is that?” Scarlett exaggerated, “What joke? Grandfather Thorne already agreed to it! Besides, you’ve been turning the house upside down these past two years, wasn’t it all just to get a divorce?” “If you ask me,” she leaned in conspiratorially, perched on the table, “if it’s over, it’s over. Men always end up despising a nagging wife.” She then added, “Kitty’s still waiting for you, you know? She hasn’t married all these years. If you divorce, maybe give her a chance?” Scarlett had always had a designated sister-in-law in mind, only for me to appear out of nowhere that year. On Julian’s wedding day, she was fuming with indignation, yet forced herself to smile and hand over a generous red envelope. Poor Kitty, she channeled her sorrow into strength from that day on, rejecting all men and becoming a workaholic. Julian, head aching, told her to get out. Scarlett grabbed her bag and shuffled out. As she exited, she bumped into Anastasia, who, perhaps having overheard their conversation, still had a smile lingering on her lips. Scarlett folded her arms and grinned. “Wow, that’s a wide grin. Like some kind of carnivorous plant. Are you going to eat babies? Delusional! Amelia could divorce eighteen times, and my sister-in-law’s position still wouldn’t be yours.” Anastasia’s expression remained unchanged, her tone gentle. “Then whose would it be? Your Kitty? She seems even more delusional.” Scarlett clapped her hands. “Typical mistress behavior, skin as thick as a fortress wall. You’re not fit to even tie Kitty’s shoelaces.” Anastasia watched her walk away, her gaze distant. Julian sent her abroad to study, bought her a house, and enabled her to live a high society life. And for her, he even fought with me for a divorce. First, it was Amelia; now, it was her. If Amelia could sit in the position of Mrs. Thorne, why couldn’t she? Two years ago, she knelt on Victoria Peak, gazing at the luxurious villa before her. Back then, she thought, one day, the doors of that villa would open for her.

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After successfully winning over the brooding male lead, I chose to immediately leave that world. Even though he begged me, desperate and broken, to stay, I didn’t spare him a single second. Later, back in the real world, things weren’t going well for me. The System found me, offering five million to return to the story and win him over again. I was about to agree when, suddenly, live comments flooded my vision: “OMG, the ex-wife, who dumped our guy, is back!” “Lol, she can’t seriously think he still loves her, right?” “The second girl who came to win him over didn’t just manage to reduce his darkness level to negative one hundred; she willingly stayed, giving him the complete family he always yearned for.” “Now the happy couple is about to get married. Can’t the ex-wife just have some dignity and leave them alone?” It took me a long time to process. The “ex-wife” the comments were talking about was me. Beside me, the System was still chattering away, trying to sell me on the deal. “You just need to make Damien Thorne fall in love with you again, and you’ll get five million. Even if you fail, you’ll get fifty thousand for your effort. How about it? A good deal, right?” It was a good deal. And right now, I really needed that money. But remembering the live comments, I fell silent for a moment, saying I needed to think about it. So, the System decided to send me back into the story first. To be precise, it sent me back to the home Damien and I once shared. The small apartment, just a few hundred square feet, was old but cozy, just as I remembered it three years ago. Damien hadn’t touched any of my things. Even the dress I’d accidentally stained before leaving, he’d somehow cleaned and hung neatly in the closet. I remembered that dress was from a trendy designer label back then. When Damien secretly bought it for me, I’d scolded him fiercely for spending so much. He wouldn’t argue, just lowered his gaze obediently, waiting for my anger to fade. Then he’d gently coax me into trying it on. I lowered my head, looking at the silky fabric in my hands. Taking a deep breath. If Damien had really forgotten about me. Then why was he still keeping this apartment? I looked up again, surveying the small room. My gaze was suddenly drawn to a white sheet of paper taped to the window. On the translucent sheet of paper, a few scrawled words stood out: “HOUSE FOR SALE. NEGOTIABLE. URGENT.” The sharp, decisive handwriting was unmistakably Damien’s.

Again, dense lines of text appeared before my eyes: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be stunned, huh? Our guy isn’t holding onto their past; he just hasn’t gotten around to selling the place yet.” “The ex-wife still thinks Damien loves her like before, but nope! With Chloe, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance.” “The System only made her come back to cause trouble for Damien and Chloe. The ex-wife is just setting herself up for public humiliation.” I pursed my lips. So, that was it. The System dared to offer five million because it was utterly convinced I’d fail. Its real goal was to make me the villainess, an obstacle to the main couple’s love story. It just got my labor for fifty thousand, practically for free. Fifty thousand. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Being a clown for fifty grand wasn’t nothing. It was a week’s worth of ICU treatment, after all. I called out to the System and readily agreed to the deal. The System beamed, giving me a large sum of money for my expenses during this time, though it could only be used in this world. Since Damien was so eager to sell this apartment. Why don’t I just buy it? I clutched my phone, dialing the familiar number from memory. It took half a minute for someone to pick up. A clear, youthful voice chimed from the other end: “Hello, who is this?” I froze for a second. I looked down to confirm, it was indeed Damien’s number. “I was passing by and saw the ‘for sale’ sign on the window…” “You want to buy the house?” The person on the other end exclaimed with surprise: “That’s great! Someone finally wants this place.” I cautiously asked: “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. You can just call me Chloe.” So, she was the second System Host. In my moment of distraction, there was a brief commotion on the other end, like two people whispering. It seemed like a long time passed. Someone picked up the phone again. Damien’s cold voice came through clearly: “Hello, would it be convenient to meet and discuss?”

I waited restlessly in the coffee shop for a long time. Until a low-key luxury car pulled up in front. The car door opened, and a stunning couple emerged. Three years hadn’t changed Damien’s striking looks. The youthful innocence in his eyes had faded, replaced by the calm composure that came with power and wealth. He leaned casually against the car door. Chloe must have said something, because he smiled and ruffled her hair. Even from a distance, his eyes flickered in my direction. It was only for a second, a brief, dismissive glance, before his gaze went utterly blank again, like a still pond. Chloe sat across from me while I was still lost in thought. She smiled apologetically at me: “My boyfriend had an appointment, so he could only drop me off. I’m here to handle this for him.” I nodded genuinely: “I can see you two have a great relationship.” Chloe’s smile deepened: “My boyfriend runs a tech company; his pure profit alone is over a hundred million a year. We don’t really need the money from this house; we just don’t want to keep it anymore.” Her tone carried a hint of subtle superiority. I nodded, and, following protocol, asked to see the house. Chloe hesitated, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes: “The house key isn’t with me. If you want to see it, my boyfriend will have to take you personally.” I was slightly surprised, confused: “He didn’t give you the key before you came?” Logically, buying and selling a house always involves a viewing. Damien couldn’t possibly not know that. Chloe sighed with a苦笑 (bitter smile): “I asked for the key, but he wouldn’t give it to me, and he’s never taken me there either.” She lowered her voice: “To be honest with you, this is where he lived with his ex-wife when he started out, and honestly, it just gives me the creeps, so I really want to sell it fast.” I said “Oh.” “In that case, I don’t need to see the house. Let’s just sign the contract.” Chloe was overjoyed. Afraid I might change my mind, she immediately pulled out the sales agreement. However, she didn’t have the property deed, so the transfer couldn’t happen immediately. We still had to wait for Damien. Sitting idly, bored. Looking at this other System Host, just like me. I curiously probed: “How did you two get together?” Actually, I wanted to know how she managed to win Damien over. The System had told me. After I left that world, Damien briefly spiraled into a secondary dark phase. He slit his wrists, attempted suicide, and his darkness level became so extreme it threatened the very stability of this world. Chloe came into his life at that time. She not only reduced his darkness level but completely replaced me in his heart. Damien wasn’t an easy person to win over. She must have gone through a lot. Yet Chloe said with a beaming smile: “He had just been abandoned by his ex-wife then and was completely disheartened. I kept comforting him, and we confirmed our relationship not long after.” It was that simple? I could barely believe it. Again, a flood of mocking comments appeared before me: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be so triggered, right? Damien just has no resistance to our girl!” “Don’t forget the ex-wife spent ten whole years trying to win him over, throwing herself at him countless times before he finally, reluctantly, got with her.” “Chloe just talked to him a bit, and all the ex-wife’s years of effort went to waste. That’s the power of true love!” … I silently read the sarcastic remarks. They were right. My process of winning Damien over had indeed been incredibly difficult. So difficult that I never wanted to go through it again.

