I’d been married to Ethan for five years when he took my wedding ring right off my finger to please his mistress. That ring was the only thing my parents left me. I knelt on the floor and begged him to give it back. He didn’t even look at me. He placed it in another woman’s palm and said, “If you like it, it’s yours.” From that day on, I stopped waiting for him to come home, stopped leaving a light on in the dead of night. He brought his mistress home to spend the night and ordered me to buy condoms. I went. He was intimate with her in the master bedroom and made me listen from the room next door. I listened all night long. He had people search me in public, strip my clothes off, and threw me out of the house covered in injuries. I said nothing. Because I still wore the scarf he’d wrapped around my neck when I was eighteen. I’d always thought that was the beginning of love. Later I learned he’d just casually saved someone, and I spent my whole life repaying that debt. Everyone thought I would endure it. But they didn’t know I’d been carrying the divorce agreement he signed on our wedding day with me all along. Five years. I’d finally gathered the courage to take it out and sign my own name.

Sophia’s POV Ever since Ethan took my wedding ring to please his mistress Isabella, I became a different person. I stopped taking meticulous care of Ethan’s life. I stopped sitting at my desk after work every day, waiting for Ethan to finish so we could go home together. I even stopped keeping track of any news about Ethan. Today was Ethan’s birthday. We’d been giving each other the cold shoulder for a week. Last week, Isabella made me a cup of coffee. Not only did I not drink it, I threw the coffee all over her. He thought I was too rude, that it didn’t befit my position. So Ethan took my wedding ring as a way to punish me. I did treasure that ring. In the past, every year on his birthday, I would cook dinner and wait for him at home. But this year I wasn’t planning to celebrate his birthday. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the front door opening. It must be Ethan coming home. I paid no attention. The master bedroom door was slightly ajar. I leaned against the headboard, looking down at a book. He quickly came upstairs and pushed open my door. Hearing the noise, I looked up with a calm expression and just nodded slightly. “You didn’t cook?” Ethan’s face showed some displeasure. I closed the book and explained gently, “I didn’t know you were coming home for dinner tonight. I’ll have Grace do it now.” Grace was the housekeeper. Ethan stared at my face, his brow furrowed. “No need.” He spat out the words coldly and turned to leave. At the doorway, he stopped. “You forgot what day it is.” With that, he strode away. I was stunned for a moment. Then I remembered that today was Ethan’s birthday. From his expression just now, he seemed angry? Impossible. I’d celebrated Ethan’s birthday four times. Every time, I prepared gifts, dinner, and cake with meticulous care. And the result? The gifts were casually set aside without even unwrapping. He didn’t touch the food, and it was thrown in the trash the next day. How could someone like Ethan be angry that I didn’t celebrate his birthday? He should be happy. I took a breath and opened my book again. I guessed Ethan was probably going to find Isabella right now. After all, in five years of marriage, the days he’d actually stayed in this house added up to less than a month. But not long after, the door was pushed open again. Ethan had returned, his expression considerably softer than before. He stood by the bed, his tone gentler. “I’ll stay home tonight. Keep you company.” Before I could speak, his phone rang in his pocket. Isabella’s name appeared on the screen. Ethan hesitated, but still answered. The woman’s sweet, coquettish voice drifted out and into my ears. I watched as Ethan turned his back, lowering his voice to comfort his mistress. When he hung up, I spoke. “You don’t need to stay with me. Miss Hart is young and afraid of the dark. She can’t sleep alone. I’m fine. You should go.” Ethan froze. These were the very words he’d said to me in the past when he was about to go find Isabella. I’d given them right back to him, word for word. Ethan didn’t love me. His grandfather Richard had forced him to marry me. “Fine. Isabella needs me.” His tone was somewhat stiff. “Don’t bully her again.” “I won’t.” I shook my head repeatedly. “Last time was my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with her. Go on, don’t keep her waiting.” His face turned ashen as he turned and strode away. The next day, at the Carter estate. I knelt before Richard. “Grandfather, five years are up. I want to leave.” His hair was white, but his eyes were still bright. “Are you sure? You really want to go? You don’t love him anymore?” “Yes, I’m sure.” My expression was serious. “Ethan doesn’t love me. Why should we keep tormenting each other?” Richard sighed. “I was wrong back then.” “He does have feelings for you in his heart. He just hasn’t realized it himself.” He waved his hand. “Ah, he’s not worthy of being your husband.” He called over the butler and gave a few quiet instructions. After a while, the butler came over with a document envelope and handed it to me. “This is what you wanted. Also, I’ve prepared a new identity for you and some money.” He looked at me, his expression full of reluctance. “You’ll leave in a week.” “Remember, leave quietly. Don’t let Ethan know.” “Otherwise, you won’t be able to leave.” My eyes grew hot, and I nodded emphatically. Back in the car, I opened the envelope. The words “Divorce Agreement” at the top stung my eyes until they felt sore. I flipped to the last page. Ethan’s signature was right there. He’d signed this divorce agreement on the very day we got our marriage certificate. I stared at his signature for a long time, then suddenly laughed. Ethan, in a week, I won’t stand in your way anymore. From now on, you can love whoever you want. I’ll never be your obstacle again.

Sophia’s POV I returned home and started packing. Over these five years, Ethan had given me many things. But they were all bought by his assistant, given to Mrs. Carter, not to me as a person. Whoever was Mrs. Carter would receive these gifts. So my luggage was simple. A small twenty-inch suitcase held everything I owned. After packing, I started disposing of the old things in the house. The cufflinks I’d bought him with my own salary. The scarf I’d knit by hand. The throw pillows I’d purchased. Among these things, some Ethan had glanced at once, but more had never been looked at, just casually discarded. I had to quietly put them away myself, storing them in the closet. At the very top of the closet was a scarf. It was the only scarf I’d ever knit in my life. I’d followed a tutorial for three full months. I unraveled it when I made mistakes, unraveled it when the stitches were uneven. By the end, my fingers had swollen twice their normal size. But when I gave it to Ethan, he didn’t even unwrap it. He said a bland “thank you” and never wore the scarf. I held the scarf in my arms and gave a bitter laugh. I retrieved another scarf from the very back of the closet. That one was from Ethan. In the winter of my freshman year, my parents were on their way to visit me at school when they encountered a multi-car pileup. They died at the scene. That year, I was eighteen. The night after the funeral, I sat alone by the campus lake, from dusk until deep into the night. The lake water was pitch black, lapping at the shore in waves. I thought, if I jumped in, would I stop being cold? Would I be able to see Mom and Dad? I was inching little by little toward the lake when I heard footsteps behind me. “Hey.” I looked up into a stern face. I recognized him. Finance department senior, Ethan Carter. The whole school knew him. Heir to Carter Corporation. His grades were excellent. After graduation, he was going to work on Wall Street. He and I were from two different worlds. Ethan looked at my red-rimmed eyes, unwrapped his own scarf and wrapped it around my neck, then wiped the tears from my face. “Staying alive is what matters most.” Those words pulled me back from the lake’s edge. After that day, the name Ethan Carter was etched into my heart. I began quietly paying attention to everything about him. Where he had classes each day, what time he went to the library to study. I knew it all. I never thought I’d have any real connection with him. One was the heir to Carter Corporation, the other an orphan who’d lost both parents. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. I just wanted to see him from afar. That was enough. The year of graduation, I submitted my resume to Carter Corporation. On the day of the interview, at the entrance to the Carter Building, I saw an elderly man clutch his chest and collapse. I immediately rushed over to perform CPR and call an ambulance. That old man was Richard. When he woke up, he saw the scarf around my neck. “Ah,” Richard said, “Isn’t that scarf Ethan’s?” I instinctively nodded. He asked again, “You know him?” My face instantly flushed red. I couldn’t help lowering my head. Richard looked at me and smiled kindly, patting the back of my hand. “I’ll have Ethan marry you. Are you willing?” I thought I’d misheard. “He doesn’t know me.” “I can see you’re very kind. Ethan has a terrible personality. He might never meet someone who truly loves him in his entire life.” “I can tell you’re a good girl.” “I believe you’ll be a good wife.” In the end, I didn’t refuse him. I hadn’t expected Ethan to strongly oppose marrying me.

Sophia’s POV Richard was so angry he fell ill and was admitted to the ICU. He said, “Just consider it marrying her for my sake. Live with her for five years. After five years, if you still don’t love her, you can divorce.” Ethan loved Richard dearly. He agreed. But to make his position clear, on the first day of marriage, Ethan had a lawyer draft divorce papers, signed them, and handed them to his grandfather. At the wedding, when I heard him say “I do,” I actually felt hope. I thought five years would be enough. If I tried my best to love him and treat him well, one day he would see me. For five years after the wedding, I did everything I could for him. When he traveled for business, I packed his suitcase with clothes. When he had business dinners, no matter how late, I waited for him on the sofa at home. But I hadn’t expected Ethan to be ice that could never be melted. We only saw each other at the office. He never ate the food I cooked. He never accepted the water I offered. A year ago, Isabella appeared. At first, Ethan still considered my position and didn’t let Isabella appear in public. Later, one phone call from Isabella could summon him away. Isabella could freely enter and exit his CEO office. He started bringing Isabella to public events while I, Mrs. Carter, became a joke. Last week, I went to Ethan’s office to deliver documents and ran right into Isabella coming out. She was holding a cup of hot coffee, raising her eyebrows at me. “Long time no see, Mrs. Carter.” Isabella laughed softly. “I heard Ethan hasn’t been home in over a month? Why haven’t you figured out your situation yet?” Before I could respond, Isabella flicked her wrist and splashed the scalding coffee on herself. She fell backward, clutching the doorframe and crying. “I just wanted to bring you coffee. Why did you push me?” Ethan heard the commotion and rushed out, pulling Isabella into his arms. He looked up at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Sophia, apologize to her.” It was the first time he’d casually punished me. “I didn’t push her.” I shook my head. “Still making excuses.” Ethan’s face darkened. “Do you think being my wife gives you the right to bully people?” Isabella clutched his sleeve, crying. “Ethan, don’t blame her. I shouldn’t have appeared by your side. She’s your wife. She’s still wearing your wedding ring…” Ethan looked at the tears in Isabella’s eyes, then turned to glare at me furiously. “If you won’t apologize, you don’t need to wear the ring either.” He raised his hand and a bodyguard stepped forward, forcibly removing my wedding ring. My finger was scraped, blood flowing freely. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He placed the ring in Isabella’s palm. “If you like it, it’s yours.” He carried Isabella out of the office without looking back at me. That day, I finally understood. Five years, over eighteen hundred days and nights. I was nothing but trash to him. I looked at the two scarves. One he gave me, which I treasured. One I gave him, which he treated as garbage. Just like our positions in this relationship. I reached up to touch my empty ring finger. A tear dropped onto the scarf. Thank goodness, the five years were over. Thank goodness, I got that agreement he’d signed. Next week I could leave. From then on, Ethan and I would have no connection. I took everything from the closet, including both scarves, and threw them in the trash.

Sophia’s POV The next day was Richard’s eightieth birthday banquet. He was the person in the Carter family who treated me best. For five years, I’d been in charge of Richard’s birthday, and this year was no exception. Guest list, menu, seating arrangements, decoration process. I handled each item. That day, I arrived very early. When the banquet began and guests started arriving, Ethan appeared. I hadn’t expected him to come with someone. Holding his arm was Isabella in a wine-red low-cut gown. Her hair was pinned up high, her makeup exquisite. Her bright eyes gazed at Ethan as if she were his wife. The two walked into the hall side by side. They looked like the married couple. Isabella glanced at me, the arrogance and pride in her eyes unconcealed. Murmurs from the surrounding guests immediately rose up. “Isn’t that Miss Hart? Ethan actually brought her back. Mrs. Carter…” “With so many people here today, isn’t this humiliating his actual wife?” My expression remained calm as I continued chatting warmly with each guest. Richard sat in the seat of honor, seeing everything clearly. Ethan approached, wanting to offer some birthday wishes to Richard. Richard leaned on his cane, his eyes landing on Isabella. “Who is this?” he asked coldly. Ethan glanced at me. “This is my secretary. I just came from the office and brought her along.” Richard looked at him coldly. “Today is my birthday. Did you get my permission to bring your secretary? You’re incredibly rude!” Ethan’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. I saw his chest rising and falling violently and quickly stepped forward to soothe Richard. “Please don’t be angry. Today is your birthday. Don’t let these small matters upset you.” His expression finally eased a bit. He patted my hand and sighed. “Sophia still cares about me.” Ethan stood nearby, watching this scene, his eyes darkening. Ethan coldly averted his gaze and led Isabella away to mingle with guests. When some guests saw Isabella, they politely looked her over and said with a smile, “Mr. Carter, this young lady at your side is quite elegant.” Ethan didn’t deny it, just tugged his lips slightly. Isabella was delighted, leaning into his arm and looking up at him with a smile. He didn’t dodge or stop her. His gaze kept involuntarily looking in my direction. I pretended not to see his eyes, continuing to greet guests with a smile, my manner composed. If this were before, seeing this scene would have made my eyes turn red. But this time, I did nothing. Halfway through the banquet, Ethan left to take a call. Isabella took the opportunity to walk over to me, her tone light. “Mrs. Carter, let me tell you something.” She pointed at my hand. “That ring of yours? I put it on my dog’s collar. My dog really likes that ring.” I looked at her and laughed softly. “As long as you like it.” Isabella’s smile froze. She wanted to see me angry, but didn’t, and a hint of gloom flashed in her eyes. Isabella slowly backed away, quietly approaching the long table behind her with its champagne tower, and grabbed a corner of the tablecloth. The next second, the champagne tower collapsed with a crash. Dozens of glasses with liquid rushed toward Isabella and me. Guests shrieked. Not far away, Ethan’s face changed dramatically as he rushed over. “Isabella!” He rushed toward Isabella, pulling her into his arms to protect her. Glass shards and champagne crashed toward me. I couldn’t dodge in time and could only raise my arms to protect my head and face. The massive impact knocked me to the ground. Glass fragments pierced my arms and shoulders. Blood quickly soaked through my dress. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I saw Ethan holding Isabella tightly in his arms, anxiously calling her name. That embrace had no place for me, and never had.

