My engagement video on TikTok went viral. Just as I was about to close the comment section, a top comment with tens of thousands of likes caught my eye and made me laugh. “Your fiancé and the girl standing next to him definitely have something going on. Their outfits look more like a matching couple’s set than yours.” “Agreed. And in that last photo, the guy has a smudge on his upper lip that perfectly matches her lipstick. Looks like Chanel Rouge Allure shade 154.” I replied: “Thanks for the concern, guys! But you’re overthinking it. She’s my best friend, and she and my fiancé have never really gotten along. It’s just a coincidence.” After hitting send, a strange impulse drove me to zoom in on the picture. I stared at the reddish smudge on his lip, lost in thought. I didn’t own that shade. But it was my best friend’s absolute favorite. A second later, I shook my head and laughed at myself, thinking I was being paranoid. I still remembered the first time I introduced Ethan to my best friend, Rachel. They literally ended up arguing in the private dining room. Ever since then, they would bicker every time they met. Whenever we went out, I had to choose between the two of them to avoid a scene. Tonight, Ethan was working late at the office. I turned on one of my usual sleep-aid live streams on TikTok. Just as I was drifting off, a familiar voice jolted me awake. “I hooked up with my best friend’s fiancé. I don’t want to lose either of them. What should I do?” I sat straight up in bed, completely wide awake. Although the woman on the split-screen stream was wearing sunglasses and a face mask, I recognized her instantly. It was Rachel.

My sleepiness vanished. I sat there in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs. On the screen, the host scolded her for a bit before kicking her off the live stream. I immediately searched for her username. It was clearly a burner account, and it was set to private. I requested to follow her, but she didn’t accept it right away. Rachel was a night owl; there was no way she was asleep at this hour. I changed my Snapchat display name to “Team True Love,” and a second later, she accepted my request. Rachel’s profile had dozens of private videos. Every single one of them showed her and Ethan in incredibly intimate poses. As I scrolled down, I realized that every time Ethan claimed he was working late, he was actually with her. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold my phone. “Did you see that live stream? Do you think we actually have a future together?” A message from Rachel popped up. Reading those two short sentences felt like a physical blow to my chest. I bit my lower lip hard, typing back: “Yeah. When did you guys start seeing each other? Aren’t you afraid your best friend will cut you off?” Rachel replied almost instantly: “We’ve been together for over a year. He confessed to me first.” “Of course I’m scared. But I can’t control my heart. I think once she finds out, she’ll understand.” My fingers froze. The phone slipped from my hand and fell onto my lap, but I couldn’t even feel the impact. Ethan and I had been engaged for exactly one year and two months. Rachel had met him for the very first time at our engagement party. Rachel sent a few more messages after that, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them. Just then, a notification popped up at the top of my screen. “Ethan, who you follow, just shared a new post.” I tapped into Ethan’s Instagram. It was a new photo. I recognized the background instantly—it was Rachel’s bedroom. One of our mutual friends had commented: “You spent the night at Rachel’s and actually dared to post it on Instagram?” “Aren’t you afraid Chloe will find out?” Ethan replied: “She hasn’t logged into Instagram in ages. She won’t notice.” With trembling hands, I scrolled through Ethan’s Instagram feed. I discovered that he had soft-launched his relationship with Rachel a year ago. He had even posted a picture of them kissing passionately in the dark. I stared at the photo, zooming in over and over again. But no matter how hard I tried to deny it, the man in the photo was indeed my fiancé, Ethan. And the woman was my best friend, Rachel. In the three years I had been with Ethan, I had asked him countless times to post about us on Instagram. He had always refused, giving me all kinds of excuses. Yet, he had no problem declaring his love for my best friend on his secret account. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, Ethan came home. He walked into the bedroom as usual, leaning down to kiss my forehead. As he drew closer, a heavy scent of perfume washed over me. It was Rachel’s signature scent. I opened my eyes, startling him. “Chloe, why are you up so early?” I subtly pulled back, creating some distance between us. “Couldn’t sleep. Were you out drinking with clients again? The perfume smell is overwhelming. Go take a shower.” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes. He let out a forced laugh and quickly headed to the bathroom. Once I heard the shower running, I carefully picked up his phone. I automatically entered his birthday. “Incorrect Password.” My fingertips trembled. In all the years we had been together, he had never changed his passcode. Suppressing the lump in my throat, I tried entering Rachel’s birthday. It unlocked. No matter how careful Ethan thought he was, he had left traces. I opened his hidden photo album. It was filled with photos of him and Rachel—taking selfies in different countries, hugging on beaches. Every time his company had a business trip that allowed a plus-one, I had asked to go. But he had always turned me down. “Chloe, I’m going there to work. Having you there will only distract me.” I had genuinely believed he was just keeping his professional and personal life separate. But now I knew. He had been taking another woman with him, letting her live the life that belonged to me. The sound of the running water began to fade. Realizing Ethan was about to come out, I quickly put the phone back and pretended nothing had happened. “Chloe, come back to bed. I’m exhausted.” Ethan pulled me into his arms as he lay back down. Just thinking about how these hands had held Rachel in the exact same way made me want to throw up. As he drifted off to sleep, I went to push him away, but then I heard him mumble: “Rachel… don’t leave me. I love you.” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I couldn’t move. Ethan was a reserved man. He had never said “I love you” to me. Even at our engagement party, he had only whispered: “Chloe, you’re finally mine.” I turned my head away, wiping my tears silently. I slipped out of bed, walked out of the room, and dialed a number. “Hi, this is Chloe. Regarding the wedding in two weeks… I’d like to change the bride’s name on the program to Rachel.”

When Ethan woke up, he reached out to the empty, cold space beside him, looking a bit dazed. Usually, I would be right there, eagerly waiting for him to wake up. But not today. He washed up and came downstairs. I was sitting on the couch, watching our engagement video. “Chloe, you look really pale. Did my sleep-talking wake you up?” I could hear the subtle questioning in Ethan’s voice. My face remained blank. “No.” He let out a quiet sigh of relief and sat down beside me. “What are you watching? I’ll watch with you.” I paused the video. “Hold on. Someone else is coming.” Before Ethan could ask, the doorbell rang. I got up to open it. Rachel had completely changed her style today. She was wearing a simple white sundress, with barely-there makeup. I looked her up and down, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Rachel, this isn’t like you. What’s the occasion? Did you find a new guy to impress?” I didn’t miss the flicker of expression on Rachel’s face. Her smile stiffened, and she avoided my gaze. “No, I just… wanted to try out the style you like.” I said nothing. I knew exactly who she was trying to impress. Ethan loved the “innocent, pure girl” look, which was why I had spent years dressing up in white dresses just to please him. I stepped aside to let her in. When Ethan looked up, his eyes practically locked onto her. Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat and started putting on his usual act. “Rachel? What are the odds of you showing up this early? Great, now I’ve lost my appetite for breakfast.” Rachel shot back, matching his energy: “Oh, please, Ethan. You think I want to see your face? If it weren’t for Chloe, I wouldn’t even step foot in your house.” I watched them trade barbs. How had I never noticed how fake their acting was? If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have stepped in to play peacemaker. But now, I just stood there, watching the show, finding it almost laughable. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Ethan gave a cold huff, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and sat down. As we turned, I caught a fleeting glimpse of jealousy and hurt in Rachel’s eyes. Probably to avoid suspicion, she chose to sit on the armchair furthest from us. Now that everyone was here, I pressed play on the video. The screen showed a close-up. It was Ethan and Rachel, whispering intimately in a corner, completely ignoring me. “Ethan, since when did you and Rachel get so close? I had no idea.” “Seeing how you two were practically at each other’s throats just now, one might think you’re just putting on a show for me.” I threw the question out casually. Rachel, already on edge, looked at me in pure panic. “Chloe, you’re overthinking it. It must be the camera angle. You know how much I can’t stand him.” Ethan took a sip of his coffee, chiming in, “Yeah, definitely a bad camera angle.” I kept my eyes on the TV screen, but Ethan and Rachel were clearly squirming. “Chloe, I’m going to use the restroom,” Rachel said. A few minutes later, Ethan’s phone vibrated. Though he quickly flipped the screen over, I caught the name on the lock screen: “Rachel.” “Chloe, I need to take this work call.” I stared at his back as he walked toward the hallway bathroom, and then I silently got up to follow him. Hiding around the corner, I watched Rachel open the bathroom door, reach out, and pull Ethan inside. When we remodeled the house, Ethan had insisted on using lightweight doors so he could hear me if I ever slipped or needed help. Because of that, the bathroom door had zero soundproofing. “Ethan, you touched her just now. I’m jealous. Did you guys do anything behind my back this morning?”

Rachel’s voice was dripping with jealousy. Ethan let out a soft laugh. The blurred shadow against the frosted glass leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Silly girl, you know you’re the only one I love, right?” “I gave you my everything last night. Where would I even find the energy? Besides, I promised you I wouldn’t touch her.” I covered my mouth, forcing myself not to make a sound. Ever since we got engaged, our intimacy had dwindled to almost nothing. We hadn’t slept together in over a month. He had always been a man with a high sex drive. But when he used the “I’m just too stressed with work” excuse, I had actually believed him. They flirted and made out inside for a while longer. By the time they came out, I was already back on the couch. Ethan had a faint smear of pink lipstick on his collar and the corner of his mouth. I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. “Look at you. You’re a grown man, yet you still eat like a kid. What did you sneak into?” I let the double meaning hang in the air. Ethan panicked, grabbing his phone screen to use as a mirror, frantically wiping his mouth. “Oh, uh, I must have gotten some of your lipstick on me when I washed my hands.” I didn’t call him out. Rachel couldn’t stand being there any longer. She adjusted her smudged lipstick and said: “Chloe, I have some errands to run. I should go.” She practically fled the house. Behind Ethan’s back, a slow, cold smile crept onto my face. I turned off the television, picked up my phone, and permanently deleted the engagement video. Ethan noticed. “Chloe, why did you delete our engagement video? I thought that was your favorite.” I looked him straight in the eyes, my smile not reaching my eyes. “I don’t like it anymore. Besides, the wedding video in a few weeks will be much more exciting. That’s the one worth keeping.” My words were smooth and flawless. The brief suspicion in Ethan’s mind quickly dissolved. Since it was his day off, he spent the afternoon begging me to go out with him. “Chloe, I’ve been so busy with work lately. I know I’ve neglected you. There’s a new movie playing today, and I already bought the tickets. Let’s go.” The rejection at the tip of my tongue was swallowed back down. Ethan hated shopping and movies. I wanted to see what kind of game he was playing today. Was this guilt after cheating, or did he have another motive? I bypassed the rows of white dresses in my closet and threw on a casual, oversized sweater and jeans. When I walked out to the hallway balcony, I saw Ethan looking down at his phone, a massive grin on his face as he texted someone. The moment I stepped downstairs, he quickly put his phone away. “Chloe, why aren’t you wearing a dress? I always love seeing you in white sundresses.” Without looking up, I pulled out a dusty pair of sneakers from the closet. “I suddenly don’t like them anymore.” “Ethan, don’t you think it’s weird? People can change overnight. The things we used to love can suddenly mean absolutely nothing to us.” Ethan’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he forced a smile. On the drive to the mall, he kept glancing over at me. Unable to stand his fake face, I simply closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Once we arrived at the mall, he held my hand tightly, as if he was terrified I would run away. “Ethan, you’ve been acting so strange lately. Did you do something wrong? Is this your way of making it up to me?” I looked at him with a smile. His grip on my hand tightened, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. “I’m just kidding. Look how nervous you are. Don’t tell me you actually did something?” He swallowed hard. Before he could answer, a familiar voice called out from behind us. “Chloe!”

I turned around. It was Rachel, wearing a sweet smile as she walked toward us. More accurately, her eyes were locked onto Ethan. I couldn’t help but shake my head inwardly. How had I been so blind to such obvious looks before? “Chloe, what a coincidence! Are you guys shopping too? Let’s walk together.” Rachel grabbed my arm, and almost instantly, she and Ethan started their usual bickering routine. “Let go of her. I want to walk with Chloe.” “Why should I? Chloe is my best friend. If anyone should let go, it’s you.” I glanced at Ethan. He was really committed to this act, wasn’t he? In the end, I had no choice but to walk in the middle, with Ethan on my right and Rachel on my left. When we reached the restaurant, Ethan pulled out his VIP card. The hostess bowed slightly. “Mr. Vance, correct? Your table for three is ready. Right this way.” Hearing that, everything clicked. This was never a romantic date night for the two of us. It was just a cover so he could openly go on a date with Rachel with me as his shield. Ethan’s face flushed red and white. “You must have made a mistake. I booked a table for two.” I waved my hand, too exhausted to play along with his embarrassment. “It’s fine. Rachel is here anyway, so we have exactly three people. It worked out perfectly.” Ethan had pre-ordered the food. As the dishes were served, I realized almost all of them were tailored to Rachel’s taste. “No peanuts in this one, please. Can you swap it for another dish?” Ethan pointed at one of the plates and told the waiter. I kept my mouth shut, quietly setting down my fork. Only after speaking did Ethan realize how natural his tone had been. Seeing that my expression was neutral, he quickly tried to explain: “I remembered you’re allergic to peanuts, so I wanted to make sure the kitchen got it right.” I gave a soft hum. Out of the three of us, Rachel was the only one with a severe peanut allergy. After dinner, Ethan went to get the movie tickets. Coincidentally, Rachel pulled out her phone and showed me her ticket—which was for the same movie, in the seat right next to ours. “Chloe, we are seriously soulmates!” I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, not even blinking. “You and Ethan are the soulmates. He’s the one who bought the tickets.” Rachel’s smile faltered. “Ugh, I would never want to be soulmates with that annoying jerk.” During the entire movie, my mind was miles away. Meanwhile, Ethan and Rachel were whispering and giggling, discussing the plot with great enthusiasm. When the movie ended and we walked out of the dark theater, the dim lighting made it hard to see. I stumbled slightly. But in the light from a passing screen, I saw Ethan holding Rachel’s hand tightly to guide her. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “It’s still early, Chloe. Let’s go look at wedding bands. The wedding is this weekend. I can’t believe it’s finally happening!” The excitement on Ethan’s face felt incredibly surreal. Inside the jewelry store, the sales associate brought out the latest seasonal collection for us to choose from. I had zero interest. I tried on a few pieces half-heartedly, not liking any of them. “Oh, I think this one is gorgeous! Whoever marries me in the future has to get me this ring,” Rachel exclaimed, admiring a diamond ring on her finger and flaunting it in Ethan’s direction. In the end, we didn’t buy anything. But after we got into the car, Ethan claimed he forgot something and ran back into the store. When he returned, he was holding a small shopping bag. He pulled out a box and put a necklace around my neck. “I saw this necklace just now and thought it would look perfect on you. I was right.” He tossed his coat onto the back seat, giving Rachel a subtle, reassuring glance. I opened my phone camera under the pretense of taking a selfie, only to spot the corner of a ring box tucked deep inside his coat pocket. Fast forward to the day before the wedding. According to tradition, the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other. I packed all my belongings, left the necklace and my keys on the kitchen counter, and walked out without looking back. The next morning, Ethan received a FaceTime call from the wedding planner. “Mr. Vance, I just wanted to do a final check with you. The bride’s name is Rachel, correct?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “450536”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I woke up, back on the morning of our wedding anniversary. In my past life, I had booked a restaurant a week in advance. I even spent hours in the kitchen making his favorite Beef Bourguignon from scratch. At 3:00 PM, I sent him a message: “7:00 PM tonight. Our usual spot. I’ll be waiting.” He didn’t reply. It wasn’t until 5:00 PM that he sent a voice note. “Clara, baby, I’m so sorry. An important client just flew in. I’ll try my best to make it, but go ahead and eat without me. Don’t wait up.” And I, like a fool, replied, “It’s okay. Work comes first. I’ll wait for you until nine.” At 9:00 PM, I drove to our second home—the new apartment we bought. And there, through the bedroom door, I heard Chloe Miller’s giggles and Ethan Sterling’s deep, breathless voice. I heard the words that carved themselves into my bones: “She’s got nothing on you. You’re so much better in bed.” I couldn’t even remember how I rushed out of the building. I only remembered the screeching of tires on the asphalt. And the memory of the text message I saw on Ethan’s phone later. It read: “Babe, our usual spot tonight. Miss you.” The timestamp was 4:20 PM. Right after I told him, “See you at our usual spot at 7:00 PM,” he turned around and invited his “babe” to another “usual spot.” Chloe Miller was Ethan’s college junior. She used to chase him back in school, then moved abroad. Last year, she returned and immediately joined Ethan’s company as his personal assistant. During a company party, Ethan brought me along, and Chloe was there too. She smiled sweetly, calling me “Clara” with false intimacy, but the look in her eyes whenever she watched Ethan was dripping with undisguised lust. At the time, I brushed it off as innocent admiration. I didn’t think twice. But then, Ethan started bringing her up more and more. “Chloe is really capable. She took a lot off my plate.” “Chloe stayed up all night helping me prep this report. I should take her out for dinner to thank her.” And back then, I foolishly chimed in, “Oh, you definitely should. Make sure to thank her properly.” Looking back, it was all just a cheap affair hidden behind the excuse of work. I opened my contacts and called Harper Davis. She was my best friend and ran a highly successful digital media company focusing on women’s lifestyle and relationship content. “Hello? Clara? Why are you up so early? Did the sun rise in the west today?” Harper teased over the phone. “Doesn’t my favorite stay-at-home wife usually sleep in?” “Harper,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I need a favor.” Harper immediately picked up on my tone. “What’s wrong? Did Ethan screw up again?” “Worse than that.” I took a deep breath. “I want to do a livestream.” “But you hate being on camera! You wouldn’t even show up for my company’s annual gala last month,” Harper said, confused. “I’m livestreaming a cheating husband,” I said flatly. A few seconds of dead silence followed. Then, Harper’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Clara, what the hell did you just say? Say that again. Ethan… is cheating?” “Yes.” I walked to my vanity and sat down. “And today is our wedding anniversary. He booked a date with Chloe at their little love nest tonight.” “Holy shit!” Harper cursed. “Chloe? That thirsty college junior of his?” “That absolute dog! Where are you? I’m coming over right now!” “Don’t come over,” I interrupted. “I need you to set up a livestream for me. “The equipment needs to be discreet, the video quality has to be crystal clear, and the audio needs to be perfect. Multiple angles, if possible. “I also need a reliable tech team to manage the stream in real-time. Make sure it doesn’t get shut down. “And most importantly, I need clout. “I want this stream to hit number one on trending.” A cold smile crept onto my lips. “The title will be… ‘Anniversary Surprise: Let’s see what my husband got me today.’” “Clara…” Harper’s voice cracked slightly. “Are you sure about this? Blowing this up in public won’t do you any favors. “We can find another way. Collect evidence, hire a lawyer, clean him out in the divorce…” “Clean him out?” I laughed. “Harper, I don’t just want his money. “I want him ruined. I want both of them to never be able to hold their heads up in public again. “I can make my own money. But this rage? I have to let it out. “Fine. My tech team has the gear. We can handle it.” “Wait for me. I’ll bring the team and the gear to your place in two hours.” “No,” I refused. “Don’t come to my house. Let’s meet somewhere else.” “Alright. 9:00 AM at the coffee shop downstairs from my office.” “Deal.” I hung up. The plan was in motion. Ethan, you like playing time manager? Let’s play.