Damien’s parents didn’t love him. At a young age, they abandoned him at a psychiatric institution, leaving him at the mercy of abusive staff and relentless bullying. The patients confined there were lunatics and violent maniacs; the entire institution was like a prison, heavily guarded. So, even with the System’s help. When I rescued him from the psychiatric institution, I almost lost half my life. I brought Damien to an unfamiliar city. I wanted him to study, to lead a normal, decent life. I even arranged expensive psychological counseling for him every week. I did all of this because I wanted him to completely trust me. But Damien was too smart. He easily saw through the truth of this world, including my identity and purpose. After high school, Damien became the top student in the state. I happily celebrated with him. But he subtly pulled my arm, his expression cold, with a hint of self-mockery that was hard to detect. “You’re doing all this for me because you want to win me over, right?” After the initial shock. I sighed, choked up, and said: “I like you. That’s my purpose.” Damien snorted lightly, clearly not believing me. I felt a little nervous, but still rested my head on his chest, muttering softly: “Damien, don’t dwell on all those trivial things. These past few years have been so hard for me; you need to make my life easier soon.” “I truly like you. Please don’t question me like this anymore; it really hurts.” … After college graduation, Damien started his own business. We moved into that small, old apartment. There was no heating in the winter. I’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and my feet would get stiff and ache. Every night, Damien would rub my feet, silently, his eyes red with concern. By that time, we were already married. His life’s ambition shifted from founding a tech company to, well, destroying the world, to the rather mundane goal of just making enough money to buy his wife a house. We hustled during the day and nestled together on that small bed at night. When I was trying to secure investments, one CEO made things incredibly difficult for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Damien, so I just walked the streets alone, crying. And when faced with deliberate retaliation from competitors, I firmly shielded Damien, protecting him, while I ended up in the operating room myself. I can’t even count how many times I went through things like that. That’s how long it took for Damien to slowly, finally, fall in love with me. Compared to my ten-year effort to win him over. Chloe only took three short weeks. To reduce Damien’s darkness level to negative one hundred. And raise his affection level to one hundred percent. 6. Chloe was still telling me about the sweet details of her relationship with Damien. She said Damien fell in love with her at first sight. I suppressed a pang of sadness and took a sip of my milkshake. “Did he… ever mention his ex-wife to you?” Chloe thought for a moment, then smiled triumphantly: “Never. He must have moved on from her long ago.” I nodded. I hoped so. I didn’t want to genuinely sabotage their relationship either. When Damien arrived, I’d pretend to be regretful, throwing myself at him. Knowing his personality, he’d probably be disgusted and avoid me at all costs, right? Once he rejected me, I’d take my fifty grand and happily leave this world. As I was planning this, Chloe suddenly got a call and told me excitedly: “My boyfriend just finished his meeting and is coming to pick me up now. We’re going on a date, so let’s talk about the house tomorrow.” I froze for a second, forcing a smile and nodding: “Then I’ll just go…” Chloe affectionately took my arm: “Where do you live? I’ll have my boyfriend drop you off.” My smile froze. Chloe was so enthusiastic. So much so that by the time I realized what was happening, the car door was already closed. A cool, crisp pine scent, like an expensive cologne, slowly permeated the air. Beside me, Chloe’s voice was playful as she showed Damien her freshly done manicure. Damien was sitting in front of me. From my angle, I could see his distinct, bony fingers on the steering wheel. He focused intently on the road, yet responded to her every word. Watching the man’s striking features in the rearview mirror, I felt a momentary blur. Damien was never this patient with me. When we were together, he was always so insecure, afraid of losing me. Every night, he would wake up abruptly, frantically reaching for my side of the bed. I could only, tiredly, reassure him again and again: “I won’t leave you alone. I love you, and it has nothing to do with the mission.” I kept telling him that lie until the moment I left that world. Damien wept, clutching my hand, begging me not to go, begging me to stay a little longer, to spend a few more years with him. I sighed, refusing him every time. His face was pale, his eyes swirling with pain and madness: “Why? Don’t you love me? How can you bear to leave me? Didn’t you say you’d never leave me alone?” I gave a bitter smile: “I have my own love in the real world.” … Catching my gaze, Damien frowned and slowly lifted his eyes. Our eyes met. The car lurched forward violently—a sudden brake. I wasn’t prepared and hit my forehead hard against the window, leaving a red mark. “Sorry.” Damien’s voice sounded somewhat hoarse. He turned his head slightly: “We’re at your place.” I finally realized, said “Oh,” and thanked him. When I got in the car, Chloe had asked for my address, and I’d just randomly picked a neighborhood. I made plans to meet Chloe again and then got out of the car. Damien kept his eyes down, never looking back at me. He didn’t hesitate for a second; the car’s tail disappeared from sight in an instant. At the entrance of the bustling neighborhood. I slowly crouched down, hugging myself. Who knows how much more time passed. The familiar luxury car silently and forcefully pulled up in front of me. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing the sharply defined profile of a man. Damien just calmly looked at me: “Get in.” 7. I’d thought Damien would find a way to see me. But I never imagined it would be so soon. So fast that I hadn’t even had time to prepare myself to face him. During the standoff, Damien lit a cigarette. I frowned abruptly. I didn’t like Damien smoking. In the past, I would have snatched it away and stomped it out without a word. And back then, Damien was always obedient. If I said quit smoking, he wouldn’t touch another cigarette. He would never have acted like this. Staring at me unabashedly through the pale tendrils of smoke. I held back, just about to speak. The live comments once again flooded the screen: “Why is the ex-wife acting so demure? Does she seriously think Damien still has feelings for her?” “Damien already knows she’s back, but he didn’t want to make Chloe overthink, so he didn’t reveal her identity in the car.” “If it weren’t to warn her not to say anything stupid in front of Chloe, Damien wouldn’t bother meeting her alone.” I stood silently. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. That momentary impulse vanished without a trace. Now, I didn’t care about his status. The cool, pale hand resting on the car window dropped lazily. Damien pulled his eyes away, expressionless. Lost in thought, he put out the cigarette with a hint of sarcasm. “You wanted to buy the house, right? Get in, I’ll take you to see it.” 8. The drive was silent. Damien showed no inclination to speak. But the comments in my vision were a cacophony. “Good thing the ex-wife is smart enough to know the passenger seat is for the girlfriend. She voluntarily sat in the back.” “Damien’s supposed to be warning the ex-wife, so why is he taking her to their old house?” “Don’t worry, upstairs! Damien just doesn’t know the ex-wife’s little schemes yet. Once her true colors are exposed, he’ll hate her even more.” … At the door. I couldn’t help but ask: “Don’t you have anything… to ask me?” Damien’s hand, holding the key, paused. He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and quietly waited for me to continue. I gathered my courage: “Like why I came back, how long I’ll stay, or… what my purpose is in buying this house.” “Not interested.” Damien withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent: “I don’t care who buys this place; I’ll erase everything associated with you. As for why you came back…” With his hands in his pockets, he seemed to let out a small, mocking laugh: “It wouldn’t be to win me over again, would it?” I was silent for a second: “What if it is?” 9. “You’re welcome to try.” Damien raised his hand and pushed the door open. *Creak*. Everything inside the room was once again clearly laid out before me. A shaft of slanted light, dust motes dancing. Damien stood behind me and to my left, his clothes brushing against my sleeve. He didn’t speak, nor did I. In the silence, it felt like we were back in an ordinary afternoon after we got married. We were returning home from the grocery store. His fingers were laden with plastic bags full of all my favorite foods and snacks. We laughed and joked all the way. When the door closed. I jumped onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck, giggling as I sought his lips. Damien leaned back helplessly. Until his back was pressed against the door, he held my waist and kissed me back, gently. … My wrist was suddenly seized. My body stiffened. Damien quickly let go, his expression returning to normal: “Take a look. Selling it to you is fine; it saves me the trouble of cleaning the place.” I nodded, casually walked around, and came back: “No problem. I’ve already arranged with Chloe to transfer the deed tomorrow. Just give her the property deed, you don’t need to show up.” “Alright.” Damien agreed readily. His tone paused for a second, then he said with slow, mocking sarcasm: “You don’t need to be so guarded with me. If I could, I’d wish to never see you again.” “This private meeting with you is because I was afraid you’d say something stupid in front of Chloe,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “I don’t want her to be unhappy, do you understand?” I took a quiet, deep breath: “I won’t mention our relationship to Chloe.” “Good.” Silence again. With things said to this extent. I knew, of course, that I should discreetly leave. But for those fifty thousand dollars. I still spoke, my voice a little choked: “Damien, I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have abandoned you and left.” A ripple appeared in Damien’s dark, deep eyes. He narrowed his eyes, staring at me, seemingly lost in thought: “Go on.” “I came back this time because I wanted to make it up to you, and I realized I still like you. Can you…” I nervously looked at him: “Consider me… just one more time?” 9. The room fell into a dead silence. As soon as I finished speaking, my vision was practically drowned in an overwhelming flood of mocking comments. I closed my eyes in shame. My face was burning, hot with embarrassment. After a long moment. Someone in the room let out a low chuckle: “What? Did your husband in the real world finally die, and now you’re coming back to your eternal backup?” I snapped my head up, my eye twitching for a moment. My lips trembled slightly with anger. All of this registered in Damien’s dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow: “My apologies, didn’t you notice? I have my own love now.” His tone was light and dismissive. Yet, those dark pupils were fixed intently on me. My eyes felt a little dry; I blinked hard: “I know.” Damien seemed to smile faintly, or perhaps there was no emotion at all. Finally, he just left, pushing the door open, leaving me with his retreating back. “YES! God knows how long I’ve waited for this moment!” “Hahahaha, the boomerang finally came back to hit the ex-wife!” “The ex-wife should just leave the System already. Even if she saves Damien a hundred more times, he’ll never love her again.” “But Damien still went soft on her, leaving the house key so she wouldn’t be homeless… Wait, what’s under the key?” I stiffened slightly, looking at the table covered with a clear tablecloth. Damien had indeed left the apartment key behind before he left. Under the old, yellowish key, there was a red booklet. “OMG! Am I seeing things? It’s the property deed!” “Why would Damien leave the property deed to the ex-wife?! Shouldn’t such an important document be given to Chloe?!” I tremblingly opened the property deed. Suddenly, the comments went silent. Only my name was written on the property deed. 10. I suddenly remembered. When we bought this apartment, Damien handled all the paperwork. I knew I would eventually leave, and to avoid future complications, I specifically instructed him to only put my name on it. I didn’t expect him to only listen halfway. He did indeed only write one name, but that person was me. So this was my apartment all along; there was no need for me to buy it. The comments became lively again: “I get it! Damien must not want the ex-wife to meet Chloe again, so he pulled this trick.” “Makes sense. Damien is now a billionaire, a self-made tech mogul. A house worth a few hundred thousand is nothing to him; it’s less than a single piece of jewelry for Chloe!” “Ah, I’m dying of sweetness! Damien’s love for Chloe is so obvious! They’ve been together for over a year, and he still can’t bear to even touch her hand…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. So that was it. I called out to the System: “I failed to win him over. Can I go back to my original world now?” The System slowly typed out a question mark: “You’re too perfunctory, aren’t you? You think a simple confession is enough to make him fall in love with you again? Where’s the relentless drive you used to have to win him over?” I sighed: “I did my best. So, what would constitute ‘not perfunctory’?” The System was silent for a moment: “You actively kiss the male lead.” “What?” I was startled. “If the male lead pushes you away, we’ll consider it a failed attempt to win him over. You can exit the world and receive fifty thousand.” “If he doesn’t push you away…” The System paused: “Then you’ll have to stay in this world until you win him over again.” ***PAYWALL SECTION START*** 11. “Has this damn System lost its mind?” “The ex-wife actually agreed. What a bitch.” “Waaah, I don’t want Damien and Chloe to have problems, nooooo!” I remained silent. In this story, someone always had to be the villain. If not me, then someone else. I haggled: “Since you’ve made a demand, I want more in return. One hundred thousand, not a cent less.” For the System, this amount was negligible. It agreed, but with some doubt: “Are you really that short on cash?” “Of course.” The System continued to ask: “Is it worth sacrificing the rest of your life for someone who will never wake up?” A pale face flashed before my eyes. I said: “You wouldn’t understand.” The next day, Chloe invited me to lunch to thank me for solving her big headache. “I think, even if he doesn’t say it, he still cares about her,” Chloe whispered her complaints to me. “Honestly, many people asked about buying this house over the years, but he didn’t want to sell it, which is why it dragged on until now.” I paused, then shook my head: “You’re overthinking it. If he really didn’t want to sell it, why would he put up a ‘for sale’ sign?” Chloe gave me a knowing look, then leaned in mysteriously, sighing: “Let me be frank with you, actually…” Her words were cut short as the glass next to our table suddenly shattered. A massive roar followed. Glass shards flew everywhere; I quickly pulled Chloe behind me. A middle-aged man drove an oversized excavator straight into the restaurant. “OMG, OMG! The villain’s here! Here comes the legendary hero to the rescue!” “Who will Damien save first~ So hard to guess~” “Can the villain just kill the ex-wife already? Her pretentious act is so annoying!” In the bumpy trunk of a car. Chloe was terrified and panicked, her eyes red like a little white rabbit. A year ago, when she met Damien, he had already built a vast business empire. On the surface, he was merely a tech magnate, but in this city, where his influence stretched far beyond the law, he was practically untouchable. Under his protection, Chloe had experienced virtually no hardships. But I was different. During the years I spent trying to win Damien over, he hadn’t yet become as powerful as he was today, and he couldn’t always protect me. In the business world, it was all open hostility and underhanded tactics. Being kidnapped, I was already… used to it. I struggled to turn around, gently touched her forehead, signaling her to calm down. Meanwhile, the villain had stopped the car in a desolate wasteland. He picked up an iron bar from the passenger seat and walked coldly towards us. “Whoa, he’s going to hit someone with a bar that thick?” “That looks so scary, it’ll hurt so much, don’t hurt our girl, noooo!” “It’s not going to be a bad ending, right? If Chloe dies, Damien will probably go insane again.” “Exactly, when the ex-wife left, Damien nearly destroyed himself. If Chloe gets hurt again…” Watching Chloe curl up in fear. I closed my eyes. Chloe saved Damien. She rescued him, giving him the motivation to live a good life. If she died too… The moment the weapon swung towards Chloe, I moved, pushing myself in front of her. 12. Piercing police sirens cut through the howling wind. The weapon paused in mid-air, an inch from my face, frozen in panic. Amidst a flurry of “????????”, I remained in a posture that felt like I was about to be decapitated any second, difficultly looking into the distance. Several police cars surrounded the desolate area. The car door opened, and Damien almost leaped out, his eyes immediately fixed on me. In my peripheral vision, his expression went blank for a moment, his eyelashes trembling, yet his face remained emotionless. Only his eyes, in that instant, turned completely red. The villain quickly made a decision between me and Chloe. He grabbed Chloe, holding a sharp box cutter to her carotid artery. Amidst her screams, he dragged her quickly backward, moving further and further away from me, even further than from the police. The police rapidly surrounded him, confronting the villain. I seemed to be safe. Still shaken, I tried to stand up. The next second. Someone lunged forward and embraced me. 13. Damien was trembling. He held me in a death grip, so tight I could barely breathe. My neck slowly became soaked. I almost wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I could only, as I had done countless times before, stroke his back, gently: “It’s okay, see? I’m fine. I told you I’d be okay, why don’t you believe me?” The person in my arms remained silent. That wildly beating heart finally calmed down under my soothing touch. “?? Damien hates the ex-wife, so why was his first instinct to hug her?” “Hate my ass! Subconscious reactions don’t lie; he clearly loves her to death!” “So what about our girl? Chloe’s still with the bad guy!!!” My heart sank. I pulled away: “Let go. Everyone’s watching. Chloe is still with the bad guy; we need to save her first…” “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about someone else?” Damien cut me off abruptly, his cold, rough voice trembling uncontrollably: “Why did you shield her? If I had been even a second late…” “I won’t die,” I whispered. “Even if I die here, at most, I’ll just return to reality.” But Chloe was different. Once a System Host decides to remain in this world, their real-world body automatically dies, and they can only live out the rest of their days within the story. Chloe dying in this world meant she was truly dead, in every sense. Damien’s expression slowly faded. Even his breathing seemed to turn cold, leaving only a moist red mark at the corner of his eye. He lowered his head slightly, looking at his trembling hands, giving a self-deprecating laugh: “How pathetic. I worried for nothing. I almost forgot you don’t belong here.” “Right, you have a precious husband in a vegetative state back in the real world. You can’t wait to leave here and go back to him.” After successfully winning over the brooding male lead, I chose to immediately leave that world. Even though he begged me, desperate and broken, to stay, I didn’t spare him a single second. Later, back in the real world, things weren’t going well for me. The System found me, offering five million to return to the story and win him over again. I was about to agree when, suddenly, live comments flooded my vision: “OMG, the ex-wife, who dumped our guy, is back!” “Lol, she can’t seriously think he still loves her, right?” “The second girl who came to win him over didn’t just manage to reduce his darkness level to negative one hundred; she willingly stayed, giving him the complete family he always yearned for.” “Now the happy couple is about to get married. Can’t the ex-wife just have some dignity and leave them alone?” 1. It took me a long time to process. The “ex-wife” the comments were talking about was me. Beside me, the System was still chattering away, trying to sell me on the deal. “You just need to make Damien Thorne fall in love with you again, and you’ll get five million. Even if you fail, you’ll get fifty thousand for your effort. How about it? A good deal, right?” It was a good deal. And right now, I really needed that money. But remembering the live comments, I fell silent for a moment, saying I needed to think about it. So, the System decided to send me back into the story first. To be precise, it sent me back to the home Damien and I once shared. The small apartment, just a few hundred square feet, was old but cozy, just as I remembered it three years ago. Damien hadn’t touched any of my things. Even the dress I’d accidentally stained before leaving, he’d somehow cleaned and hung neatly in the closet. I remembered that dress was from a trendy designer label back then. When Damien secretly bought it for me, I’d scolded him fiercely for spending so much. He wouldn’t argue, just lowered his gaze obediently, waiting for my anger to fade. Then he’d gently coax me into trying it on. I lowered my head, looking at the silky fabric in my hands. Taking a deep breath. If Damien had really forgotten about me. Then why was he still keeping this apartment? I looked up again, surveying the small room. My gaze was suddenly drawn to a white sheet of paper taped to the window. On the translucent sheet of paper, a few scrawled words stood out: “HOUSE FOR SALE. NEGOTIABLE. URGENT.” The sharp, decisive handwriting was unmistakably Damien’s. 2. Again, dense lines of text appeared before my eyes: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be stunned, huh? Our guy isn’t holding onto their past; he just hasn’t gotten around to selling the place yet.” “The ex-wife still thinks Damien loves her like before, but nope! With Chloe, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance.” “The System only made her come back to cause trouble for Damien and Chloe. The ex-wife is just setting herself up for public humiliation.” I pursed my lips. So, that was it. The System dared to offer five million because it was utterly convinced I’d fail. Its real goal was to make me the villainess, an obstacle to the main couple’s love story. It just got my labor for fifty thousand, practically for free. Fifty thousand. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. Being a clown for fifty grand wasn’t nothing. It was a week’s worth of ICU treatment, after all. I called out to the System and readily agreed to the deal. The System beamed, giving me a large sum of money for my expenses during this time, though it could only be used in this world. Since Damien was so eager to sell this apartment. Why don’t I just buy it? I clutched my phone, dialing the familiar number from memory. It took half a minute for someone to pick up. A clear, youthful voice chimed from the other end: “Hello, who is this?” I froze for a second. I looked down to confirm, it was indeed Damien’s number. “I was passing by and saw the ‘for sale’ sign on the window…” “You want to buy the house?” The person on the other end exclaimed with surprise: “That’s great! Someone finally wants this place.” I cautiously asked: “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. You can just call me Chloe.” So, she was the second System Host. In my moment of distraction, there was a brief commotion on the other end, like two people whispering. It seemed like a long time passed. Someone picked up the phone again. Damien’s cold voice came through clearly: “Hello, would it be convenient to meet and discuss?” 3. I waited restlessly in the coffee shop for a long time. Until a low-key luxury car pulled up in front. The car door opened, and a stunning couple emerged. Three years hadn’t changed Damien’s striking looks. The youthful innocence in his eyes had faded, replaced by the calm composure that came with power and wealth. He leaned casually against the car door. Chloe must have said something, because he smiled and ruffled her hair. Even from a distance, his eyes flickered in my direction. It was only for a second, a brief, dismissive glance, before his gaze went utterly blank again, like a still pond. Chloe sat across from me while I was still lost in thought. She smiled apologetically at me: “My boyfriend had an appointment, so he could only drop me off. I’m here to handle this for him.” I nodded genuinely: “I can see you two have a great relationship.” Chloe’s smile deepened: “My boyfriend runs a tech company; his pure profit alone is over a hundred million a year. We don’t really need the money from this house; we just don’t want to keep it anymore.” Her tone carried a hint of subtle superiority. I nodded, and, following protocol, asked to see the house. Chloe hesitated, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes: “The house key isn’t with me. If you want to see it, my boyfriend will have to take you personally.” I was slightly surprised, confused: “He didn’t give you the key before you came?” Logically, buying and selling a house always involves a viewing. Damien couldn’t possibly not know that. Chloe sighed with a bitter smile: “I asked for the key, but he wouldn’t give it to me, and he’s never taken me there either.” She lowered her voice: “To be honest with you, this is where he lived with his ex-wife when he started out, and honestly, it just gives me the creeps, so I really want to sell it fast.” I said “Oh.” “In that case, I don’t need to see the house. Let’s just sign the contract.” Chloe was overjoyed. Afraid I might change my mind, she immediately pulled out the sales agreement. However, she didn’t have the property deed, so the transfer couldn’t happen immediately. We still had to wait for Damien. Sitting idly, bored. Looking at this other System Host, just like me. I curiously probed: “How did you two get together?” Actually, I wanted to know how she managed to win Damien over. The System had told me. After I left that world, Damien briefly spiraled into a secondary dark phase. He slit his wrists, attempted suicide, and his darkness level became so extreme it threatened the very stability of this world. Chloe came into his life at that time. She not only reduced his darkness level but completely replaced me in his heart. Damien wasn’t an easy person to win over. She must have gone through a lot. Yet Chloe said with a beaming smile: “He had just been abandoned by his ex-wife then and was completely disheartened. I kept comforting him, and we confirmed our relationship not long after.” It was that simple? I could barely believe it. Again, a flood of mocking comments appeared before me: “Hahaha, the ex-wife must be so triggered, right? Damien just has no resistance to our girl!” “Don’t forget the ex-wife spent ten whole years trying to win him over, throwing herself at him countless times before he finally, reluctantly, got with her.” “Chloe just talked to him a bit, and all the ex-wife’s years of effort went to waste. That’s the power of true love!” … I silently read the sarcastic remarks. They were right. My process of winning Damien over had indeed been incredibly difficult. So difficult that I never wanted to go through it again. 4. Damien’s parents didn’t love him. At a young age, they abandoned him at a psychiatric institution, leaving him at the mercy of abusive staff and relentless bullying. The patients confined there were lunatics and violent maniacs; the entire institution was like a prison, heavily guarded. So, even with the System’s help. When I rescued him from the psychiatric institution, I almost lost half my life. I brought Damien to an unfamiliar city. I wanted him to study, to lead a normal, decent life. I even arranged expensive psychological counseling for him every week. I did all of this because I wanted him to completely trust me. But Damien was too smart. He easily saw through the truth of this world, including my identity and purpose. After high school, Damien became the top student in the state. I happily celebrated with him. But he subtly pulled my arm, his expression cold, with a hint of self-mockery that was hard to detect. “You’re doing all this for me because you want to win me over, right?” After the initial shock. I sighed, choked up, and said: “I like you. That’s my purpose.” Damien snorted lightly, clearly not believing me. I felt a little nervous, but still rested my head on his chest, muttering softly: “Damien, don’t dwell on all those trivial things. These past few years have been so hard for me; you need to make my life easier soon.” “I truly like you. Please don’t question me like this anymore; it really hurts.” … After college graduation, Damien started his own business. We moved into that small, old apartment. There was no heating in the winter. I’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and my feet would get stiff and ache. Every night, Damien would rub my feet, silently, his eyes red with concern. By that time, we were already married. His life’s ambition shifted from founding a tech company to, well, destroying the world, to the rather mundane goal of just making enough money to buy his wife a house. We hustled during the day and nestled together on that small bed at night. When I was trying to secure investments, one CEO made things incredibly difficult for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Damien, so I just walked the streets alone, crying. And when faced with deliberate retaliation from competitors, I firmly shielded Damien, protecting him, while I ended up in the operating room myself. I can’t even count how many times I went through things like that. That’s how long it took for Damien to slowly, finally, fall in love with me. Compared to my ten-year effort to win him over. Chloe only took three short weeks. To reduce Damien’s darkness level to negative one hundred. And raise his affection level to one hundred percent. 6. Chloe was still telling me about the sweet details of her relationship with Damien. She said Damien fell in love with her at first sight. I suppressed a pang of sadness and took a sip of my milkshake. “Did he… ever mention his ex-wife to you?” Chloe thought for a moment, then smiled triumphantly: “Never. He must have moved on from her long ago.” I nodded. I hoped so. I didn’t want to genuinely sabotage their relationship either. When Damien arrived, I’d pretend to be regretful, throwing myself at him. Knowing his personality, he’d probably be disgusted and avoid me at all costs, right? Once he rejected me, I’d take my fifty grand and happily leave this world. As I was planning this, Chloe suddenly got a call and told me excitedly: “My boyfriend just finished his meeting and is coming to pick me up now. We’re going on a date, so let’s talk about the house tomorrow.” I froze for a second, forcing a smile and nodding: “Then I’ll just go…” Chloe affectionately took my arm: “Where do you live? I’ll have my boyfriend drop you off.” My smile froze. Chloe was so enthusiastic. So much so that by the time I realized what was happening, the car door was already closed. A cool, crisp pine scent, like an expensive cologne, slowly permeated the air. Beside me, Chloe’s voice was playful as she showed Damien her freshly done manicure. Damien was sitting in front of me. From my angle, I could see his distinct, bony fingers on the steering wheel. He focused intently on the road, yet responded to her every word. Watching the man’s striking features in the rearview mirror, I felt a momentary blur. Damien was never this patient with me. When we were together, he was always so insecure, afraid of losing me. Every night, he would wake up abruptly, frantically reaching for my side of the bed. I could only, tiredly, reassure him again and again: “I won’t leave you alone. I love you, and it has nothing to do with the mission.” I kept telling him that lie until the moment I left that world. Damien wept, clutching my hand, begging me not to go, begging me to stay a little longer, to spend a few more years with him. I sighed, refusing him every time. His face was pale, his eyes swirling with pain and madness: “Why? Don’t you love me? How can you bear to leave me? Didn’t you say you’d never leave me alone?” I gave a bitter smile: “I have my own love in the real world.” … Catching my gaze, Damien frowned and slowly lifted his eyes. Our eyes met. The car lurched forward violently—a sudden brake. I wasn’t prepared and hit my forehead hard against the window, leaving a red mark. “Sorry.” Damien’s voice sounded somewhat hoarse. He turned his head slightly: “We’re at your place.” I finally realized, said “Oh,” and thanked him. When I got in the car, Chloe had asked for my address, and I’d just randomly picked a neighborhood. I made plans to meet Chloe again and then got out of the car. Damien kept his eyes down, never looking back at me. He didn’t hesitate for a second; the car’s tail disappeared from sight in an instant. At the entrance of the bustling neighborhood. I slowly crouched down, hugging myself. Who knows how much more time passed. The familiar luxury car silently and forcefully pulled up in front of me. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing the sharply defined profile of a man. Damien just calmly looked at me: “Get in.” 7. I’d thought Damien would find a way to see me. But I never imagined it would be so soon. So fast that I hadn’t even had time to prepare myself to face him. During the standoff, Damien lit a cigarette. I frowned abruptly. I didn’t like Damien smoking. In the past, I would have snatched it away and stomped it out without a word. And back then, Damien was always obedient. If I said quit smoking, he wouldn’t touch another cigarette. He would never have acted like this. Staring at me unabashedly through the pale tendrils of smoke. I held back, just about to speak. The live comments once again flooded the screen: “Why is the ex-wife acting so demure? Does she seriously think Damien still has feelings for her?” “Damien already knows she’s back, but he didn’t want to make Chloe overthink, so he didn’t reveal her identity in the car.” “If it weren’t to warn her not to say anything stupid in front of Chloe, Damien wouldn’t bother meeting her alone.” I stood silently. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. That momentary impulse vanished without a trace. Now, I didn’t care about his status. The cool, pale hand resting on the car window dropped lazily. Damien pulled his eyes away, expressionless. Lost in thought, he put out the cigarette with a hint of sarcasm. “You wanted to buy the house, right? Get in, I’ll take you to see it.” 8. The drive was silent. Damien showed no inclination to speak. But the comments in my vision were a cacophony. “Good thing the ex-wife is smart enough to know the passenger seat is for the girlfriend. She voluntarily sat in the back.” “Damien’s supposed to be warning the ex-wife, so why is he taking her to their old house?” “Don’t worry, upstairs! Damien just doesn’t know the ex-wife’s little schemes yet. Once her true colors are exposed, he’ll hate her even more.” … At the door. I couldn’t help but ask: “Don’t you have anything… to ask me?” Damien’s hand, holding the key, paused. He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and quietly waited for me to continue. I gathered my courage: “Like why I came back, how long I’ll stay, or… what my purpose is in buying this house.” “Not interested.” Damien withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent: “I don’t care who buys this place; I’ll erase everything associated with you. As for why you came back…” With his hands in his pockets, he seemed to let out a small, mocking laugh: “It wouldn’t be to win me over again, would it?” I was silent for a second: “What if it is?” 9. “You’re welcome to try.” Damien raised his hand and pushed the door open. *Creak*. Everything inside the room was once again clearly laid out before me. A shaft of slanted light, dust motes dancing. Damien stood behind me and to my left, his clothes brushing against my sleeve. He didn’t speak, nor did I. In the silence, it felt like we were back in an ordinary afternoon after we got married. We were returning home from the grocery store. His fingers were laden with plastic bags full of all my favorite foods and snacks. We laughed and joked all the way. When the door closed. I jumped onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck, giggling as I sought his lips. Damien leaned back helplessly. Until his back was pressed against the door, he held my waist and kissed me back, gently. … My wrist was suddenly seized. My body stiffened. Damien quickly let go, his expression returning to normal: “Take a look. Selling it to you is fine; it saves me the trouble of cleaning the place.” I nodded, casually walked around, and came back: “No problem. I’ve already arranged with Chloe to transfer the deed tomorrow. Just give her the property deed, you don’t need to show up.” “Alright.” Damien agreed readily. His tone paused for a second, then he said with slow, mocking sarcasm: “You don’t need to be so guarded with me. If I could, I’d wish to never see you again.” “This private meeting with you is because I was afraid you’d say something stupid in front of Chloe,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “I don’t want her to be unhappy, do you understand?” I took a quiet, deep breath: “I won’t mention our relationship to Chloe.” “Good.” Silence again. With things said to this extent. I knew, of course, that I should discreetly leave. But for those fifty thousand dollars. I still spoke, my voice a little choked: “Damien, I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have abandoned you and left.” A ripple appeared in Damien’s dark, deep eyes. He眯ed his eyes, staring at me, seemingly lost in thought: “Go on.” “I came back this time because I wanted to make it up to you, and I realized I still like you. Can you…” I nervously looked at him: “Consider me… just one more time?” 9. The room fell into a dead silence. As soon as I finished speaking, my vision was practically drowned in an overwhelming flood of mocking comments. I closed my eyes in shame. My face was burning, hot with embarrassment. After a long moment. Someone in the room let out a low chuckle: “What? Did your husband in the real world finally die, and now you’re coming back to your eternal backup?” I snapped my head up, my eye twitching for a moment. My lips trembled slightly with anger. All of this registered in Damien’s dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow: “My apologies, didn’t you notice? I have my own love now.” His tone was light and dismissive. Yet, those dark pupils were fixed intently on me. My eyes felt a little dry; I blinked hard: “I know.” Damien seemed to smile faintly, or perhaps there was no emotion at all. Finally, he just left, pushing the door open, leaving me with his retreating back. “YES! God knows how long I’ve waited for this moment!” “Hahahaha, the boomerang finally came back to hit the ex-wife!” “The ex-wife should just leave the System already. Even if she saves Damien a hundred more times, he’ll never love her again.” “But Damien still went soft on her, leaving the house key so she wouldn’t be homeless… Wait, what’s under the key?” I stiffened slightly, looking at the table covered with a clear tablecloth. Damien had indeed left the apartment key behind before he left. Under the old, yellowish key, there was a red booklet. “OMG! Am I seeing things? It’s the property deed!” “Why would Damien leave the property deed to the ex-wife?! Shouldn’t such an important document be given to Chloe?!” I tremblingly opened the property deed. Suddenly, the comments went silent. Only my name was written on the property deed. 10. I suddenly remembered. When we bought this apartment, Damien handled all the paperwork. I knew I would eventually leave, and to avoid future complications, I specifically instructed him to only put my name on it. I didn’t expect him to only listen halfway. He did indeed only write one name, but that person was me. So this was my apartment all along; there was no need for me to buy it. The comments became lively again: “I get it! Damien must not want the ex-wife to meet Chloe again, so he pulled this trick.” “Makes sense. Damien is now a billionaire, a self-made tech mogul. A house worth a few hundred thousand is nothing to him; it’s less than a single piece of jewelry for Chloe!” “Ah, I’m dying of sweetness! Damien’s love for Chloe is so obvious! They’ve been together for over a year, and he still can’t bear to even touch her hand…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. So that was it. I called out to the System: “I failed to win him over. Can I go back to my original world now?” The System slowly typed out a question mark: “You’re too perfunctory, aren’t you? You think a simple confession is enough to make him fall in love with you again? Where’s the relentless drive you used to have to win him over?” I sighed: “I did my best. So, what would constitute ‘not perfunctory’?” The System was silent for a moment: “You actively kiss the male lead.” “What?” I was startled. “If the male lead pushes you away, we’ll consider it a failed attempt to win him over. You can exit the world and receive fifty thousand.” “If he doesn’t push you away…” The System paused: “Then you’ll have to stay in this world, until you win him over again.”