Sophia’s POV When I woke again, I was in my bedroom at home. I opened my eyes, not fully conscious yet. Ethan sat by the bed, looking somewhat tired. I was startled, not expecting him to be there. Seeing me wake, Ethan’s expression softened slightly. “You’re awake? You have superficial injuries. The doctor has already bandaged them.” In my mind, I kept seeing how Ethan had rushed toward Isabella without hesitation before I fainted. I lowered my eyes and said softly, “Sorry for worrying you. I’m fine.” My tone was polite. Ethan’s face froze again. He continued, “You’re my wife. Such a major incident at the banquet. Not only did you hurt yourself, you nearly hurt other guests. Do you understand what you did wrong?” My heart ached dully. The guest he meant was Isabella. He was blaming me for hurting Isabella. I’d seen clearly that Isabella had deliberately pulled the tablecloth. If this were before, I definitely would have defended myself and explained what happened. But I remembered how he’d rushed toward Isabella, how he’d protected her in his arms. Even if I said something, would he believe me? He wouldn’t believe me. The one who isn’t favored, whatever they say is just excuses. The more I said, the more unreasonable I would seem, and I’d only cause myself more trouble. I lowered my head. “Yes, I was wrong. Tomorrow I’ll accept my punishment.” Ethan paused. Before, I would act cute to avoid punishment. So in five years, he’d never actually punished me. This time I didn’t want to act cute. I wanted to completely sever ties with him. Ethan’s face also grew cold. “Good. You ruined Richard’s banquet. You should be punished. Don’t come to the office tomorrow. Stay home under house arrest.” After speaking, he stood up in anger and strode out. I watched his departing back and closed my eyes. The next day, Ethan really did send someone. I didn’t recognize the man who came. I’d never seen him. His face looked somewhat fierce. As soon as he entered, he told me to kneel. So the punishment he mentioned also involved being beaten. I knelt quietly on the living room floor without a word. The man with the rod raised his hand and struck me hard. My injuries from yesterday hadn’t healed yet. After the first strike, my whole body swayed. After the third strike, I had no strength left to support myself and collapsed on the floor. Grace couldn’t help stepping forward. “Sir, Mrs. Carter still has injuries. Could you be gentler? At this rate, she’ll die!” The man glanced at Grace and sneered coldly. “Who do you think you are? Mrs. Carter is accepting punishment. Is it your place to speak? Say one more word and you’ll be punished too!” Afraid Grace would be implicated, I forced myself to raise my hand. “Grace, go.” Grace wiped her tears and backed out, turning back with every step. The rod continued to fall. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. I thought, so Ethan really could actually go through with this. I remembered the lakeside eight years ago, the scarf he’d handed me. So from that moment until now, he’d never truly seen me. The man I’d loved for over eight years wouldn’t even let me walk through these last few days in peace. My vision darkened inch by inch. When the last blow fell, I heard something inside me shatter and something else fall into place. I finally closed my eyes and lost consciousness.

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I trapped myself at that grave for six years. I thought that as long as I didn’t leave, my son’s name would stay engraved alongside mine forever. But with just one signature, Shaun made Veronica my son’s “mother.” Even when I fell down the steps, the woman he reached out to support was someone else. I picked up the blood-stained handwritten letter and finally understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He simply didn’t care. So I stopped fighting. I took my son’s memorial album, photos of the old gravestone, and the wedding ring that held the memory of our family of three. This time, I would be the one to leave first. Lena POV I had stayed by my son’s grave for so many years, only for Shaun to personally give my place as mother on the headstone to Veronica. When the cemetery called, I was packing things for the memorial service. The staff member said the old cemetery section’s registration and annual maintenance fees would be discontinued soon, and my child’s ashes were being relocated to the Shaw family plot. Gripping my phone, I asked, “Who signed off on this?” There was the sound of rustling papers on the other end, then a quiet voice. “Mr. Shaun Shaw.” I didn’t call Shaun. I put the keepsakes in a bag and went straight to the cemetery. At the management office, the staff member pushed documents across to me. The relocation application bore Shaun’s signature. The joint burial plot registration had been changed too. The adjacent burial plots I’d reserved for myself and my child for years had been cancelled. The new registration listed Shaun, Veronica, and my child. A family of three. When I reached the headstone draft, my fingers paused. Below my child’s name, the father’s line read Shaun Shaw. The mother’s line read Veronica Mann. I didn’t throw the documents or make a scene. I simply looked up and said, “I need copies of all of this.” The staff member saw how pale my face had gone and said softly, “Ms. Hayes, would you like to sit down for a moment?” I said, “No need.” I walked out of the management office with the copies and sat on a bench for a few minutes. Years ago, when we lost the baby, Shaun came with me to choose the cemetery. He personally confirmed the inscription and said the plot next to it was reserved for me. Whichever one of us died first would go keep our child company. Later, his visits became less and less frequent. Every year it was me who cleaned the headstone, me who came to remember him, me who left handwritten letters and memorial albums. I guarded that line naming both parents on the old stone like it was the last thing the Shaw family hadn’t taken from me and my child. Now with one signature, Shaun had made Veronica the mother. He’d even taken away the plot where I would have joined my child after death. “Lena Hayes.” Veronica emerged from the other side of the management office, also holding a headstone draft. She didn’t hide. Instead, she walked closer and held the draft up to my face. “You saw it too, didn’t you? The Shaw family has already accepted me. When the child is moved to the Shaw family plot, they can’t very well have an outsider like you presiding over memorial services anymore.” I looked up at her. “What right do you have to touch my son’s grave?” Veronica smiled slightly, her fingertip tapping the mother’s line. “Because Shaun agreed.” Her voice was airy. “He’s going to formalize things with me eventually. The past, people and matters alike, need to be sorted out in advance.” I took out my phone and called Shaun. He answered quickly. Shaun’s voice sounded the same as always. “Why the sudden call? Not feeling well?” I looked at the draft in Veronica’s hands and asked, “Where are you?” “At the office.” “Did you sign the relocation application?” Several seconds of silence. When Shaun spoke again, his tone had dropped. “Lena, we’ll talk about this at home. The Shaw family has arrangements to make. Don’t cause a scene at the cemetery.” I looked up. Shaun was walking out of the management office entrance, holding stamped documents. The phone was still pressed to my ear. He saw me too. His expression stiffened for a moment, then he hung up and strode over. “Get in the car first.” He reached for the copies in my hand. I stepped back. Shaun’s brow furrowed. “This is a cemetery. Don’t let the staff see us fighting.” I stared at him. “Why did you list Veronica as my son’s mother?” Shaun didn’t answer. He only said, “Moving him back to the Shaw family plot was going to happen eventually. Veronica will be joining the Shaw family in the future. The cemetery needs her to handle things.” “That child was born from my body.” Shaun seemed irritated by that statement. His voice grew heavy. “No one’s denying you gave birth to him. The headstone inscription is just an external arrangement. Stop torturing yourself over a child who’s already gone.” Veronica stood nearby, saying softly, “Shaun, don’t upset Lena. She just needs time to accept this.” The management office staff were still waiting by the entrance for him to confirm the service time. I put the copies in my bag and asked nothing more. I went to the old grave and photographed the original inscription, then set down my keepsakes. On the headstone, my name and Shaun’s were still engraved side by side beneath our child’s name. That was the last time. As I got in the car to leave, the door had just closed when I saw in the rearview mirror Shaun turning back to Veronica’s side.

Lena POV After returning home, I didn’t smash anything or wait for Shaun’s explanation. I backed up all the cemetery documents, old headstone photos, and new headstone drafts to the cloud, then sent them to a backup email. Then I pulled out my ID documents, bank cards, regular medications, and property documents, placing them one by one in the back of the drawer. This house still contained Shaun’s clothes, cups, and car keys. I gathered only what I absolutely needed to take when I left. That afternoon, Veronica sent photos. The first showed a Shaw family dinner. Shaun sat beside the family elders, Veronica on his other side, jewelry on her wrist, place cards on the table. The second was a close-up of the headstone draft. Veronica had circled the mother’s line and added a message: From now on I’ll accompany Shaun to memorial services. You won’t have to work so hard every year anymore. I looked at them, then saved the photos. Veronica wasn’t the only one stirring things up. The Shaw family had long since treated her as someone about to join the family. Even relocating the child had become part of establishing her position. That evening, Shaun came home. As he entered, he asked as usual, “Have you eaten?” He reached out to touch my hair. I turned aside to avoid him. Shaun’s hand froze mid-air, his expression souring. “About the cemetery, I shouldn’t have kept it from you today.” He said, “But moving back to the Shaw family plot has always been part of the family’s plans. I didn’t want you to keep suffering over the old grave every year.” I looked at him. “Was making Veronica the mother also for my benefit?” Shaun’s tone hardened. “Veronica will be part of the Shaw family eventually. The cemetery needs someone who can handle things long-term.” “So I’m not that person anymore?” Shaun frowned. “Lena, don’t overthink this. Everyone knows you gave birth to him.” “What good is knowing?” My voice wasn’t raised. “I won’t be on the headstone. My name won’t be on the service list either. When people come to pay respects in the future, they’ll only see you, Veronica, and the child.” Shaun grew irritated, loosening his tie. “What exactly do you want?” I didn’t argue further. I nodded once and turned to go upstairs. In the living room, Shaun’s phone lit up. Veronica messaged urging him to confirm the relocation service roster with the Shaw family tomorrow. Shaun glanced upstairs and replied with two words: Got it. The next day, I went to the bank. Money had been withdrawn from our joint account to cover Shaw family plot fees and the three-person burial registration. I printed the statement and retrieved documents from the safety deposit box. Just as I left the bank, Shaun’s assistant called. “Ms. Hayes, the Shaw family is hosting a dinner tonight. The family elders want to see you.” Holding that statement, I suddenly understood. This dinner wasn’t to acknowledge me. It was to make me stay quiet before Veronica joined the family and before the child’s relocation. That evening at the Shaw family dinner, Veronica sat beside Shaun’s mother. The family elders didn’t mention her relationship with Shaun directly, only saying, “Moving the child is the Shaw family’s decision. Stop blocking it. The person’s been gone for years. The living need to look forward.” Veronica kept her eyes lowered, her voice gentle. “Please rest assured, I’ll honor the child properly from now on.” Shaun spoke for me. “The service will proceed as planned.” I looked at each person at the table. They had already decided for me who would honor my child, how the inscription would read, whether I should appear. I didn’t make a scene at dinner. I only took a photo of the gathering before leaving. On the drive back, Shaun tried to smooth things over. “Once the relocation is finished, I’ll take you away for a break.” I didn’t ask if Veronica would be going. I had the driver stop by the roadside, saying I needed to buy something. After getting out, I went into a print shop and made another copy of the documents, statements, and cemetery papers. That night, Veronica’s call came through to Shaun’s phone. I stood at the staircase landing, hearing Veronica say, “Don’t let Lena go to the old cemetery section alone before the service. It’ll look bad if the family elders see.” Shaun lowered his voice. “I’ll watch her.” I didn’t walk out. I returned to my room, booked a train ticket for three days later, and messaged an old friend asking if I could stay temporarily in Boston. Downstairs, Shaun was still reassuring Veronica. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle things on her end.”