Inside the private room of the coffee shop, Harper was already waiting with a man and a woman. “Clara!” Harper stood up the moment she saw me, pulling me into a seat. “This is Justin Carter, our head of tech. He’s a genius with livestreams. “And this is Mia Taylor, our live producer. She’s incredibly quick on her feet.” She turned to them. “This is my best friend, Clara Vance.” Harper looked at me, her eyes filled with worry. “Clara, have you really thought this through? “The gossip, the pointing fingers… it’s going to follow you for a long time.” I met her gaze dead-on. “Harper, I passed the point of no return a long time ago. “I’m not the one who should feel embarrassed. The cheaters are. As for the gossip…” I let out a cold laugh. “As long as I live a better, more glamorous life than them, words can’t hurt me.” Harper didn’t say anything else. She just squeezed my hand tightly. I looked at the laptop screen. Several major relationship gossip accounts with millions of followers on Twitter had already started posting teasers: “Tonight at 8:00 PM, tune in to @NeverForget for a very special ‘Anniversary Surprise.’ You don’t want to miss this!” “A romantic proposal or a total train wreck? Stay tuned!” “Marriage is a gamble. Do you dare to see the cards? Tonight’s livestream exposes the truth behind the perfect husband.” “She thought she married for love, but on their anniversary, she uncovered a shocking secret…” The hype was instant. The comment sections were already flooded with speculation. [An anniversary livestream? Sounds juicy!] [Is this scripted?] [Setting my alarm. I’m ready for the drama.] [If this is just some cheesy couple goals video at the end, I’m unfollowing!] The storm was brewing. Looking at the metrics, Harper said, “The engagement is crazy. At this rate, the live viewer count will be massive when we go live. “Clara, what’s your next move?” “I need to get him to confirm tonight’s date on tape,” I said. “And I need to catch him and Chloe on camera together. “His phone definitely has more evidence, but I can’t get to it. “Tonight, I’m going to make him expose himself.” Harper frowned. “Are you going to tail him? Driving your own car is too risky. A taxi isn’t reliable either.” I had already planned for this. “Ethan’s car has a GPS tracker. I installed it for safety reasons a while ago, and he probably forgot it even exists. “I can see his real-time location. “Plus, I rented an unremarkable sedan with standard plates. “I’ll park near his office ahead of time.” With everything set, we left the coffee shop. I picked up the rental car, sat in the driver’s seat, and buckled up. The car rolled toward Ethan’s office building. I found a spot with a clear view of the parking garage exit and waited. I opened Snapchat and sent Ethan a message. “Happy anniversary, babe! I booked a table for us at 7:00 PM. Our usual spot.” The message was sent. Silence. I switched to the livestream dashboard. The pre-live hype was still climbing. The hashtag had already cracked the top ten local trending topics. Some skeptical comments started appearing, calling it clout-chasing or a PR stunt. Harper used her burner accounts to steer the conversation: “Scripted or not, we’ll find out tonight. If it’s real, I hope she stays strong.” “Waiting for the receipts. Too many trash men out there lately.” “If this is real, he deserves to be canceled!” At 1:00 PM, Ethan finally replied. Just two words: “Busy now.” I took a screenshot and saved it. At 3:00 PM, he sent another message. “Got a dinner meeting with a client tonight. Can’t make it. Go ahead and eat. Don’t wait up.” I replied, keeping my tone intentionally sad but understanding: “Oh… okay. Work is important. Come home early when you’re done. I’ll wait for you.” He replied with a thumbs-up emoji. It wasn’t until 4:30 PM that the red dot on my tracking app finally started moving. I started the engine and followed him from a safe distance. Eventually, his car pulled into a luxury gated community called The Lumina. The security was incredibly tight. My rental car couldn’t get past the gates. I parked outside, in a spot where I had a clear view of the main entrance. I picked up my phone and sent a voice note to Harper, my voice steady. “He’s inside. I can’t get past the gate, so I’m waiting outside. You can start the countdown for the stream.” Harper replied almost instantly: “Got it. Have you checked the gear? How are you holding up?” “Gear is good. I’m fine.” I watched the security guards standing at attention. “This place has high security. I bet he plans on spending the night here. “I need to find a way in, or wait for him to come out.” “Safety first! Don’t force your way in!” Harper warned. “I know.” By 6:30 PM, the tracker showed that Ethan’s location hadn’t moved. I opened the livestream app. Justin had the stream key ready, and Harper messaged me: “The hype is at its peak. Thousands are waiting. We can go live anytime. When do you want to start?” “A little longer,” I replied. “Let’s wait until he comes out, or until I find a way in. I want absolute proof.”

By 7:30 PM, the sky was completely dark. The heavy iron gates of the community opened, and that familiar black Mercedes rolled out. Sitting in the passenger seat was Chloe Miller. I immediately started my engine and followed them. At the same time, I opened the app and hit “Go Live.” The camera pointed at me, and through the windshield, it captured the car ahead. I forced a sad, resolute smile for the camera. “Hi everyone, I’m Clara. Today is my third wedding anniversary. “Right now, I’m on my way to give my husband an ‘anniversary surprise.’ “I hope you can all bear witness with me.” The viewer count began to skyrocket. Comments started flooding the screen like a tidal wave. I looked at the rapidly scrolling text, keeping my voice in a state of controlled trembling. “A lot of you are asking where I’m going. “Do you see the car in front of me? “That is my husband’s car. “The girl in the passenger seat is his assistant, Chloe Miller. “Twenty minutes ago, they walked out of The Lumina together. “Yes, that luxury condo complex where units start at three million dollars.” The chat went wild: [Holy shit! Starting off with a bang?!] [The Lumina? Isn’t that mistress central?] [So on their anniversary, the husband takes his side piece out of a luxury condo? Real life is wilder than fiction!] [Her voice is shaking. I feel so bad for her…] [Wait, is this legal? Is she tracking him?] The moderators Harper set up immediately pinned a comment: [This stream has been legally cleared. The stream is strictly for securing evidence of marital misconduct to protect the spouse’s legal rights.] [Please stay respectful and respect privacy.] I continued, “This morning, I texted my husband. “I reminded him it was our anniversary and booked his favorite restaurant. “This afternoon, he told me he had a client meeting and couldn’t make it. “And now, it seems Miss Miller is his client.” The Mercedes finally parked in front of a high-end French bistro. It was a trendy, overhyped Michelin-star restaurant that required reservations a month in advance. When I had asked to go there last month, Ethan had told me it was “too much hassle and not worth it.” The car doors opened. Ethan walked around to the passenger side, gallantly opening the door for Chloe. Chloe stepped out, laughing, and naturally wrapped her arm around his. I parked the car, grabbed my purse containing the hidden camera, and stepped out. As I walked, the camera captured the clear view of the two of them walking arm-in-arm into the restaurant. The chat was in absolute chaos: [Busted! Look at that! Colleagues? My ass!] [Ditching his wife on their anniversary to take his mistress to a fancy dinner? Trash bag behavior!] [That girl looks familiar… is she that influencer?] [Stay strong, girl! We got your back!] [Go in there and rip them apart!]

I didn’t follow them in immediately. I spoke softly into the microphone. “They’re inside. I wanted to come to this restaurant with him, but he told me he hated it. “I guess he didn’t hate the restaurant. He just hated the person he’d be eating with.” My voice carried a perfect touch of heartbreak, but there were no tears on my face. “Now, I’m going in. I want to ask him myself if Miss Miller is indeed his most important ‘client’ tonight.” I walked into the restaurant. The host greeted me. I gave him Ethan’s name. “My husband booked a table. Ethan Sterling.” The host checked the system, his expression turning slightly awkward. “Mr. Sterling booked a table for two. By the window. May I ask who you…” “I’m his wife,” I said with a sweet smile. “I’m here to surprise him.” The host hesitated for a second but ultimately led me over. Ethan was the first to see me. The smile on his face froze instantly. A flash of panic crossed Chloe’s face, but she quickly masked it, replacing it with a smug, mocking look. The chat: [Look at his face! He looks like he saw a ghost!] [The mistress is actually smirking? The audacity!] [Stay calm, Clara! Destroy them!] Ethan stood up, his face darkening. “Clara? What are you doing here?” “What am I doing here?” I repeated his words, my voice terrifyingly calm. “On our wedding anniversary, I couldn’t find my husband. My tracker showed him at The Lumina, and then I saw his car pull up here. “Ethan, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” The surrounding diners began to whisper, turning their heads to watch. Ethan lowered his voice, his tone laced with anger. “Are you tracking me? Have you lost your mind? We are going home to talk about this!” “Go home?” I laughed. “Which home? Our apartment, or your little love nest at The Lumina?” Chloe stood up then, putting on her best innocent, victimized act. “Clara, you’ve got this all wrong. “Ethan and I were just discussing a project. The launch went really well today, so Ethan offered to buy me dinner to celebrate. “We…” “Does discussing projects require wrapping your arm around his?” I cut her off, my eyes locking onto her hand, which was still lightly touching Ethan’s sleeve. Chloe’s face flushed red, then turned pale. Ethan yanked his arm away from Chloe’s touch and tried to grab my wrist. “Clara, stop making a scene! This is embarrassing! “Chloe is just my assistant. We were genuinely talking about work! Stop being so dramatic!” “Dramatic?” I pulled up the screen of my phone, displaying the evidence right in front of him. “Ethan! Today is our third wedding anniversary! “I booked a restaurant and waited for you, and you told me you were too busy! “I worried about you working too hard, while you were busy taking another woman out of your private condo for a romantic dinner! “Is this your anniversary gift to me?”

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Five years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at a 24-hour convenience store at three in the morning. He was there to buy sanitary pads and painkillers for his wife. I was restocking the shelves. He was in such a rush that he told me he didn’t even need a black bag to cover them. But when our eyes met, he froze. “Chloe? How… how have you been?” I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to hide the scars on my wrist. Without a word, I scanned the items and bagged them. He didn’t leave. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “Are you… do you still hate me?” I shook my head. Maybe I hated him back when he used his power as the country’s leading psychiatrist to lock me in a private asylum. But now? I didn’t care about him at all. “Your wife is waiting for you at home. You should go,” I said flatly. I turned back to organizing the shelves. But Julian didn’t move. Watching my practiced movements, his voice trembled. “Chloe, if you need help, please call me.” “Take this card. The PIN is your birthday. Your health is fragile; you shouldn’t be doing such exhausting work.” How ironic. When we divorced, Julian forced me to sign a waiver leaving me with absolutely nothing. Now, he was trying to buy his peace of mind with a credit card. Seeing that I ignored him, Julian opened his mouth to say more, but a customized ringtone cut him off. Tiffany’s weak, whiny voice came through the speaker. “Babe, why aren’t you back yet? I miss you so much.” “My stomach hurts…” Julian gripped his phone tightly. “I’m on my way.” The call ended. He picked up his bags from the counter. “Can I at least have your Snapchat?” I remained silent. His phone started ringing again. Julian had no choice but to head for the exit. Before leaving, he slipped a business card onto the counter. His voice sounded choked. “Call me. Please?” The moment the door closed, I threw his card straight into the trash can. Four years ago, when my dad was on his deathbed, I had called Julian. I begged him to help transfer my dad to a better hospital. But Julian had hung up on me without hesitation and blocked my number. Now, my dad had been dead for four years. I had absolutely no reason to ever contact Julian again. After finishing my shift, I did the handover with my coworker, Mia. She sighed. “That guy in the custom designer suit… was that Dr. Vance? The one who’s always on the news?” “He didn’t even care about the bag, he just rushed home. He must really love his wife.” I nodded. “Yeah.” He did love his wife. At least during our five years of marriage, he had never let me shed a single tear. Seeing my cold reaction, Mia quickly changed the subject. “Today is your last day, right? The boss told me you’re heading abroad to study.” “I wish you all the best, Chloe.” “Thank you,” I said with a smile. When I walked out of the store, the sun was just beginning to rise. I walked back to my run-down, rented apartment and carefully wiped the dust off my dad’s portrait. “Dad, I ran into Julian today.” “But don’t worry. I won’t let someone like him affect me ever again.” I poured a glass of his favorite whiskey and set it in front of his photo. My hand shook slightly, and the picture frame next to it fell to the floor. The faded photograph showed an eighteen-year-old Julian and me. He wasn’t looking at the camera. He was staring at me, his eyes full of pure adoration. And on my other side was Tiffany, smiling shyly. She was the scholarship student my dad had sponsored. My former best friend. And now, Julian’s wife.