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At my 28th birthday party, Julian publicly carried Serena, who had fallen into the pool, back to her room. Everyone thought I’d just swallow the insult and stay silent. Instead, I trashed the banquet hall and demanded a divorce. Julian turned to look at me, a smirk on his face, utterly despicable. “Are you sure about this? There’s no turning back with me.” I nodded. “I know.” Three years after I left, I went to pick up my doctor boyfriend from work. But I bumped into Julian, holding an adorable little girl, consulting Asher about her condition. The moment our eyes met, he gave a cold sneer, pointed at me, and said to the little girl: “Looking for your mom? That’s her.” The hallway was bustling with people, the clinic door already closed by the patient who’d just entered. Julian’s long strides stopped right in front of me. His chiseled face was as cold and rigid as I remembered. His impeccably tailored suit outlined his perfectly proportioned, model-like physique. And the little girl in his arms, wearing a couture princess dress, was absolutely adorable. She clung to Julian’s neck, timidly eyeing me up and down. “What, don’t recognize your own child?” Julian’s thin lips curved, but no warmth reached his eyes. “Right, you haven’t seen her in years. How could you possibly recognize her?” I stiffened, a bitter feeling instantly flooding my heart. Back then, to get the divorce finalized quickly, I asked for nothing, not even the baby, who was still in diapers. Everyone called me heartless. Even my own parents thought so. The first time I brought up divorce, my mom specifically called me home. “You’re getting divorced, why didn’t you take the child? She’s your own flesh and blood, how could you be so cruel?” Seeing me look down and stay silent, she grew frantic: “Once you divorce, your stepsister will marry Julian before long. Are you just going to let her be your daughter’s stepmom?” I clenched my icy fingers. Turns out, in her heart, this marriage had always belonged to Serena. And I was nothing more than a temporary occupant, a stranger. But Serena wasn’t my biological sister. Fate played a cruel trick on us; she and I were swapped at birth. When I was finally brought home, the arranged marriage with Julian fell to me. Serena was forced to separate from Julian. In a fit of anger, she moved abroad and stopped contacting the family. I don’t know how they convinced Julian, but he eventually agreed to marry me. For two years, we maintained a civil, almost cordial relationship, relatively harmonious. But everyone knew Julian was still looking for Serena.

The day I received news about Serena was my due date. I woke up in pain in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for Julian, only to find him on the balcony, talking on the phone. He was coaxing someone on the other end, his voice soft and tender: “I’ll come get you myself. Don’t worry, no one will dare say anything… Okay, I’m leaving now.” The moment he turned, our eyes met. I spoke calmly. “My stomach hurts a little. Can you take me to the hospital first?” He paused briefly, then continued walking out. “I’ll have the driver take you.” As he neared the door, I called out to him again. Julian’s gaze wasn’t warm. “Something else?” The tightening sensation in my abdomen made my voice tremble: “Julian,” I said, “if you walk out that door today, we’re done.” Julian’s expression instantly darkened. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Scarlett, I’m just going to pick her up. Why are you so dramatic?” He paused, then added, “Don’t forget, this marriage was originally hers, you snatched it.” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Two years of marriage, and while Julian didn’t necessarily love me, he never mistreated me. It even made me believe he had moved on from Serena and wanted to build a life with me. But now, I realized it was all just an illusion. My abdomen tightened again, forcing me to bend over and gasp for air. Serena’s cold voice came from Julian’s phone: “If she doesn’t want me here, I’ll buy a ticket and go back right now.” Julian’s face tightened. He spun around and hurried out. “Don’t be difficult, I’ll be there in a minute… Serena, don’t you dare leave…” As he spoke, he was already out the door. The door opened and closed, shutting away all his dominance and favoritism. I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to ease the pain. But the pain didn’t subside; instead, my stomach felt a heavy pull. Then, a warm liquid trickled down my thighs. Panicked, I dialed Julian’s number. The moment I spoke, I heard Julian’s chilling voice: “How long are you going to keep this up?” I said, my voice trembling, “I’m bleeding, the baby…” “Enough!” he cut me off sharply, scoffing, “I thought you were different from them. I didn’t expect you to use such low-class tactics.” “Whatever it is, we’ll talk when I get back.” With that, he hung up. Decisive and ruthless. Before we got married, my adoptive parents had told me, “If you don’t want to marry him, then don’t. Your mom and dad will support you for life.” Back then, I thought that with family interests binding us, Julian wouldn’t be so cruel. Later, I learned you can’t expect someone who never intended to love you seriously to put you first. The idea of divorce started then.

That day, an ambulance came for me. Lying on the operating table, clinging to life, I remembered many things. I remembered when we first got married, Julian and I had a sweet period. He’d take me to see the ocean at dawn, and we’d kiss when he was tipsy. Every evening and late night after we got our marriage license, he’d make love to me. My friends would say enviously, “Your husband really spoils you.” But that lasted only six months. The day I noticed something was off, I overheard him talking to his friend. His friend asked him, “Are you flaunting your affection like this to force Serena back? Looks like it’s not working.” Julian leaned against the railing, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips: “Then let’s see how long she can endure.” “But your wife is pretty great in every way. No feelings for her?” Julian took a sip of his drink and chuckled dismissively. “It’s all for appearances, nothing I ever truly felt.” The indifference in his eyes stung me terribly, every single day after that. I tried the silent treatment with him. He was such a perceptive man; he’d always notice my unhappiness immediately and coax me in a low voice. As he coaxed me, I started coaxing myself. He couldn’t let go of Serena, he was just unwilling to admit it. If possible, he could pretend to be good to me for a lifetime, and I could play along. I didn’t know then that time is never the cure; reunion is. The operation was reaching its critical point; the medical staff’s movements suddenly became frantic. As my consciousness gradually blurred, I remembered something else. After my marriage to Julian was set, Serena went on a hunger strike and eventually fainted from low blood sugar. On that rainy night, Julian rushed her into the emergency room, cradling her. His white shirt was soaked through, but he didn’t seem to notice, only gripping her hand, calling out “Serena” again and again. I followed behind, holding the payment slip, watching him tremble as he pulled out fruit candies from his pocket, carefully peeled the wrapper, and slipped one into her pale lips. I stood by the IV stand, watching as he bent over, revealing the back of his neck, where sweat and rainwater mingled and dripped. That day, he was also sweating cold from a stomachache. But because Serena couldn’t be left alone, he gritted his teeth and stayed in the emergency room all night. And I, suffering from placental abruption and clinging to life, couldn’t even get him on the phone. Love is one thing, but if it requires too much humility, I don’t want it. Perhaps heaven had pity on me; in the end, I narrowly survived. It was five days later when I came out of the ICU. Before I even saw Julian, I heard news of him from my nurse. Turns out, while I was on the operating table, fighting for my life, he was throwing a lavish welcome party for Serena. He even arranged a spectacular fireworks display for her. Under the dazzling fireworks, the two exchanged glances, their expressions deep and restrained. In this marriage, I forgave many unforgivable things, thinking it would lead to happiness. Later, I discovered he had already predetermined our ending. No matter what I did, happiness was impossible. So, the first thing I did after being discharged was tell him I wanted a divorce. He was silent for a long time. “Don’t overthink this. Just focus on recovering.” He thought I was making this decision due to postpartum hormones. It wasn’t until three months later, at my birthday party, that I brought up divorce again. He was holding a soaking wet Serena, walking towards a room. Hearing my words, he turned back to look at me, his smile utterly despicable: “Are you sure about this? There’s no turning back with me.” I nodded calmly. “Okay.”