Lena POV I didn’t sleep all night. I enlarged the Shaw family dinner photo Veronica had sent and finally noticed a group photo in the corner. In it, Shaun stood beside his mother, Veronica on the other side, her face half-hidden by a flower arrangement, but the jewelry on her wrist identical to what she wore in today’s photo. I scrolled back through Veronica’s account. Two years ago, Veronica had already attended a Shaw family dinner. That day had been my child’s memorial day. Shaun said something urgent had come up and he couldn’t accompany me to the cemetery. I sat alone at the old grave until dark. When I returned home the food had gone cold, and he still hadn’t come back. That night Veronica had posted a photo. It showed fireworks outside a car window, captioned: Someone watched the most beautiful night view of the year with me. The hand visible inside the car wore the watch Shaun usually wore. I screenshot each one. When he said business dinner, Veronica was at the same private club. When he said business trip, Veronica was in the airport VIP lounge. When he said Shaw family matters were keeping him busy, Veronica had already accompanied him to celebrate a family elder’s birthday. By dawn, Shaun pushed open the study door to see the desk covered with printed screenshots. His expression darkened. “What have you been doing all morning?” I didn’t collect them. “Two years ago on the child’s memorial day, why didn’t you come home?” Shaun paused. “The Shaw family had something urgent come up.” I pushed the car window fireworks photo toward him. “This is what the Shaw family needed?” Shaun glanced at it, his tone cooling. “Lena, what’s the point of digging through all this? Veronica and I were just ordinary friends back then.” “That day was our child’s memorial day.” Shaun was silent for several seconds, finally only saying, “I don’t remember clearly.” I nodded and gathered the screenshots. The doorbell rang shortly after. Veronica stood at the entrance wearing the house slippers I kept by the door, holding a roster. She came in like the lady of the house and placed the roster on the coffee table. “Shaun, I’ve finished organizing the relocation service roster. There will be many family elders. If Lena attends, everyone will feel awkward.” I looked down. I wasn’t on the roster. I asked Shaun, “Is this what you want?” Veronica coughed lightly. “Lena, I’m just worried it would look bad if matters concerning the child caused trouble in front of the family elders. If you want to see him, you can go after the service ends. It’s the same thing.” Shaun looked at me. “Don’t go to the service for now. After the relocation, I’ll go with you privately.” I took out my phone and photographed the roster. Veronica’s eyes shifted. She walked to the cabinet and saw the duplicate memorial album I’d prepared for my child. She reached for it. I blocked her first. Veronica laughed. “I should keep these from now on. The mother’s name on the headstone is being changed. If you keep too much, it won’t look appropriate when outsiders see.” I held the memorial album to my chest. “Don’t touch my son’s things.” Veronica’s eyes immediately reddened as she turned to look at Shaun. Shaun frowned. “Lena, Veronica’s just trying to organize the service properly. Don’t treat her like an enemy.” I didn’t argue. I carried the memorial album upstairs. I placed the memorial album, old headstone photos, cemetery documents, Shaw family dinner photos, and Veronica’s old social media screenshots in the same document folder, then took out my wedding ring and bank card. The inside of the ring was engraved with Shaun’s and my initials, with our child’s birth month beside them. Downstairs, Shaun was still discussing seating arrangements with Veronica. I put the ring in the top of the document folder, locked it, and began packing the last batch of clothes. When Shaun came upstairs, I had just closed my suitcase. His expression changed. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Packing some clothes I don’t often use.” Shaun reached to open the case. I pressed down on the latch. “I’m packing my own things. Do you need to inspect those too?” Shaun stared at me. “Before the relocation service, you’d better not do anything that embarrasses the Shaw family.” Downstairs, Veronica was calling for him. Shaun glanced at me and turned to go downstairs. As soon as the door closed, I took the train ticket from the closet compartment and put it in the document folder.

Lena POV While Shaun was out, I took the document folder to the old cemetery section. I wanted to collect the things I’d left at my child’s grave over the years before the relocation. But when I reached the grave, it was already empty. The handwritten letters I’d left every year, duplicate memorial albums, old toys, keepsakes. All gone. Staff members were putting the last few items into bags. I hurried over. “Who told you to touch these?” The staff member looked helplessly toward the distance. Veronica stood there holding the new headstone draft. She walked over, her tone so light it sounded apologetic. “Lena, I’m just organizing the cemetery section in advance for the Shaw family. The family elders will all be here for the relocation. It wouldn’t look good for them to see these old things.” I looked at her. “Where are the memorial albums and handwritten letters?” “The staff collected them.” Veronica said, “Whether they can be retrieved depends on procedure.” I immediately turned to chase the waste collection truck. Behind me, Veronica said, “Once the child enters the Shaw family plot, memorial services can’t follow just your personal habits anymore.” She held the new headstone draft up to me. “Take another look. The mother’s line has been confirmed according to Shaun’s wishes.” I didn’t take it. I stopped the waste collection truck and had the staff dig out several creased memorial albums and a stack of handwritten letters. The albums contained the first version of my child’s old headstone photo and the words I’d written each year. Some pages had torn corners. I clutched the items to my chest, my fingertips trembling. Veronica followed. “It’s best not to bring these to the new cemetery section in the future. The Shaw family has its rules. You can’t just display any old papers and letters.” “Give them back.” I looked up at her. “Everything you had removed, give it all back to me.” Veronica didn’t return anything. She only said, “I’ll prepare a proper set of keepsakes later. I won’t let Shaun and the family lose face.” I stepped closer. “Veronica, touch my son’s things again and I won’t let you off.” Veronica’s eyes immediately reddened. She stepped back half a step, as if frightened. That’s when Shaun arrived. He saw me clutching the memorial albums, Veronica standing nearby trembling, the grave site in disarray. His first words were to Veronica. “Are you alright?” Veronica shook her head, her voice choking. “I’m fine. Lena probably still can’t accept the relocation.” I held the memorial albums up to Shaun. “Look closely. These are what I’ve written to our child over the years. She had people throw them in the waste collection truck.” Shaun only glanced at them before his frown deepened. “Clearing old items before relocation was always part of the plan. Veronica was just handling it in advance. Did you really need to make such a scene?” I looked at him. “The handwritten letters are part of procedure too?” Shaun fell silent, his tone suppressing impatience. “The child’s been gone for so many years. You staying trapped in these things isn’t good for anyone.” Veronica stood behind him, saying softly, “Lena, I’ll honor him properly for you from now on.” I smiled slightly. I asked Shaun, “You really want her to do what a mother should do in my place?” Shaun’s expression darkened. “Don’t say such ugly things at a cemetery. The service has been announced to the family elders. The roster has been sent out. If you make trouble now, you’ll only disturb the child’s rest.” I said nothing more. I put the recovered handwritten letters in my bag and photographed the cleared grave site and the waste truck number. Before leaving, I looked back at the old headstone. My name was still on it. But Shaun was already standing beside Veronica. He didn’t follow me.

Lena POV When I got home, I spread the recovered memorial albums on the table. Shaun followed me in. His first words weren’t to ask if I’d been frightened, but rather, “Stop going to the old cemetery section alone from now on. Don’t give Veronica and the family the wrong idea.” I pushed the memorial album toward him. “Do you remember the day we buried our child? The first letter. You personally placed it in the box at the grave.” Shaun looked at those crumpled pages, his expression pausing for a moment. I continued, “How can you let Veronica throw these things away now?” Shaun avoided my gaze. “She didn’t know about your past habits. I’ll have someone find everything that can be recovered.” “What about the relocation application? The mother’s inscription? The three-person burial registration? Which of those did she not know about?” Shaun grew impatient, his voice turning cold. “Moving the deceased child into the Shaw family plot has always been on the family’s agenda. The inscription and registration are for convenience in future memorial services.” I looked at him. “Convenient enough to remove me from being called mother?” Shaun tugged at his collar. “No one can change the fact that you gave birth to him. But headstones are for outsiders to see. The Shaw family needs to move forward too.” He spoke smoothly. As if all my years of memorial services, fee payments, and handwritten letters were just me unable to let go. “Veronica will spend her life with me from now on.” Shaun said. “You can’t demand that everyone stay stuck in the past.” I looked down and closed the memorial album page by page. Veronica’s video call came through at that moment. Shaun saw the incoming call and frowned, not answering. I said, “Answer it.” On screen, Veronica’s eyes were rimmed with red. Behind her were memorial flower baskets and place cards for the relocation service. “Shaun, I know Lena’s unhappy.” Her voice was so soft it sounded tearful. “If she really can’t accept it, I can keep a lower profile tomorrow. But all the family elders know I’ll be participating. If I suddenly don’t go, what will they think?” Shaun’s previously tense face quickly softened. Veronica continued, “I’m the one who’ll spend life with you from now on. If I can’t even participate in matters concerning the child, how will the Shaw family view me?” After a moment of silence, Shaun said, “Proceed as originally planned.” I stood right there watching him say it. After the video ended, I asked nothing more. I divided the items on the table into two portions. One contained cemetery documents, headstone drafts, burial plot registration, bank statements, Veronica’s old social media screenshots, and the service roster. The other held ID documents, train tickets, bank cards, and property documents. That evening, Shaun stayed in the study confirming the guest list. While he wasn’t in the bedroom, I put the last few clothes, regular medications, and documents in my suitcase. The train ticket was for two days later. Just in time to avoid the Shaw family dinner the day before the relocation service. The next day, I went to the cemetery management office to request a suspension of the relocation. After checking the system, the staff member said quietly, “Ms. Hayes, the Shaw family has already paid all fees and sent out service notifications. You can only submit an objection now. You can’t stop it on the spot.” I said, “Give me a receipt.” The receipt had just been handed to me when Shaun arrived. His expression was stormy. “Why are you still causing trouble at the cemetery?” “I’m only submitting an objection.” Shaun took the receipt and tore it up on the spot. “Proceed as planned,” he told the staff member. Paper scraps fell to the ground. I bent down and picked them up one by one. Seeing my action, Shaun’s tone softened. “After the relocation ends, I’ll go with you to the new cemetery section. I’ll also have Veronica stay out of matters concerning the child.” I put the scraps in my bag. “Once her name is carved on the stone, what’s the point of staying out of it then?” Shaun didn’t answer. His phone lit up again. Veronica was asking if the service flower arrangements needed changing. Shaun looked down to check. I smiled slightly and turned to leave the management office. After leaving the cemetery, I messaged my old friend. Could the place to stay three days from now be moved up?

Lena POV The day before my child’s memorial day, I went to the old cemetery section early in the morning. I wanted to honor my son one last time in my own way before the relocation. But the grave site had already changed. Memorial flower baskets, fresh flowers, and place cards were all arranged. Shaw family members were checking service details nearby. The keepsakes and handwritten letter I’d brought were stopped by staff. “Before the service, no personal items can be placed at the grave.” I looked at the hand blocking my way, my voice cold. “This is my son’s grave.” Veronica walked over from beside the headstone, her tone gentle. “Lena, give me the things. I’ll arrange everything.” I didn’t move. Veronica looked at the handwritten letter in my hands. “This kind of personal sentiment isn’t appropriate for the Shaw family cemetery section. The child should have a new home from now on.” I looked up. “Move.” Veronica positioned herself to block the steps. “The roster has been confirmed. If you force your way in today, you’ll only make things difficult for Shaun.” I stepped closer. “When did my son become your new home?” The smile faded from Veronica’s face. She lowered her voice. “Whoever’s listed as mother on the headstone has the right to decide how future memorial services are conducted.” I went around her to place the handwritten letter at the grave. Veronica suddenly grabbed my wrist. The handwritten letters scattered across the ground. I bent down to collect them. Veronica took the opportunity to fall backward, knocking over the nearby flower stand. Flowers spilled everywhere. Shaw family members and staff all gathered around. Veronica clutched her arm, eyes reddening. “I only advised Lena not to ruin the service, and she came at me.” When Shaun arrived, he saw Veronica sitting on the ground while I crouched among scattered letters. He helped Veronica up first. “Are you hurt?” I stood up. “She grabbed my letter.” Shaun didn’t let me finish. “Put your things away first. Don’t keep making a scene in front of outsiders.” I held up those handwritten letters. “Today is the day before our child’s memorial day. I only wanted to leave one letter.” “Tomorrow is the relocation.” Shaun suppressed his anger. “The family elders have all been notified. Veronica’s been frightened by you like this. How long are you going to keep this up?” I looked at him. “Even now, you still think I’m just making trouble?” Shaun didn’t answer. He only turned to instruct his assistant, “Take her home.” The assistant stepped forward. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Veronica leaned against Shaun and suddenly drew a sharp breath. “Shaun, my arm hurts. I think I hit it just now.” Shaun’s expression changed. “Go to the hospital.” I stood before the grave, clutching the crumpled letters. Veronica’s pulling motion earlier had aggravated my old injury. My abdomen throbbed with pain. Cold sweat ran down from my temples. Shaun saw my pale face and paused mid-step. Veronica called to him softly. “Shaun, I’m a little scared.” Shaun ultimately supported Veronica toward the car, only turning back to tell his assistant, “Take her home.” I didn’t get in the assistant’s car. After Shaun’s car drove away, I crouched down and picked up the handwritten letters one by one from the ground. I didn’t try again to place the letters at the grave. I only tucked one into the memorial album. Then I photographed the altar that had been replaced, the overturned flower stand, the red marks on my wrist, and saved the video of Veronica grabbing my letter. As I left the cemetery, they were setting up directional signs for the relocation service in the distance. I messaged my old friend: Can the ticket be changed to tonight? The reply came quickly: Yes, last train. I looked at the screen and sent a simple reply. “Change it.” Great. Tonight I could finally leave the man who broke my heart. I only hoped he wouldn’t notice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402760”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After attending my best friend Mary’s birthday party, I had just lain down when my phone pushed a hot post notification. [Help me think of a disgusting birthday gift, around $200, I need to give it to my bestie the day after tomorrow.] Netizens offered all sorts of nasty suggestions, but she rejected each one, saying none were disgusting enough. Finally, she pinned her own reply: [Thanks everyone. Her boyfriend said he’ll help me get revenge the day after tomorrow and plans to make her publicly humiliate herself.] Netizens immediately sensed something was off. [What’s your relationship with your bestie’s boyfriend? Why would he help you?] The poster sent several eye-roll emojis, her tone arrogant: [His first kiss was mine, his first time was mine too.] [Every year he lets me choose my Christmas gift first. The diamond ring he bought for his girlfriend cost over a hundred thousand dollars, but it’s engraved with mine and his initials.] After reading it, I felt both absurd and disgusted. I enlarged the poster’s profile picture. In the image, two people’s fingers were interlocked, a diamond ring dazzling. My heart sank sharply, all the blood in my body suddenly freezing. That diamond ring was the one my boyfriend Marcus and I had custom-made together in France six months ago.