Julian and I grew up together. His parents were heavy gamblers who beat him whenever things went wrong. My dad couldn’t stand it, so he often brought Julian to our house for meals. Julian was quiet, but he treated me like I was his entire world. When my dad made fish, Julian would spend fifteen minutes picking out every single bone before putting the fish on my plate. He would collect plastic bottles and cardboard to sell, saving every penny just to buy me the hair clips and plushies I liked. I used to tease him and call him my silly boy. He never got mad. He would just look at me and smile. After his parents died in a drunk driving accident, my dad officially adopted him. Over the next few years, Julian blossomed. My dad’s business grew rapidly, too. But both of them loved me just as much as they always had. It wasn’t until high school that my dad expanded his charity foundation to sponsor more students. Tiffany was one of them. She wore thick glasses and washed-out clothes. Just like the old Julian, she was quiet and withdrawn. A girl like her was an easy target for bullies at our private prep school. Julian, who usually minded his own business, unexpectedly stepped in to protect her. Only then did we learn about her life. Her father was also a gambler, and her mother had abandoned her. Her family valued boys over girls, and her father had almost sold her to pay his debts. Their identical trauma triggered Julian’s savior complex. I realized he wasn’t just helping Tiffany; he was trying to save his younger self. So, I reached out and became friends with Tiffany, too. Whatever I bought for myself, I bought a copy for her. I invited her to our house for dinner almost every weekend. Gradually, the bullying stopped. Until… A knock on the door snapped me out of my memories. I opened it to find Julian and Tiffany standing outside. When Julian saw me, his eyes filled with pain and guilt. “Chloe… how can you live in a place like this?” It was a sketchy neighborhood. The apartment was tiny and poorly furnished. You could see the entire place in one glance. There was a folding cot in the living room. That was where my dad had slept after he got out of prison. Even though his health had been destroyed by his time behind bars, he had insisted on giving the only bedroom to me. I didn’t want these people dirtying my dad’s peace. I blocked the doorway, my face cold. “What do you want?” Tiffany was dressed in head-to-toe Chanel, looking every bit the pampered wife. She was unrecognizable from the timid girl she used to be. “Chloe, why so cold?” Tiffany smirked. “If Julian hadn’t run into you, I’d still think you were locked up in the asylum.” She handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. It was a necklace from a luxury brand I had designed years ago. Back then, I was hailed as a prodigy designer. My brand was on its way to becoming a global luxury powerhouse. But it was completely ruined the moment Julian personally signed the papers to lock me away. Tiffany stared at me, waiting for me to lose my mind. I just stared back at her, completely calm. Before I could say a word, Julian looked down and noticed the photo in my hand. A spark of hope lit up his eyes. “You still kept that photo? Does that mean…” Only then did I realize I hadn’t thrown the old photo away yet. Without hesitation, I ripped the picture to shreds and threw it into the trash can. Right on top of Tiffany’s gift box. “That brand used to be my hard work,” I said, looking up with a faint smile. “And that photo used to be my favorite memory.” “But once something gets dirty, I throw it away.” Julian’s face went deadly pale. It was obvious he knew that the “dirty things” I was talking about included him. Tiffany’s smile stiffened. She said petulantly, “We just came to catch up. You don’t have to be so hostile.” She peered over my shoulder, and her eyes lit up when she saw my dad’s photo. “After all, your dad was our benefactor. We should pay our respects.” Benefactor? The man she personally framed and sent to prison was her benefactor? After high school, Tiffany and Julian went to the same university. I gave up my Ivy League offer to go to a local college just to be close to Julian. Naturally, we got married. But Julian became busier and busier. Tiffany, who shared his major, was with him day and night. Slowly, I found myself locked out of their conversations. Even on our anniversary, Tiffany showed up. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Julian and I have a major research competition tomorrow,” she had said, batting her eyelashes. “I had to come find him. I really didn’t mean to crash your date.” She had ditched her glasses for contacts and styled her hair perfectly. She looked more like the girlfriend on an anniversary date than I did. They grew closer, but I kept telling myself that Julian was my husband. Then came the day of our wedding. My dad caught Julian cheating with Tiffany. But because my dad knew how desperately I loved Julian, he privately confronted Tiffany and demanded she leave. Tiffany refused. She tore her own clothes open and screamed. She accused my dad of sexual assault. Before our wedding reception even ended, the police dragged my dad away in handcuffs. I knew my dad would never do such a thing. I begged Julian to help me clear his name. He promised he would, but behind my back, he destroyed the security footage that could have proven my dad’s innocence. “Chloe, you have money, you have status! But Tiffany has nothing!” Julian had yelled at me. “If people find out she lied, her life will be over!”

But what about my dad’s life? Was it my fault she had nothing? But the more I screamed and fought, the more disgusted Julian looked. The final string in my mind snapped when I walked into our new house and found Julian and Tiffany in our bed. Tiffany cowered behind Julian. “Julian has so much pressure as a psychiatrist. I was just helping him decompress.” I lost control. I smashed everything in sight and slapped both of them repeatedly. I filed for divorce and posted the evidence of their affair on Snapchat and TikTok. They became the most hated scumbags online. But to save Tiffany’s reputation, Julian used his credentials to diagnose me with severe clinical psychosis. He had me committed. “Just stay there quietly for two years,” Julian had told me coldly. “Once the public forgets about this, I’ll let you out. You’ll still be my wife.” I was completely dead inside. All I wanted was a divorce. Julian, who rarely lost his temper, said through gritted teeth, “Divorce? Only if you sign this waiver and leave with nothing.” I signed it. But I didn’t expect him to send me to a private, abusive asylum in the middle of nowhere. It was a living hell. If we didn’t obey, we were electrocuted or whipped. We had to beg for food like dogs. If we displeased the guards, we had to search the trash for scraps. Tiffany would visit occasionally to brag about how much Julian loved her. She showed off the designer bags he bought her and the magazines they featured in. One day, she forced me to kneel and lick her designer shoes. “I always hated your arrogant, rich-girl attitude,” Tiffany sneered. “In high school, you acted like a saint, throwing your charity scraps at me. You thought you were so better than me just because of your dad’s money?” So that was how she viewed my kindness. She took photos of my pathetic state and sent them to my dad. Within a year, my dad died of a stress-induced heart attack in prison. And now, the monster who killed my dad wanted to “pay respects.” What a joke. I had no patience left for them. “Get out.” I closed the door right in their faces. I immediately called building security and had them escorted out of the complex. Once Tiffany’s muffled, angry screams faded from the hallway, I finished packing. I only took a few essentials and my dad’s photo. I left everything else behind. I took a cab straight to the airport. As I was checking my bags, someone called my name. “Chloe? What a coincidence.” I looked up and smiled. “Hey, Ethan.” Ethan Montgomery looked at my boarding pass and raised an eyebrow. “I’m flying to London too. Looks like we’re on the same flight.” He suggested we walk together, and I didn’t object. On the way to security, he asked softly, “You missed your last therapy session. How are you feeling lately?” After my dad died, I was in a dark place. The day I found out Julian and Tiffany had gotten married, I walked to the edge of a bridge, ready to jump. It was Ethan who grabbed my hand. He had smiled warmly, though his hands were shaking. “It’s my birthday today, and I have no one to spend it with. You look lonely too. Want to share a cake with me?” I didn’t know if he was lying, but I ended up crying and telling him everything. Even though he wasn’t my official therapist, he became my emotional anchor. “Thanks to you, I think I’m finally healed,” I told him. He looked at me, a soft smile on his lips. “So… you don’t need me anymore?” Before I could answer, a familiar, breathless voice shattered the moment. “Chloe! Where are you going? And who is he?” Julian ran up to us, his eyes bloodshot, breathing heavily. He looked terrified of my answer. I was exhausted by his persistence. I reached out, locked my fingers with Ethan’s, and said word for word, “This is my husband.”

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Eight years ago, we were the golden couple on the cover of our university’s alumni magazine. Yesterday, the editor-in-chief of a major financial magazine emailed me, asking for a follow-up interview. I typed out a quick reply: “Go interview Ethan’s new wife. We’re getting a divorce.” Two weeks ago, our company finally went public on the Nasdaq. Ethan didn’t even bother to send me an invitation to the ringing ceremony. Instead, he transferred my 50% of the founding shares—shares that legally belonged to me—straight to his secretary, Lacey Carter. I stormed into the boardroom with the agreement to confront him. In front of the entire board of directors, he slapped me across the face. “Lacey stays up all night networking and closing deals for me. What do you do besides spend my money, Chloe?” He seemed to have forgotten that the core AI algorithm—the very foundation of the company’s tech—was written entirely by me. “Security, please escort Ms. Chloe out.” Lacey walked in, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. She held an oat milk latte in her hand, complete with a handwritten label on the cup. That was my cup. My exact custom order. The handwriting on the label copied mine, but the strokes dragged downward at the end—my habit was always to flick them upward. She sat down to Ethan’s right. That was my seat. I had sat in that chair for seven years, leaving a faint scratch on the backrest from my favorite jacket. “Ethan,” she whispered, leaning in and acting cute, “it looks like Ms. Chloe hasn’t left yet.” Ethan shook his hand—the same hand he had just used to hit me. “Didn’t you hear her?” The twelve board members kept their heads down, suddenly finding their bottles of sparkling water incredibly fascinating. I clutched the share transfer agreement, the corners damp with my sweat. “Ethan, every single line of the underlying architecture of this company’s AI core was written by—” “Enough.” His face looked as bored as if he were listening to a broken record. “It’s just a few lines of code, Chloe. We have a team of hundreds of engineers. Do you really think the world stops spinning without you?” Lacey handed him a glass of water. He took it and took a sip. That was when I noticed the pink diamond necklace around her neck. I had bought that piece myself with my own savings at a private auction last year for three hundred and eighty thousand dollars. One morning, it vanished from my jewelry box. When I asked Ethan, he said the housekeeper must have misplaced it. So, it was around her neck all along. I turned and walked toward the door. “Wait a minute,” Lacey called out. “Let’s handle one more little thing while you’re here.” She dialed a number and put it on speaker. “Parker, come up to the 18th-floor boardroom. Now.” Parker was our third employee. He was the backbone of the tech department. He had worked under me for five years and co-authored thirty percent of the AI modules. Two minutes later, he pushed the door open. When he saw me, he froze. “Chloe? What happened to your face—” “Parker.” Lacey crossed her legs, tapping her fingernails on the desk. “As of today, your position is eliminated.” “What?” “Post-IPO restructuring. You’re simply too tied to the old team. You don’t fit our new direction.” When she said “the old team,” she looked at me with a smirk. Parker turned to Ethan. “Mr. Vance, I’ve been here for five years. The core algorithms—” “Lacey ran the evaluation,” Ethan said, not even looking up as he signed a document. “Your skills no longer match our growth. Keeping you is a waste of company resources. One month’s severance. Sign the papers and get out.” Parker’s hands shook. He looked at me, his eyes turning red. I caught his gaze and gently shook my head to stop him from saying anything more. “Let’s go, Parker.” Once we got out of the building, he caught up with me in the parking lot. “Chloe, how can he do this? Your name is on those patent filings! Your digital footprint is all over that code—” “I know.” My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the company’s Snapchat group. Lacey had posted a photo. She was sitting at my desk, with the roses I had nurtured for three years blooming in the background. Her caption: *So grateful for this new journey.* Parker saw it too. The veins on his neck bulged with rage. “Chloe, who does this bitch think she is—” “Parker,” I cut him off, my voice raw. “Go home. Don’t do anything rash. Just wait for my message.”

“Ma’am, your key fob access was deactivated this morning.” The concierge at my luxury apartment building stopped me, flipping through his logbook. “The primary owner filed the request. Mr. Vance said… you are no longer a resident of this building.” I stood in the lobby. The chilly May evening breeze blew in through the automatic doors. My phone rang. It was Lacey. “Chloe, sweetie, did you just get back to the building?” She sounded as sweet as a best friend. “I’m so sorry about this. Ethan said you two need some space, so he asked me to help pack up your things.” “Everything is boxed up and stored in the basement locker. You can just grab it directly from the front desk.” I was silent for two seconds. “Are you in my apartment?” “Yeah. Ethan asked me to move in temporarily to make working together easier.” I heard her rustling through some hangers on her end. “Oh, by the way, Chloe, that camel cashmere coat in your closet—what brand is it? I couldn’t find the tag.” “Ethan said you bought it yourself, so it wasn’t a gift from him—which means I don’t mind borrowing it for a couple of days.” I hung up, went down to the basement, and retrieved my things. Eight cardboard boxes were piled in the corner of the storage locker. Two of them were crushed. I opened the top one. Right on top was our framed wedding photo. The glass was shattered, the shards piercing into the printed faces of Ethan and me standing side-by-side. Below it were a few pieces of clothing Lacey hadn’t bothered to steal. The second box contained my work files. But something was missing. My blue leather journal. The development log for Project Three. Handwritten. The very first page held the first line of pseudo-code I had written in my dorm room eight years ago. That journal was the ultimate proof of who created the technology. It wasn’t in any of the boxes. I called Ethan. “Where is my development log? The blue leather one.” “What log?” his voice was completely indifferent. “Project Three. My handwritten notes, from the first architectural sketches to—” “No idea. Ask Lacey.” “Ethan, that log is the source of all the company’s IP!” “It’s just an old notebook. Who cares if it’s lost? Can you stop being so paranoid all the time?” He hung up. I stood in the dim locker room, staring at the eight cardboard boxes. Eight years of my life, packed into eight boxes. And two of them were crushed. I called an Uber to take the boxes to a boutique hotel. When I tried to swipe my credit card at check-in, it was declined. I called the bank. “Ma’am, your status as an authorized user on this account was revoked by the primary cardholder this morning.” I handed the receptionist my personal debit card. “Ma’am, a large transfer was made from this account today. Your balance is insufficient.” “A transfer? I didn’t authorize that.” “According to our records, the transaction was initiated by the joint-account holder…” I closed my eyes. The joint-account holder was Ethan. Years ago, he told me it would make managing our household expenses easier, so I signed the authorization. Just like that power of attorney for my shares, I had signed whatever he put in front of me. Because I trusted him. I sat in the hotel lobby for a long time. Eventually, Parker wired me some money. “Chloe, use this for now. Please don’t be polite with me.” “I won’t be,” I said, taking my new room key. “When this is over, I’ll pay you back double.” “Chloe—” “Parker.” “Yeah?” “That severance agreement they gave you? Don’t sign it.”