“Julian, my little Lily~” Serena’s voice pulled me back to the present. She was wearing elaborate makeup and high heels, stopping beside Julian. “What did the doctor say?” “Surgery is scheduled for next month.” Serena breathed a sigh of relief, smiling. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get an appointment with Dr. Asher! Now our little Lily will have…” She suddenly paused, as if just noticing me, and exclaimed in surprise: “Scarlett?” Before I could speak, she continued, “Did you come back because you knew Lily was sick? Well, you are Lily’s birth mother, after all.” After she spoke, I heard Julian say coldly, “Birth mother? Does she even deserve that title?” I froze, instinctively looking at the child in his arms. But I saw in her eyes a look of disappointment and sadness that I dared not face. In that moment, my chest felt like a handful of shattered glass had been kneaded into it, the dense, throbbing pain instantly spreading to my limbs. Julian had initially agreed to let me take the child. But he changed his mind. I questioned why he went back on his word. The man lounged on the sofa, his long legs casually stretched out: “Serena is afraid of ruining her figure and doesn’t want to have children.” I was furious. “That’s *my* child!” “She’s my child too. Don’t worry, Serena will treat her like her own.” I disagreed, but he used all sorts of tactics to pressure me. No matter what he said, I wouldn’t budge. Finally, he looked at me with cold eyes. “Scarlett, don’t forget how your adoptive parents got their jobs.” At that moment, I suddenly understood that I had no power to fight against him. During the standoff, Serena tugged on Julian’s sleeve, trying to smooth things over: “How about we all have dinner together? We can catch up. Julian, what do you say?” Julian glanced at me, his eyes indifferent. “I don’t make a habit of catching up with ex-wives.” He turned and strode away. Serena chased him for a few steps, then turned back. “You’re not back to snatch Lily from me, are you?” “No. I’m back to get married.” She gasped briefly. “You’re getting married?” Her shock was understandable. Julian and I had been divorced for two years, and they still hadn’t registered their marriage or held a wedding. And I was once again ahead of her. But she unusually breathed a sigh of relief. “Congratulations! Have you set a date?” “The eighth of next month.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You haven’t told our parents about this, have you? Why don’t you ask for their opinion?” “We’ll see.” However, that evening, I received a call from my parents, asking me to come home. The moment I walked in, Brenda’s face was drawn as she demanded: “Why are you back? Didn’t you act so tough when you left, saying you’d never return?” “And who are you marrying? What’s his family like? Does he know you’ve been married and have a child?”

I once thought home was a safe harbor. But all the storms I’d weathered over the years were brought by this very home. Parents usually wish their children well, but my biological parents were experts at rubbing salt in my wounds. Though I already knew they disliked me, hearing those words, I couldn’t help but feel my eyes redden, a suffocating pain pressing down on me. Seeing me silent, Serena quickly pulled Brenda away, but her words were directed at me: “Scarlett, just say something. Mom’s just looking out for you. If he doesn’t know, you should tell him soon.” I curled my lips, my voice laced with sarcasm: “Don’t compare him to you all. You don’t deserve it.” As I spoke, my parents simultaneously yelled: “What are you saying?” “Say that again!” At the same time, Julian’s voice echoed: “What’s going on?” Following the sound, I saw Julian standing at the stair landing, holding Lily’s hand. Serena went up to him, naturally took Lily’s hand, and said to Julian: “Julian, Scarlett is getting married.” Julian’s voice was as indifferent as ever. “Oh, congratulations.” Serena: “That’s what I said too, congratulations on finding true love. By the way, Scarlett, why didn’t you bring your boyfriend back today?” “Dinner isn’t necessary, he’s very busy.” I placed our wedding invitation on the coffee table. “Here’s our invitation. Whether you come or not is up to you.” “And please, don’t call me back unless it’s really necessary.” As I turned to leave, my eyes met Lily’s. I paused. She moved her lips, as if saying, “Mommy.” I clenched my hand, and after tens of seconds of inner struggle, I expressionlessly shifted my gaze and walked away.

While waiting for Asher White at the apartment complex entrance, a car slowly pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Julian’s sharp, cold face. “Get in.” I politely refused. “No, thank you. My boyfriend is coming to pick me up.” He let out a soft laugh. “Scarlett, didn’t you do some research?” I was puzzled. “Research what?” “Bigamy is illegal.” “We’re already divorced.” “Are we?” He casually tapped the steering wheel with his long, slender fingers, speaking lazily, “What if I never signed the papers?” I could barely believe my ears. “What did you say?” He answered evasively, “Get in the car.” I didn’t move, trying to calmly talk to him. “Why didn’t you sign?” Julian rested one hand on the car window, looking relaxed and defiant. “Want to know? Then get in.” They say some people’s love is only a fraction, yet they pretend it’s overflowing to make you fall. Julian was one of those people. Even though we were divorced, he still acted like a victim. “Julian,” I said, fixing my gaze on him, “you’re not still hung up on me, are you?” At my words, a flicker of astonishment crossed his deep dark eyes, quickly vanishing. It was replaced by sarcasm. “Do you deserve that?” “Oh? Then why haven’t you married Serena yet?” He smiled faintly, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Not playing innocent anymore?” I was taken aback. “What?” “You’ve been asking around about when Serena and I are getting married. Wasn’t that because you wanted to get back together with me?” I didn’t deny it. Recently, I had indeed been inquiring about him and Serena. But not for the reason he suggested. I wasn’t looking to reconcile; I was coming back to fight for Lily’s custody. Because not long ago, I received an anonymous email containing a recording of a conversation between Serena and my biological mother. Serena said: “Mom, Scarlett is already getting remarried. Why hasn’t Julian married me yet? Do you think he doesn’t love me anymore?” My biological mother replied: “If he doesn’t love you, who would he love? You just overthink things.” Serena: “For the past three years, he’s been so focused on the child; he hasn’t spent much time with me.” “You’re silly, why don’t you use some tactics? If all else fails, just have his son, and he won’t even look at that girl again.” “But I said I didn’t want to have children…” “Wasn’t that just a lie to prevent Julian and Scarlett from having lingering ties? Just listen to me, have a son for him as soon as possible, and secure your position through your child.” Serena was swayed and remarked, “Mommy is so good to me. Back then, I thought that once Scarlett came back, you would all favor her.” “Don’t overthink it. There’s a difference between your biological child and the one you raised yourself…” The recording ended there. That night, I stayed awake until dawn. Finally, I made a decision. I was going to get my child back. Before returning, I had planned everything. The one thing I hadn’t expected was that Julian hadn’t signed the divorce papers. “You have one minute to think about it.” Julian cut off my thoughts. I lowered my gaze to him. “What exactly do you want?” He still didn’t answer directly. “Lily wants to go to the amusement park. I’m busy tomorrow; you take her.” The refusal died on my lips. Julian’s cunning eyes were sharp and perceptive; nothing could be hidden from him. “Tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t disappoint her.”

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When they told me I was the real heiress, I was already 45. Married, with three kids. The day I was supposed to return, before seeing my elderly biological parents, I overheard a conversation between my biological younger brother and the fake heiress: “Why bother bringing her and those mutts back? She’s been out there for decades; who knows what she’s become, what kind of man she married, or what kind of no-good degenerates her kids are?” “You’re the only sister I’ve ever known…” Mutts? No-good degenerates? Were they talking about my son, a celebrity who’s been a household name since he was 20? Or my twin daughters, who enrolled in an elite university’s accelerated program in their early teens? I was 45 when the police department informed me that my biological parents had finally found me. I stood there stunned for a long time after hearing the news. I found out I wasn’t their biological child when I was 20. My adoptive parents said they found me as a newborn, just a few days old. They initially tried to find my family, so my information was always in a DNA database. But after years with no news, they legally adopted me. Now, decades later, I was told I was born into a prominent family. How could a wealthy family abandon their child? There had to be some hidden secret I didn’t know about. My husband was currently on a business trip abroad, and my son was busy with his national concert tour. So, it was my two daughters who specifically took time off from school to accompany me to meet my blood relatives. “Mom!” “Mom, mom, mom…” My 15-year-old girls chattered excitedly. Soon after we met, all I heard were repeated calls of “Mom.” It was quite a twist of fate. When my son was four, Julian and I discussed having a second child, preferably a boy and a girl, but two boys would also be fine. When I got pregnant and went for a check-up, it turned out to be twins. I spent my entire pregnancy on edge, terrified I’d end up a mom to three boys – it felt like the equivalent of raising three wild wolves at home. Thankfully, they were two girls. Just as rambunctious, though. But adorable. Raising three healthy, beautiful children took a lot of effort, but at least they all turned out successful. When Caleb was little, his celebrity aunt took him to a film set. A director spotted him and cast him in a child role, and since then, acting offers kept pouring in. Julian and I saw that our son loved it, so we let him pursue it. After all, it’s good to develop in every aspect. Later, he picked up other talents; now he’s a triple threat: singing, dancing, and acting. As for his two younger sisters, they’re like Julian and me—smart. That kind of intelligence clearly superior to other kids their age. They skipped grades from a young age and are now both in an elite university’s accelerated program. “Ms. Hayes, please step into the car.” It was a chauffeur sent by my biological parents, and the car was a luxury model. Chloe and Maya were used to riding in similarly priced cars, but they still excitedly looked around, chattering away. “Mom,” Chloe poked me, “you’re going to meet your biological parents. I heard they’re really rich. Aren’t you excited?” “…” Just their childlike enthusiasm. They’d been studying for ages and finally got a chance to go out. They were treating the Maxwell family visit more like a fun trip to an acquaintance’s home. But from an adult perspective, if they really cared, they wouldn’t have just sent a chauffeur.

Julian, my husband, messaged me, asking if I’d arrived at the Maxwell estate. He also sent over some information about the family. Along with several pictures of designer handbags. He asked which ones I didn’t like, so he wouldn’t bring those back as gifts from his trip. Neither of us was taking this “reunion” very seriously. Of course, if this had happened when I was in my early twenties, I probably would have been more emotionally volatile. But I was 45. My adoptive parents raised me from infancy until their deaths, never waiting for anyone to claim me. I already fully belonged to one family and had built my own. The pursuit of my original family had dwindled in importance over the years. We arrived at the Maxwell family mansion. My two daughters and I got out of the car. Mr. Jenkins, the family’s butler, came to greet us. He looked at me with a hint of surprise but didn’t say much. “Miss Seraphina, please allow me to show you the way.” The way he addressed me was… telling. Clearly, someone else had been called “Miss Eleanor” for over forty years, making me the “Miss Seraphina.” Even more intriguing, the butler led us not to the main hall, but to what appeared to be a side parlor in the mansion. Before we even got close, we heard voices. “I have no idea why Dad and Mom insisted on bringing her and those mutts back. She’s been out there for decades; who knows what she’s become, what kind of man she married, or what kind of no-good degenerates her kids are?” “You’re the only sister I need, Eleanor. If this gets out, who knows what people will say about the Maxwells…” Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat. The conversation inside abruptly stopped. I was ushered forward, officially meeting the relatives I shared blood with. There were three people in front of me. My 40-year-old biological younger brother, Aaron Maxwell. I’d seen his picture before, and now, seeing him in person, he certainly had the polished, sharp look of someone groomed for wealth and power, a true product of an elite family. Next to him was Eleanor Maxwell, the fake heiress who had taken my place. She was elegant, like most society ladies. The young woman sitting beside Eleanor was likely her daughter, in her early twenties. Eleanor Maxwell – that was the name I was supposed to have. It wasn’t a bad name. But I felt no connection to it. The mix-up between us wasn’t her fault, of course, but her biological mother’s. Apparently, Evelyn Maxwell’s friend from decades ago, when Evelyn was happily married and pregnant with her first daughter, suffered a reversal of fortune. Her partner left her, and she found herself pregnant. Driven by a desperate desire to ensure her child would remain among the elite, she gave birth. It was also a girl. I don’t know the specifics of how the babies were swapped, but she took me and, instead of raising me, abandoned me. Back then, abandoning a female infant was tragically easy. But even with the truth now revealed, it changed nothing. Forty-five years, more than half a lifetime, had passed. Eleanor Maxwell’s biological mother had emigrated years ago and passed away a few years prior. Their scrutinizing gazes fell on me and my two daughters. I clearly saw the shock in all three of their eyes. They hadn’t bothered to learn much about me, naturally assuming that a mediocre middle-aged woman would show up today. Even as family, after decades of being “out there,” they expected me to be ordinary, vulgar, or perhaps bitter and resentful. But I wasn’t. I was very content with myself.

“Excuse me, are Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell not here?” I asked calmly amidst their silent appraisal. More than my siblings, I wanted to see my biological parents. Though the brother and sister had stopped their conversation, they didn’t seem to care whether I’d heard it. That deep-seated arrogance, I’d witnessed it many times before. Back when I was younger, just starting my career. By now, very few people dared to look at me or my children with such disdain. “Mom and Dad aren’t feeling well; they’re still at the sanatorium today, but they should be on their way back,” my biological younger brother said. He looked at me and finally introduced himself. “I’m Aaron Maxwell, your biological younger brother.” He then introduced the others: “This is my sister, Eleanor Maxwell, and this is her only daughter, Isabelle Thorne.” The scene was eerily awkward. After about two seconds of tense silence, Eleanor was the first to act. She stood up, walked over, and took my hand, speaking earnestly: “Sister, you’ve suffered all these years.” My gaze fell on her well-manicured hand, adorned with a dazzling, massive diamond ring. In contrast, the wedding band on my left ring finger had no pavé diamonds, looking pathetically plain. I hadn’t suffered, not really. It was just thinking about the truth behind my background that left a bitter taste in my mouth, a deep sense of unease. “Izzy, these are your aunt and cousins. Say hello,” I heard the woman holding my hand tell her daughter. Then, the equally polished and impeccably dressed young lady reluctantly said, “Aunt.” Her eyes weren’t even looking at me. Her arrogance surpassed her mother’s. It was simple: her mother was the fake heiress, but *she* wasn’t. The Maxwells were undoubtedly one of the wealthiest families in the area, and Eleanor Maxwell’s husband naturally came from a family of equal standing. Aaron, my brother, now held a position of power within the Maxwell corporation. He said: “We’ll host a welcome dinner for you tonight. Mr. Jenkins will show you to your rooms to rest soon.” He kept me in the side parlor for a few extra minutes, though. My biological younger brother told me, “No matter what happened in the past, it’s over now. My sister is a victim too. If Dad and Mom hadn’t had everyone in the family tested on a whim this year, we would never have known about this.” He explained that after discovering the daughter they’d raised for years wasn’t their biological child, my parents immediately reported it to the authorities. Because my information had been in the DNA database all along, they were able to contact me quickly. The search process wasn’t difficult at all; in fact, it was surprisingly simple. Compared to other families who had lost children. “My sister has been with us since birth. She’s always been a Maxwell, not to mention she’s Mrs. Thorne. The one who made the mistake was her biological mother, not her.” They clearly had a strong bond, these two siblings. I smiled at him and asked a question: “She’s a victim, but what exactly did she lose in these 45 years?” Aaron opened his mouth, but no words came out. “The one who was abandoned and nearly died was me.” I only said that much, but it was far from the whole truth. She had enjoyed a life of luxury that rightfully belonged to someone else, claimed my family, and in doing so, received an excellent education and an enviable marriage. Forty-five years of usurpation – how long is a person’s life, really? And how many people don’t even live past 45? Had I endured a life of hardship and instability, this 45-year-delayed truth would undoubtedly have been a double torment, both mentally and physically. Could my good fortune somehow cancel out the harm done to me?