I sat dazed for a long time, until my phone screen automatically went dark. Just an hour ago, Marcus had looked at Mary, completely drunk in his arms, frowned and said to me: “Matthias, look how drunk she is. I’ll call you a cab, I’ll take her home.” I hadn’t drunk much. The night breeze sobered me up. Out of habit, I nodded, reminding Marcus to send me a message once he safely got Mary home. But it was only a half-hour drive. The voice calls I made to check in, the messages I sent—all sank like stones into the sea. Now looking at Mary’s post. She was wide awake. Even the drunkenness was fake. My phone buzzed. Marcus’s message popped up: [Princess Matthias, have safely delivered your bestie home.] [Your knight is coming right back.] I didn’t reply. I clicked back into the post and enlarged the profile picture. That was the ring I had personally designed, revised ten times, one of a kind. The watch on that male wrist was a limited edition Patek Philippe—the New Year’s gift I’d given Marcus this year. The jade bracelet on that female wrist was from a raw stone I’d personally selected in Myanmar and had polished. She and I each had one. Someone asked: [What did your bestie do to you?] She replied: [Today’s my birthday. My bestie is so rich, but she just gave me a bag and didn’t treat everyone like she used to!] Someone else was confused: [Aren’t you afraid your bestie will find out about what you’re doing with her boyfriend?] [During that sophomore year trip, I gave her boyfriend advice on how to win her over, but required him to do it with me seven times first. Her boyfriend agreed immediately.] [The next day my legs were so sore I couldn’t climb the Alaska mountain. My idiot bestie thought I was on my period and even felt sorry for me, making her boyfriend carry me up the mountain.] I stared at those piercing lines, my stomach churning constantly. I still remembered that day. I kept pressing on her abdomen, worried: “Mary, if you’re not feeling well, just rest at the hotel.” Marcus had also gently urged in a rare soft voice: “Don’t push yourself. If you really want to climb, Matthias and I will bring you back next time.” Mary rolled her eyes at him and insisted on being stubborn. But after just two steps, her face went pale, so I had Marcus carry her. I blinked, my nose stinging, a string of tears falling onto my phone screen. I switched to WhatsApp, my thoughts in chaos, not knowing how to confront them. Just last week, Mary had been holding my hand, half-jokingly serious. As the Steve in our love story, she would definitely take the stage to denounce every crime of our public displays of affection. I had collapsed laughing in her arms, promising her my bouquet would only go to her. But I never imagined that these two people I trusted wholeheartedly would betray me together. Marcus, Mary, and I had known each other for twelve years. We took our high school graduation photos together. We took our college graduation photos together. When Marcus confessed to me in high school, Mary had angrily yelled at him: “Marcus! Are you so upset that Matthias got first place that you’re using this dirty trick to affect her studies?” I laughed helplessly and quickly pulled her back: “Mary, I actually got first place in the whole school this time thanks to Marcus explaining problems to me.” “You know I broke my leg. I relied entirely on him to help me with notes.” Back then, when I saw Mary’s complicated expression, I thought she was frustrated with me for not living up to expectations. In college, Marcus’s kindness to me was well known. He picked me up and dropped me off for class every day, remembered my period better than I did. His backpack was eighty percent full of things prepared for me. In junior year, Marcus was already planning our future. He meticulously wrote down plans for each year, proving he could become a man who could take care of me. These past years, he accomplished every step. He achieved a six-figure annual salary, maintained emotional stability, and could even do laundry and cook after work to take care of me. He accomplished selecting a diamond ring together with me, just waiting to propose this year, marry next year, have a child the year after. Every item in his plans included me. But outside the plans, there was also Mary.

The post had updated again. My finger uncontrollably clicked into it. [Actually, I’ve indirectly given her disgusting gifts before. Like the pearl bracelet on her wrist.] [During that period I wasn’t doing well at work, and her boyfriend and I played a bit rough in bed. That bracelet once broke inside my body. Her boyfriend didn’t care and still gave it to her.] My gaze uncontrollably drifted toward the vanity. That bracelet was the Christmas gift Marcus gave me this year, saying it was a limited edition pearl bracelet he bought. [Also, this Christmas, her boyfriend chose to bring me home to meet his parents.] [The gold bracelet on my right wrist was given to me by his mother.] [He said he couldn’t marry me, so he had to compensate me in other ways.] Boom—my mind went completely blank. His mother’s simple face and apologetic expression still seemed before my eyes: “When Marcus’s grandmother gave it to me, it was this silver bracelet.” When Marcus came back, it was already 1 AM. He reeked of Mary’s signature perfume. He smiled at me indulgently: “Waiting for me to blow-dry your hair?” I was about to confront him with a cold face when Mary video-called me. She drunkenly kissed the camera: “Matthias, I love you so much.” “I love this bag so much.” Her voice dropped. “I’m just too poor. Tomorrow’s your birthday, and I won’t be able to give you something this expensive back…” I coldly interrupted her: “Oh.” Seeing my expression was off, Mary froze. Marcus suddenly bear-hugged me, his face nestling in my neck, competing for my affection as always with Mary. “Matthias, the person who loves you most is clearly me…” As he spoke, his lips moved toward my face. Mary in the video suddenly shrieked, her phone falling. Marcus jerked toward my phone screen, his face instantly turning pale. No figure visible, no sound audible. He immediately rushed toward the entrance. His voice carried a panic and anxiety I’d never heard: “Matthias, something must have happened to Mary. I’m going to check!” A loud “bang.” I heard a soft laugh from the other end of the phone. The video was hung up. I opened that post again. The latest entry was full of malice directed at me. [She’s so stupid. Can’t tell I deliberately called her boyfriend away.] [Tomorrow’s her birthday, and she definitely won’t notice I’m deliberately disgusting her. So boring.] My heart felt like it had fallen into an ice cave, feeling cold all over. I lay on the couch with wet hair, eyes open until dawn. Playing on repeat in my mind was that trip when we climbed to the summit together. Mary shouted into the wind: “Marcus, you and Matthias will love each other forever.” Marcus glanced at her and shouted too: “Mary and Matthias will be best friends forever.” The 8 o’clock alarm rang on time. I opened WhatsApp and sent Marcus a message. [Marcus, let’s break up.] But the smart lock made a sound. Mary’s voice came through, rudely criticizing Marcus. “It’s all your fault for waking up late. We didn’t get to buy Matthias’s favorite ice cream cake.” “You’re the one who took forever, had to put on makeup to see Matthias.” Marcus retorted. “It’s because you exhausted me yesterday—” They were carrying seven or eight kinds of breakfast, smiling broadly. Seeing me lying on the couch, their voices stopped abruptly. What they were saying was self-evident. Marcus casually placed the breakfast on the table and chuckled: “My phone’s special ringtone just went off. Let me see what message Matthias sent me.”

He glanced at it, his face suddenly turning deathly pale. Mary leaned her head over. Their faces were inappropriately close. Her gaze shifted to my expressionless face, her tone taking on a playful quality: “Matthias, just because Marcus didn’t come home last night?” “I haven’t even blamed you yet. I accidentally fell, and you didn’t even care about me.” “And here I bought you breakfast early this morning.” Details I’d never noticed before, I now noticed completely. When did this ice cream cake from the east side of the city become my favorite? It was because Mary loved it, and he’d queue to buy it every time. Over time, I became the excuse, and it became my preference. I looked at Mary calmly, my tone flat: “Wasn’t it you who deliberately faked a fall to trick him over and keep him at your place?” “I heard your soft laugh.” “I saw the marks on both your necks.” Mary instinctively pulled up her collar. Marcus strode toward me, his Adam’s apple bobbing: “No, Matthias, you’ve misunderstood.” “Mary fainted from the fall yesterday. I took care of her all night, that’s why I didn’t come home.” “I promise it won’t happen again.” On the first day of living with Marcus, I made an agreement with him that he absolutely could not stay out all night. Past affection and former happiness made me just want to part ways amicably with them. Seeing their all-too-familiar faces, surging emotions flooded my brain. When I opened my mouth, I couldn’t control my choking voice. “Break up.” I couldn’t say any other words. Mary pushed Marcus hard, ordering: “Quickly kneel and apologize to Matthias.” She knelt down first with a thud: “No matter what it is, it’s not your fault anyway. I’ll apologize to you first, okay?” But Marcus suddenly yanked Mary up, his eyes full of heartache. Looking at me, his eyes held no guilt, only disappointment: “Matthias, apologize to Mary!” “We’ve both been indulging your emotions all along. We get tired too. Why can’t you be more mature?” “Why can’t you trust us the way we trust you?” It felt like something completely broke inside my heart. At this moment, only numbness remained. “You both betrayed me. Are you going to keep pretending?” “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” Mary pulled Marcus away. She loudly said near Marcus’s ear: “Let her process her emotions.” “Who knows who made her angry. She’s taking it out on us.” “Maybe she watched some stupid soap opera again and identified with the female lead.” I thought I’d been clear enough. Just as the slanderer knows best how wronged you are, the betrayer also knows best what they’ve done. But after I blew out my birthday candles and turned on the lights. The two of them stood side by side in the light, smiling. Mary acted as if nothing had happened, holding a huge internally carved crystal ornament in her arms. “Surprise!” She shoved it into my arms, smiling brightly: “I specially picked this for you. Do you like it?” Marcus knelt on one knee, holding up the diamond ring toward me, his eyes full of tenderness: “Matthias, marry me!” The diamond ring sparkled, drawing cheers. Someone shouted: “Accept it!”

I looked down. Inside the crystal ornament was an engraving of my figure. In the photo she chose, I was turning my head to the side, mouth half-open. The angle was so cunningly chosen that it captured the exact moment I looked most idiotic. She always loved catching unflattering candid photos of me, telling Marcus I was cute. Friends held up their phones filming me. Mary retreated behind Marcus, also holding up her phone aimed at me. Seeing the smile at the corner of her mouth, I also knew how ridiculous I looked—all dressed up, holding this ugly crystal emitting multicolored light. Marcus raised the ring even higher, his tone urgent: “Matthias, Mary specially bought you a gift to apologize too.” “Everyone’s watching. Haven’t you been looking forward to my proposal for a long time?” Apologize? I lowered my eyes. Marcus seemed unable to see how cheap and ugly what Mary gave me was. I wanted to laugh, but tears fell first. Marcus and Mary thought I was crying from being moved. I closed my eyes and raised my hand. Suddenly an ear-piercing burst of laughter erupted on the scene. Countless sprays of cream shot onto my face and body. White ribbons fell like a funeral. The cream stuck to my body was utterly inauspicious. Flashbulbs went crazy flashing. Marcus looked at Mary with an indulgent glance, then turned to me smiling: “Matthias, Mary and I lost a game of truth or dare, don’t—” My hand swung down hard, slapping across his face. The ring was knocked away, rolling into a corner. Mary shouted at me angrily: “It’s just a joke! Why did you hit Marcus?” “Slap—” I raised my hand again, a heavy slap landing on Mary’s face. Everyone finally noticed something was wrong with me and began to intervene. “Matthias, it’s your birthday today. Making such a scene, if word gets out… it’s too undignified.” “What’s wrong with you and Marcus? You’re about to become family. Can’t you give him some face?” “Mary didn’t do anything, right? Did you really need to hit someone?” Marcus’s face darkened: “I’m fine. Matthias, quickly apologize to Mary!” “She was so thoughtful preparing a gift for you. Yesterday she even knelt for you for no reason.” I lowered my head, hiding the mockery in my eyes. The huge screen suddenly displayed a file. Opening it revealed screenshots of all the posts Mary had made. Marcus still didn’t understand. He was still lecturing me: “Yesterday you threw a tantrum for no reason. I didn’t even want to propose to you. I wanted you to calm down and realize your mistake.” “It was Mary who kept persuading me, saying today is your birthday. If she and I didn’t show up, you’d definitely lose face.” “Mary usually plays the fool to make you laugh. Now you can’t even take a joke?” As he spoke, Marcus smeared cream on his own face, then dotted some on Mary’s nose, as if comforting a tantrum-throwing child: “Now we all look like this. Not angry anymore, right?” “With a temper like yours, how will you be a mother in the future?” I stared straight at Marcus, saying coldly: “Marcus, turn around and look at the big screen.” He turned around. The first thing he saw was his chat history with Mary. Marcus: [Keep the baby.] Mary: [I don’t want to. She’s my best friend.] Mary: [If I really have it, the three of us are completely done. Do you know how much pain she’ll be in?] Marcus: [But aren’t you in pain?] Mary: [Don’t forget, she also lost a child because of us.]