“Ms. Chloe, the patent registry shows that the inventor information for the tech you mentioned has already been legally updated.” The clerk at the Patent and Trademark Office sounded completely professional and detached. “Updated? I never signed any transfer documents.” “Our system shows the application was submitted by Vance Technologies’ legal department. It includes a signed consent form with your signature.” “That signature is a forgery.” “I see… In that case, you will need to seek legal counsel to dispute it. We do not have the authority to handle forgery claims here—” I hung up and started calling lawyers. The first one: “Ms. Chloe, I’m so sorry, but our firm is fully booked. We cannot take on new clients at this time.” The second one: “Vance Technologies is a long-standing client of our firm. We have a conflict of interest and cannot represent you.” The third one was an old classmate from law school. She was more honest than the others. “Chloe, I’m going to be straight with you.” “Vance Technologies sent a legal warning to every major intellectual property firm in the city. Nobody wants to touch your case and risk getting blacklisted by Ethan Vance. If you want a lawyer, you’ll have to look out of state.” “When did he send that warning?” “Last month. Before the IPO.” Last month. Before I even knew my shares were being stolen, he had already blocked every exit. I put down my phone and called my college roommate, Fiona. Her cousin, Harper, worked at a top-tier IP firm in a neighboring state. The phone rang twelve times before she finally picked up. “Chloe… hey. How have you been?” “Fiona, is Harper still at her firm? I need her to—” “Chloe,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Lacey took me out for high tea last week.” I froze. “She talked to me a lot. She said you haven’t been in a good headspace lately… She warned us not to trigger you.” “What exactly did she say about me?” “She said… she said you’ve convinced yourself that you built the company’s tech alone, but you actually only did a tiny fraction of the work…” “Chloe, are you—please don’t be mad, I’m just worried about you—are you sure you aren’t just misremembering things?” I didn’t say a word. Lacey had already gotten to my friends. As soon as I hung up, a new message popped up. It was from Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Vance. “Chloe, let me tell you something.” “Lacey is pregnant. Three months along.” “Ethan wants to finalize the divorce as quickly as possible.” “If you sign the papers quietly, he’ll give you a decent monthly allowance.” “I’ve always liked you, but a man changes when he has a child of his own. As a woman, you should understand that.” “If you make a scene, everyone loses face. Don’t make this ugly.” I set my phone down and turned on the TV. A financial talk show was airing. Lacey was sitting on the guest panel, wearing my camel cashmere coat. The host asked, “Ms. Carter, Vance Technologies’ AI platform is leading the industry. Can you share the journey behind developing this technology?” Lacey smiled warmly. “Well, I’ve actually been deeply involved in the core tech development for years. Ethan handles the front-end business, while I’ve been managing the heavy lifting on the backend.” I switched off the TV. My phone rang again. This time, it was an unknown number. “Ms. Chloe? This is Diana Miller, Editor-in-Chief of *Business Weekly*. I sent you an email earlier—” “Yes, I remember.” “You replied telling us to interview Ethan’s new wife.” “But we did some digging. The original patent application for Vance Technologies’ core AI was registered under your name.” “Did you develop this technology?” I stared out the window into the dark city. I paused for three seconds. “What kind of story do you want to write, Ms. Miller?” “The truth.” “Then wait.” “It’s not the right time yet.” “Ms. Chloe, this is the final draft of the divorce settlement. Please review it.” Ethan’s lawyer slid the document across the table. It was fourteen pages long. I flipped straight to the asset division section. Shares: Zero. Real Estate: Zero. (Purchased by the husband prior to the marriage; the wife has no claim). Spousal Support/Compensation: None. Living Allowance: Five thousand dollars a month, for two years. On the very last page, there was a clause in tiny print: “Non-Disclosure Agreement: The party of the second part shall not disclose any technical data, trade secrets, or operational details of the party of the first part’s company for ten years post-signing. Any violation will result in a penalty of fifty million dollars.” “Is this a joke?” I pushed the paper back, pointing at the NDA clause. The lawyer’s expression didn’t change. “Ms. Chloe, this is the most generous offer Mr. Vance is willing to make. I strongly suggest you sign it.” “Generous? Seven years of my career and marriage, and you’re telling me it’s worth five thousand a month?” “Five thousand,” the lawyer corrected me coldly. “Plus the obligation of silence.” My phone buzzed. It was Ethan. “Just sign it.” “No.” “Chloe, how are you going to fight me?” “The patents have been transferred, the shares are gone, and your accounts are empty. What do you have left?” “You and I both know who wrote those patents, Ethan.” “Who wrote them? Do you think the patent office cares about who typed the code?” “In the official registry, Lacey is the inventor. Our legal department submitted the signed paperwork with your signature.” “How are you going to prove it’s a forgery?” “Are you going to hire a lawyer? Oh, I forgot. Right now, not a single firm in this city will even take your call.” He let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Take the five thousand a month. Sign it quietly, and don’t make me make life difficult for your parents.”

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Julian and I had been together since we were eighteen. He used to do the craziest things for me. He once got into a brutal fight just to protect me, leaving a permanent scar near his temple. But by our eighth year, the spark had faded. Our relationship hit a quiet, dry plateau. When our friends brought up his past heroics, Julian would only shake his head and laugh. “I was young and stupid back then,” he’d say. “I would never do something that reckless now.” Yet, not long after, he went wild for a new medical intern in his department, beating a patient half to death to defend her. Afterward, he wept as he confessed to me, “I’m sorry, Maya. I have to take responsibility for her.” I touched his face, feeling no anger, no urge to blame him. He had no idea that my face blindness was consuming me. It had gotten so bad that I could no longer picture his face. I had completely forgotten what the scar on his temple even looked like. Driven mad by my coldness, Julian pinned me against the wall, kissing me desperately. Lost in the rush of emotion, I caressed his cheek. But the name that slipped from my lips was a whisper: “Ethan…” He froze instantly. Ethan Sinclair was his older brother. And he was the only man whose face I could still clearly see.

On the eve of our wedding, I received a call from the police department. The officer told me my fiancé, Julian, had been arrested for assault and battery. They needed me to come down to the precinct. When I arrived, I found Julian in a holding room. He was sitting on a plastic chair. His white lab coat was gone, and his button-down shirt was wrinkled and stained with blood. An older, middle-aged man sat across from him with a thick bandage taped to his forehead. The man was gesturing wildly, shouting at the officer. “I want him locked up! I don’t care if he’s a doctor! He thinks he can just beat people up? All because of that little whore…” As he cursed, he pointed toward the corner of the room. Only then did I notice someone else sitting in the shadows. It was a young girl wearing a blue hospital intern uniform. She was curled up in her chair, sobbing quietly. That was Chloe. Julian slammed his hands on the table and stood up, his voice deadly cold. “Say that again.” The man flinched, shrinking back, but his mouth didn’t stop. “I said, she dresses like she’s begging for—” Julian threw a punch. The officer nearby reacted instantly, grabbing Julian’s arm and slamming him back down. “Stop! This is a police station! Sit down!” the officer barked. Julian’s chest heaved violently as he glared at the man, his eyes wild and murderous. I stood at the doorway, watching the scene in silence. I knew that expression all too well. During our freshman year of college, I took a part-time job off-campus. One night, my boss, Mr. Harrison, cornered me in his office. He was in his late forties, and his hand kept sliding onto my thigh. “Maya, you’re a bright girl,” he had whispered, leaning so close I could feel his breath. “But talent isn’t enough in the real world. I hear your family is struggling…” I had frozen, my nails digging into my palms, terrified. Then, the door was kicked open. Julian had stormed in, his eyes bloodshot. He pulled me behind him and grabbed Mr. Harrison by the collar, slamming his fist into the man’s face. “Where the hell do you think you’re putting your hands?” he had roared. The fallout was massive. Mr. Harrison tried to get Julian expelled. The university dean called Julian in, hinting that he should apologize to save his future career. But Julian had stood in the dean’s office, his spine perfectly straight. “My future?” Julian had let out a cold laugh. “My girlfriend was sexually harassed, and you want me to worry about my career?” Back then, he had that same reckless, throw-it-all-away intensity. The exact same look he was giving that man today. “Julian Sinclair, this is your final warning!” the officer’s voice snapped me back to reality. Julian was forced back into his chair. Chloe, the intern, timidly reached out and touched his arm. Without hesitation, Julian turned to her, his gaze softening into a reassuring look. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’m here.” I walked into the room.

Julian finally noticed me. His face stiffened. “Maya…” I didn’t look at him. I turned directly to the officer. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” The negotiation dragged on. The victim insisted on pressing charges, while Julian refused to apologize. Ten minutes later, the door opened, and a tall, commanding figure stepped inside. He looked like he had rushed over, yet his charcoal suit was immaculate, conveying a quiet, dangerous power. “I am Julian Sinclair’s attorney, Ethan Sinclair.” His eyes swept the room. When his gaze landed on me, he paused for a fraction of a second, giving me a polite, distant nod. Ethan was incredibly efficient. He reviewed the security footage, asked a few sharp questions, and then turned to the injured man. “According to the footage, you initiated physical harassment against this young lady. My client’s actions were an attempt to stop a crime. While his force may have been excessive…” Ethan’s voice was calm, yet filled with an undeniable threat. “…we are willing to cover your medical expenses. However, if you press charges, we will counter-sue you for sexual harassment. With this footage, your chances of winning are zero.” The man’s face paled. After a tense silence, the man signed the settlement agreement. By the time we left the precinct, the night was pitch black. Ethan’s sedan was parked by the curb. “Get in. I’ll take you home.” Julian didn’t move. Chloe stood right behind him, her eyes still red from crying. “No, go ahead,” Julian said. “I need to drop Chloe off first. She’s traumatized.” He paused, looking at me. “I’m her supervising doctor. I’m responsible for her.” Ethan’s voice dropped, laced with warning. “Julian, don’t push it.” But Julian was stubborn. “Just take Maya home, Ethan. Thanks for tonight.” Ethan frowned, about to argue, but I spoke up softly. “Let’s go, Ethan. Let Julian take her home.” Ethan gave me a long, unreadable look, but said nothing more. I got into the passenger seat. As the car pulled away, I glanced at the side mirror. Julian and Chloe were standing together in the wind. Suddenly, the face that had been engraved in my heart for eight years blurred for a split second. The next day, Julian tried to explain. He said he only pitied Chloe because she was young, naive, and had no one else to protect her in this harsh city. As her mentor, he felt obligated to help. There was nothing more to it. I nodded and said nothing. Julian let out a sigh of relief, glad I wasn’t angry, and insisted we go ahead with the wedding plans. Then, he went back to being busy. He didn’t come home for days, claiming he had back-to-back surgeries at the hospital. Until one evening, while I was home alone, the doorbell rang. I opened it. It was my second time seeing Chloe. “Maya,” she said in a small, timid voice. “Dr. Sinclair left a crucial medical file at home. The department needs it immediately, and since I live nearby, I offered to pick it up.” I found the file and handed it to her. “Is this it?” She nodded, taking it. Then, her eyes fell on the half-finished wedding invitations scattered across my dining table. She froze. I frowned. “Is there anything else?” Chloe bit her lip, twisting the hem of her shirt as if gathering courage. “Can I use your restroom? I feel… a bit sick.” I stepped aside to let her in.

She was in the bathroom for a long time. When she finally came out, her eyes were red, and her hair was damp, as if she had just splashed water on her face. “Are you okay?” I asked, feeling a spark of concern. She shook her head, forcing a weak smile. “Just an old issue. My stomach spasms when I get stressed…” She was young, probably five or six years younger than me, but there was a deep exhaustion in her eyes that didn’t match her age. The light caught her arm where her sleeve was rolled up. I saw several pale, faded scars. Noticing my gaze, she quickly pulled her sleeve down. “From high school,” she whispered, her voice flat. “Some boys cornered me in an alley on my way home. They thought I looked easy.” My breath hitched. “My family thought it was shameful,” she continued, staring at the floor. “They made me drop out for a year. When I went back, everyone whispered about me. These scars…” She gripped her arm. “…I did them to myself. Every time I remember that day, I feel dirty. I just wanted to cut that skin off.” She suddenly shook her head, forcing another smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You look so happy. You’ve probably never had to deal with anything like this.” I looked at her, feeling a profound sense of helplessness. Never had to deal with this? I knew exactly what it was like. A pretty girl from a poor background has to dodge a thousand dirty hands just to grow up. I wanted to tell her, “It wasn’t your fault.” But the words felt too light, too hollow. Maybe I was just luckier than her because back then, Julian had stood in front of me and shielded me from the storm. I shook my head, my throat dry, unable to speak. She was the victim, and I was the survivor. My survival felt like a sin in front of her pain. I could only watch her cry, feeling like a useless spectator, unable to offer a single piece of comfort. Suddenly, the front door burst open. It was Julian. “What’s going on here?” his voice was tight as he looked at Chloe’s tear-stained face. Chloe quickly wiped her eyes, handing him the file. “Dr. Sinclair, here is the paperwork…” But Julian didn’t take it. His eyes fell on Chloe’s exposed arm. His pupils contracted. He whipped around to glare at me, his gaze sharp and accusatory. “What did you say to her, Maya?” Before I could answer, Chloe grabbed his arm, crying again. “No, it’s not her! It’s me… I just saw Maya’s wedding invitations, and it made me think of my past…” She covered her face, sobbing through her fingers. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have come. My emotions got the best of me.” Julian’s face darkened. He pulled Chloe behind him, shielding her as if she were made of glass. “Maya, why do you have to trigger her like this?” I stared at him in disbelief. “I didn’t do anything. She came for the file, I let her in. I didn’t know anything about her past. I barely said a word.” “You just stood there and said nothing?!” Julian shouted, his eyes turning red. He looked at me with pure disappointment, as if looking at a monster. “You listened to her story, and you just stood there, cold and indifferent, watching her cry?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Chloe tugged at Julian’s arm, sobbing. “Please, don’t fight. It’s not Maya’s fault. She’s probably lived a perfect, happy life. It’s normal that she can’t empathize with someone like me.” Julian let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “A perfect life?” He pointed at me, his voice trembling. “I’ll tell you something, Chloe. She was just like you. Before college, her life was a living hell. She was harassed constantly, and her own stepfather used to touch her!” “She only survived because I risked my life to protect her. But I never expected this from you, Maya. You’ve stood in the rain yourself. How can you be so heartless to someone else?” I looked at Julian, suddenly feeling completely empty.

The scar on his temple caught the light, faint but there. Years ago, in front of my abusive stepfather, Julian had his head cracked open just to keep me safe. Bleeding and trembling, he had held me tight and whispered, “Maya, as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again. I know how much pride you have. I promise, no one will ever know about your family.” The boy who made that promise felt so close, yet so far. That scar had been the only anchor keeping my face blindness from completely erasing him from my mind. But now… Julian’s face began to warp. His lips were moving, but his words turned into static. His sharp features melted into a blank, white fog. I couldn’t see him anymore. “Maya?!” A voice broke through the fog, tight and laced with panic. I turned toward the sound. I saw a face—sharp brows, deep-set eyes, filled with genuine concern and urgency. It looked exactly like the boy I had fallen in love with all those years ago. I stared at him, whispering, “Julian?” The moment the name left my mouth, the air in the room seemed to freeze. The man stared back at me, his eyes swirling with emotions I couldn’t comprehend. It wasn’t anger or disappointment. It was something much deeper, much heavier. I looked toward the door, confused. “Julian? Did Chloe leave? Why didn’t you walk her out?” He didn’t speak. He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. I reached out, taking his hand, and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at comforting people. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” His entire body stiffened. After a long silence, he whispered, “I’m not mad at you.” I blinked. I noticed his temple. The skin where the scar should have been was perfectly smooth. I reached up, my fingers brushing his temple. “Did your scar heal? Does it still hurt?” “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, his voice rasper than usual. “It healed a long time ago.” My tears finally spilled over. “Hold me. I’m cold.” He hesitated for a second, then pulled me tightly into his chest. His arms wrapped around me so hard I could barely breathe. His chin rested on my head, his warm breath brushing my ear. It felt like the familiar embrace I had clung to for years. But as I closed my eyes, something felt different. His heartbeat was roaring like a drum, and he didn’t smell like Julian’s usual hospital disinfectant. He smelled like sandalwood and fresh paper. I tried to pull back to look at him, but his hand gently pressed the back of my head, keeping me close. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Just stay like this for a while.” In his warmth, the icy weight in my chest slowly melted. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. When I woke up, the morning sun was filtering through the blinds. I sat up, my head throbbing. I looked around and froze. This wasn’t my apartment with Julian. It was a spacious, minimalist bedroom with shelves packed with heavy legal textbooks. “You’re awake?” A voice came from the doorway.