I met my biological parents in the evening. The moment I saw them, I understood why Aaron and Eleanor had looked so startled when they first saw me. I looked very much like my biological mother, Evelyn Maxwell. I could even see my own reflection, twenty years in the future, on Evelyn’s face. “Seraphina, my daughter.” She tremblingly touched my face, and she and my biological father looked me over. The sheer resemblance was enough to confirm our relationship. This scene was quite emotional; even though I didn’t care much, a pang of sadness still welled up inside me. They were curious about my past, especially Evelyn. Her face, even with fine lines etched on it, held an unnamed hope. A hope that her culpable friend had given me up for adoption to a good family. “My adoptive parents found me in a remote suburb. I was close to dying then,” I said calmly. The faces of those around us shifted. Clearly, Eleanor Maxwell’s biological mother hadn’t intended for me to survive and cause trouble for her biological daughter. At this moment, Eleanor and her daughter weren’t present. I briefly talked about my life over the years. Nothing particularly noteworthy—adopted, went to school, worked, married, had children, all in due course. From their perspective, it was a relatively ordinary life. “Seraphina, I know you’ve suffered out there, but this matter isn’t suitable for public knowledge. We don’t want outsiders making our family a laughingstock.” Richard Maxwell, my biological father, spoke. “Although Eleanor isn’t your mother’s or my biological child, she’s been our daughter for decades. She’s also Mrs. Thorne now, and her biological mother has passed away. If this gets out, it will affect both families.” He paused, then continued, “We’ll tell everyone we took you in as our goddaughter because of fate. We’ll bring your children back too. How about your mother and I compensate you in other ways?” Before I could react, my older daughter, Chloe, spoke up: “If you weren’t planning on acknowledging my mom, then why bother finding her in the first place?” Her tone was not good. The two girls had been whispering to each other all afternoon, clearly dissatisfied with the family’s attitude. Aaron Maxwell’s voice cut in: “Who said you could interrupt when your elders are speaking? Where are your manners?” He looked down on my daughters. In other words, he looked down on me. It was rare for my two girls to have their manners questioned. Maya also spoke up for her sister: “You’re not being fair, and we can’t say anything? My mom is the victim, but you’re protecting the daughter of the one who harmed her.” “Seraphina Hayes, is this how you raise your daughters?” Aaron’s face flushed with anger, and he stood up, glaring at me. I looked at him calmly: “My daughters have excellent manners. They don’t stay silent when their mother is being bullied. And you? By what right do you presume to lecture my daughters? As their uncle?” “I was never raised by my biological parents,” I looked at Evelyn and Richard. “And my daughters have never received any care from you. Even as guests here today, we certainly don’t deserve to be criticized and lectured by someone using their ‘elder’ status, do we?” One sentence turned the faces of the three of them white, then red.

“Aaron, apologize to your sister!” Richard Maxwell glared at his son. Over forty and being told by his own father to apologize to someone else, this heir to a prominent family seemed to lose face. “What did I say wrong? All of this is someone else’s fault! Aren’t we victims here?” Aaron said coldly, “If she’s so full of resentment, why even come back?” Why come back? Good question. I didn’t bother with whether Aaron would apologize or not. Instead, I looked at my so-called parents and asked very seriously, “What kind of compensation were you referring to earlier?” Upon hearing this, Aaron revealed a “just as I expected” expression, and the contempt in his eyes reappeared. My elderly but distinguished parents, however, remained relatively calm. Evelyn took out two cards. “Seraphina, this card has five million dollars, which you can use as you wish. The other is my supplementary card; you can use it for your daily expenses. Also, if you’re willing, you can move back into the house, or we can arrange a place for you.” Five million, a supplementary card, a house. For an average working-class family, this might indeed be a sincere offer of compensation. But from Aaron’s expression, it was clear he didn’t think much of these offerings. Five million was less than the luxury car that brought me here. Not to mention, it paled in comparison to the money they had spent on their other two children. They didn’t see a hint of joy on my face, nor the expected reaction on my twin daughters’ faces. I smiled. “I thought compensation, at the very least, should be comparable to what your other children received. Like company shares, for example.” Aaron immediately became agitated. “Seraphina Hayes, don’t be so greedy! You just got back and you’re already demanding shares?” “Isn’t this what I should rightfully receive?” I retorted, “I heard Eleanor also has 5%. Shouldn’t I have at least as much as her?” “Dad, Mom, you see? I told you! She only came back for the Maxwells’ money!” I found it amusing. “If you don’t care about money, why are you so agitated?” “You—” According to what I’d gathered, the Maxwell Group was still largely under Richard Maxwell’s control; he hadn’t fully transferred his shares and equity to his son. Eleanor was never the elders’ preferred heir. Although she held a position in the Maxwell Group, it was mostly honorary. Everyone assumed the succession would primarily fall to Aaron. My recognition as a biological daughter meant one more person to divide things among. Eleanor had no standing to object, but Aaron did. Clearly, when it came to their own interests, no one could sit still. “Enough,” Richard Maxwell finally spoke. “Seraphina, take these for now. The other things can’t be sorted out immediately. Let’s just have the welcome dinner for you and the children first.” It was his way of ending the discussion. He didn’t say yes, nor did he say no, dangling a carrot to keep us intrigued. The Maxwell family’s welcome dinner was merely a family affair. As they had said, they didn’t intend to make my identity public, nor would they publicly reveal Eleanor’s true identity. As people age, the reunion with their biological child brings a certain sentimentality. Moreover, the appearance of my daughters and me wasn’t exactly embarrassing. But wanting both their biological daughter and grandchildren close, *and* wanting peace and prosperity for the family? Such a perfect scenario was impossible.

I scanned the people present. Besides my biological parents, there was Aaron Maxwell and his family of three – his wife and middle-school-aged son – as well as Eleanor Maxwell’s family of three. Her husband, Robert Thorne, the head of the Thorne family, was also there. The rest were just me and my two daughters. They weren’t shy at all. Even in this environment, where they clearly weren’t entirely welcome, they were perfectly at ease. This was due to their personalities and their upbringing. The Maxwell family chose to protect Eleanor’s identity, partly for their reputation and partly because they had to consider the Thorne family, their in-laws of over twenty years. Even though Eleanor and Robert were both in their forties, their intertwined interests ran deep, and they had a daughter together. Regardless of whether there was love when they married, social standing was certainly a factor. Announcing now that the wife of many years was a fake heiress would cause both families to lose face. So, considering their combined interests, they decided to slight me, the daughter they’d just found and with whom they had no real emotional bond. At 45, no matter how emotional one might be, it’s hard to be as naive as in youth, to blindly believe in “blood ties” or “family.” It was hard to develop deep feelings for them. They probably just couldn’t fool me anymore. The dinner table was interesting, a lavish feast. A ridiculous semblance of peace was maintained, under the guise of a happy occasion. It was essentially a group of middle-aged people trying to appease two elderly ones. Aaron and his wife, Vivian, were clearly unwelcoming. Their son, Sam, and Eleanor’s daughter, Izzy, were good friends, sitting together in a clear alliance. As for Eleanor’s identity, it seemed less critical now. Even she was confident that her situation wouldn’t worsen just because she wasn’t a biological Maxwell. So, they didn’t pay much mind to me, the “real heiress.” “Seraphina, I heard you also have a husband and a son. Where are they? For such an important reunion, why didn’t they come along?” It was Eleanor’s voice. I paused, noticing everyone else’s eyes on me. “They’re both busy with work right now and couldn’t spare the time,” I replied. “Work?” Vivian Maxwell, Aaron’s wife, exclaimed, “Eleanor, I heard your son is only 20. He’s already busy with work? Did he not even get a college degree?” “No, he didn’t,” I said, stating the truth. That kid was only in his second year of university. He was so busy with work that the leave he’d taken from school was so long, I worried he’d be asked to leave. I saw some of them exchange knowing, almost mocking smiles. “Well, there’s no need for a child to start working so young. Why not have him come back to the family company? We can arrange a position for him?” Eleanor’s daughter, Izzy Thorne, who had been quiet until now, spoke up: “Doesn’t Uncle Aaron’s company require at least a bachelor’s degree for most hires now?” “Not at all, there are some positions that don’t depend on academic qualifications,” Aaron and his niece chimed in, exchanging a glance at me. “I just don’t know if my ‘sister’ here would even consider those roles. If not, we can arrange something for your husband too.” I looked at Richard and Evelyn Maxwell, the heads of the family. They nominally scolded their children twice, but it was just lip service. “No, thank you,” I gave them a chilly smile. “They’re doing perfectly fine as they are.”

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My boyfriend Eman Foster lost his memory after a car accident, forgetting everything about me, Audrey Moore. Every day I cried until my eyes were red and swollen, praying he would remember our past. Yet he tenderly took his first love Emilia Sanders’ hand and told me that Emilia was the only true love of his life. On the day of his wedding to Emilia, I stood before him in a wedding dress, asking him one last time if he could remember me. However, his noble and stern face was filled with disdain as he said coldly, “Audrey, do you know how disgusting it is that you keep pestering me like this?” I was dragged out by security amid everyone’s mocking laughter. Completely heartbroken, I chose to go abroad to pursue scientific research. I thought I would never cross paths with him again in this lifetime. But on the very day I left, he recovered all his memories. ***** [Today is Eman and my wedding. I hope you can attend.] Looking at the words on the invitation, I smiled bitterly. The groom was Eman, the bride was Emilia. But who could have imagined that just a month ago, Eman was still my boyfriend. Because of a sudden car accident, he lost his memory. He forgot me, but somehow only remembered that Emilia was his first love whom he loved but couldn’t have. I stayed at the hospital caring for him day and night for seven whole days. But the first thing he did when he woke up was call Emilia to tell her he had always loved her deeply. For the past month, I’ve been like a fool, doing everything I could to awaken his memory. I desperately recreated all the familiar scenes from our past, even begged Eman’s parents to explain our relationship to him. In the end, all I got was Eman’s cold warning: “If you continue using these despicable tactics to disturb my girlfriend and my life, I’ll consider taking legal action against you.” I asked the doctor in anguish, “Is this kind of memory loss really irreversible?” The doctor just shook his head regretfully, telling me everything was up to fate. But we had loved each other for three whole years, sharing over a thousand days and nights together. How could I just let go? We had already met each other’s parents, gotten engaged, and even chosen our wedding dress. Yet he personally told me he was going to marry someone else. How could I find peace with that? I clutched my head in pain, trying to convince myself this was all just an illusion. But my phone kept vibrating, constantly reminding me of reality’s existence. I mechanically opened the chat window to find a screen full of congratulatory messages. To announce his love for Emilia to everyone, Eman had made a grand spectacle of telling everyone around him about the wedding—everyone except me, his ex-girlfriend. I had apparently become an unspeakable stain in his life, something to be avoided at all costs. If Emilia hadn’t personally sent me that invitation, I wouldn’t have even known they were getting married today. The bridal shop clerk called: “Miss, the wedding dress you and your husband custom-ordered last month is ready. Is it convenient for you to pick it up now?” I held the phone in a daze for a long time. Just as I was about to refuse, I remembered that it was the wedding dress Eman had personally chosen for me. In my moment of near despair, a glimmer of hope quietly emerged. If I wore this wedding dress to see him, would he remember me again?   The answer was no. When I walked into the wedding hall, the pastor was reading the vows to the bride and groom. Seeing me dressed up in full wedding attire, people around me cast puzzled and strange looks in my direction. A flicker of panic crossed Emilia’s face, but after noticing Eman’s increasingly cold expression, her eyes turned mocking. I stopped in front of Eman, and before I could even speak, he furiously tore off my veil and threw it hard on the ground. He said, “Audrey, do you know that today is the most important day of my life? You deliberately dressed like this to disgust me, didn’t you? “Or are you still clinging to those unrealistic fantasies, thinking I’m still your boyfriend? “Well, let me tell you—that will never happen in this lifetime!” I was so stung by these vicious words that I couldn’t speak. I wanted to explain, but suddenly realized that in everyone else’s eyes, I looked like a homewrecker trying to break up someone’s marriage. Eman waved his hand, and several security guards immediately stepped forward to forcibly escort me away. As I struggled, I saw Eman tenderly pull Emilia into his arms, gently comforting her. I finally understood that Eman would never remember me again, and would never love me again. Wearing the heavy wedding dress, I was thrown out of the hotel. Because of Eman’s rough handling earlier, my hair was disheveled and messy. Winter had just passed, and though it should have been the warm spring season with blooming flowers, fine snow began to fall outside. I sat on a stone bench by the roadside and couldn’t help but burst into tears. Only when I was exhausted from crying did I notice a black umbrella above my head. The man holding the umbrella asked nervously and awkwardly, “Miss, do you need help?” I mechanically shook my head, but still managed to croak out a thank you. Hearing my voice, he seemed startled. He frantically shoved the umbrella into my hands, threw down a coat, and fled in panic. I sighed helplessly. The grief I had just suppressed began to spread again. Looking so pathetic now, even strangers avoided me. My phone had automatically shut down from the cold temperature on the road. After returning home and plugging it in, I discovered my phone screen was full of messages from others. Friends called one after another. [Audrey, what’s this about Emilia saying you interfered with her and Eman’s marriage? Isn’t Eman your boyfriend?] [The video of you crashing the wedding has been posted online, and everyone’s cursing you out. Please text me back!] I collapsed exhausted on the sofa, but when I saw these messages, I was surprisingly calm. After collecting myself, I replied to my friend: [We broke up a month ago.] My friend was shocked. [But didn’t you two get engaged before? This…] I replied: [It’s all in the past. I’ll clarify this matter.] I found Eman’s post on Twitter, and the comment section was already flooded with people cursing me out. I left a comment below apologizing and explaining that for the past month, it had all been my wishful thinking trying to win him back. [I hereby solemnly declare that I will never disturb Eman and Emilia’s life in any way from now on.] After typing out this statement word by word, I deactivated my social media accounts. This way, I could at least face my former lover with a clear conscience. My friend called frantically asking, “Do you know how much cyberbullying you’ll face by doing this? “Emilia is already a somewhat famous influencer. Don’t you know how terrifying influencer fans can be?” I just smiled and answered, “I know.” I was afraid of cyberbullying too. But what I feared more was the version of myself that I could never get back.

When news broke that I, the mistress, had voluntarily apologized, the internet exploded with outrage. Netizens launched a crusade to “bring me down,” even starting to doxx my personal information. I anxiously scrolled through wave after wave of vicious comments. I’d already switched phone cards several times, yet I kept receiving malicious texts from unknown numbers—one wave after another, impossible to defend against. Just when I was nearly drowning in despair, my advisor Alivia Graham called me. I answered the phone with dread, expecting Alivia to condemn me like everyone else, to tell me I wasn’t worthy of being her student. But to my surprise, Alivia’s voice was filled with concern and heartache from the moment she spoke. She said, “Audrey, I know what kind of person you are. We all saw how things were when you and Eman were dating. That bastard doesn’t deserve your tears over what he’s done now. “I’m only going to ask you one thing—if you’re willing, I’ll take you to Germany to our research lab immediately. You can focus on your research and forget about that bastard Eman.” I listened to Alivia’s words with overwhelming gratitude and agreed without hesitation. Her excitement was immediate: “Wonderful! Having a brilliant student like you who speaks four languages fluently will be a tremendous asset to our lab and our country! I’ll start processing your visa right now—we leave in three days.” After hanging up, my anxious heart finally began to settle. Just as she said, even though my reputation had hit rock bottom, once I left this place, those cyberbullies would never find me again. With this thought, I unconsciously quickened my packing, and my mood began to lift. When I came across photos Eman and I had taken together, a flash of nostalgia crossed my heart, but ultimately, I packed them all into a large suitcase. I was methodically organizing my belongings, working with renewed energy, when I suddenly heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. My heart jumped as I looked toward the door with alarm, instinctively grabbing a wooden stick nearby. Emilia walked in, and seeing the scattered items throughout the room, a flash of jealousy crossed her eyes. She waved her hand lightly, and several burly men immediately barged in behind her. I instantly sensed danger and quickly hid my phone behind my back, secretly pressing the power button five times. My voice trembling, I asked her, “What do you want, coming to my home?” Emilia dangled the keys in her hand, her smile suddenly turning twisted: “You’re pretty good at handling this situation, aren’t you? Apologize and then delete your account like that’s the end of it, making those people online turn around and attack me instead. “Audrey, do you think running away to another country will solve everything? Today, as Eman’s girlfriend, I’m going to teach you a proper lesson!” I looked up in terror: “I already apologized and admitted that I interfered with your relationship. The cyberbullying I’ve endured these past few days has been just as bad as yours…” But Emilia standing before me had bloodshot eyes, like an unhinged maniac who couldn’t hear a word I said. The men beside her suddenly pinned me to the ground. My phone slipped from my hand and was crushed underfoot. Her high heels pressed down hard on my hand, grinding back and forth against the floor. The pain nearly made me lose my voice. She then smashed the picture frames from my suitcase one by one. I was dragged and pressed into the scattered glass shards, my face streaked with blood, my heart desperately hoping someone would come to save me. Time crawled by, and the entire room was filled with nothing but my screams. Emilia pulled out her phone and took several photos of my face, her expression full of smug satisfaction: “I’ve cleared out this entire building. No matter how loud you scream, no one’s coming to save you. “Oh, and do you know who gave me the keys to this place?” I trembled as I opened my eyes to look at her. She said, “It was Eman.”   My eyes filled with tears, blood and tears streaming down together as my body felt both numb and agonizing. Just as those thugs began tearing at my clothes, the door was suddenly kicked open with tremendous force. A group of uniformed police officers rushed in, quickly taking control of everyone at the scene. I was pulled into a familiar embrace, hearing his anguished roar. “Call an ambulance! Ambulance!” “Audrey… you have to hold on…” But his voice gradually faded until I couldn’t hear anything clearly anymore. When I woke up again, only Alivia sat beside my hospital bed. Tears streaming down her face, she said, “Sweet child, we’re leaving the country tonight. I’ve already applied for a special talent subsidy from the government for you. Once we get to Germany, they’ll treat you with the best medicine available.” I vaguely remembered the man who had held me. Just as I tried to speak, I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my throat. Alivia gripped my only intact left hand tightly, her face filled with grief and anger as she told me, “Those bastards shoved glass shards down your throat. If Caleb hadn’t arrived in time, the doctor said your voice would have been completely destroyed.” Caleb… I silently memorized this name in my heart, vowing to properly thank him someday. Just then, the hospital room door was pushed open. I stared in surprise at the familiar features of the man walking in. Finally, I remembered—he was the guy who had brought me an umbrella that day but got scared away. When Alivia saw him, her furrowed brow finally relaxed. She said, “Audrey, I don’t know if you still remember him? This is Caleb Gardner, a student one year below you, and now my most outstanding student. I used to have you guide him in experiments all the time.” Only then did I understand where that sense of familiarity came from. Caleb rubbed his hands together awkwardly, but when he saw my face covered in bandages, his eyes filled with heartache. The doctor said I couldn’t eat for 24 hours after surgery, couldn’t even drink water, and could only survive on a few bottles of nutritional IV fluids. Although Emilia had broken my right hand, fortunately I was left-handed and could still continue doing experiments. I gestured a few times in the air with my left hand, and Alivia immediately understood, bringing over a notebook. I wrote on the paper: [Thank you, Caleb.] The man in front of me instantly turned red to his ears. I wrote another sentence: [What happened to those people?] Caleb immediately became serious again: “Don’t worry, those people have been detained by the police. Since you’re classified as national special talent, they’ll definitely receive heavy sentences.” “As for that woman who caused you to lose your voice,” a flash of ruthlessness crossed Caleb’s eyes, “her family paid five million dollars in bail and got her released temporarily. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure she pays the price she deserves.” The incident of a national-level special talent being beaten by criminals and suffering eighth-degree disability was reported by Alivia, causing outrage among high-ranking officials. To protect our safety, the government specially dispatched a military unit to escort our transfer. While waiting for the private jet, Caleb was worried I’d be bored and specifically turned on the TV for me to watch some news. The anchor had just finished introducing the nation’s latest scientific research achievements when an explosive headline suddenly popped up: [Breaking News: Million-Follower Beauty Influencer Revealed as Mistress] Before I could take a closer look, Caleb hurried in, wheeling me away: “Your injuries haven’t healed yet, you should limit screen time.” Only then did I realize that as a national-level special talent, my eyes were crucial, so I quickly closed them to rest. By the time the plane landed, I had completely forgotten about that news story. No matter how severe the injuries, they all need time to heal. Even with consultations from world-class specialists, my right hand and vocal cords couldn’t recover in the short term. But fortunately, my left hand and eyes were uninjured. As soon as the doctor allowed me to work, I threw myself non-stop into translating cutting-edge scientific research papers from various countries. Only in this kind of high-intensity work could I temporarily forget the pain of the past. However, I didn’t know that I thought I would never think of Eman again. But fate had to play a huge joke on me.