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The day my wife divorced me for the ninth time, she attended a charity gala with her new assistant, making quite the public statement. I didn’t make a scene. I just looked at that man’s face—it was identical to mine before the car accident. But I knew that in thirty days, she’d come back to remarry me. That’s how it went the previous eight times. The first time, his eyes resembled mine. The second time, his mouth. The third time, his nose… The ninth time, his entire face looked like mine. But today is the thirty-second day. For the first time, she hasn’t come back. I stare at my face in the mirror, destroyed by hormone medication. It’s fine. This time, I’m not waiting anymore. The invitation to the charity gala was delivered by her assistant. That assistant stood at my door, wearing the suit brand I used to love, carrying the same cologne scent I used to wear. When he handed me the invitation, he deliberately used his left hand. Because he knew my wife liked left-handed men. Three years ago, I was left-handed. “Mr. Cavanaugh, Miss Bernard asked me to give you this.” He smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. That smile curved exactly like mine did in photos from three years ago. I took the invitation. “Got it.” I closed the door and tossed the invitation on the shoe cabinet. The invitation featured a photo of her with her assistant. She wore a black dress, he stood beside her, their faces close together. The caption read: Miss Bernard and her assistant attending the annual charity gala. With her assistant. She used to attend all those business dinners with me. I flipped the invitation over and left it face-down on the table. It’s fine. I’m used to it by now. Today is the thirty-second day. After the previous eight divorces, she always came back to remarry within thirty days. This time she hasn’t. I picked up my phone and sent my mom a message: “Mom, book me a flight back to New York for tonight.” “How many tickets?” “One.” “You sure?” “I’m sure.” “What about her?” I stared at that word “her” on the screen, then replied: “Not waiting for her anymore.” Then I turned off my phone, walked into the bedroom, and opened the closet. Her clothes took up most of the space. Mine occupied a small corner. I pulled out my clothes and packed them in a suitcase. Not much—just a few changes of clothes. Before leaving, I placed something on the coffee table: an agreement, the ninth divorce agreement. She’d already signed it. She signed it quickly that day without even looking. She didn’t know this agreement contained a gift contract tucked inside. I’d transferred our only property—the big house—into her name. There was nothing to fight over. She bought the house. She bought the car. The only thing I ever had of value was her love. Now that the love is gone, it’s time to leave. At seven that evening, I still went to the gala. Not to say goodbye, but to confirm something. I stood at the entrance to the ballroom and spotted her immediately. She wore that black evening gown, her hair pulled up, wearing the necklace from our wedding day around her neck. That necklace—I’d saved up six months of wages to buy it during our first marriage. She wore that necklace while holding another man’s arm. She saw me. Her gaze paused on me for a second. Then she turned her head and reached up to adjust her assistant’s tie. That gesture—I’d taught her that. The year we got married, she tried tying a tie for the first time and couldn’t get it right. I held her hands and taught her step by step. She learned, and then every morning for three years, she tied my tie. Now she was tying another man’s tie. Her fingers moved with the same motions, even more practiced now. Then she took her assistant’s arm and walked toward me. “You came.” She smiled. “Yeah.” “This is Diego, my new assistant.” I looked at the man. He extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. Cavanaugh.” I looked at that hand but didn’t shake it. I turned to her. “Today is the thirty-second day.” Her smile froze for an instant, then returned to normal. “I know.” “You’re not planning to come back.” She didn’t answer. The assistant spoke up: “Miss Bernard, let’s go over there. Rafael is waiting for us.” She nodded. “Alright.” Then she patted her assistant’s arm. “Let’s go.” She didn’t look at me. As she passed by, she still wore that same perfume. The first time I met her, she wore this scent. She’d never changed it in all these years. But now, this scent no longer belonged to me. I turned to watch her retreating figure. She walked into the crowd holding that man who looked ninety percent like me, her steps steady, never looking back. “Bernard.” I called her name. She stopped and turned to look at me. The entire ballroom went quiet for a moment. Everyone looked at us. She froze. This was the first time I’d called her like this in public. I used to call her “honey.” Later, I called her “Miss Bernard.” Today was the first time I called her by her full name in front of everyone. “Thank you for putting up with me these past few years.” After saying this, I turned and walked away. Whispers rose behind me. Someone asked “Who’s that?” Someone said “I think that’s Miss Bernard’s ex-husband.” I didn’t look back. I walked straight out of the hotel entrance. The evening breeze rushed in, a bit chilly. I took out my phone and sent her one final message: “I’m leaving. Don’t look for me.” Then I powered it off, removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it in a trash can by the road. I hailed a taxi. “To the airport.” The car started. The city’s night scenery flew backward past the window. I’d lived in this city for eight years, from having nothing to having nothing. I closed my eyes. The last image that floated through my mind was from many years ago, at the university gates, when she stood before me and said “I like you.” Back then, there was light in her eyes. That light illuminated me for many years. Later the light went out, and I couldn’t get it back.

On the way to the airport, my mom messaged me again. “Your dad is going to pick you up. Oh, there’s something I think you should know.” “What?” She sent a photo—a hospital test report with Bernard’s name on it. The examination date was three months ago. The report showed: she had taken mifepristone and misoprostol within a month—the drug combination used to terminate pregnancy. I gripped my phone tightly. My mom sent another message: “She had an abortion three months ago. I don’t know whose child it was. Did you ask her?” I stared at the word “abortion” on the screen. Three months ago was before our eighth divorce. During that time, she treated me well. She came home on time every day and even cooked on weekends. One night, she suddenly asked me: “Do you want children?” I was stunned, thinking she was just asking casually. Later I found an obstetrics appointment slip in her coat pocket. That night I bought flowers and a cake and waited for her to come home. When she saw the cake, her expression changed. “You went through my things.” “I didn’t mean to. I saw it when I was doing laundry.” She was silent for a long time, then said: “The baby is gone.” I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was okay, we could have another one. But she pushed me away and said: “That child wasn’t yours.” When she said this, she didn’t look at my eyes. She stared at the cake on the table, her gaze empty. “The child was Costa’s—that intern whose eyes looked like yours.” “You know what disgusts me most about myself? Even when I betray you, I can only find someone who looks like you. Even when I make mistakes, I can’t betray you completely.” That night she moved to the guest room. I sat in the living room all night without sleeping. When morning came, I asked for a divorce. She nodded. She didn’t try to keep me. That was our eighth divorce. Later she came back, said she’d fired that intern, said she’d never make the same mistake again. I believed her. Then we remarried for the ninth time and divorced for the ninth time. From beginning to end, she never told me whose child it really was. Now, looking at the report my mom sent, I suddenly didn’t want to know anymore. Whoever it belonged to didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that she never intended to tell me the truth. I messaged my mom back: “Not going to ask her.” “Why not?” “I’m tired.” After sending that message, I turned off my phone too. We arrived at the airport. I dragged my suitcase into the terminal. The electronic board displayed: To New York, 23:45. Twenty minutes until the flight. I found a seat and sat down. Next to me was a young couple. The girl leaned on the boy’s shoulder. “When we get to New York, I want to eat roast chicken.” The boy said: “Okay, you can eat whatever you want.” The girl looked up at him. “What about you? What do you want to eat?” The boy smiled and pinched her cheek. “I want to eat you.” The girl blushed and playfully hit him. I watched them, remembering how many years ago, Bernard and I had similar conversations. Back then we’d just graduated, broke as could be, renting a basement apartment for six hundred dollars a month. She worked as a salesperson at a small company. I worked as a site supervisor at a construction site. Life was hard, but every night when she came home, she’d bring me fried chicken from a street vendor, saying: “Eat up, I already ate.” I knew she was lying. She saved money to buy food for me while she became skin and bones. Back then I held her and swore to myself that I’d give her a good life. Later her company grew from a three-person workshop to an enterprise with hundreds of employees. She became a lady boss. Everyone said she married down when she married me. She never cared. Whenever someone said that, she’d hook her arm through mine and say: “Who says that? My husband is the most handsome.” When she said this, her eyes were bright. There was light in them, shining only on me. Then came the car accident. That afternoon she drove me to see the ocean. Her phone kept ringing in the car—calls from the company. I told her to answer. She said she wouldn’t. She tilted her head and smiled at me. “Today I’m only with you.” Sunlight fell on her profile. I reached out to block it. “Don’t look at me, watch the road.” Then that truck came at us.

When I woke up three days later, my body was wrapped in bandages and I couldn’t move. She sat by the bed, her eyes so swollen they were almost shut. When she saw me open my eyes, she burst into tears. “You scared me to death.” Later the doctor told me that my endocrine system was damaged in the car accident. I’d need to take hormone medication long-term to maintain function. I asked about side effects. The doctor said I’d gain weight. I asked how much. The doctor said I might become unrecognizable. She stood beside me and gripped my hand. “It’s okay. I’ll love you no matter what you look like.” When she said this, her eyes were still bright. I believed her. But I didn’t expect the medication’s side effects to come so quickly. Three months—I gained twenty pounds. Six months—forty pounds. After a year, the man in the mirror had nothing to do with me anymore. From that point on, she stopped looking at my face much. Then one day I went to her company to find her and saw a young man standing beside her. That boy’s eyes looked very much like someone. It took me a long time to remember—they looked like mine from three years ago. She said he was a new intern named Costa. He was her first “assistant.” Later, she and he grew closer and closer. I started hearing gossip. I didn’t believe it. Until one day that intern resigned. She came home, held me, and cried, saying she was sorry, saying his eyes looked too much like mine, saying she was just confused for a moment. She said: “I still love you.” I believed her. Then we remarried. Six months later, she found a second one. A third, a fourth… Each one looked like me. Each one wasn’t me. I couldn’t understand it before. Later I understood. She never loved me as a person. She loved my face. When that face was gone, she had to look elsewhere. When she found someone who could piece together a part of it, she could hold on for a while. When she couldn’t hold on anymore, she’d come back to remarry me. Because no matter how many she found, she couldn’t piece together a complete me. So she had to come back, to confirm I was still here, to check in before going to find the next one. She wasn’t looking for substitutes. She was extending her own life. And I was her oxygen tank. When she ran out of air, she’d come back for a breath. When she’d had enough, she’d go out into the world to breathe. The airport announcement sounded. I stood up and dragged my suitcase toward the gate. Past the gate, I didn’t look back. The night wind was cold. I pulled my coat tighter. I found my seat by the window and sat down, looking out at the pitch-black night. My phone vibrated in my pocket—the new phone. Only my mom knew the number. I took it out and saw my mom’s message: “Cavanaugh, your dad already left. Be careful on the road.” “Okay.” “Did she contact you?” “Don’t know. I turned off my phone.” “What if she comes looking?” “She won’t. She doesn’t know I left.” “What if she finds out?” I looked out the window, thinking for a long time. “Even if she knows, it won’t matter. I’m not waiting anymore.” The plane taxied out onto the runway and rose into the night sky. This city, this woman, this eight-year relationship—all of it became nothing but distant lights. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. For the first time in eight years, I didn’t look back. After the gala ended, she returned home. She pushed open the door. The lights were still on. The living room was quiet. An agreement sat on the coffee table. She picked it up and flipped through a few pages. It was the divorce agreement, the ninth one. She’d already signed it without even looking. But tucked inside this agreement was another paper—a gift contract. It stated: I voluntarily gift my only jointly owned property, one house, entirely and freely to the woman. The signature was my name. The date was today. She held that paper, her fingers beginning to tremble. She rushed into the bedroom. All my clothes were gone from the closet. My computer was gone from the study. My toothbrush was gone from the bathroom. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number. Powered off. She tried again. Still powered off. She called my mom. No answer. She panicked. Really panicked. Every previous divorce, I’d kept my phone on, waiting for her call, waiting for her to come back. But not this time. She rushed out and drove around the city searching. She went to that noodle shop. The owner said he hadn’t seen me today. She went to that old fifty-square-foot apartment. Inside it was dusty, clearly no one had been there in a long time. She went to the gym I used to frequent. The receptionist said I hadn’t been there in three months. She searched every place she could think of. Nothing. As dawn approached, she stopped by the roadside, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, her whole body shaking. Then her phone rang. She grabbed it frantically.

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On my wedding anniversary, my husband Karen told me he had to wine and dine clients all night and couldn’t come home. My daughter Clara insisted on surprising Daddy. I pulled some strings to get VIP access and quietly brought her to Black Pack’s exclusive banquet. In the private booth, Clara asked me in her sweet little voice: “Mommy, can I go find Daddy?” Before I could answer, an Omega sitting nearby leaned over with a smile. “What an adorable child. My Alpha always says when our baby is born, they should be this well-behaved too.” As she handed Clara a macaron, the wolf-head brooch on her collar gleamed blindingly under the crystal chandelier. I asked with a trembling voice, “That’s a really unique brooch. Where did you get it custom made?” Pride radiated from her eyes: “My Alpha gave it to me as a gift.” “He said this is an exclusive token for top-tier Alphas. It’s one of a kind in the entire world.” I stared hard at that brooch—it was the token my father had personally given Karen when he assumed leadership of Black Pack. My blood ran cold instantly. I looked up at her, my voice shaking so badly I could barely speak: “Your Alpha… it’s not Karen from Black Pack, is it?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise, her smile growing more smug: “Oh, you actually know him?”