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Three days after our engagement, my family’s group chat exploded. An anonymous account leaked “explicit photos” and hotel check-in records of me, claiming I had a wild, messy sex life. My fiancé called off the wedding on the spot. My mother sent three screaming voice memos, calling me a disgrace, and kicked me out of the group. In my past life, the cyberbullying drove me into a deep depression, and I eventually died in a tragic accident in my rented apartment, completely alone. It was only later that I found out— Those photos were AI-deepfakes. The records were completely forged. And the IP address of that anonymous sender? It came directly from my fiancé’s private study. Reborn into this life, I looked at the screen full of “friends and family” waiting for me to lose my mind. I slowly and calmly screenshotted every single piece of evidence. This time, no one is getting away with it. Three days after our engagement, my family’s Snapchat group lit up with three notifications. The first was a photo of me, completely naked. My face had been AI-swapped onto a disgusting, suggestive body. The second was a detailed “hotel log,” packed with dates and room numbers. The last was a text from an anonymous account: “Chloe, you really played the innocent act well, didn’t you?” My phone started vibrating violently. People were already screenshotting and sharing it in the neighborhood Facebook group, my college alumni chat, and even my work Slack channels. The notifications flooded in like a relentless drumbeat, making my scalp go numb. I opened the family chat just in time to see my mom, Helen, sending a barrage of voice memos. “Chloe! Look at what you’ve done!” “You’ve completely ruined our family reputation! I am utterly humiliated!” “Don’t you dare call me Mom ever again. I don’t have a daughter like you!” The rapid-fire messages felt like she was reading a final will. A second later, a notification popped up: “You have been removed from the group.” I stared at the red exclamation mark for about ten seconds before my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Ethan. “Chloe, we’re over. The engagement is off.” I scrolled up and saw the long paragraph he had posted in his own family chat. He used words like “deeply humiliated,” “unacceptable,” and “ending the relationship effective immediately.” It was so well-worded, it looked like a press release from a PR firm. I placed my phone face down on the desk, listening to my racing heart. And then, I burst into laughter. Not because I wasn’t hurt. But because I had already lived through this nightmare once. In my past life, also on the third day of our engagement, these exact photos and logs were leaked. I had tried so hard to explain. I made calls, sent voice notes, and wrote long essays, begging everyone to believe me. I screenshotted my actual chats, made a spreadsheet of my whereabouts for the past three months, and even went to those hotels one by one to verify their records. But no one looked. No one listened. People only believe what they want to believe. My mom screamed at me on the phone for forty minutes before throwing out her final words: “Why don’t you just go die?” And Ethan never answered a single one of my calls. Later, I found out the photos were AI-deepfakes, and the hotel records were completely forged. And the anonymous sender’s IP address? It came directly from the MacBook in Ethan’s private study. He and his new mistress had spent three months planning this setup. They didn’t just want to break off the engagement; they wanted to destroy my reputation, to make me disappear entirely, so he could seamlessly move on with her while playing the “heartbroken victim” of betrayal. In my past life, they succeeded. I vanished. I was fired from my job, evicted by my landlord, and people on the street would recognize me and take photos of my face with their phones. I moved through three different cities, eventually taking a handful of sleeping pills in a cheap rented apartment in a tiny town. By the time they found me, three days had passed. But this time is different. This time, I turned on my screen recorder and saved every single message, share, and voice note from every group chat. Then, I opened my contacts and searched for Ethan’s “new girl”—Melanie. I hadn’t found out about her until it was too late in my previous life. Her Instagram account was public. Her latest post was from three days ago, geo-tagged at a luxury hotel, captioned with just one word: “Worthwhile.” In the comments, when someone asked what she was celebrating, she had replied with a blushing emoji. I screenshotted that post too. Once I finished, my heart rate finally slowed down. This time, not a single one of them is going to escape.

Immediately after, I dialed a number. The call picked up, and the rapid clatter of a keyboard echoed through the receiver. “Caleb,” I said. “I need you to trace an IP address for me.” That night, I didn’t send a single message in any group chat. No explanations, no crying, no hysterics. Ethan texted me three times asking, “You there?” I left him on read. They wanted to see me break. I had given them that show in my past life. But in this life, I was giving them the one thing that keeps criminals awake at night: absolute, deafening silence. The next morning at 8:00 AM, Caleb’s message came through. He sent a screenshot of an IP address log, which pinned the location right to Ethan’s study. Below it, he wrote: “This IP logged into the anonymous account that posted the photos yesterday at 3:17 PM. The device used was a MacBook named ‘Ethan’s MacBook Pro.’ Want me to dig deeper?” I replied with one word: “Dig.” Then, I searched my contacts for Ethan’s mother, Miranda. My “almost” mother-in-law had sent me a very long, patronizing voice note in my past life when they called off the engagement. Her tone had been gentle, her words polite, saying, “Oh, Chloe, I’m so sorry, but Ethan’s father just can’t accept this kind of behavior. My hands are tied.” She sounded like she was apologizing, but every word was designed to push me off the cliff. This time, I called her directly on FaceTime. “Miranda, it’s Chloe,” I said, my voice incredibly calm, even sweet. “I need to see you. I have some things I want to discuss in person. Regarding Ethan.” The other end went silent for a couple of seconds. “About what?” Miranda’s voice sounded guarded. “You’ll see when I get there,” I replied. “Tomorrow afternoon at three. I’ll come over to your house. Does that work?” She paused again before saying, “Fine. Come over.” After hanging up, I lay down on my bed. Outside, I could hear some neighbors gossiping about me in the hallway. My mother had posted “I don’t have a daughter anymore” in another chat with our relatives. Ethan posted a black-and-white photo on Instagram with the caption: “You can never truly know someone’s heart.” It already had over twenty likes. I saw it all. But I was waiting for tomorrow. Tomorrow, the real show begins.

When I slammed my hand onto the coffee table in the living room, Miranda almost dropped her mug. “Chloe! What is the meaning of this?!” I ignored her, slapping a stack of printed documents onto the table, page by page. “I had a security firm trace the IP address. The login came directly from Ethan’s MacBook.” “Melanie’s Instagram post from three days ago was geo-tagged at the Hyatt. That matches the exact hotel and time on Ethan’s forged records.” Miranda’s face went from flushed red, to pale white, and finally to a sickly green. “This… this is slander!” “Slander?” I slapped down the final page. It was a set of photos. “Miranda, look closely. These are photos from Melanie’s private archive. Last month, on the fifteenth, she and Ethan were in Miami. Ethan told you it was a ‘company retreat,’ right? Since when do retreats only have two people?” Miranda fell completely silent. I pulled out my phone and played an audio file. It was a voice call between Ethan and Melanie that Caleb had recovered for me. Ethan’s voice played: “Did you post the photos? How is her family reacting?” Melanie giggled, sounding incredibly smug: “It completely blew up. Her mom kicked her out of the family chat immediately!” Ethan laughed. “Perfect. I’ll go cry to my mom in a couple of days, and this will all be over. Once her reputation is completely trashed, we can be together openly, and everyone will pity me.” “You are evil.” “Only for you, babe.” The recording ended, and the living room fell into a suffocating silence. Miranda’s lips were trembling. I looked her dead in the eye, pronouncing every single word clearly. “Miranda, I didn’t come here to ask for your help. I came here to notify you.” “Tomorrow morning, I am filing a criminal defamation lawsuit against your son.” “Every single piece of evidence in his study has already been backed up.” I stood up, looking down at her. “I’ll see you both in court.” I turned toward the door, but stopped and glanced back. “Oh, and one more thing.” “You shared that deepfake photo in the neighborhood group yesterday. I have the screenshot of that, too.” “Under the law, sharing and distributing defamatory material makes you liable. If I choose to press charges against you, you will be going down right alongside him.” Miranda’s face drained of all color. By the time I left their house, the sun had already set. My phone was buzzing with dozens of missed calls and texts. I didn’t bother opening them, only scanning the previews. From my mom: “Chloe, have you lost your mind? Why did you go raise a scene at Ethan’s house?” From Cody: “Are you insane? How am I supposed to show my face at work with you acting like this?” From Ethan: “Chloe, we need to talk.”

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My best friend went through my boyfriend’s trash can and found a condom. After she got pregnant and had the baby, she went to my boyfriend and demanded child support. I refused. So my best friend cried, screamed, and threatened to die, demanding that my boyfriend marry her. My boyfriend refused without hesitation and denied the child was his. In the end, my best friend snapped, stabbed me to death with a knife, and dumped me in the mountains to be eaten by wild dogs. But when I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day my best friend stole the condom. This time, I filled the condom with hot sauce. “Is your boyfriend’s house huge? I’ve never been there before, so let me take a look around!” The pain in my body had not completely faded yet, but my best friend Sophie’s big face was already close to mine as she grabbed my sleeves with both hands and kept acting cute. “Just let me go! You two are so close and you’ve been dating for so long, so it only makes sense for me, your best friend, to help you check him out!” I took a breath and pushed her away while holding back the urge to slap her. “No way!” But Sophie froze for a moment, and after seeing me refuse, she loudly scolded me. “What do you mean? Did you forget about me as soon as you landed a rich man? Isn’t it only right for me to meet your boyfriend? If you don’t agree, our friendship is over!” In my last life, she threatened to cut me off after seeing that I would not agree, and out of helplessness, I agreed to Sophie’s request. But I never imagined that my best friend would not only set her eyes on my boyfriend, but also on my boyfriend’s trash can! She made up an excuse to send me away, secretly went through the trash can, found contraception, and stole it! Not long after, she got pregnant. I was completely in the dark and deeply shocked, and I asked her several times who the baby’s father was and why he refused to take responsibility. But she denied it to me and even said that once I found out who the baby’s father was, I would definitely praise her for being lucky. There was nothing I could do. Sophie was pregnant while unmarried, had a massive falling-out with her family, and because of her strange personality, I was her only friend. So from the day she got pregnant, through childbirth and postpartum recovery, I was never absent for a single day. But just when I was working without complaint and waiting for her child to grow up obediently and call me godmother, Sophie carried the child and went to my boyfriend first. I did not believe it, and my boyfriend denied it with all his might. But Sophie threw the paternity test in my face! That shocked both of us! Later, after going through all the surveillance footage in the apartment, we discovered that she had secretly gone through my boyfriend’s trash can! Faced with Sophie’s threat, my boyfriend and I stood together and refused to let her in. But Sophie became embarrassed, flew into a rage, broke down, and posted everything online. But we had already released a statement, and those netizens did not side with her at all! So she took the child by herself, cornered and desperate, ambushed me at my boyfriend’s house, stabbed me to death, and dumped me in the mountains to be eaten by wild dogs! If the stab wounds on my body were not still faintly aching, I would never have dared to imagine that the best friend I had worked so hard to take care of, and the godson I had prayed for, had actually been stolen by my best friend from my boyfriend! “I’m begging you, just let me take a look! I’ve never been inside a mansion in my life!” Sophie kept pestering me and tugging at me, refusing to give up. Seeing that she would not stop until she went to my boyfriend’s house, I smiled and nodded. “Sure, but you have to wait for me for a bit. Sophie froze after hearing me agree, then quickly started dancing with joy. “No problem. As long as I can go in, I’m willing to wait as long as it takes!” She was overjoyed, as if she would get pregnant with my boyfriend’s child in the very next second! I immediately took a cab home, found the condom in the trash can, and went to the kitchen. Then I squeezed hot sauce into it with all my strength. This time, I wanted to see how she would get pregnant!

After I finished doing that, I quickly checked the other places. After making sure nothing had been missed, I sent my location to Sophie. In less than half an hour, she rushed to my house in a whirlwind. The moment she saw my home, her eyes lit up, and her gaze kept darting toward my bedroom. “Chloe, where’s your bedroom? My period suddenly came, so can I change clothes here?” I took in her little movements and pointed toward the bedroom. She immediately went in with her bag, and soon came out after changing clothes. “I can’t take it anymore, Chloe. My stomach hurts so badly. I think I should go home!” “Okay!” I coldly ignored the little movement of her clutching her bag and saw her out. But not long after she left my house, Sophie’s call came through on my phone. “Chloe, can you come to the hospital? I don’t have any family around me. I only have you.” “Oh, what happened to you? I’m with my boyfriend right now, so I can’t get away.” I deliberately mentioned my boyfriend and successfully heard a trace of hatred enter Sophie’s voice. “Come here right now! If you don’t come, our friendship is over!” After saying that, she quickly hung up. I slowly got up from my boyfriend’s arms as well, had a meal, and only then headed to the hospital. After all, no one knew better than me what Sophie had done. It seemed she was ruthless enough, since she actually dared to put the hot sauce inside. As soon as I entered, Sophie grabbed the cup on the table and threw it at me, but I dodged it lightly. “Why didn’t you wait until I was dead before coming? What use do I have for a friend like you?” “Then I’ll leave.” I did not hesitate and turned around to leave right away. Almost instantly, Sophie’s tone softened. “Come back. I still need you…” The doctor also rushed over, pulling me aside and saying that Sophie had been in so much pain that she was brought to the hospital, but for some reason, she refused to clean herself out. I smiled and knowingly asked, “What thing?” “There’s nothing. I just accidentally… It’s nothing serious. Help me pay the medical bill and then leave.” “She stuffed hot sauce inside herself, and even after getting painkillers, she still refuses to clean it out. I really don’t know what she’s thinking!” Before the doctor could finish speaking, Sophie suddenly sat up and pointed at his nose, cursing. “What do you people know? I’m doing this all for my future!” “I’m telling you, if I get pregnant, all of you will think I’m lucky!” After she finished speaking, she ignored all attempts to stop her and limped out of bed. There was no helping it, since she insisted on being discharged, so her bill had to be paid first. But Sophie had no money, and with both hands spread, she looked at me. In my last life, I would have obediently paid after seeing that, but this life was different. I pretended to make a phone call and walked out, leaving her where she was. “You pay first, and I’ll drive over to pick you up.” After saying that, I left without looking back. I left her alone there, raging uselessly. “Chloe, come back right now! I don’t have any money on me!”

After I hung up on Sophie’s tenth call asking to borrow money and waited outside for half an hour, she walked out with both legs trembling. When she saw that I was riding an electric bike, she completely lost it. “You bitch! You keep all the good things for yourself, don’t you? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you drive?” “Are you jealous that I’m pregnant and have a child? I’m telling you, that’s impossible! I’m determined to give birth to this child just to prove myself!” On the street, her crazed accusations successfully made the passing pedestrians look at me with a trace of contempt. But I turned a deaf ear to it and only felt that she was lost in a fantasy. Who gave her the courage to not only steal contraception to get pregnant, but also dare to order me around like a servant? “Then go find the baby’s father. Since you’re so lucky anyway, you definitely don’t need me.” After saying that, I rode off on the bike and vanished in a flash. But when I got home that night and had just opened a short video app, I saw a local news story about a woman who stuffed hot sauce inside herself, fainted by the roadside, and was sent to the hospital for treatment. Many netizens sighed about how bizarre this woman was, and I was the only one who found it funny. So what if she was unwilling to clean herself out? Didn’t she still end up being sent to the hospital and cleaned out properly anyway? She wanted to get pregnant and rise in status through the child? Maybe in her next life! Just when I thought she could not get pregnant in this life, she appeared at my front door the next day. As soon as I opened the door, she rushed into my house, hugged the sofa, and refused to leave. “God damn it! This is all your fault! You caused me to miscarry and lose my child! I’m telling you now, either you compensate me with a child, or you give me five million dollars!” Listening to Sophie’s self-righteous words, I laughed from anger. “Then where’s your pregnancy certificate? Who’s the baby’s father?” When she heard me question her, a moment of panic flashed across her face. “What do you care who the baby’s father is? Anyway, it was you. You deliberately smeared hot sauce on my pants and made me miscarry…” “I don’t care! I just want you to take responsibility! If it weren’t for you, I would have married into a wealthy family!” Seeing that she was determined to stay in my home, I took out her medical record from the hospital. This was something I had expected in advance and photographed at the hospital. “The physical examination report clearly says that you stuffed a foreign object with hot sauce into your own body! How did it become someone else’s child?” But the current Sophie had already become shameless to the extreme. “What do you know? I originally could have gotten pregnant. If your clothes hadn’t harmed me, how could I have miscarried?” After saying that, she tried desperately to scratch me. But my boyfriend stopped her quickly with sharp eyes and fast hands. “Where did this lunatic come from? Get out!” My boyfriend opened his mouth and drove her away, but Sophie acted as if she had grabbed a lifesaving straw. “Haven’t you seen her true colors yet? This bitch is jealous that I have a child and wants to kill me!” Even though I had lived one life over, hearing these words again still made me burn with rage. “ What kind of insanity are you spewing? He’s clearly my boyfriend!” But at that moment, Sophie could no longer hear anything. In the end, I could only call the police and have this lunatic thrown out.