By the time Eman and his entourage rushed to New York Hospital, I had already boarded a flight to Germany. The elderly gentleman in the hospital bed was startled by the sudden intrusion of unfamiliar young people. Eman asked with his last glimmer of hope: “Excuse me, do you happen to know where the patient who was previously in this room went?” However, the old man suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, and all that greeted Eman was incoherent mumbling. After making numerous inquiries at the nurses’ station to no avail, Eman received the answer: the hospital had never admitted anyone by my name. After using his personal connections to access the admission records, Eman’s anxious heart finally settled. He thought: “Just as I suspected, this woman is still the same, always playing these games.” Yet he felt inexplicably restless and irritated. Even though he knew Audrey was deceiving him, why did his heart suddenly feel hollow and empty? Walking out of the hospital entrance, he dismissed his bodyguards and drove aimlessly by himself. Before he knew it, his car had stopped beside a familiar residential building. A feeling both familiar and strange compelled him to walk upstairs. He stopped in front of a door covered with police seals. That familiar atmosphere made him instinctively reach for his keys, wanting to open this door. Only then did he realize with shock: this was Audrey’s home. He broke out in a cold sweat, unable to believe it. Why was he so familiar with the route here? He even remembered every landmark along the way clearly. As if he had walked this path countless times before. When he had first discovered this key on himself, he thought it was one of Audrey’s pranks and casually tossed it aside. When Emilia asked about it, he didn’t think much of it and simply gave it to her. At this moment, something resembling the truth churned in his mind. Just as his head was splitting with pain, some memory fragments suddenly flashed. He couldn’t recall the circumstances of those scenes, but the person in the images was crystal clear. Every gesture, every smile—all identical to Audrey. He desperately tried to grasp these memory fragments, but in the end, his mind remained blank. He drove home in panic, and as soon as he entered, he urgently grabbed Emilia and asked: “That key I gave you the other day—where did you put it?” Emilia had just been released from the police station, and the key had long been confiscated by the authorities. Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes darted away: “Eman, what do you want that key for? You’re not thinking of seeing that crazy woman Audrey again, are you?” Eman frowned: “It’s Audrey’s property after all. I should return it to her.” He had never noticed before that even though Emilia was supposed to be his girlfriend, whenever she spoke about Audrey, she always carried an inexplicable hostility. Emilia bit her lip: “I accidentally lost it. Why do you keep thinking about that key? Do you think I’m lying to you again? Do you think Audrey is your real fiancée?” Her tone mixed coquettishness with complaint. In the past, whenever she spoke like this, Eman would immediately drop any topic related to Audrey. But today’s Eman seemed like a different person. Seeing Emilia’s stubborn refusal to tell him, he walked straight into her room and began searching. Emilia rushed over to stop him, but how could a woman’s strength match that of a strong man? She was roughly pushed aside, fell to the ground, and began sobbing softly while enduring the pain. But Eman paid her no attention and continued ransacking the room, even dumping out the contents of the trash can. Just as Eman was about to reach the bottom layer of the closet, Emilia could no longer bear the pain and rushed forward to block him desperately. However, Eman seemed already certain of something and stubbornly pushed her away. Beneath layers of clothing, a criminal judgment document was revealed. 【Defendant: Emilia Sanders, female, 28 years old, suspected of intentional assault causing eighth-degree disability to the victim, criminally detained on February 26th…】 【Victim: Audrey Moore, female, 26 years old.】

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“Matt, are you really going to divorce Houston and study abroad?” In the quiet living room, Matt looked at Mrs. Houston’s shocked face across from him and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Houston. As you know, I wasn’t the one who was supposed to marry her in the first place. For Houston, I was just an unexpected stand-in, a substitute when the real groom didn’t show up. Now that he’s back, she’s been so happy lately. It’s time for me to go.” Outside, a light snow was falling, creating a beautiful winter scene. He smiled lightly. “Studying abroad has always been my dream anyway.” ****** Mrs. Houston looked at the young man before her, remembering Houston’s wedding three years ago. Justin, who was supposed to be the groom, had fled abroad at the last minute. Just as Houston stood awkwardly on stage, red-eyed and unsure what to do, Matt had put on an ill-fitting suit and slowly walked up. He apologetically took the microphone and addressed all the guests: “I’m so sorry, there was traffic on the way. I’m late.” With that act, he had saved Houston’s dignity and the Houston family’s reputation. Mrs. Houston let out a long sigh, then asked uncertainly, “Will Houston agree to the divorce?” Matt shook his head with a smile. “I already got her to sign the divorce papers.” Two weeks ago, he had given her the divorce agreement. At the time, Houston was in a rush to finish work and meet Justin. She had signed without even looking and left. Now, in just seven more days, he would be able to get the official divorce certificate. He would be free. After all, the Houston family had a three-generation military background and couldn’t go abroad. So once he left the country, he and Houston would never have to see each other again. Just as Mrs. Houston was about to speak, a gentle female voice came from behind them. “Matt, what are you chatting about with Mom?” Matt turned around to see Houston, whom he hadn’t seen in days, walking towards them in a black evening gown that occasionally revealed her long legs. “…Houston.” Seeing her daughter approach, Mrs. Houston was about to step forward to scold her. “Why are you here?” With a mix of surprise and reassurance, Matt stood up, giving Mrs. Houston a pleading look to interrupt her. “I missed you, so I came by to pick you up,” Houston said, her eyes looking a bit guilty. In truth, she had come on purpose after finding out Matt’s whereabouts. After saying goodbye to the worried Mrs. Houston, the couple took their bags and left the Houston family home. On the way back, heavy rain pounded on the car windows, while inside was completely silent. Houston remained quiet for a long time before finally speaking. “Matt.” “Justin and I are really over. He just got back to the country and had heart surgery a few years ago, so his health isn’t good. As an old… friend, I just went to help him get settled. I hope you can understand.” Matt stared out the rain-blurred window and nodded. If only he hadn’t seen how Houston had dropped everything and excitedly rushed to meet Justin the day he returned. If only he hadn’t noticed Houston selling the watch she had used for years and replacing it with a cheap bracelet Justin had given her. If only… There were too many “if onlys.” Matt no longer had any expectations or trust left. A soft sigh filled the car. Faced with this husband she had married by chance years ago, Houston wanted to explain further. But thinking of her own actions over the past two weeks, she ultimately chose to change the subject. “Matt, what was that document you had me sign two weeks ago?” As soon as she finished speaking, Matt turned to look at Houston, his eyes showing three parts surprise and seven parts bitter amusement. She was only now remembering to ask about that? Then again, ever since Justin came back, everything else in her life had faded into the background. How could she be expected to care about anything else? Matt was about to speak when Houston’s phone suddenly rang. Seeing the name displayed on the car screen, Houston’s face instantly tensed up. “It’s fine, go ahead and answer. It might be something important,” Matt said, looking out the window with an indifferent expression that made Houston suddenly feel afraid. But she still answered the call, with the car’s speakers automatically broadcasting the conversation. “Houston, I miss you so much. It hurts. Can we meet?” Hearing the whiny tone on the other end, Houston’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel. Her expression also suddenly turned cold. “Justin, I’m married now. I’ve told you many times, don’t talk to me like that!” There was a moment of silence on the other end before Justin replied, “But Houston, I was supposed to be the groom at that wedding.” The car suddenly screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, the tires making a huge noise as they skidded on the pavement. In their three years of marriage, this was the first time Matt had seen Houston lose control. She shouted at the screen: “But you left! You abandoned me and left!” The phone went completely silent. A moment later, Justin’s voice came back sounding choked up: “I’m sorry. I was sick at the time and didn’t want you to worry. I had no idea it would have such serious consequences.” “Ah! Houston! My heart hurts so much. It’s okay, just let me die like this. Then I won’t bother you anymore, and you can live happily with my substitute.” Soon, there was no more sound from the other end. Houston instantly panicked. She immediately looked at Matt. Matt spoke up first: “It’s fine, I’ll take a taxi home. You go check on him. Don’t let anything really happen.” Houston still felt somewhat guilty and said softly, “I’m not going to see him. I just remembered there’s an urgent matter at the company, so I need to stop by there.” “I’ll come back to be with you after I finish.” Matt nodded and opened the car door to get out. Watching her car speed away, Matt stood in the rain holding an umbrella, his eyes darkening. A moment later, he gave a bitter smile and started walking towards home, over ten miles away. Three years. It was time to end it. Three years ago, he had put on that ill-fitting suit and married a woman who could barely remember his name. Friends and relatives privately said Matt was pitiful, just a stand-in for his wife’s true love. But in the three years since, they had shared romantic moments together and dreamed of the future. Matt had thought he had melted the heart of this so-called ice queen. But now, Matt clearly knew he had been wrong. If that was the case, he should return to where he truly belonged and give back this position as Mr. Houston. It would fulfill Houston’s wishes. And free himself as well. Lightning split the night sky, followed closely by torrential rain that swept through like a tidal wave. It also washed away the last of Matt’s feelings for Houston.   Matt slept alone that night. By noon the next day, Houston still hadn’t returned. When he woke up, it was still raining outside. Matt stayed at home, calmly deleting all the posts about their married life from his social media accounts. Just as he finished cleaning everything up, he saw that Justin, who had been threatening to die yesterday, had suddenly posted on social media: “What’s it like to be doted on by your ex-girlfriend?” He included a grid of nine photos. In the first, the usually cold and indifferent Houston was in his arms, feeding him porridge. In the second, the normally aloof Houston was sitting by his bedside, holding his hand. In the third, the usually proud Houston was kneeling in front of him, her eyes full of concern as she helped him take medicine. The fourth showed a pile of luxury goods, each worth millions. Justin had captioned it: “Thanks to Houston’s connections, I’m not angry or upset anymore.” In the photos, the handsome man smiled sweetly, looking like the happiest prince on a phone call. The comment section was full of envious remarks: “Left and experienced hardships, returned and it’s still true love. Justin, did you save the galaxy in your past life?” “No way! It must have been at least ten galaxies. Justin, how did you manage to make your ex still so devoted to you?” Besides the envy, there were naturally some who wanted to mock Matt. Matt just glanced over them briefly, a few comments catching his eye: “I wonder how Mr. Robin feels seeing all this?” “What could a mere substitute feel? Did he really think that by stepping in to save face as the groom, he could win the heart of the Houston family’s princess? He’s probably dying of jealousy right now. Want to bet how many minutes before this lapdog shows up?” “I bet 10 minutes!” “I bet 5 minutes!” “I bet 1 minute! He’s probably already downstairs. I’ll stake my new Lamborghini on it!” Many people eagerly joined in the betting, with the stakes getting higher and higher. But Matt just smiled resignedly. He would soon no longer be “Mr. Houston” in others’ eyes, so why chase after a woman who didn’t belong to him? So Matt quickly typed out a response on his phone: “I bet he won’t show up for a lifetime.” His words stirred up a storm, with many people immediately messaging to ask if he was joking. Matt simply turned off his phone and stopped looking at any messages. Instead, he turned to make himself a bowl of noodles. Just then, the phone suddenly rang. Matt didn’t answer, but the calls kept coming non-stop for five or six minutes before finally stopping. But soon after, the housekeeper Mrs. Bruce came in holding her own phone, looking troubled. “Sir, the young miss wants you to answer the phone.” Only then did Matt pick up the phone and answer. “Matt, it’s all a misunderstanding. I already made Justin delete those posts. Don’t overthink it. He was feeling very unwell yesterday, that’s why I didn’t come home. Nothing happened between us.” Houston’s anxious voice came through the phone. The moment she saw Matt’s comment, she had panicked. Matt looked at the noodles he had made and calmly said, “I made noodles. Are you coming home to eat?” Houston was stunned for a moment before replying, “I’m glad you’re not angry. You can eat the noodles yourself. Justin’s heart is hurting again, so I’m taking him to the hospital for a check-up. Don’t worry, we’re really just frie-” Before she could finish, Justin’s panicked voice came through on the other end. “Houston, where are you? I can’t see you. Did I lose you again? My heart feels so anxious.” The call was abruptly hung up, leaving only Houston’s urgent voice addressing the other end: “Justin, I’m right here. You didn’t lose me.” Looking at the ended call, Matt sent Houston a message: “That document you asked about yesterday is in the glove compartment on your side.” “Open it and you’ll see what it is.” It wasn’t until two hours later that Houston finally replied with one sentence: “No need. Whatever you had me sign, I’m sure it’s not to harm me.” This meant she wouldn’t look at it. Of course. Right now she just wanted to be by Justin’s side. Why would she bother looking at anything unrelated to Justin? Even though that divorce agreement was right within her reach. In the afternoon, Matt drove to follow a truck delivering supplies to the orphanage where he grew up. Matt had been an orphan since childhood, raised here. Seeing Matt arrive, the children were all very excited, running up to cling to him and share their experiences. After spending time with the kids, he went to the director’s office to say goodbye. “Mama Director, I’m going abroad for further studies.” The director was very happy. Matt had been a top student in physics at Tsinghua University, but had suddenly given up studying abroad for a flash marriage. She had been regretful about it for a long time. “Matt, that’s wonderful news.” The director held Matt’s hand, smiling with satisfaction. But then she thought of something and her expression turned worried. “But… you going abroad to study means you and Houston will be in a long-distance relationship. That can be very difficult.” Matt looked out the window at a few children playing and running around, shaking his head with a light smile. “It’s not a long-distance relationship. We’re getting divorced.” “Because… Justin came back.” The director was stunned at first, then let out a long sigh, feeling both regretful and relieved. “I guess I wasn’t wrong in my initial assessment. This marriage of yours was never going to last long. You see, once a person still has someone else in their heart, no matter how loving things seem on the surface, it’s all fake. As soon as that person comes back, the marriage is over. So it’s good that you’re divorcing.” She held Matt’s hand sympathetically, comforting him softly. Matt smiled back and hugged the director. Yes, it was good that it was ending.   After returning from the orphanage, Matt went to the civil affairs bureau and learned that in five more days he could finalize the divorce. Only then did he go home to pack his luggage. It was then that he realized his clothes filled several entire closets. Inside were also various expensive watches, sports car keys, and other priceless gifts from Houston. In truth, during their three years of marriage, Houston had always been good to him, constantly giving him black credit cards, houses, cars, and more. But he had never touched any of it. Because every time Houston gave him gifts, Matt would see the shadow of someone else in her reddened eyes. To be precise, Houston’s kindness to him was all stolen from Justin, who had temporarily exited the stage. He used to think that with time, Houston would see his true heart. But reality proved that what didn’t belong to him would eventually have to be returned. Matt sorted out some of his own belongings, then took all the gifts he had given Houston over the years and sold them for scrap. Over the years, to make her happy, he had carefully prepared many gifts for her. She had never even glanced at them. The only watch she ever wore was quickly replaced by a cheap bracelet from Justin after he returned. Seeing all these gifts tossed aside with a thick layer of dust on them, Matt smiled bitterly again. If Houston truly loved him, where did all this dust come from? Watching the junk truck drive away, he was about to return to the villa when he heard a horn honk behind him. Matt turned to see a flashy Ferrari stop in front of him. A girl in a red dress stepped out of the car with a showy air. It was his sister-in-law Jenny. Jenny frowned at the departing junk truck, then snorted disdainfully. “As expected of an orphan with no parents. Even cardboard boxes have to be sold for money. Acting like our Houston family is going bankrupt or something.” Matt didn’t even look at her, turning to leave. Jenny’s mocking smile turned to anger. She stepped forward to grab him. “Matt!” Ever since Matt had entered their Houston family, he had always been very humble and tried to please everyone. He had never given her the cold shoulder like this before. Today he actually dared to turn his back on her. A fire of rage instantly rose in Jenny’s heart. “Hey orphan! Are you deaf? I’m talking to you!” Matt turned back and pulled off her hand, his eyes flashing with annoyance. Jenny had always disliked him, feeling that someone of his background was completely unworthy of entering their prestigious Houston family. So for three years after the wedding, she had constantly targeted him, saying things like the breakfast he made wasn’t fully cooked, or stepping on the clothes he had washed to dirty them. But now that he was leaving, he didn’t want to tolerate her anymore. Jenny was about to continue making a scene, but seemed to think of something. The corners of her mouth curved up into a sneer. “Someone like you should sell more junk. After all, now that my sister’s true love Justin is back, you can get lost, you so-called stand-in.” As she finished speaking, a man in a white suit, dressed quite elegantly, stepped out from behind her. This was Matt’s first time seeing Justin in person. A pair of almond-shaped eyes brimming with charm, messy black hair casually swept back, porcelain white skin paired with the fitted white suit – just standing there exuded an aura of nobility. No wonder Houston had been so obsessed with him for all these years. But that suit, those accessories – Matt found them somewhat familiar. Wasn’t this style of dress exactly the same as what was in his own closet? In that moment, Matt fully understood. He really had just been a stand-in all along. Justin looked Matt up and down, as if seeing a cheap version of himself, full of disdain and mockery. But this expression was quickly hidden away when Houston’s car pulled in behind them. He immediately put on a pitiful face and said, “Jenny, don’t talk about Mr. Robin like that. He’s your brother-in-law now. What if he gets angry and kicks me out?” Just as he finished speaking, Houston’s panicked voice came from behind. “What’s going on? Who’s kicking who out?!” Houston hurried over. Her gaze fell on Justin standing there unharmed, and she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief before turning to address Matt. “Matt, Justin’s house has been empty for years and needs to be renovated. So could he stay with us for a few days?” Matt looked at Houston without speaking. In the silence, Justin’s expression became very uneasy and a bit pitiful. “Houston, maybe I should just leave. After all, it was my fault for not showing up at the wedding. Now you have a new husband, and Mr. Robin doesn’t seem to welcome me.” Houston looked at Matt, her face hesitating. Justin let out a long sigh, turning away dejectedly. Jenny immediately reached out to stop him. “Justin! Why are you leaving?! If anyone should go, it’s him. The real man of this house should be-” “Shut up, Jenny!” Houston snapped angrily. “Who said you could talk to Matt like that? He’s my husband and your brother-in-law. Apologize to him right now or get out!” Jenny’s eyes instantly reddened at this. Seeing the scene, Matt finally spoke up, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t need to scold Jenny. I didn’t refuse. Mr. Ford, please make yourself at home here.” After all, in five more days, this home would belong to Justin. There was no need to ruin the sisters’ relationship over an outsider like himself. With that, Matt turned and walked into the villa. “Hey orphan! Who said you could speak for me?! Am I wrong?! If my sister wasn’t the Houston family’s princess, would you have stepped up as the groom?!” Jenny’s defiant voice came from behind, followed by Houston’s scolding and Justin’s placating words. Hearing Jenny’s words, complex emotions surged in Matt’s eyes. This was his eighth year of loving Houston. He still remembered the scene when he first fell in love at first sight with her in the dance studio. She was wearing a ballet dress, her graceful movements making her look just like a proud yet noble and beautiful white swan. In that moment, his heart was captivated. But she was the Houston family’s princess, the darling of high society. As an orphan, Matt knew their backgrounds were worlds apart. But in the end, when he saw Houston red-eyed and at a loss standing on that stage, Matt instinctively went up. That feeling had nothing to do with status or benefits. He simply didn’t want to see the girl he liked cry. Seemingly afraid Justin would still leave, Houston immediately instructed the servants to move his luggage into the largest guest room. Jenny instantly strutted over to Matt, her nose in the air. “What are you standing around for? Go make dinner. Oh, and Justin can’t eat spicy food, so make it bland.” Hearing this, Justin’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he looked Matt up and down again. “I’ve heard Mr. Robin’s cooking is quite good. Then today I’ll have to trouble-” Before he could finish, Houston came down from the guest room upstairs. “Jenny, that’s enough! How many times have I told you, we have servants. Why do you always make Matt cook for you?” Justin’s expression soured, his glance towards Matt filled with hatred. But when Houston walked over, Justin immediately put on a different face, smiling. “I’ll cook today. I learned a lot of skills abroad these past years and have been wanting to make something for you all to try.” As he said this, Justin was looking at Houston. Houston’s eyes suddenly had a moment of haziness, but when she saw Matt standing quietly to the side, she still shook her head and said, “No need. Your health isn’t good. Let the servants-” Jenny latched onto her, grabbing Houston’s hand and saying, “Sis, just let Justin cook for us. He worked so hard to learn.” Houston seemed to think of something and finally nodded. “Alright, but don’t tire yourself out.” Matt watched all of this without saying a word, just standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the garden. Seeing Matt so quiet, Houston suddenly felt an increasing sense of panic. After a long silence, she walked to Matt’s side and softly said, “Matt, if you don’t like Justin staying here, I’ll send him back after this meal.” “No need. Let him stay if he wants.” Matt turned to look at Houston. “That document, have you looked at it?” Mentioning the document again, Houston’s brow furrowed slightly. “I haven’t looked yet. Didn’t I say I trust you? Do I really need to look at it?” Did she need to or not? Matt didn’t know. The signature was already there anyway. But thinking of their three years together… Matt was about to speak when Justin suddenly came over carrying a pot of hot soup. He glanced at Matt standing like a stranger beside Houston, his eyes flashing with intense jealousy. Then, pretending to stumble, he rushed forward towards Matt in a panic, spilling the entire pot of soup. “Watch out!”