Clara lay against my lap, her little hands clutching my clothes as she looked around. Karen had said this morning he’d be out all night entertaining clients and couldn’t come home. But our daughter kept insisting she wanted to find Daddy and surprise him, so I pulled some strings to get VIP access and quietly brought her here. The banquet hall’s crystal chandeliers were dazzling. Everyone here belonged to the upper echelons of werewolf society. I had just sat down with Clara when the Omega next to us turned and smiled, offering Clara a macaron. “What a beautiful little girl, like a little angel.” Lena smiled warmly. As she raised her hand, the diamond-encrusted wolf-head brooch on her dress collar sparkled brilliantly. “My man loves children too. He always says he wants us to have one as sweet as your baby.” I blocked her hand offering the macaron, my gaze falling on the brooch. “That’s a White Pack custom piece, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere.” “You have a good eye.” She deliberately straightened up, making the brooch more visible, unable to hide the pride in her voice. “My mate gave this to me. He said it’s an exclusive piece only top-tier Alphas can get. You can’t buy it anywhere no matter how much money you have. I actually thought it was too showy, but he insisted I wear it, saying only I’m worthy of it.” My fingertips turned white from gripping so hard, though my expression remained unchanged: “White Pack custom pieces are only given to Alphas recognized by the clan. Your mate is quite generous.” This brooch was given to Karen by my father personally when he ascended to the Alpha position. Years ago, when Black Pack’s old Alpha stepped down, it was my father who used his connections with the Elder Council to push Karen into the Alpha position. Since our marriage, although Karen was nominally the one in power at Black Pack, most of Black Pack’s resources still relied on White Pack connections. Obviously his Omega lover didn’t understand these inside details. “Of course, he’s always generous with me.” She tossed her hair, revealing a moonstone wolf-tail bracelet on her wrist. The milky white glow stood out especially under the crystal lights. “Like this bracelet—he specially gave it to me last Valentine’s Day. He said it’s a Black Pack heirloom, only given to the Pack’s Luna. I’ve worn it for almost a year and haven’t wanted to take it off.” My breathing stopped for half a second. This was what Karen had personally put on my wrist when we got married, saying it was a testament to our love. Half a year ago Karen said he accidentally lost this bracelet when we moved, and I’d felt regretful for so long. Turns out he gave it to his mistress. “And he’s given me more than just these.” Lena raised her right hand. The pink diamond’s brilliance hurt my eyes under the cruise ship lighting. “This is what he gave me for my birthday last year. A pink diamond this large is very hard to find.” I grabbed Lena’s wrist and examined it carefully. This was the pink diamond I’d bought at auction for forty million dollars. Karen actually dared to steal my things and give them to his mistress! “Mommy!” Clara suddenly tugged at my sleeve, her childish voice clear. “You’re hurting that lady.” I saw Lena’s twisted expression and released her wrist. The day the pink diamond went missing, I searched the entire house and couldn’t find it. Finally Karen had held me and laughed, saying: “Don’t be upset. I’ll buy you an even better one.” At the time I’d thought Karen was so considerate, that I really hadn’t married the wrong person. Now thinking back, I just felt Karen was hypocritical to the extreme. I suppressed the urge to retch and tightly gripped Clara’s hand. “Are you feeling unwell?” Lena finally noticed something was wrong with me. “A bit of low blood sugar.” I forced a smile and took the water a server handed me. “When did you and your mate meet?”

Lena froze at my question, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “I’m his mistress, but hear me out—Karen says he has no feelings for that nominal mate of his! It’s all her family clinging to him.” “Her family just saw that Karen was capable and a natural Alpha candidate, so they pestered him relentlessly until he married her. The pathetic resources her family gave Karen were all earned by Karen saving her back then. He doesn’t owe that woman anything.” My fingers gripping the water glass suddenly tightened, knuckles turning white, fingertips nearly embedding into the glass. Saved me? Hearing this almost made me laugh out loud. When I met Karen, he was just a bottom-tier werewolf in Black Pack who couldn’t even afford a decent business dinner. One year Black Pack was attacked by rogues. He rashly charged forward trying to claim credit and was nearly surrounded and killed in the chaos. I desperately dragged him out of the pile of corpses and saved his life. To save him I was poisoned with wolf venom and nearly lost the ability to shift for life. At the time he’d knelt before me with red eyes, clutching my hand and swearing he’d never betray me in this lifetime. To make things easier for him, I went home and begged my father on my knees for five million in startup capital. I also got him inserted into Black Pack’s core management and helped him climb to the Alpha position. My family poured our hearts out to pull him from the mud into the spotlight, giving him money, connections, and dignity. But in his mouth, my life-saving grace, all my sacrifices, became evidence of me pestering him relentlessly to marry him. He turned around and used our sincerity as gifts to court his mistress, even twisting the truth to say we were clinging to him. Looking at Lena’s smug face, the last bit of hope in my heart shattered completely. “That woman is not only gloomy in personality but also boring in bed,” Lena pursed her lips, her face full of disdain. “Karen says staying with her is especially depressing. If it weren’t for transitioning through her family’s connections, he would have divorced her long ago.” As she spoke, her face took on a deliberately flaunting sweetness: “But the hard times are almost over. Karen said once he’s firmly established as Alpha, he’ll divorce that woman immediately.” Next month on the 16th is our anniversary. He says he’s going to give me the beach house under that woman’s name.” The 16th… That was the day I woke up after being severely injured and falling into a coma while saving Karen. Karen didn’t come see me until the day after I woke up, saying he’d been delayed handling clan affairs the night before. Turns out while I lay unconscious in the hospital bed, he was sleeping with another Omega and taking credit for my life-saving grace to show off. “That woman still has no clue even now. She’s stupid as hell.” Lena sneered, her tone arrogant to the extreme. “She still thinks she married such a good, loyal husband. When Karen asks her for a divorce, she won’t even have anywhere to cry. If she’s smart she’ll pack her things and get lost, instead of refusing to let go of the Luna position.” She continued prattling in my ear, bragging about her sex with Karen, counting off the things Karen had given her—things that originally belonged to me. I couldn’t suppress the fury in my chest any longer. I suddenly stood up and viciously threw the water in my hand onto her smug face.

“Ah—! Are you insane?!” Lena bounced up from the booth. Ice water ran down her haute couture gown. Her foundation and eyeliner smeared into a mess, making her look like a painted cat. Clara was startled by the sudden scream and burst into tears with a “wah,” hugging my leg tightly. I immediately shielded my daughter behind me, looking at her expressionlessly as she jumped around. “What did I do to you that you’d throw water on me?” Lena dabbed at her face with an expensive silk handkerchief, while playing the victim to the surrounding onlookers. “Everyone look! This person threw water on me for no reason! How can there be no rules?!” Banquet attendants quickly squeezed through the crowd, bowing as they tried to mediate: “Ma’am, please calm down. Talk it out nicely, don’t disturb the other guests’ dining experience.” “Talk nicely? I’ve been soaked like this and you want me to talk nicely?” Lena pointed at my nose and shouted, her nail almost poking my face. “Do you know who I am? I’m the person Alpha Karen specially brought here! Go get Karen over here right now. Every minute you’re late, I’ll have him fire you!” The attendant looked troubled: “Ma’am, Alpha Karen is currently at the main table hosting the three clans’ elders. He really can’t step away.” “Can’t step away? His woman has been bullied like this and he can’t step away?” Lena raised her voice shrilly. “You won’t go? Fine, I’ll go to the main table and find him myself. Then I’ll tell him you were disrespectful to me, and we’ll see how Karen deals with you!” The attendant had no choice but to steel himself and go report. A few minutes later he returned, looking embarrassed: “Alpha Karen says he really can’t leave right now. He asks everyone to calm down, and he’ll handle it after the banquet ends.” Lena was clearly unsatisfied with this response. Just as she was about to make a scene, a Beta’s steady voice suddenly rang through the banquet hall—it was Karen’s second-in-command: “Distinguished guests, we have a female guest in the inner hall who has publicly attacked another person, causing harm to Alpha Karen’s Omega. Banquet security, please immediately restrain the troublemaker to ensure the safety of Alpha Karen’s Omega.” The moment the microphone announcement ended, every gaze in the banquet hall focused on me in unison. “Daring to touch someone Karen brought? Does she not want to survive in werewolf circles anymore?” “Karen’s Omega is so pitiful, accompanying her boyfriend to a banquet and getting bullied…” “Making a scene with a child in tow, isn’t she afraid of traumatizing the kid?” Some people took out their phones to secretly snap photos. Guests at nearby tables, afraid of getting involved in trouble, all shifted their seats away. A circle immediately cleared around our booth. Clara trembled all over, burying her face in my arms, crying softly and asking: “Mommy, why is everyone looking at us? Why won’t Daddy help us?” I held my daughter as bone-chilling cold shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. In front of the entire circle, Karen had turned me and my daughter into a laughingstock for everyone to gawk at. Two banquet security guards in black suits walked up to me. Seeing the guards arrive, Lena immediately put on an act, standing behind them. “It’s her who threw water on me for no reason. I didn’t even provoke her. Quickly take her away, I’m scared…” The guards reassured Lena, then turned to me: “Ma’am, please cooperate with us. Don’t make this difficult for us.” A server who appeared to be a shift supervisor quietly advised me: “Ma’am, I think you should just apologize. Alpha Karen has a lot of influence in the circle now. If this gets bigger, it won’t be good for you or the child.”

Black Pack is a top-tier clan in North American werewolf circles. One of the core reasons Karen could rise to power back then was because the old Alpha had no heir, plus our White Pack fully supported him from behind, which allowed him to overcome all objections and take the leadership position. I never expected that the person I helped into power would now use that power to suppress me. Lena proudly smoothed the wolf-head brooch at her collar and sneered: “Of course. Karen’s abilities are recognized by the entire circle. Otherwise he couldn’t have taken the Alpha position.” She turned to look at the two guards, putting on a frightened appearance. “Please take her away quickly. I’m really afraid she’ll suddenly go crazy again. My heart is still pounding hard.” The guards looked at me helplessly: “Ma’am, if you won’t apologize, we’ll have to ask you to wait temporarily in the back lounge.” “I did nothing wrong and won’t apologize.” I pulled Clara closer into my arms. “On the contrary, this lady publicly spread rumors and insulted others. She’s the one who should apologize.” The attendant, seeing I wouldn’t back down, could only contact Karen’s Beta again. Half a minute later he received a reply: “Alpha Karen instructs that the troublemaker be removed from the banquet immediately. Force may be used if necessary.” The guard sighed and made a gesture for me to go with them: “Ma’am, please cooperate with our work.” The surrounding guests’ gazes grew even more piercing. Lena deliberately shook the moonstone bracelet on her wrist, the silent flaunting slapping my face like a physical blow. I looked around at those clueless, pointing guests, at the guards caught in a difficult position. Clara trembled in my arms, her little shoulders shaking with sobs. An unprecedented fury burned in my chest. Karen, not only have you betrayed our mate bond, now you’re using the power my family gave you to twist the truth in front of the entire circle, treating me and my daughter like troublemaking outsiders? Fine. Just fine. I gently wiped the tears from Clara’s face, softly comforting her: “Baby don’t be scared, Mommy will protect you.” Then I raised my head, looking the guards straight in the eye, my voice clear and firm: “Let’s go.” I took Clara’s hand and followed the guards toward the backup lounge at the rear of the banquet hall. Clara looked up at me, her big eyes brimming with tears, asking in confusion: “Mommy, why do we have to leave? When will Daddy come take us home?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. I crouched down to meet her eyes, using my fingertips to gently wipe the tears from her face: “Baby, remember this—no matter what happens, Mommy will always love you and always protect you.” Clara pressed close to me, her little hand clutching the corner of my clothing and refusing to let go. Through the lounge door, I could hear the music and clinking glasses from the banquet outside. The resolve in my heart grew stronger: Karen, you must pay the price for your betrayal and shamelessness. The banquet finally ended. Two enforcement officers from the Elder Council were already waiting outside the lounge door. Under the staff’s watchful eyes, Clara and I were brought to the VIP reception room of the banquet venue. Clara was well-behaved the whole time, just tightly gripping my hand without crying out loud anymore. We’d barely sat down when Lena’s coquettish voice came from outside the door: “Karen, look, she ruined my new gown. You have to make her apologize to me and compensate me for the dress.” “Alright, alright. She’s just an ordinary clan member with no background. I already spoke to the Elder Council. You can handle her however you want. I guarantee you’ll get your justice.” The door was pushed open. Karen walked in first, wearing a custom black banquet suit, his tone arrogant: “Where’s the troublemaker?” I spoke coldly: “Right here, Alpha Karen.” The smile on his face instantly froze. His pupils dilated sharply, his entire face filled with disbelieving terror.