Even though Sophie failed to take my place this time, she did not give up. After completely tearing off all pretense with me, she still pestered me every day. That day, when I went out to throw away the trash, I actually saw a sneaky figure beside the trash can! I hid to the side and finally saw clearly that the shadowy figure was actually Sophie! She sneakily tore open the trash I had just thrown away, seemingly searching for something! Finally, when she saw a tied-up bag, she held it up like a treasure, and her eyes instantly lit up! I finally understood her purpose, stepped forward, snatched the bag from her hands, and threw it on the ground. “What are you doing?” When Sophie saw me ruin her plan, she became furious in an instant and stared at the liquid on the ground with a distressed expression. “It’s all your fault! You made me miscarry! So what if I survive by picking through trash? Is even that not allowed?” She pointed at my nose and cursed, still thinking I was too stupid to understand what she was trying to do! “If you want to pick through trash, go do it somewhere else. You are not welcome here!” Thinking about how she had gone through our trash bags like this before, I broke out in a cold sweat! I absolutely could not let Sophie succeed again! “What right do you have to control me? Do you own this neighborhood? You won’t even let people pick through trash? There’s nowhere in the world with rules like that!” “You made me miscarry and refused to compensate me, so what’s wrong with me picking through rich people’s trash?” Seeing that Sophie had completely torn off all pretense and had no shame left, I smiled. “That’s fine. Go ahead and pick through it!” “I’d like to see what you can dig out from here every day while picking through garbage!” In the days that followed, I was strictly on guard. I either rushed to the trash can or added a little something inside. Several times in a row, Sophie snatched the trash bags from my hands and then looked as if she had eaten shit. After repeatedly hitting walls, she no longer squatted by our trash can every day. But I still did not dare relax my guard, and I kept an eye on Sophie at all times to avoid any accidents. But she shifted her target. The residents in this neighborhood were all either rich or powerful. If she got pregnant with anyone’s child, she could live the rest of her life with food and money guaranteed! So she went crazy and set her sights on the other trash cans. But I had already contacted the surrounding residents privately, and everyone knew exactly what kind of vile person Sophie was, so they had already taken precautions! Finally, after two months of gaining nothing and being treated like a mental patient, she broke down. After smashing things randomly at my door, she left my home. All of us let out a sigh of relief. My boyfriend and I fell deeply in love, and he also made our relationship public, admitted I was his fiancée, and chose a date for our engagement. I was ecstatic. At the engagement banquet, I looked at the boyfriend I loved deeply with tears in my eyes. Just as I was about to exchange engagement rings with my boyfriend, Sophie, whom I had not seen in a long time, suddenly barged in. Her loose clothing could no longer hide her pregnant belly, and smelling the aroma of the banquet dishes made her unable to stop retching! Seeing that my perfect engagement banquet had been disrupted by her, I called the security guards to step forward and stop her. Who knew she would sit down on the ground, throw down a stack of papers, and start throwing a tantrum. “God damn it! You scumbag, you actually abandoned me and our baby to get engaged! Are you even human?” “If you don’t give me an explanation today, I’ll smash my head and die right here, and I’ll let the whole city see exactly what kind of people your family is!” I sneered and did not care at all. But my mom, who was beside me, picked up the report with trembling hands and looked at me in terror. “Chloe, this paternity test actually shows a ninety-nine percent match…”

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When my boyfriend, Julian, passed away in a tragic geological expedition accident, he only managed to send back three last sentences. The first was a professional report to his department. The second was an apology to his parents. And the third was: [Chloe, you are my Quaternary Glaciation.] Chloe was my best friend. Both she and Julian were brilliant geologists. Years ago, behind my back, the two of them had applied for the exact same major at the same university. Later, they became the most compatible partners in the industry. Just to understand their conversations, I had forced myself to switch my major to Geology. But in the end, I was nothing more than an errand girl in the research lab. Julian used to comfort me. “Everyone has their own strengths, Avery. I’m just happy you’re my girlfriend.” Yet, he would still look at Chloe with that lingering gaze of admiration and regret. Even his final words were a confession to Chloe, expressed in a way I could never understand. Not long after, Chloe also passed away in another accident. They were memorialized together on campus as outstanding alumni. I lived the rest of my life in deep, silent regret. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in my junior year—on the exact day I was supposed to submit my major transfer application. Looking at the Snapchat group on my phone, where the two of them were chatting excitedly while completely ignoring me, I smiled. I clicked “Cancel” on my transfer application. This time, I was done chasing them.

After I withdrew my transfer application, the notifications on my phone kept buzzing. The two of them were chatting up a storm. I sent a quick message: [Have you guys eaten yet?] But my message was instantly buried, as if it had been muted. No one replied. Just moments ago, the group chat was supposed to be about planning my birthday dinner for tomorrow. But somehow, it had drifted back into a dense geological discussion that I couldn’t wedge myself into. Without hesitating, I left the group chat. Almost immediately, Julian sent me a private message with a question mark. Chloe sent one too. I didn’t reply to either. Then, Julian called. His voice was as gentle as always. “Avery, why did you leave the group chat?” Julian didn’t notice my silence. He just kept coaxing me in that patronizing, patient tone of his. “Chloe made that group. You leaving like that out of nowhere really hurt her feelings.” “If you’re upset about something, let’s talk about it when we meet tomorrow, okay? Just join the group back first.” Even though they were the ones who ignored me first, Julian still chose to prioritize Chloe’s feelings. I sat on my bed, staring blankly. The phone suddenly felt incredibly heavy in my hand, making it hard to breathe. I hung up, joined the group back, but still didn’t reply to any of their messages. The next morning, I was still trying to sleep when my phone vibrated aggressively with several calls. Chloe’s voice was bubbly and cheerful when I picked up. “Avery! Come on out, let’s celebrate your birthday! We still have class this afternoon!” Out of habit, I dragged myself out of bed to match their schedule. It was only when I walked downstairs that the cold air finally woke me up. But Chloe had already thrown her arms around me. Julian stood behind her with a warm smile, looking every bit like her boyfriend instead of mine. Chloe mysteriously pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Open it! Julian and I picked this out together for your birthday.” Staring at the elegant box—exactly like the one from my past life—I felt absolutely no desire to open it. Because I already knew what was inside: a plush toy that screamed of a lazy stereotype. In my past life, I had opened it with high expectations, only to feel like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. Chloe and Julian had been so excited. “Do you like it? We spent so much time picking it out. We both thought it looked just like you!” Back then, I didn’t see through it. It wasn’t until Chloe’s birthday three months later, when Julian went through endless trouble to buy her a piece of a lunar meteorite as a gift, that I realized what true effort looked like. I took the gift calmly. “Thanks.” Chloe pouted slightly. “Why do you look so down, Avery?” Julian answered casually for me. “She’s busy with her major transfer paperwork these days. She’s just tired, not unhappy.” He indeed knew what I was busy with, because he was the one who had convinced me to switch majors in the first place. Back then, Julian had told me: “If your classes are too hard, just transfer to Geology. Chloe and I will look after you.” So, I had blindly jumped into Geology in my junior year. But later, when I was yelled at by the professor, he was also the one who said impatiently: “You’re the one who insisted on studying Geology, even though you knew you weren’t cut out for it.” Hearing his confident words now, I just smiled. They had no idea that I wasn’t transferring anymore. Chloe nodded, dragging me toward a nearby diner. As soon as we sat down, Julian walked out with a birthday cake. The moment I saw the rich, dark chocolate frosting, my stomach churned with nausea. “Why is it chocolate cake again?” Julian shrugged. “You don’t really care for cake anyway, so I let Chloe pick her favorite.” Chloe whined playfully. “But chocolate is the best! Avery, you really need to change your stubborn habits.” “I don’t eat chocolate.” They both knew damn well that I hated chocolate. But every single time, they bought this exact flavor just to please Chloe. Julian gave me a strange, searching look. But Chloe quickly turned off the restaurant lights, and he looked away. The candle flames flickered. Julian urged, “Make a wish, Avery.” I didn’t have the patience. I closed my eyes halfway. Through the dim light, I saw Chloe excitedly putting on my birthday crown, closing her eyes, and making a wish alongside me. The warm candlelight illuminated Julian’s gaze beside her—so tender, so incredibly doting. A bitter, sickening feeling washed over me. It turned out that every single one of my birthdays was just a shared wish-granting ceremony for Chloe. No wonder my annual wish of “I hope the three of us stay happy together forever” never came true.

I had absolutely no appetite during the meal. Julian glanced at me several times. But he didn’t ask a single question, probably wanting to avoid a scene. On our way back to campus, I was initially walking between them. But they had been talking about their geology lab project the entire time. Without realizing it, I was pushed off the sidewalk. They walked side by side, laughing and talking seamlessly. It wasn’t until we reached the gates of their campus that Julian finally turned back to look at me, a helpless smile in his eyes. “How did you fall so far behind again?” “I won’t walk you all the way back to your dorm. Get home safe, okay?” I looked up at their university gates, watching the couples walking in hand-in-hand. I suddenly found it hilarious. When we applied for colleges, we had agreed to go to the same school. Yet, behind my back, an hour before the application deadline, they both changed their choices to the neighboring university. They kept me in the dark for half a month, and I only found out when the acceptance letters arrived. At the time, Julian had made up a cheap excuse. “The geology program is just better here, Avery. We couldn’t just compromise our futures for you.” Chloe had chimed in, “It’s fine! The campuses are right next to each other. We’re practically still together.” But for three years, I was always the one walking back to my dorm alone. I pulled my gaze back, my face blank. “Sure.” Julian’s gaze darkened as he stared at me. Suddenly, he said, “Actually, let me walk you back.” But in the next second, Chloe groaned. “Oh, but class is starting soon, Julian. Avery can walk back by herself, right?” Julian frowned, looking at me silently. I said calmly, “Don’t worry about me.” His brow instantly cleared. “Alright, I’ll walk you back next time.” I turned and walked away. After only a few steps, I pulled out my phone and texted Julian: [Let’s break up.] Not long after the message sent, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Julian caught up, grabbing my hand tightly. “Why are you suddenly saying this? Stop joking around.” “I’m not joking.” Julian let out a soft laugh, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Have you just been in a bad mood lately? Talk to me.” He glanced back in Chloe’s direction. “But don’t bring this drama to Chloe. It’s finals week and she’s super stressed. Don’t distract her.” I froze. It wasn’t until my chest ached with a dull pain that I snapped back to reality. Even when I broke up with him, Julian didn’t take it seriously. His only concern was Chloe. Before Chloe came into our lives, Julian and I were childhood sweethearts who knew each other best. When we were kids, Julian would fight anyone who called me slow. When we grew up, he would spend hours helping me study. Even when my parents got divorced and abandoned me, Julian used his savings and part-time tutoring money to help pay my tuition. But the moment Chloe—a girl who seemingly “needed more taking care of”—appeared, it was always my turn to step aside. By now, Chloe’s frantic texts were already buzzing on his phone. Julian quickly wiped a tear from my cheek. “I have class. Go back and calm down first.” I had heard that phrase a thousand times. Every time I argued with him because of Chloe, it always ended with him telling me to “calm down.” As if the problem was always me. While he stood on the sidelines, never once validating my feelings. That night, Julian only sent one text: [Don’t forget to take your pain meds.] Looking at the text, my leg was throbbing. It was an old injury from my years of competitive dancing. In my past life, it had gotten so bad after graduation that I needed major surgery. But right before the surgery, Julian and Chloe’s two-year research project lost its funding, halting their experiment. At that time, I was working at the lab by day and teaching dance at night to raise money, but it was barely a drop in the bucket. Seeing them so stressed and depressed after their funding applications kept getting rejected, I took my surgery money and filled their gap. The experiment went on. But that was the single biggest regret of my life. Six months after giving up my surgery, I had a sudden flare-up during a freelance performance and fell off a three-foot stage. At the hospital, the doctor looked at the MRI and sighed. “The nerve damage is severe. If you had come in six months ago, we could have saved it. But now, you’ll likely walk with a permanent limp.” I remember sitting on that hospital bed, staring at the white walls. I called Chloe and Julian. Neither picked up. I called one of their lab colleagues. The colleague sent me a video. [It’s someone’s birthday, so the whole lab came out to celebrate!] In the video, Julian and Chloe were sitting close together in the corner of a karaoke bar. Amidst the roaring laughter of their friends, they were playing a game, passing a cookie mouth-to-mouth. Their eyes locked in an intimate gaze that made it look like they were actually kissing. The neon lights in the video were blinding, and my chest felt like it was being ripped open. It wasn’t until the next day that Julian finally called me back. He said dismissively: “A limp? It’s fine. Worst case, you just don’t dance anymore.” “Honestly, performing in public all the time wasn’t a great look anyway.” He seemed to have completely forgotten whose surgery money had funded his precious experiment.

The cold sensation of the pain patch snapped me out of my memories. I immediately booked an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for the next day. At the hospital, the doctor looked at my scans, his expression serious. “We caught it early. If we do the surgery now, you can fully recover and keep dancing.” “But before the surgery, you must avoid any strenuous activity. If it worsens, the damage might become irreversible.” Since summer break was just around the corner, I let out a breath of relief. When I got back to the dorms, I bumped into Chloe and Julian at the entrance. Julian saw the medical envelope in my hand and frowned. “What’s that?” I brushed him off. “Just a routine scan.” Julian nodded and didn’t press further. Because a sobbing Chloe was far more urgent. “Avery, why do you want to break up with Julian? Is it because of me?” “Julian and I are just friends! You’re the most important person to me, how could you doubt us?” I stared at her silently. I couldn’t help but think of my past life. After Julian’s accident, Chloe couldn’t accept it and blamed me for everything. “If you hadn’t kept texting him the night before, he wouldn’t have been so tired! He wouldn’t have made that mistake!” Because of Chloe’s words, everyone had turned their anger on me. Even the local media picked up the story. I was cyberbullied until I fell into severe depression, almost taking my own life. Now, hearing her fake-crying, I asked her directly: “Chloe, don’t you love Julian?” Chloe’s eyes widened in panic, and she stammered: “How could I take your boyfriend? Besides, if we wanted to be together, we would have done it long ago. Why would he even be with you if he liked me?” Julian looked at me, thoroughly disappointed. “Avery, you shouldn’t doubt Chloe. She’s the one who cares about you the most.” His voice carried a commanding tone. “Apologize to Chloe.” I looked at him. “I don’t know if she cares about me, but you definitely care about her.” Julian’s face darkened. Chloe stopped crying and stepped in front of Julian. “How can you say that to him? Has he not been good enough to you? Without him, you wouldn’t even be in college!” To protect Julian, Chloe didn’t hesitate to drag up my painful past. Ignoring the stinging ache in my chest, I walked right past them. Chloe wanted to chase after me, but Julian held her back. “Forget it. She doesn’t appreciate your concern. Look at you, crying like a wet kitten.” I heard Chloe sniffle. Julian comforted her gently. “She’s just throwing a temper tantrum. We won’t actually break up. We’ll both always be here for you.” I let out a bitter laugh. The moment I got back to my room, I submitted my application for the study abroad exchange program. My academic advisor called me to confirm. “This exchange spot is only for your current major. You’re sure you don’t want to transfer to Geology anymore, right?” Thinking of Julian’s smug confidence, I replied without a second of hesitation, “Yes, I’m sure.” The next morning, Chloe texted me: [Avery, I was too harsh yesterday. Don’t take it to heart.] [Julian said you’re in a bad mood. Let’s go hiking this weekend to clear your head! You love hiking, right?] In my past life, I had only lied about loving hiking because I wanted to accompany them on their field trips. Just as I was about to reject her, Julian called, his tone helpless. “Just say yes, Avery. Otherwise, she’s going to keep waiting outside your dorm.” “My leg is injured. I can’t hike,” I said coldly, then hung up. But they actually showed up at my dorm anyway, blocking my way. Julian’s tone left no room for argument. “It’s a short trail, and there’s a cable car at the top. It won’t affect your leg.” I was practically forced into the car between the two of them. There were other classmates in the car. On the way, the two of them chatted excitedly with the others, while I sat there like an outcast. When we got out, Julian naturally reached for my backpack. “I want mine carried too!” Chloe chimed in, showing no hesitation in her intimacy with Julian. Julian smoothly took her bag as well. It was only when we started climbing that I realized this was actually Chloe’s geology field project. I was just a tag-along.