“Watch out!” Seeing the hot soup flying towards him, Matt instinctively pulled Houston into his arms to protect her. Then he watched helplessly as a huge pot of scalding chicken broth poured all over him. “Ahh!” In an instant, Matt was drenched in soup, his skin immediately turning bright red from the burns. The searing pain nearly made him pass out. “Matt!” Houston pushed Matt away, her eyes full of panic. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” He looked up at her, the pain spreading through his whole body. He used all his strength but couldn’t say a word. Then he looked at Justin. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Robin. Are you alright? Houston, thank goodness Mr. Robin protected you.” Seeing Justin’s fake panic and the satisfaction hidden in his eyes, Matt immediately realized what had happened and said shakily: “You did that on purpose?” Hearing this, Justin was stunned for a moment, then tears started falling from the grown man’s eyes. “Mr. Robin, what are you saying? How could I do that on purpose? I know you feel insecure and prejudiced against me. It’s my fault for making you get burned!” “But you can’t slander me like this.” Seeing Justin cry, Jenny resolutely stepped in front of him and angrily said: “Matt! That’s enough! So what if you got a little burn? Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Justin worked hard to cook for us, he’s tired enough already! Besides…” Jenny looked at Houston, whose eyes were now filled with doubt and anger, and raised her chin to continue, “Besides, my sister was right there. Even if Justin wanted to hurt someone, he’d never hurt my sister, right?” As soon as she finished speaking, the doubt in Houston’s eyes instantly disappeared. She looked at Matt with furrowed brows and said disappointedly, “That’s right, Matt. Justin wouldn’t hurt anyone, least of all me. Please don’t overthink things, okay?” Hearing these words, Matt felt countless emotions rushing to his head, tears welling up in his eyes. Houston sighed, her voice becoming calm. “Matt, let’s go to the hospital, alright?” Matt knew that no matter what else he said, Houston wouldn’t believe him now. He was about to nod when- “Oh no, Justin, you’re hurt so badly!” Jenny cried out. Houston’s attention immediately shifted. She rushed over to Justin in a panic. His snow-white arm had some small blisters, looking quite “severe” indeed. Justin put his arm behind his back, shaking his head with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m fine. Mr. Robin looks much worse. You should take him to the hospital first.” He had barely finished speaking when Houston turned back towards Matt. Justin immediately put on an agonized expression. “Ah! Houston! My heart hurts so much. It must be the shock of Mr. Robin accusing me just now. Ah, Houston…” Justin collapsed, grabbing Houston’s hand as she tried to support him. He gasped weakly, “Houston, am I dying? Will I never see you again?” Jenny stomped her foot anxiously. “Sis! Justin’s heart condition is bad. Let’s get him to the hospital quickly!” “I-I’m fine…” Justin continued gasping pitifully. But this act undoubtedly made Houston’s heart ache. She could no longer think about the disheveled Matt. She helped Justin up and headed for the door. Just before leaving, she seemed to remember something and turned back to Matt with a guilty look. “Justin’s heart is weak. I’m afraid something might happen to him. The hospital isn’t far from here.” “…Matt, you can take a taxi to the hospital yourself.” It wasn’t until their three figures had disappeared from view that Matt came back to his senses, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as he fought against the pain. Seeing how severely he was injured yet left behind, the servants quickly ran over with painkillers and alcohol. But Matt’s burns were too severe. Even after taking the painkillers, he still had to lean against the wall for support, enduring the pain as he slowly made his way towards the hospital. With each step, he moved further and further away from the place he had called “home.”   At the hospital, the doctor used cotton swabs to carefully press down the blistered areas while asking Matt with concern why he was so severely burned yet had no family accompanying him. Matt inhaled sharply from the pain. Two other doctors passed by the doorway, chatting. “Miss Houston really dotes on her husband. Just a few small blisters and she booked the entire floor, getting all the dermatology specialists to consult.” “I know, right? Those few blisters would have mostly healed on their own if he’d come in a bit later. If only I could find a caring woman like that who loved me.” “Haha, dream on. Women like that only come along once in a blue moon.” Once in a blue moon? Matt smiled bitterly. Abandoning her severely injured husband to go take care of someone with minor injuries – she truly was a one-in-a-million good woman. Matt’s injuries were too severe. He needed to stay in the hospital for a few days. Three days later, Matt was finally discharged, his body still wrapped in bandages. As soon as he turned on his phone, countless missed calls and messages popped up, filling the screen. They were all from Houston. This had never happened since Justin’s return. While Matt was still in a daze, Jenny called. As soon as he answered, her shrill voice came through. “Matt, you’ve got some nerve! Where have you been for three days? Did you do it on purpose?! Can’t compete with Justin so you’re pulling this kind of stunt? Do you know my sister’s been going crazy looking for you?! Don’t think this will get her attention. Dream on! The position of Houston son-in-law will always belong to Justin!” After finishing her tirade, Jenny hung up. Matt just furrowed his brow. Had he heard wrong? Houston had been frantically searching for him? How was that possible? Wasn’t she busy taking care of Justin? Why would she look for him? But when Matt looked at the 999 missed calls on his phone, it did seem to show Houston’s urgency in trying to reach him. Filled with confusion, Matt returned home. As soon as he entered the gate, the servants rushed over looking immensely relieved. Several of them were on the verge of tears as they spoke. “Sir, you’re finally back. The young miss has been going crazy looking for you…” Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. “Matt!” Houston anxiously ran over. In the three days apart, the usually glamorous woman looked rather haggard, especially the dark circles under her eyes. “I was in the hospital. The same one where you were taking care of Justin.” Hearing this, Houston sighed. “About last time, I didn’t mean to abandon you. It’s just that after Justin’s surgery, the doctors said he needed to stay calm and not get agitated, or something could happen. I’ve been used to taking care of him since we were kids, so that’s why I took him to the hospital first.” “And you didn’t object at the time either. Since you were at the hospital, why didn’t you tell me or answer my calls? You’re my husband. Don’t you know I’d be worried? Can you not do this again next time?” By the end, there was a hint of accusation in her tone. But Matt just looked at her calmly, not responding. Because in two more days, he would be gone. So there wouldn’t be a next time. For some reason, seeing Matt’s calmness, Houston suddenly felt panicked as she recalled Matt’s behavior these past few days. She stepped forward and took Matt’s hand, sighing, “Actually, Justin really didn’t mean to hurt you last time. Since you don’t want him staying here, I’ve already had him move out. Can you stop being upset over this little thing from now on?” Houston stared directly at Matt, hoping to see a trace of being moved in his eyes. But Matt had no reaction. He removed Houston’s hand and turned to go upstairs. As soon as he entered the room, he saw an expensive watch placed on the bed. He looked up questioningly at Houston who had followed behind. Houston sighed. “Matt, this is my way of making it up to you. You won’t be angry anymore now, right?” Matt looked at the watch in the box, worth millions, a complex look flashing in his eyes. Three years. A full three years. They had shared a bed, had happy times together. In her eyes, was he really the type of person to fake being angry and hurt just for compensation? Suddenly, he recalled the gifts Houston had carefully prepared for Justin in her social media posts. A mocking feeling welled up, but he quickly suppressed it. Forget it. If she didn’t understand, there was no point in explaining. Seeing no smile appear on Matt’s face, Houston didn’t think much of it, just assuming he didn’t like it. “Matt, if you don’t like these, once I’m done dealing with Justin’s situation, I’ll take you to an auction to pick out the most expensive one for you…” Houston hadn’t finished speaking when Jenny and Justin’s voices came from outside the door. “Justin, I told you my sister loves you so much, she’d never really make you move out. It’s all that Matt’s fault. I’ll scold him for you later. You’ll move back in, right?” As they spoke, the two brazenly walked into Matt and Houston’s bedroom. Then upon seeing the watch set on the bed, Jenny exclaimed in delight: “Oh my god, sis! Justin just mentioned to me that he really liked these watch models. I can’t believe you actually bought them!” She looked at Justin beside her, her eyes full of envy. Hearing this, Justin’s face instantly reddened, then he shot a smug look at Matt. Seeing that Houston didn’t immediately deny it, but instead looked hesitant, Matt didn’t even think before picking up the box and handing it to Justin. “If it’s meant for you, then take it.” With one sentence, he made the choice for Houston, resolving her dilemma. At this moment, Houston looked at Matt in shock. Seeing how generous he was being, the unease in Houston’s heart grew stronger. She wanted to object, but seeing how happy Justin looked, she closed her mouth. She thought to herself, it’s fine, next week is our wedding anniversary. She could make it up to Matt then. Surely she was overthinking things. He was just jealous and sulking. Matt loved Houston so much. How could he possibly leave?