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When my boyfriend pressed the wrong elevator button for the 99th time—going to my friend Jade’s floor instead of mine—he looked at me accusingly. “Why didn’t you remind me? Well, since we’re already at Jade’s door, might as well help her change that light bulb.” I froze. Ever since Jade moved to the floor above mine a year ago, my boyfriend had been pressing the wrong floor button every single time. Once, when I had a high fever, he delivered medicine to Jade’s apartment instead because she had menstrual cramps. Another time, he was supposed to meet me for a movie, but he delivered the tickets to Jade’s place. Even on my birthday, he showed up at Jade’s door carrying my cake. And now, watching him walk into my best friend’s apartment without looking back, I coldly pressed the elevator close button. He had forgotten. Today was the day my lease expired. Today was the day I was moving out. Since he loved going to Jade’s place so much, he could stop coming to mine altogether. When I went downstairs, the moving company had already arrived. “Miss Winters, we’ll start moving now.” I nodded. My phone buzzed—a message from Ethan Lucas. “Where did you go? Don’t wander off.” This sudden show of concern made my fingers tremble slightly. But the moment I opened the chat, his next message popped up: “Go downstairs to the store and buy me a wrench. Jade doesn’t have one here.” I stared at his message for several seconds. So he hadn’t suddenly noticed I wasn’t following behind him. He only realized I wasn’t by his side because he needed me to do something for him. Scrolling up through our chat history, every single message was related to Jade Morgan. “Give Jade that skincare set your coworker brought you from France. I’ll buy you a different one.” “Jade mentioned wanting Japanese food last time. Let’s go after you get off work today. I already made a reservation.” Ethan’s messages to me were always declarative statements. He had already decided. He never thought to ask for my opinion. The most recent message before these was from that rainy day when I asked if he could pick me up. He said: “I’m already home. Just take a cab back yourself.” But the next second, Jade posted on her social media. A tilted umbrella sheltering her as she got into the passenger seat. “Almost got trapped in the rain. Lucky someone came to my rescue.” I recognized that car interior all too well. I used to think that since he was my boyfriend and Jade was my best friend, I should be happy they got along well. But my repeated compromises only made Ethan worse. This time, I didn’t reply. As I was packing in my room, Ethan sent another message: “Why aren’t you back yet? Jade says she wants French food. I’m taking her there first.” “Come meet us later.” This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. We’d make plans to eat together. But when I was late because of work or traffic, all that was left for me were cold leftovers. And Ethan’s response to my hurt feelings was always indifferent: “Jade has stomach problems. She ate first. The food is just a little cold, it still tastes fine. Stop making a fuss.” Stop making a fuss. When a pipe burst in my apartment and left the whole place flooded, I called him. He said the same thing: “I don’t have time to help you with that. Find a repairman yourself. Stop making a fuss.” So I washed the curtains myself, changed light bulbs myself, slowly learning not to depend on him. But with Jade, he showed a completely different face: “You don’t need to be so independent as a woman. If you need anything from now on, I’ll help you. You live so close to Vienna anyway, it’s no trouble.” I didn’t understand why the same kind of help was considered “making a fuss” when I was his girlfriend, but “no trouble” when it came to Jade. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart and messaged Ethan: “You two enjoy. I have things to do.” It took him a long time to reply: “Throwing another tantrum? Vienna Winters, how old are you? Stop being childish.” I had thrown tantrums before. Last winter, I had a fever of 102 degrees. I was shivering all over and called him to bring me medicine. But he said he was at Jade’s place. Jade had menstrual cramps and couldn’t get out of bed, so he went to rub her stomach. I said I was suffering too. He was silent for two seconds before saying: “You’ve always had a strong constitution, haven’t you? How bad could it be? Just buy some ibuprofen.” That was the first time I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. He was my boyfriend, yet I could never be his priority. I asked him for a breakup. But he didn’t say a word—just blocked me first. He knew I loved him too much. I was too dependent on him. So he let me cry for two days, let me cry myself dry. Then he had Jade invite me out to dinner. I pathetically chose to reconcile. After that, I never threw tantrums again. But this time was different. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was serious.

The movers went in and out, and the things in my apartment decreased piece by piece. Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there was almost nothing of Ethan’s in my home. A pair of dusty slippers, a cup he’d used once—I couldn’t find a third item. Even the slippers and cup were things I had bought. He had never given me any proper gifts. When Jade moved, he brought her a housewarming present. On Jade’s birthday, he prepared a large bouquet of her favorite white roses. But to me, he always said: “Those formalistic things are meaningless. When two people live together, it’s better to be practical.” I had questioned him, expressed my dissatisfaction. He said: “I give your best friend gifts to make you look good, don’t I?” I laughed bitterly at myself. My phone buzzed—Mom was calling. “Hello, Vienna honey, how did things go with you and Ethan discussing the wedding?” Not long ago, Ethan and I had met with both our parents. Both families were very satisfied. When it came time to set the wedding date, Ethan said his career was in an upward phase and there was no rush to get married. At the time, though disappointed, I still understood his work pressure. But now, I was only grateful. A man who couldn’t even remember where my door was—after marriage, would I have to wait alone in an empty house forever? “Mom. We’re not getting married. I’m planning to break up.” Mom’s voice immediately became tense: “Why? Did he wrong you somehow?” “No, I just suddenly feel we’re not compatible.” On the other end of the line, Mom was clearly silent for a moment. After all, everyone knew I had loved Ethan Lucas for a full seven years. How deep seven years of feelings ran. Mom knew. Jade knew too. I was the one who pursued Ethan first. To get close to him, I listened to his favorite bands, read books in his field, even secretly joined the same gym just to run into him. After graduation, he signed with a company in New York. Without a second thought, I gave up the job my professor had lined up for me and followed him with my suitcase. Mom was so angry she didn’t speak to me for three days, but I only said: “Mom, if I miss him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Back then, Jade had chided me in frustration: “Vienna Winters, you’re going to ruin yourself over this man.” Jade and I had been best friends for ten years. She had long since become as important to me as family. But no one expected that now she would enjoy my boyfriend’s care without a second thought, completely disregarding my feelings. Looking at Jade’s newly posted romantic dinner on social media, my eyes stung. The video was tagged at that restaurant I had researched so thoroughly. Flickering candlelight, exquisite dishes, pleasant piano music in the background. But every time I invited Ethan to go there with me, he always said: “We’re about to get married. Can you be a little more frugal?” “Spending thousands on one meal. Candlelight dinner—we can have that at home.” He said it so righteously that I could only swallow my expectations again and again. But now, with one word from Jade saying she wanted it, he took her to that restaurant I had longed for. When the last item was moved, I collapsed exhausted on the sofa. The last time I moved, I called Ethan and he said he was too busy with work and told me to find someone myself. To save money, I could only grit my teeth and move everything myself. By the end, I was so exhausted that my chronic back problem flared up, forcing me to rest in bed for two days. But when Jade moved, Ethan specifically took time off work. “Moving is so exhausting. Your best friend is single—we should help her out.” I watched him bustling about, sweat soaking his hair, and felt he was utterly unfamiliar. So he wasn’t incapable of helping someone move. He just couldn’t spare a single day off for me.

While I was organizing things, my phone exploded with calls. Ethan was calling: “Vienna Winters, open the door. You even changed the password? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was silent for a moment before speaking: “It doesn’t mean anything. Ethan Lucas, let’s break up.” But the person on the other end acted as if he hadn’t heard me. His voice was suppressing anger: “Jade remembered you wanted to eat at that restaurant. You didn’t come, but she specially got takeout for you. And what do you do? You changed the password and won’t even open the door when I knock.” “Vienna Winters, stop being so unreasonable!” I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard me say we should break up, or if he was so used to dismissing my requests for a breakup as just another unreasonable tantrum. I was about to repeat myself when he had already hung up. I laughed bitterly at myself. My fault. I had loved Ethan Lucas too openly, too publicly. Even he himself didn’t believe I would leave him. The next day, when I went to the mall to buy things for my new place, I turned around a shelf and ran straight into two people. Ethan was carrying shopping bags large and small. Jade was walking beside him. The smiles on both their faces stiffened the moment they saw me. “Vienna, don’t misunderstand. Ethan is just helping me buy things, worried I couldn’t carry them alone.” Jade explained while trying to reach for my hand. But Ethan yanked her back: “Why explain to her? She hasn’t even apologized for yesterday.” “Jade, you spoil her too much. That’s why she’s so ungrateful.” Jade looked at me with concern but still obediently followed Ethan to the checkout counter. Watching their backs, my heart felt like it had a gaping hole. Ethan never accompanied me shopping. He said shopping was too tiring, too troublesome. “If you need something, just order delivery. Why go through all that trouble yourself?” But now he was carrying bags large and small for Jade without complaint. Outside the mall, Ethan loaded everything into the trunk. Jade had already gotten into the passenger seat and rolled down the window to wave at me. Ethan naturally said: “Get in. I’ll drive you both home.” Seeing my eyes land on the “Girlfriend’s Exclusive Seat” sticker on the passenger side, he frowned, somewhat impatiently: “Jade hurt her back at the gym recently. The passenger seat has more space. You sit in the back for now.” Look at that. He remembered all of Jade’s habits. He remembered her bad back. He remembered her menstrual cramps. But he couldn’t remember the old injury I got from moving heavy boxes. My nose stung. I forced myself to speak: “No thanks. It’s not on my way.” Jade reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Vienna, why are you being like this?” “Don’t you want me in the passenger seat? I’ll get out right now.” But Ethan pressed her hand down first and sneered: “If it’s not on your way, forget it. Let’s go.” As soon as he finished speaking, the car started and drove away from me. With me, Ethan never seemed to have much patience.

A few days later, Ethan sent me an address again. “My mom invited you to dinner to discuss the wedding.” I typed and deleted in the message box, hesitating for a long time before finally replying with a simple “okay.” Even if I had decided to break up, I should give the older generation an explanation in person. After all, after seven years together, Ethan’s mother had been relatively good to me. When I walked into the private dining room, Mrs. Lucas was already there. I exchanged pleasantries with her. Only then did Ethan arrive late with Jade. “Mom, Jade works at the company next to mine. She’s also Vienna’s good friend.” “This restaurant is close to the office, so I brought her along.” Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat lightly, her expression somewhat unpleasant. But Ethan acted as if he didn’t notice and directly picked up the menu to start ordering. Everything he ordered was Jade’s favorite dishes. He and Jade both loved spicy food, but I couldn’t handle it. Every time the three of us ate Mexican food together, they would enjoy the peppers with relish while I could barely take two bites before coughing uncontrollably. “Ethan, don’t order so many spicy dishes—” Mrs. Lucas frowned and looked at me. Only then did Ethan seem to remember, saying casually: “Then let’s get this almond pudding. Vienna likes sweet things.” Bitterness welled up in my heart. After ordering everything, he finally deigned to consider my taste as an afterthought. “Ethan,” Jade looked somewhat troubled, glancing between Ethan and me: “Vienna is allergic to nuts.” Reminded by someone else, Ethan finally showed some panic, quickly flipping through the menu: “Oh, then we’ll change it. How about—” “No need to bother.” I stood up and interrupted him. How ridiculous. Seven years, yet not enough time for him to learn my tastes. Even my dietary restrictions had to be pointed out by someone else. I looked apologetically at Mrs. Lucas and spoke softly: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lucas. I won’t be staying for dinner.” “Ethan Lucas and I have already broken up.” After saying this, I turned and left the private room. Ethan didn’t chase after me. It wasn’t until evening that Ethan finally showed up at my old apartment door. He rang the doorbell over and over, but no one answered. Impatience had just begun to show on his face when a neighbor stuck their head out: “Stop knocking. This is an empty unit. The woman who lived here moved out last week.”

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The night before my wedding, I opened the smart security camera in our new home, but the feed accidentally connected to five years in the future. Ethan sat on the sofa. I smiled and pressed the intercom button. “Ethan, my grandfather said he’ll officially announce me as the heir to the Winchester estate at the wedding.” He suddenly looked up at the camera, his eyes filled with pity. “Lily, did you take too many hallucinogens today?” Before I could respond, my sister Rain walked into frame, her belly swollen with pregnancy. Ethan gently pulled her close. “Don’t you remember? The night we registered our marriage, I locked you in the attic. You’re just a fake occupying her place.” “Rain is the true Winchester bloodline. She’s been running Winchester Corporation for five years now. I forged your signature long ago to transfer all your shares to her.” “Don’t worry. Even if you really have gone insane, you’re still my legitimate wife. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” A bone-deep chill swept through my body as I plunged into an icy abyss. The smart camera screen emitted a harsh burst of static, then went completely black.