Halfway up, my leg started throbbing with a dull, burning pain. “I’m stopping.” Chloe gave me an annoyed look, said nothing, and kept climbing. Julian’s patience was wearing thin. “Didn’t I already carry your bag for you?” Someone else in the group rolled their eyes as they passed me. “Sighing after just a few steps? Why did a newbie even come along?” I threw my hiking pole aside and started walking back down. Julian blocked me, clearly irritated. “It’s dangerous to go down alone. Just keep going up, the cable car station is right ahead.” We walked for what felt like hours. The sky turned pitch black, but there was still no sign of the cable car. My leg was shaking from the pain. I asked again, “Where is the cable car?” This time, the entire group fell silent. Chloe’s voice trembled. “We took the wrong trail.” I looked at Julian in disbelief. He pressed his lips together, silent. Someone called search and rescue. But since our location was unclear, they couldn’t give us an estimated arrival time. Fear began to spread. I whispered, “Julian, my leg really hurts.” Before he could speak, someone snapped. “Can you stop complaining? If you’re sick, why did you even join our project? You just wanted to hitch a ride on Julian’s coattails for credits, didn’t you?” Others chimed in. “His actual girlfriend is right here, how is she not embarrassed?” Looking at Chloe’s shifting gaze, I finally understood. In their eyes, Julian and Chloe were the couple, and I was just the shameless third wheel. Sweating from the sheer agony in my leg, I slid to the ground, too exhausted to explain. Julian finally barked at them, “Everyone calm down! Don’t take your anger out on her.” After handing me an emergency painkiller, Julian knelt in front of me. “I’ll carry you back down the way we came.” But Chloe suddenly whimpered, “Julian, I’m scared of the dark.” Julian froze. “We have flashlights.” She clutched his sleeve. “I’m still scared without you.” Someone spoke up. “Julian, you should take Chloe down first. She’s fragile.” Others agreed. “Yeah, and Chloe’s project is really important.” In the pitch black, every sound was amplified. I could hear my own racing heartbeat, the mockery in their voices, and Julian’s heavy sigh as he stood up after a moment of hesitation. “Wait here for the rescue team. I’ll take Chloe down first and then come back for you.” I reached out, my hand trembling as I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go, Julian. I really can’t wait.” But Julian coldly peeled my fingers off. “Your leg isn’t that bad, Avery. The painkiller will kick in soon.” The sound of Julian’s footsteps fading as he carried Chloe down the mountain echoed in the dark. I sat on the cold dirt, completely hollowed out. The mountain wind was freezing, biting against my tear-stained face. I don’t know how long I waited, but right before I passed out, the rescue team finally reached me. When Julian finally arrived at the hospital, he was met with the tense, awkward faces of his teammates. The bright red “IN SURGERY” light above the door made his chest tighten. What was happening? Why was Avery in surgery?

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During my second month in the private hospital, waiting for a heart transplant, I was scrolling through my phone to pass the time. Suddenly, a line of glowing text drifted across the top of my screen: [She’s here! Get your phone ready to record!] [Record everything she does! This is your only evidence!] Before I could even react, the ward door was pushed open. Rebecca Lawson, my husband’s first love, walked in. Instinctively, I switched my phone to video recording mode and slipped it under my blanket. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I felt her approach my bed, heard the rustle of the IV tube, and then the quiet click of her leaving. Only after she left did I open my eyes. The live comments on my screen had already exploded in real-time: [She just injected an allergen into your IV line! You’re going to suffer cardiac arrest!] [Your husband won’t save you! He’s going to give your donor heart to Rebecca instead!] [Trust me! Please! Call 911 now!] I had no idea who was sending these live comments. But my fingers were already pressing 91

1 By the time the police arrived, I could see my husband, Ethan Vance, from a distance. He shielded Rebecca behind his back, telling the officers that she was the “victim” here. The police seemed skeptical, but they still took notes as a matter of routine. Nobody cared about me. During the commotion, the vase on my bedside table was knocked to the ground. Shards of glass sliced open my calf. I gasped in pain, but not a single person turned to look at my way. [Forget about them! Backup the video now!] [Upload it to the cloud! Otherwise, they’ll delete it!] [Hurry! While they’re not looking!] Gritting my teeth, I used every ounce of my strength to push myself up from the hospital bed. I quickly backed up the video from my phone to my cloud storage. The live comments finally sighed in relief: [Okay, okay, it’s safe now.] [It’s going to hurt like hell next. Hold on.] [The ambulance is on its way.] Sure enough, a moment later, my entire body began to tremble violently. My chest felt as if it were being crushed by a giant fist. I curled up on the bed, cold sweat soaking through my hospital gown. But Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He only threw a cold word in my direction: “Stop faking it.” The pain was so intense that sweat poured down my face, and blood began to trickle from the corner of my mouth. The live comments kept refreshing: [He’s just a piece of trash. Don’t rely on him.] [You’ve already changed the first step of your fate!] [Hold on just a little longer! Someone is coming to save you!] I didn’t know who would come to save me. But the live comments had never lied to me. Catching a glimpse of the remaining fluid in the IV tube, I gritted my teeth and squeezed out a final plea for help with my raspy voice. “Help… please…” An officer standing closest to me finally noticed. He turned his head and looked at me. But his eyes were filled with nothing but disdain and mockery. He tapped my bedpost with his boot. “Mrs. Vance, stop acting. Everyone at the station knows how much you hate Miss Lawson. I didn’t expect you to go so far as to inject yourself with allergens just to get attention. Mr. Vance has already gone to take care of Miss Lawson. No one is watching your little show.” “Honestly, I kind of admire your dedication to a man. Too bad Mr. Vance only has eyes for Miss Lawson. You’d better pray she’s fine, or Mr. Vance might just divorce you right on the spot!” I knew Ethan didn’t love me, but I never expected even outsiders to look at me with such cruelty. The sharp, stabbing pain in my chest made it impossible for me to make another sound. My pale skin was quickly breaking out in hives from the severe allergic reaction. All the police officers were busy comforting Rebecca. Not a single person asked about my condition. As my consciousness began to fade, I heard someone nearby exclaim in surprise: “Oh my god! Why is there so much blood on the floor? Oh no, did something actually go wrong with Mrs. Vance?” “What could possibly go wrong? She’s just doing this to force Mr. Vance to look at her. She’s been making a scene all day. Fine, go call Mr. Vance and see if he’ll come.” But I didn’t get Ethan’s concern. I only got his ruthless interrogation. His hand, wearing a luxury watch, slapped me twice across the face. “Chloe, what the hell are you playing at? Do you think this will clear your suspicion?” My head snapped to the side from the force, blood trickling from my lip. The live comments were furiously spamming the screen: [I’m remembering this slap!] [He will pay for this sooner or later!] [Stay strong, girl! Don’t cry!] I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I didn’t cry. 2 I wanted to explain, but my throat was too swollen to utter a single word. I could only reach out and grab his sleeve. The live comments screamed: [Don’t beg him! It’s useless!] [He won’t believe you!] [Let go! Let him leave!] He hesitated for two seconds, but then he violently shook off my hand. “Do you know Rebecca almost died because of you? And yet, she’s still begging me to forgive you!” I watched his retreating figure as he turned and walked away. The live comments went quiet for a second, then said: [It’s okay. We don’t need him.] The next second, I heard someone scream: “Blood! She’s coughing up blood!” Then came Ethan’s cold voice from the hallway: “Ignore her! She’s just faking it!” The intense pain rushed over me, and my vision went black. [Hold on, girl!] [The delivery guy is almost here!] [Just one more minute!] Before I lost consciousness, my last thought was: *Who is the delivery guy?* When I woke up, a strange man was sitting by my bed. Seeing me open my eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. “You’re awake? I’m a family member of a patient in the next ward. I came in to borrow a charger and saw you seizing on the floor, so I called the doctors.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say thank you. He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. By the way, the doctor said your heart took a massive hit this time. Your chances of a successful transplant in the future are very low.” I froze. The live comments drifted across my screen: [It’s him! He was the one who saved you in your past life too!] [May good karma follow him forever!] [Remember his face!] Looking at this stranger, I suddenly didn’t feel so afraid anymore. “Thank you for saving me.” Even a complete stranger could tell at a glance that something was seriously wrong with me, yet the husband I had been married to for three years couldn’t be bothered to look at me once. Seeing my depressed state, he seemed even angrier than I was. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the doctors in this hospital. How could they just leave a patient dying on the floor?” “If I hadn’t walked past, you’d be dead by now! Where is your family? Doesn’t your husband care?” “Give me his number. I’ll call him. You shouldn’t be left alone right now.” “And that woman named Rebecca—I’ve already reported her. Faking an illness to frame someone else… having someone like that in this hospital is a hazard!” I shook my head, able to produce only a faint whisper. “My husband is dead.” Hearing this, his face filled with sympathy. He offered to stay and look after me until I was discharged. I politely declined his kindness. After transferring the medical expenses back to him via PayPal, I convinced him to leave. Though he left, the storm online was just beginning. The scandal of “The Wife of Vance Medical Group’s CEO Self-Harms to Beg for Love” carried its own traffic. Right now, it had surged to the number one trending topic on Instagram and Twitter. A patient’s family member had posted a photo of me collapsed on the floor in the comments section. Instantly, the internet exploded. Everyone was calling me a manipulative psycho who would do anything to keep her man. They accused me of throwing stones at a real patient, Rebecca. They said if that was the case, I deserved to be abandoned and shouldn’t shamelessly try to guilt-trip true love. I scrolled through the endless cyberbullying comments. The live comments said: [Don’t be sad. The truth will come out.] [The video in your hand is your trump card.] [Let them play their little games for a few more days.] I turned off my phone and took a deep breath. Fine. I would wait. Just as I opened Snapchat to send him a text about getting a divorce, Rebecca’s bragging message popped up first. As it turned out, she was also in this hospital, staying on the VIP floor right above me. In the photo, Ethan was personally feeding her soup. Afraid she might burn herself, he was gently blowing on it. I had seen countless photos of their intimacy before. I quietly closed the chat window and called Ethan. On the fifth attempt, he finally picked up. His voice was irritated to the extreme. “You still have the nerve to call? Are you calling to check if Rebecca is dead? Let me tell you, she’s alive and well! Your plan failed! Chloe, how can you be so vicious? What did Rebecca ever do to you that made you want to kill her?” “Chloe, I must have been blind to marry you! Do you even realize what you did? You committed attempted murder! If anything had happened to Rebecca, I would have never forgiven you!” Before I could speak, Rebecca’s whimpering voice sounded from his end. “Ethan, don’t blame Chloe. It’s all my fault. If she says I injected the medicine myself, then let’s just say I did. Don’t fight with her. A patient shouldn’t get too emotional.” Ethan let out a long sigh, his voice thick with disappointment. “You’re just too kind. That’s why she keeps stepping all over you! She wanted your life, and you’re still begging for her!” “Don’t worry about this anymore. This time, I’m going to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget!” As the two of them continued their sickening display, I spoke up calmly: “Sure. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. I’ll send you the papers. Just sign them.” Ethan clearly didn’t expect me to be the one to bring up divorce. He froze for a second, then exploded with fury. But before he could launch into a tirade, I hung up. [YEAH!!!] [Finally standing up for yourself, girl!] [Good riddance! Why keep a trash man like him around?] The live comments cheered in celebration. Before I could block his number, a barrage of texts flooded in. “Where are you? Chloe, have you lost your mind today? I let things slide before because you were sick, and now you’re pushing your luck?” “Do you think hiding behind your illness will save you from the law? Let me tell you, Rebecca might be too kind to press charges, but I won’t let you off! Divorce? In your dreams! You will apologize to Rebecca and get her forgiveness first!” “Also, take down the news online immediately! Don’t force me to expose your real face to the public!” I stared at the toxic messages on the screen. The live comments said: [Don’t read them. Just block him.] I did exactly that. And then I realized I wasn’t as sad as I thought I would be. Probably because the live comments had already prepared me for this. A few nurses walked in to change my IV. Not noticing my expression, they started gossiping among themselves. “The guy upstairs is so handsome. I’ve never seen a couple look so perfect together! I heard they’ve been together since high school. True high school sweethearts. I’m so jealous.” “Your news is outdated. The latest is that Mr. Vance actually rented out a whole kitchen section in the hospital’s VIP nutrition department just to cook her soup himself every day!” “I went to check her blood pressure earlier, and Mr. Vance wouldn’t even let me touch her. He had to wrap the cuff himself. Now that’s a real, loving husband!” 3 I stared blankly at the needle marks on the back of my hand. My arm, covered in hives, was itching and burning. Once they left, I felt a wave of relief. I gasped for air, trying to fill my lungs, but my chest felt too tight to let any oxygen in. That evening, the doctor came to check on me. He said my heart had suffered severe damage from the allergic reaction. Even if a donor organ became available, the success rate of the transplant would be less than thirty percent. Hearing this, I fell silent for a long time. The live comments said softly: [It’s okay. You can still live a good life on your own.] I nodded. Once everyone left the room, I pulled out my phone to check the latest updates online. The cyberbullying had reached an uncontrollable peak, forcing the hospital’s PR head to release a statement. However, his explanation was that the allergy incident was entirely self-inflicted by me. He claimed that out of jealousy, I had intentionally injected myself to frame Rebecca. Not only did I waste the hospital’s emergency resources, but I also dragged their outstanding young entrepreneur, Mr. Vance, into the dirt. In the video, the PR head kept saying he hoped the public would let this matter go. But every single word he spoke was guiding the public’s rage directly toward me. To make the video more believable, Ethan had registered a verified account under his real name and posted a photo of our marriage certificate. His move officially hammered me to the cross of public outrage. The anger previously directed at the hospital instantly turned on me. My Instagram page was flooded with hate, and the platform eventually banned my account. Any explanations I tried to post were immediately drowned out by the waves of insults. Over the next few days, I could feel the hostile glares from the medical staff. If it weren’t for their basic professional ethics, they probably would have thrown me out of the hospital already. Every day, I received packages from unknown senders. Without exception, they were filled with razor blades, hate mail, and death threats. Faced with all of this, I never uttered a single word of defense. I only waited until the day the doctor cleared me for discharge to send Ethan one final message. “Tomorrow morning, family court. Let’s sign the divorce papers.” He seized the opportunity to call me back immediately. “What, finally can’t hide anymore? Have the face to show up? I warned you, and I gave you a chance. You refused to clear the rumors online, so don’t blame me for being ruthless now!” “If Rebecca hadn’t begged me not to press charges, you’d be sitting in a prison cell right now! And you still show no gratitude? Fine, we’ll divorce! But remember, it’s not me abandoning you—it’s you who doesn’t deserve to be my wife! A vicious woman like you deserves to die alone!” He slammed the phone down before I could reply. I silently opened the recorded video on my phone, making sure the backup was intact. The next morning, after checking out of the hospital, I took my documents and drove straight to the family court. But when the time came, the person who showed up was Rebecca. “I told you, you could never win against me. Your husband is nothing but my loyal dog.” Looking at my chest, she feigned a shocked expression. “Oh my, that broken heart is still beating? What a pity. Abandoned by everyone… tied to a sickly body like yours, you really won’t live long, will you?” How did she know about my heart’s condition? Before I could wrap my head around it, my hand had already smacked across her face. The live comments gasped: [??? She knows the future!] [Is she a reincarnator too?!] [Oh my god, both of you can see the future!] I froze in place. Was she also… warned by some kind of live chat? Having just left the hospital, I was extremely weak and didn’t have much strength. Yet, she fell straight to the ground. “Rebecca!” Ethan rushed over from behind me, violently shoving me aside. I tumbled down the concrete steps of the courthouse, my forehead slamming against the sharp edge of the stairs. Blood immediately began to pour down my face. Ethan held her tightly in his arms. As if suddenly remembering something, he snapped his head toward me. “What did you do to Rebecca?! Are you trying to hurt her again?!” 4 I struggled to climb back up, my movements stiff and painful from my fresh wounds. Clutching my aching chest, I looked at him with nothing but pure mockery. “My heart? What, can a discarded patient still receive the concern of the great CEO of Vance Medical Group?” “You truly are the perfect man praised by the entire internet. It’s deeply moving. But your concern is wasted. The transplant opportunity is gone. It died on the day of my allergic reaction.” “By the way, congratulations to the happy couple. Though I wonder how many good days you have left. Enjoy them while you can, because next time you want to see your wife, you’ll have to visit her in prison.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly, his face twisting with rage. “Chloe, do you have to be so venomous? I am the CEO of the group; managing the hospital is my duty. When you injected yourself that day, I didn’t hold you legally responsible and even got you a doctor. And now you’re blaming me?” “What right do you have to speak to me like that! You have no right!” “What did you do to Rebecca? She just said her chest hurts! Chloe, if you dare touch a single hair on her head again, I will destroy you! Do you think faking an illness will make me soft? In your dreams!” I looked into his eyes. The eyes I once loved now held nothing but disgust and suspicion. The live comments said: [It’s not too late to see him for what he really is.] I smiled. Yes, it wasn’t too late. He helped Rebecca up and prepared to walk toward me. Rebecca let out a well-timed gasp of pain, immediately making him stop. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Should I take you back to the hospital? Your body just recovered, we can’t take any risks.” “I’m fine… don’t be mad at Chloe. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to her ward that day to make her angry. If I had known she hated me so much, I would have stayed away. It’s all my fault…” Her tears fell right on cue. Ethan’s eyes immediately reddened with pity. Their public display of affection made my stomach churn with disgust. I couldn’t help but cut them off: “Are you two done with the drama? If you’re done, let’s go inside and sign the papers.” “I’m clearing the spot for you guys, so you don’t have to keep sneaking around.” The moment I spoke, his anger flared again. “Chloe, is your heart made of stone? Can’t you see how badly you’ve hurt Rebecca?” “I order you to apologize to her right now!” Laughing at his sheer shamelessness, I caught sight of the smug smirk on Rebecca’s face behind his back. I said coldly: “The only blind one here is you! You pushed me down the stairs. Did you apologize to me? What right do you have to call yourself a husband? By leaving me to die during my allergic attack?” “Or by spending the entire year of my hospitalization sleeping with another woman?” His eyebrows shot up, and he roared at me: “Because you tried to take Rebecca’s life! Did you think about the consequences when you injected her with that drug? She almost died! A monster like you doesn’t deserve to talk about love!” “I thought giving you a week to cool off would make you reflect, but it seems that was completely useless!” “A lunatic who has lost her mind like you belongs in jail! Rebecca was too foolish to let it go, but I won’t! Divorce? You won’t get a single penny! If you want to live, beg Rebecca for forgiveness!”