Another day passed. There was just one day left before the divorce cooling-off period ended and Matt would receive the divorce certificate. Thinking that he could finally leave, he began mailing his luggage abroad. Halfway through packing, Houston called from the office, asking him to attend a high society party at the Houston family mansion. Matt wanted to refuse. With just one day left, their legal marriage was about to end. But thinking of how Mrs. Houston had taken care of him over the years, and that this was the last day after all, Matt wanted to find a chance to speak with Houston alone and explain things clearly. Though the marriage had begun in confusion, Matt wanted to end it with clarity. In the bustling Houston family estate, everywhere was brightly lit, with elites gathered, clinking glasses. But as soon as he entered, Matt didn’t see Houston. After asking around, he learned from an old Houston family servant that Houston was in a house to the north. Matt immediately headed in that direction. The door to the house was slightly ajar, with some suggestive sounds coming from inside. Matt suddenly felt a wave of nausea. His body trembled as he slowly peered through the door crack. Instantly, a jarring scene entered his eyes. On the sofa, Justin was roughly and urgently pulling at Houston’s evening gown while pinning her down. His large hands gripped Houston’s waist as he trailed kisses from her collarbone downwards. Houston tilted her head back with closed eyes, frowning. She seemed somewhat resistant, but didn’t push him away. Her expression was conflicted. “Houston! Promise me you won’t leave me.” Justin murmured. Houston’s eyes suddenly snapped open as she forcefully shoved him away. “Justin! What the hell is wrong with you?! I’m married! Why did you come back now? What exactly do you take me for? Something you can toss aside and pick up again whenever you feel like it? Do you know how afraid I am of being alone again?!” Houston was furious, but Justin wouldn’t listen. He stubbornly moved forward and embraced her waist again, pressing their bodies together. “Houston! I was wrong!” “Justin! Get lost!” Over and over, relentlessly. Finally, Houston gave in and surrendered. This time she didn’t let Justin come embrace her. She forcefully pulled Justin to her and bit down hard on his lip. Then their lips and tongues intertwined, inseparable. Moments later, the two finally parted. Justin wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and smirked triumphantly. Then he tilted up Houston’s chin. “So, do you still love me?” Matt watched from outside, feeling as if countless knives were stabbing his heart. Houston stood frozen for a long while. Eventually, she raised her head and looked at him with eyes full of restrained love. Her tone was one of surrender. The next moment, her red lips moved: “Yes!” With that, Justin’s eyes filled with smug satisfaction. He pulled her in for another kiss, then asked, “So, will you divorce that Matt and marry me?” Houston’s entire body suddenly went rigid. Abruptly, she recalled that wedding years ago that she couldn’t bear to remember. She thought of the figure who had resolutely stood up and walked steadily to her side amidst all the strange looks. “…I.” Houston turned her head, about to answer. But in that instant, she saw a pair of grief-stricken eyes gazing at her through the slowly opening door. All at once, darkness descended in Houston’s mind. Matt stood outside, calmly looking at her, tears streaming down his face. “—Matt!”   Matt couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He also didn’t want to know the answer. He turned and walked away. But the faster he walked, the more that scene replayed in his mind. Three years ago, they went on a honeymoon to a tropical island. Just because it was his first time at the beach and he glanced a second too long at some women in bikinis, Houston’s face instantly darkened. She dragged him back to the presidential suite and didn’t let him leave for seven whole days. After seven days, when they ran out of strawberry-flavored supplies, they moved on. When the bed and sofa broke, they used the floor. She held him in her arms again and again, eyes red with jealousy: “Matt, I have everything they have. Don’t look at other women. Don’t leave me.” He had to swear over and over before her jealousy finally subsided. Afterwards, Matt’s waist was sore for days, and she teased him about it for weeks. From that day on, he never dared to look at another woman again. But in his heart, he was overjoyed at Houston’s jealousy. Now, Matt finally understood. Her jealousy didn’t come from love. She was just afraid of being alone, afraid of standing helplessly on that stage again, not knowing what to do. He had thought that after deciding to leave, his heart would no longer be moved. Now… Matt felt suffocated with pain. He just wanted to get away from this place as quickly as possible. Never to see her again. Passing through the bustling area of the Houston mansion, Matt took a deep breath. He was preparing to make his way through the crowd and leave. “Matt.” A voice suddenly came from behind. The familiar tone made Matt stop in his tracks. Matt looked at the speaker, wanting to call her “Mom” but suddenly remembering something. In the end, he respectfully addressed her as “Mrs. Houston.” Hearing Matt’s form of address, Mrs. Houston sighed but didn’t say anything. She just handed Matt a new ID card. “Matt, I’ve taken care of all the procedures for you to emigrate and study abroad. From now on, the name Matt Xu will no longer be associated with you. You’ll have a completely new identity. Is there anything else you need me to do?” Matt looked at the stack of documents in his hand, feeling a great sense of relief. Perhaps thinking of the scene in that small house earlier. Or perhaps thinking of the brand new life and identity awaiting him, Matt’s hand began to tremble. Mrs. Houston noticed Matt’s emotional state and asked with concern, “Matt, what’s wrong?” Matt took a deep breath to hold back his tears. He put the documents in his pocket and shook his head. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Houston. I’m very grateful for your care all these years and for doing this for me now. I just have one request, please promise me.” Matt struggled to control his emotions and said softly, “My whereabouts and location – please, please don’t tell Houston.” Matt and Houston should never meet again in this lifetime. Hearing this, Mrs. Houston looked at him in shock. “Did something happen between you two again?” Because just a few days ago, when talking about Houston, Matt would still smile. But now, Mrs. Houston could only see extreme disappointment and grief in his eyes. What could have happened in just a few days? Thinking of this, Mrs. Houston looked Matt up and down carefully. Her sharp eyes finally noticed the burn marks on Matt’s neck, partially concealed by makeup, and the bandages peeking out from his wrists. Mrs. Houston was stunned. Worry evident in her voice, she exclaimed, “Matt! What happened to cause those injuries?!” Matt pulled down his sleeves to cover the bandages on his wrists. He looked at Mrs. Houston solemnly: “Mrs. Houston! Please don’t ask anything. Just promise me what I asked earlier. I just want to leave quickly without causing any more trouble.” Matt didn’t tell Mrs. Houston about what happened in the small house. Since he was leaving, never to return, what was the point in saying anything? Or even if he did say something, what good would it do? Her true love had returned. Even if he left, she probably wouldn’t care. Matt smiled. “Mrs. Houston, thank you for taking care of the immigration paperwork. I’ll be going now.” He had barely finished speaking when a female voice suddenly came from behind them. Matt turned around and found himself looking into Jenny’s deep, panicked eyes. “What immigration?!”

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On my wedding day, my fiancé and my younger sister Nancy were caught doing the dirty in the private lounge. I immediately became a laughing stock, until my childhood friend Frank Kelvin publicly proposed to me, defending my honor. After we got married, he was the perfect husband… except for his performance in the bedroom. It was like his heart was never in it. I only managed to get pregnant after going for IVF this year. After that, he became even more protective of me. I once believed he was my sanctuary… until I overheard his conversation with his friend. “You’re ruthless, Frank. Setlla’s so good to you. How could you swap out her egg with Nancy’s just because Nancy is too afraid of the pain to give birth? “The baby’s due in two months. What do you plan to do then?” Frank was silent for a bit, then he sighed. “I’ll give Nancy the baby once it’s born. It’s one of her greatest wishes, after all. “As for Setlla, I’ll tell her the baby died. “I’ll make it up to her by staying with her for the rest of her life.” So that was how it was. He only protected me so gently for her sake. I turned around and immediately made a surgery appointment. I was throwing away this filthy baby… and this false marriage. ****** “Aren’t you worried Setlla will discover the truth?” Frank Kelvin was quiet for a moment before saying, “She won’t find out.” “Are you sure?” “She trusts me.” His tone was certain. “She won’t suspect a thing if I’m the one telling her.” After another short silence, his friend said, “As long as you don’t regret it.” Frank chuckled lightly. “I won’t.” So that was how it was. I stood outside the door, my nails digging into my flesh. It hurt so much, but I was going numb. I had only come here to bring him some clothes. It was getting cold, and I was worried he was not wearing enough layers. Now, however, I felt like my heart was being sliced open. A cold wind blew through my chest. I stumbled home, too exhausted to even turn on the lights. My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the couch, curled up and shivering. I felt nauseous and dizzy. Tears spilled from my eyes soundlessly, but I did not have the energy to wipe them away. The door knob clicked. He was back. I heard the sound of his leather shoes approaching. He walked up to the couch and bent down slightly, his voice gentle and worried. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights? The maid said you haven’t eaten. Are you feeling sick again?” He reached out to push the hair out of my face, his eyes filled with concern. “Setlla, what’s the matter?” He then crouched down, putting his hand over mine. His tone was gentle. “If you don’t eat, it’s bad for the baby.” I looked straight into his tender gaze. So love could be entirely an act. Four years ago, my fiancé and my younger sister were caught having an affair at my wedding. My parents forced me to hand over my fiancé, saying family protected each other. They could not afford to lose face in public, so they declared that Nancy Huxley was the bride that day. Back then, Frank had publicly proposed to me. At the time, I thought he was my savior. After we got married, I stood behind him and silently supported him the whole time. I used my market acumen to help him invest and expand his business. Within a few short years, his company went from a nameless startup to one of the rising stars in the investment industry. When we went for IVF to conceive this year, everything seemed to be perfect. He hugged me and said this baby was the gift he had been looking forward to for years. His smile was so tender I could almost drown in it.

Turned out it was just another trick. He was not the only one who could act. I blinked and curved my lips into a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.” My voice was soft and slightly tired, as though nothing was amiss. He heaved a sigh of relief and comforted me gently. “Okay. Sleep early tonight.” Why not? I could play this game before the surgery. After that, the curtains would fall on this charade. The next morning, Frank took me to a prenatal checkup. He asked questions about every little detail. Even the doctor laughed and praised him. “You have a great husband. Not many men are this responsible these days.” Frank held my hand, his gaze gentle. “I’ve been looking forward to this baby forever. Of course I’ll take good care of them.” When we walked out of the consultation room, we bumped into my sister Nancy. She wore a loose-fitting dress, and a smug look flashed across her eyes when she saw us. I smirked inwardly when I saw her round belly. No wonder she said she had coincidentally fallen pregnant at the same time as me. She had been waiting for me the entire time. She approached me with a grin and a lighthearted tone. “When are you due, Setlla?” She even held out her hand to touch my stomach. My gaze cold, I smacked her hand aside. “What was that for?” Anger flashed across Nancy’s face. Before she could continue, however, I lowered my head and held my stomach, saying weakly, “My stomach… kinda hurts…” Her words caught in her throat, and her expression instantly stiffened. Frank immediately held my arm, his tone nervous. “Was it because the checkup took too long? Do you want to go back and rest?” His tone was filled with concern, but I could see that his gaze stayed on Nancy, wordlessly consoling her. I lowered my lashes, saying softly, “I’ll head to the washroom.” He frowned and tried to follow me, but I waved him aside. “No need. Wait for me here.” He hesitated but eventually nodded. “Alright, be careful.” I went into the washroom, but the moment I closed the door, I saw him hurry off. As I thought, he had gone to comfort Nancy. I followed him sneakily, standing a short distance away as I watched him soothe her patiently. Nancy frowned and pouted. “Did you fall for her or something? She was so rude to me, but you didn’t even defend me! Tell me honestly, did you feel bad for her?” Frank sighed helplessly. “I did it for the baby. After all, she’s…” Without finishing that sentence, he took a beautiful jewelry box from his pocket and pulled out a brand new bracelet from inside. His tone was gentle as he put it on her wrist. “This is the bracelet you wanted last time. I got it for you.” Nancy’s expression softened. She smirked and said smugly, “I earned a ton on the stock you recommended last time. Do you have any other recommendations?” I stood rooted to the spot, scoffing at the scene unfolding before me. Frank was using everything I gave him to win her heart. I turned around and left, then took out my phone and made a call. “Hello? I want to confirm my appointment tomorrow. Alright, I’ll be there on time.” The familiar footsteps behind me came to a sudden stop. “Tomorrow?” Frank sounded confused. “Where are you going tomorrow?” I turned around and met his gaze with a smile. “I made an appointment for a pregnancy photoshoot. Let’s take some family photos as keepsakes.”

His expression stiffened, and he hesitated. I purposely raised a brow, my tone light. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to go with me?” He could not quite meet my gaze. “No, I’m just… worried you’ll be too tired. Besides, I have a meeting tomorrow at work. How about another day?” I looked at him and chuckled, my tone soft and considerate. “It’s fine. Your work comes first. I can go alone.” He seemed to heave a sigh of relief. He rubbed my head with a smile, his tone indulgent. “What would I do without such a wonderful wife like you?” On the day of the surgery, Frank suddenly pulled out a small bracelet and put it on my wrist before leaving for work. “This is for you.” His tone was gentle as usual. I looked down at it. It was the free gift that came with the bracelet he bought for Nancy. My fingers curled into fists slightly, but I looked up at him with a smile. “Thanks. I love it.” His lips curved as he rubbed my hair, saying softly, “You’re always so sweet, Setlla.” Before going for the surgery, I decided to drop by my maiden home to visit my parents. Just as I was about to head inside, however, I heard the voices inside clearly. Nancy was complaining with a pout, “Why is Setlla always so arrogant? She even hit my hand yesterday!” My mother comforted her softly. “Just tolerate that for now, alright? We eventually gave you her fiancé when you wanted him, didn’t we? This time as well, you just need to be patient.” My father sighed helplessly. “Don’t make a fuss, okay? You finally married the guy you wanted. If your in-Kelvins find out how you’re getting this baby, they’ll get mad again, and Frank will be in trouble.” Frank hastily comforted her, his tone gentle but determined. “Don’t worry, Nancy. I brought the prenatal checkup from yesterday. Everything’s fine. We just need to wait until the baby is born.” He paused and continued, “Mom and Dad, you don’t have to worry about me either. I’ll do anything for Nancy.” My fingertips were cold. All the blood in my body froze over. So they all knew. So this was all part of their plan. So I was nothing more than their pawn from the very start. Not long later, the butler brought over some tea. Frank opened the door to take the cups, but his eyes locked onto something on the floor. There were pearls scattered across the doorway, and a bracelet lay broken. It was the one he had put on my wrist. He immediately went pale, forgetting to breathe. He rushed to the door and looked around, his gaze panicked. After that, he blew up my phone. The moment the call went through, he said anxiously, “Setlla, where are you? I can explain—” I did not reply. His voice grew even more panicked. “Setlla, what happened? Where are you?!” Just then, he heard a nurse saying on the other side— “Setlla Huxley? Please sign this agreement before the surgery.” Frank felt like he was being choked. His breath caught, and he instantly lost it. “A surgery? Where are you? What surgery?!” He practically roared into the phone, his voice unprecedentedly panicked. I looked at the screen calmly, drawing my finger across it lightly. I hung up… then turned off my phone.   I sat on the hospital bed, my hands rubbing the sheets subconsciously. My best friend Anna was making some arrangements over the phone. A few seconds later, she ended the call and looked at me. “Everything’s in place.” Her tone was steady as ever. “It’s all according to plan.” I nodded calmly. “Good.” The doctor came into my room, holding my chart. His expression was solemn. “Miss Huxley, let me check again before the surgery—” He flipped through my chart and looked at me solemnly. “The baby is quite far along, so we’ll have to induce labor. This could affect your future… Are you sure?” I did not hesitate for even a second. “I’m sure.” He paused before asking, “Do you have any family with you?” Family? I scoffed. The family who claimed to love me and care for me were all lying to me, planning to give away the baby once it was born. I looked up slowly and told the doctor in a frighteningly calm voice, “I don’t have any family. They’re all dead.” The doctor glanced at me. He wanted to say something, but then he sighed and nodded at the nurse. “Prepare the operation theater.” The door closed slowly, and the world went silent. The only sound left was the beep of the ECG. This was the first decision I made for myself. It was fine. My life would become even better without them. After the surgery, back in my room, I heard Anna’s voice in my ear before I was even fully awake. “Frank kept calling me. I gave him a different address, but he’ll find out soon.” The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Anna’s worried gaze. Her tone was careful. “How do you feel?” I paused and instinctively touched my stomach. It was flat. My fingers paused on the empty belly, as though confirming something… or searching for something. Anna hesitated when she saw my movements and asked cautiously, “Do you… regret it?” I did not reply, my fingers slowly digging into my palms until it began to hurt. Regret? Never. All I felt was… hatred. I hated them for tricking me, and hated myself for taking this long to notice. Fortunately, it was not too late. I did not let them get their way. I looked up with a cold smile. “I don’t regret it at all.” I then reached for the documents I had prepared on my bedside table. My voice was hoarse but clear. “I already signed them.” Anna took the papers and read through them, her gaze serious. “Divorce papers?” I nodded slightly. “Send them out right away.” She did not ask any more questions. “Alright.” She then paused before continuing, “The stocks you invested in with my account have made it big. I’ll transfer the money back to you right now.” I lowered my gaze, my tone calm. “Alright.” After a second, I chuckled, my gaze ice cold. “Don’t let them know. I’ll make them pay, slowly, once I recover.” The next day, I heard panicked footsteps at the door. I closed my eyes and let out a breath, my fingers digging into the sheets. They found me, after all. The door flew open, Frank taking the lead. When he saw me in the hospital bed, all the blood drained from his face. There was no hiding the panic in his eyes. “Setlla! How could you be so rash? You misunderstood, I can explain—” He ran toward me, his tone rushed.

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