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The day I went to apply for my daughter’s passport. On our official family vital records, besides my daughter, there was a five-year-old son listed under my husband’s dependents. As the clerk pulled up our family’s official records, she frowned. “Ma’am, are you only applying for your daughter’s passport? Does your son not need one too?” I froze. “There must be a mistake,” I said with an awkward laugh. The clerk turned the computer screen toward me. “It’s written right here. Child: Male, Age 5.” My mind went completely blank. But Julian and I only had one daughter, Lily. So where had this five-year-old son come from? …… Five years old. I stared at the birth date on the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms. That was the year I was still chasing down clients for him while eight months pregnant, trying to help his startup secure its first major contract. One afternoon, at a highway rest stop, I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my stomach. Blood flowed down my legs, soaking the concrete. After six hours of emergency surgery, the baby was gone. My uterus was severely damaged. The doctor told me I could never have children again. Julian cried like a child by my hospital bed, clutching my hand. “Chloe, having Lily is enough. I just need you to be okay.” I was deeply moved, sobbing in his arms. At that moment, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. Julian and I had been together since college. Back then, he was dirt poor. In the freezing winter, he wore a thin windbreaker and couldn’t even afford a warm cup of coffee. My parents vehemently opposed our marriage. I fought with them for a whole year until they finally gave in. After we got married, he prepared surprises for me on every holiday. He remembered everything I liked. He never even raised his voice at me. My friends always joked that I must have won the husband lottery to marry such a perfect man. If someone told me Julian had built another family behind my back, I would never have believed them. My phone buzzed. The caller ID read “Husband.” I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, Chloe. Where are you?” “Applying for Lily’s passport,” I replied, my voice shockingly calm. There was a two-second silence on the other end. “Is it done?” His voice sounded slightly tense. “No. I forgot my ID. I wasted a trip.” He clearly let out a sigh of relief, his tone instantly brightening. “Then come home quickly. Today is our eighth anniversary. I booked that French restaurant you love. I rented out the entire floor.” He really did rent out the whole place. The floor was covered in rose petals, candles were arranged in a heart shape, and a violinist was playing our favorite college song. Julian wore a custom suit. Holding a wine glass, he walked over and kissed my forehead in front of the waiters. “Happy anniversary, honey. Eight years. Thank you for staying by my side all this time.” I raised my glass and took a sip. “Julian, what do you think is the most important thing in a marriage?” “Trust,” he answered without a second thought. “Then, are you keeping anything from me?” “Of course not,” he replied smoothly. Seeing that I didn’t say anything else, he set his glass down and held my hand, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Chloe, in this life, I will only love you and Lily. Anyone might lie to you, but never me.” I smiled. “Of course I trust you.” But inside, my heart was screaming. Because when he answered, he subconsciously touched his nose. He only did that when he was lying. The words from the records flashed in my mind: *Son, five years old.* Was this boy really his child? 2.　　 That night, while Julian was showering, I searched his study. Drawers, cabinets, the safe—I checked them all. Nothing. No secret credit cards, no copies of property deeds. I secretly unlocked his phone. There wasn’t a single suspicious text. It was too clean. Not long after we lay down in bed, his phone vibrated. Julian rolled over, glanced at the screen, and sat up instantly. He moved so fast he nearly ripped the blanket off me. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice feigning sleepiness. “The company servers crashed. I have to go in.” He got dressed faster than he ever did for work. Before leaving, he kissed my forehead. Once he was sure I was still “asleep,” he quietly closed the bedroom door. I counted to thirty, then got up. Without turning on my headlights, I followed his car, keeping about two hundred yards behind him. His car didn’t head toward his company. Instead, he got on the highway, drove through several neighborhoods, and finally stopped in front of a luxury apartment building in the East District. I parked on the curb and slipped inside. The lobby lights were bright. A woman was standing there with a little boy, waiting. The boy, wearing blue pajamas, was rubbing his eyes and yawning. The moment he saw Julian step out of the car, he ran toward him with open arms. “Daddy!” Julian scooped him up, spinning him around in the air. I stared at the smile on his face. He had never smiled at Lily like that. The woman turned and said something to him. When I saw her face, I froze. It was Evelyn. Julian’s executive assistant. My brain suddenly fast-forwarded, bringing back all the memories I had overlooked. At the company’s annual party, Leo had fallen off a chair and cut his lip. Julian had abandoned a table of major clients and rushed over, his face pale with worry. At the time, I thought he was just a kind-hearted boss who pitied a single mother. And last month, when Leo came over to play and wanted Lily’s limited-edition doll. When Lily refused to give it to him, Julian lost his temper and screamed at her right in front of Evelyn. If I hadn’t stepped in, he would have hit her. Afterward, he told me, “Kids need to learn to share. Don’t spoil her.” And I believed him, thinking he was just being a strict father. The elevator doors opened. Julian shifted Leo to his left arm and wrapped his right arm around Evelyn’s waist. The three of them disappeared into the elevator. Just as the doors closed, I heard Leo’s voice fade out: “Daddy, will you take me to school tomorrow?” “Of course, buddy.” I didn’t even know how I walked back to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The words on the family record flashed in my mind again. *Son, five years old.* This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t a one-time mistake. This was cold, calculated planning. From the moment the boy was born, to registering him, to buying the apartment, to settling them down just twenty minutes away from our house. He had planned every single step. I buried my face in the steering wheel, crying silently. Outside the window, the apartment window lit up. That was the home Julian built for them. While the house I lived in for eight years was nothing but a sham. 3. After that day, I acted as if nothing had happened, remaining the same sweet, gentle wife. But in secret, I began gathering evidence. I hired a private investigator to dig up the boy’s birth certificate and the apartment’s purchase agreement. When Julian wasn’t paying attention, I accessed his phone to pull his bank transfer records. For an entire month, I was chillingly calm. Until that night. A massive rainstorm hit the city. At 10:40 PM, Lily’s weak voice called out, “Mommy, I can’t breathe…” I bolted upright, ran out of bed without even putting on shoes, and rushed into her room. She was curled up on the bed, her chest heaving violently, her lips turning blue. My hands shook so badly I could barely type. I called Julian. First call, no answer. Second call, no answer. Third call, fourth call. On the fifth call, he finally picked up. “What is it? I’m in an important video conference,” he whispered, his voice laced with annoyance. Before I could speak, a woman’s voice came through the receiver. “Julian, Leo is scared of the thunder. Come back to bed.” It was Evelyn. I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. “Julian, Lily is having a severe asthma attack. She can’t breathe, and her face is turning blue…” “She always gets like that,” he cut me off, dismissive. “Just give her her inhaler. Don’t overreact.” “It’s really bad this time! We need to go to the hospital—” A second of silence. Then, dial tone. He hung up and turned off his phone. I threw my phone onto the floor and rushed back to Lily. She was starting to twitch. Without thinking, I scooped her up. She weighed almost fifty pounds, but I carried her and ran out into the pouring rain without even grabbing an umbrella. The rain was blinding. I ran five red lights on the way. From the hospital parking lot to the ER was less than two hundred yards. Halfway there, I slipped on the wet concrete and fell hard. As my knees slammed into the ground, I wrapped my arms around Lily, shielding her body with mine. Blood mixed with rainwater, pouring down my knees. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled back up and kept running. When the doctor took Lily from my arms, his face was grim. “Ten minutes later, and the lack of oxygen would have caused permanent brain damage.” The ER doors shut. A nurse handed me a critical condition notice, telling me to sign it. My hand shook so badly I ruined the signature three times. Finally, I had to hold the pen with both hands, using all my strength just to write my name. I sat alone in the sterile corridor. The blood on my knees had dried, gluing my pants to the open wounds. Every movement was agonizing. At midnight, I leaned against the wall and scrolled through my phone. A notification popped up. It was Evelyn’s Instagram update. The photo showed the silhouette of a man sitting by a child’s bed. The caption read: “Leo is the happiest boy to have his daddy protecting him on a stormy night.” I knew that silhouette all too well. Two hours later, the doctor came out. “She’s out of danger. You can go in now.” I walked inside. Lily lay on the hospital bed, wearing a nebulizer mask, looking pale and exhausted. Seeing me, she reached out her tiny hand and whispered, “Mommy…” I squeezed her hand, forcing my tears back. Leaving the room briefly, I sent Julian a text message. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” 4. Julian didn’t show up until the next afternoon. When the ward door pushed open, Lily had just finished her nebulizer treatment. She was huddled under the blanket, looking as fragile as a stray kitten. He was holding a pink Barbie box, wearing that same doting look he had worn for the past eight years. “Hey, princess, Daddy’s here.” He walked over to the bed, reaching out to pat her head. “I really couldn’t get away last night. Look, I bought you your favorite doll to make it up to you.” Lily stared at the pink box but didn’t reach for it. “I don’t want a doll. I want my dad.” Julian froze. He placed the box on the nightstand and leaned down. “Isn’t Daddy right here?” “Daddy, do you not love me anymore?” “Of course I do! Why would you say—” “But you haven’t played with me in so long.” Her voice was tiny, as if she was afraid of being heard. “And you forgot… I hate pink.” Pink. Evelyn’s Instagram was filled with pink. Pink toys, pink flowers, pink balloons. He couldn’t even keep track of which child liked what anymore. Julian’s hand hovered in mid-air. I sat in the armchair, watching him silently. He stood up straight, his face darkening as he turned to look at me. “Is this how you teach our kid? To be this ungrateful? I work myself to the bone to make money for this family, and this is what I get?” I stared at him, pulled out the copy of the family records from my bag, and slapped it against his chest. “For this family? Or for your son?” Julian’s face drained of color in an instant. The Barbie box slipped from his hand, crashing onto the floor and splitting open. “Chloe, let me explain,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “It’s not what you think. Evelyn needed a way to get Leo registered for school, so I just let her put him under my name. It’s just a formality!” “Is it?” I challenged. “Of course! We’ve been together for eight years. You have to trust me.” He explained frantically, desperate to make me believe him. I didn’t say a word. I just unlocked my phone and showed him Evelyn’s Instagram post. “Julian, does a ‘formality’ require you to sleep over at her place?” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “Does a ‘formality’ mean you let your biological daughter almost die while you comfort another woman’s son?” The room fell dead silent for three seconds. Then, Julian let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Since you know, I won’t play along anymore.” He pointed a finger at me, his voice dripping with self-righteous anger. “I just wanted a son! Is that so wrong? If you could actually give me one, would I have to go elsewhere?” My nails dug deep into my palms. I yelled back, “Julian, you are a disgusting piece of trash!” He blinked, and suddenly his tone softened, trying to placate me. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was just angry. I didn’t mean it.” “You’re the only one in my heart. I just wanted a son to carry on my name. Evelyn doesn’t even want a title. We can bring Leo here, and you can raise him as your own. We can still be a happy family. What do you say?” “Go to hell! I want a divorce, right now!” Unable to take it anymore, I slapped him across the face. Julian grabbed my wrist and shoved me hard. I fell to the ground, scraping my arm against the floor. Blood began to ooze from the scratch. A cry erupted from the bed. “Bad Daddy! Leave Mommy alone!” Lily was clutching her blanket, tears streaming down her face. Julian spun around, grabbed Lily’s arm, and shook her. “Shut up! All you do is cry! If it weren’t for you being so sickly, I wouldn’t have—” Lily’s breathing grew rapid under his grip. “Get your hands off her!” I screamed, scrambling up. “Am I wrong?” Julian bellowed. “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve spent on her medical bills? How much I’ve sacrificed for you two? And now, just because I want a son to inherit my legacy, you’re making a scene!” The more he spoke, the more furious he got. Lily’s lips were already turning blue. “Touch her again, and I swear I’ll kill you.” Without hesitation, I grabbed the paring knife from the nightstand and pointed it right at his chest.

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