I collapsed onto the bed covered in rose petals, my body soaked in cold sweat. Less than ten hours remained until our wedding of the century tomorrow. No wonder for the past six months, Ethan had been forcibly interfering with my work under the pretext of letting me focus on wedding preparations. First, he’d transferred my most capable assistant away from headquarters under the excuse of expanding company operations. Then he’d sent my protective grandfather to a fully enclosed private hospital under the guise of convalescence. They wanted to completely take over my shares in Winchester Corporation! Face pale, I fumbled for my phone, wanting to call the police, wanting to contact my personal lawyer. But the upper left corner of the screen clearly displayed “No Service.” The entire mansion’s signal had been blocked. I staggered toward the door and yanked the handle, only to discover it had been locked from the outside. Just then, steady, familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Ethan wore the loungewear I’d personally selected for him, carrying a glass of milk, his eyes tender. “Lily, why aren’t you asleep yet?” He approached, habitually moving to kiss my forehead. “Being a bride tomorrow will be exhausting. Drink your milk and get some rest.” If this had been ten minutes ago, I would have drowned in his devotion and willingly drunk that glass of milk. But now, I only felt violently nauseated. I knocked the glass from his hand, grabbed a shard of broken glass and pressed it against my carotid artery, staring him down. “Ethan, drop the act.” “I know what you put in there. Don’t even think about taking Winchester shares from me!” Ethan sighed helplessly, his tone still gentle. “Lily, your persecution complex has been getting worse lately.” “Winchester would only destroy you. I’m taking over the company to protect our future together. Why can’t you understand my good intentions?” As he spoke, he opened his phone screen and turned it toward me. Rain’s hand was casually pinching my grandfather’s oxygen tube. “Ethan! Get her out of there!” My eyes nearly split with rage. The glass shard instantly pierced my skin. Seeing my blood, Ethan frowned, his tone displeased. “Rain is just visiting my grandfather. Why hurt yourself? It makes me worry.” He raised his hand slightly, and the bodyguard outside immediately handed him another glass of milk. “But my grandfather’s heart and lungs are so fragile. If the machines malfunction in the middle of the night, I wonder how many minutes he could survive?” I looked at my grandfather’s weakly rising chest in the video, trembling as I released the glass and drank that cup of milk. The drug took effect extremely fast. Accompanied by intense muscle weakness, I sank into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been changed into an elaborate French wedding gown. My brain was abnormally clear, but my throat couldn’t produce a single sound. My limbs were completely immobile, held down by two bodyguards as they slowly wheeled me into the hotel ballroom. Ethan knelt before me, leaning close to whisper in my ear with a low laugh. “Lily, are you happy? Our wedding is about to begin.”

Ethan slowly stood up and took the microphone from the officiant. The romantic wedding photos on the big screen abruptly stopped. In their place appeared two documents stamped with embossed seals. A paternity test, and a diagnosis of severe manic-type schizophrenia. The entire venue fell deathly silent. Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Everyone, I apologize. Today, besides our wedding, I must announce something heartbreaking.” “My bride, Lily Winchester, is not of Winchester blood. The true heiress is only one person—Miss Rain.” The crowd below erupted in gasps. Ethan closed his eyes in pain. “Unable to accept the truth, Lily developed severe schizophrenia. Just last night, she even tried to self-harm to threaten her family.” The big screen flickered, playing a silent surveillance video. It showed me from just hours ago in the bridal suite, holding a glass shard against my bleeding neck! My pupils constricted sharply, blood rushing backward through my body. Everything had been within his control all along! “For Winchester’s stability, and for Lily to receive proper treatment.” Ethan stepped aside. The family attorney, who had watched me grow up, walked onto the stage. He avoided my gaze and read aloud: “Given that Miss Lily Winchester has been determined legally incapacitated, her Winchester shares shall be transferred by her husband Ethan to the true heiress, Rain.” Rain, wearing an elaborate bridesmaid dress, carried the transfer documents to me. Looking at her pale, slender hands, a painful memory flashed through my mind. Six months ago, I’d been in a car accident with a compound fracture in my right hand, desperately waiting for family consent to save the limb. But Ethan, who was almost at the hospital, turned back because Rain claimed her claustrophobia was triggered and she was going to cut her wrists. I missed the optimal surgery window, leaving my right hand barely able to hold a pen. Afterward, he’d slapped himself hard at my hospital bedside, crying as he held me tight. “Lily, it’s all my fault. Rain is your sister. I was afraid if something happened to her, you’d spiral. From now on, my hands are your hands. I’ll take care of you forever.” Now, Ethan walked over and gripped my right hand. On that document stripping me of everything, he firmly signed my name. The guests finally reacted, their contempt and disgust pelting me like hail. “No wonder she’s in a wheelchair—she’s insane!” “Mr. Fitzgerald is so unfortunate, tricked into marriage by this lunatic!” A glass of champagne was viciously thrown from below. Ethan removed his custom suit and wrapped my trembling body in it. His face was cut by glass shards. “Please don’t blame Lily. It’s not her fault—it’s the illness.” “I, Ethan Fitzgerald, swear that no matter what Lily becomes, she is my lawfully wedded wife. I will never abandon her!” The guests were moved by his loyalty and devotion. He pressed his lips to my ear, his voice tender as a love confession. “Did you hear that, Lily? The whole world knows you’re insane.” “You’ll stay by my side alone and be Mrs. Fitzgerald for the rest of your life.”

When the drugs wore off, I opened my eyes to find myself in a completely sealed room. A surveillance camera’s red light blinked overhead. The door lock clicked softly. Rain walked in, smiling triumphantly. “Lily, you’re finally awake. After being overshadowed by you for twenty years, I’ve finally taken back everything that belongs to me.” “The Winchester inheritance, and Ethan—they’re all mine now. And you can only stay locked in here like a dog forever.” I looked at her coldly and laughed. “You really think Ethan loves you? You’re just his shield for swallowing Winchester. He made you the heir because he likes how stupid you are.” Her expression changed. She grabbed my hair viciously. “Shut up! That old bastard helped you hide your fake identity for twenty years, but Ethan still found out, didn’t he?” “Ethan helped me, and you have nothing. What right do you have to sow discord now!” As if remembering something exciting, she suddenly sneered. “Lily, you don’t actually think that severe schizophrenia diagnosis at today’s banquet was just fake paperwork Ethan paid for, do you?” “I was the one who told him about your habit of drinking warm water every morning.” My brain exploded. Ice shot up my spine straight to the top of my skull. I’d thought yesterday’s milk was the first time. But all these years, the warm water he’d handed me after every good morning kiss had been drugged! She raised her hand with a smile, her sharp nails scratching across my face. Blood immediately welled up. Ethan walked in at that moment. Rain’s expression changed instantly. She collapsed weakly to the floor, tears threatening to fall. “Ethan, Lily’s manic episode is acting up. She tried to hit me…” Ethan strode over, but didn’t help her up. “Rain, the surveillance camera overhead is still on. I made you Winchester’s CEO, not gave you permission to touch Lily.” “This is the Fitzgerald house. Lily is Mrs. Fitzgerald. Know your place and get out.” Rain’s face went deathly pale. Filled with resentment and humiliation, she stormed out. Ethan took out an alcohol swab and gently cleaned the blood from my face. “Rain is just a tool to stabilize the board of directors. As long as you stay obediently in this room, I guarantee no one can hurt you.” He picked up a white pill and brought it to my lips. “Since you know I’ve been feeding you these for years, just be obedient now.” “Don’t forget—my grandfather is still in my care facility.” I looked at him without resisting, swallowing the pill with his hand. Ethan smiled with satisfaction and methodically unbuttoned his shirt. “Tonight is our wedding night, Lily.” His large frame immediately pressed down on me. Extreme panic and nausea surged in my heart! I found strength from somewhere, my nails clawing desperately into his back. But the disparity in strength between men and women meant my resistance was merely a cornered animal’s struggle in his eyes. After an eternity of suffering, he threw his soiled clothes onto my tear-stained face. “Compared to Rain’s gentle compliance, you’re utterly tasteless and disappointing.” “Next time, if you still haven’t learned how to please your husband, I’ll have Rain teach you in person.” With that, he strode away without looking back. In the darkness, I curled up my wounded body. I bit down hard on the fake death pill I’d been hiding in my cheek. I suddenly laughed silently. I laughed until my heart was torn, laughed until my mouth filled with blood. Ethan, your love is truly the most revolting thing in this world!

Excruciating pain tortured me all night as the fake death pill viciously consumed my life force. My body was ice cold, my breathing barely a thread. Ethan walked in wearing a suit. Seeing my bloodless face and weak appearance, he frowned. “Lily, you know sympathy plays don’t work on me.” He approached the bed, his tone icy. “Didn’t learn your lesson last night? Get up and take today’s medication.” As soon as he finished speaking, his phone suddenly emitted a piercing alarm. It was the dedicated app he’d specifically linked to my grandfather’s vital signs! Ethan’s expression changed. He yanked out his phone. I bit my tongue hard to stay conscious, using all my strength to lift my head and stare at his screen. In the image, Rain wore a sterile suit, her hand casually holding the oxygen tube and pacemaker cord she’d forcibly disconnected. She smiled innocently at the surveillance camera. On the heart monitor beside her, the green wave representing my grandfather’s vital signs convulsed violently twice, then instantly became a straight flatline! My grandfather was dead. The only leverage Ethan had to force my compliance for life was completely gone. “That idiot Rain!” Ethan’s eyes nearly split with rage. He shouted frantically into his communicator. “Where are the doctors! Resuscitate him now!” I stared at that flatline, unable to produce tears from my dry eyes. The last string in my heart finally snapped. At the same moment, the fake death pill reached its final eruption. I suddenly vomited a large mouthful of dark red blood, spraying it directly onto Ethan’s shirt! Then massive amounts of fresh blood poured madly from my mouth and nose. It stained a large section of pure white sheets a shocking crimson. Ethan’s roar cut off abruptly. His hands trembled as he tried to stop the blood gushing from my mouth. “Lily!!! What’s wrong?! Stop bleeding!” I used all my remaining strength to pull a blood-red smile. “Ethan, in this lifetime, I’ll never let you get what you want.” With that, my eyes completely lost focus. Ethan scooped up my blood-soaked body and crashed through the door toward downstairs like a madman. The Maybach ran through over a dozen red lights. He kicked open the emergency room door, his eyes bloodshot, roaring at all the top specialists. “Save her! If you can’t save her, you’ll all die with her!” The emergency room’s red light turned on, then off. The hospital director emerged, face ashen. “Mr. Fitzgerald… your wife experienced sudden irreversible multiple organ failure. Resuscitation was unsuccessful. Please accept our condolences.”

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Ten minutes before the product launch, I discovered my name badge had been switched. The spot that originally read “Chief Algorithm Architect” now said “Project Consultant.” And the surgical navigation algorithm I’d spent three years developing had been handed over by Adrian Knox to Nora, the newly hired product manager. He said, “It’s her first time facing investors. She can’t afford to make mistakes. You’re more experienced—provide technical support from below the stage.” I looked at the presentation slides scrolling on the backstage screen. Every page contained my data, my models, my late-night work logs. But in the credits section, Nora’s name was listed first, while mine had been squeezed into the last line. Three years ago, when the company ran out of funds and nearly went under, I mortgaged my patents to help Adrian survive until today. Now he was giving away my position and expecting me to applaud for someone else. I removed my badge and tossed it into the nearby recycling bin. “Fine.” “Since I’m just a consultant, there’s no need to deploy this core algorithm tonight either.”

Adrian’s expression changed first. He reached out to grab my wrist, his voice low. “Lena, don’t make a scene right now.” The backstage area was separated from the venue by a black curtain. Outside, the host’s voice was already warming up the crowd. Investors, hospital representatives, media—all seated in the audience. The promotional slide was still displayed on screen. “Nova Medical’s first AI surgical navigation system—official launch.” The technical lead listed in the bottom right corner was Nora. I pulled away from his hand and removed the ID badge from around my neck. “I’m the one making a scene?” Adrian frowned. “It’s just a temporary adjustment to the program. Nora handles product presentation, you handle technical support. Different divisions of labor, that’s all.” Nora stood behind him, still clutching my laser pointer. She took half a step forward, her eyes reddening right on cue. “Lena, please don’t misunderstand. Mr. Knox is just worried I’ll be nervous on stage for the first time. He’s not really trying to take your work.” “My work?” I looked at the remote control in her hand, then at the “Chief Product Officer” badge on her chest. “Miss Nora, what’s the risk threshold for the third demonstration segment tonight?” She froze. Adrian immediately spoke up. “Now’s not the time to quiz her.” I nodded. “Then let’s try something simpler. How many millimeters of intraoperative deviation will trigger an automatic system lockdown?” Nora gripped the remote tighter, her nails scraping against the plastic shell. “Those parameters—the technical department handles them.” Outside, the host called my name, then quickly corrected herself. “Next, please welcome Nova Medical project representative, Miss Nora.” Applause erupted from beyond the curtain. Adrian looked at me, his tone softening. “Lena, just get through today. After the launch, I’ll explain everything privately. Don’t you care most about whether this project gets implemented?” I pulled out my phone and opened the backend permissions page. Adrian’s voice finally changed. “What are you doing?” “Suspending tonight’s remote demonstration interface.” “You wouldn’t dare.” I turned the screen toward him. On the page, the core algorithm authorization showed only one name. Lena Sinclair. I pressed the pause button. Josh, the technical assistant beside me, gasped. “Lena, they’ve already connected to the simulated surgical table outside.” “Disconnect it.” “But Mr. Knox—” I looked at him. “The system hasn’t passed final clinical safety review. Who authorized you to connect the live demonstration port?” Josh’s face went pale. Adrian said through gritted teeth, “It’s just the simulation port.” “That’s not what the backend logs say.” I opened the access records. The timestamp showed ten minutes ago, with Nora’s account as the operator. Nora immediately stepped back. “I didn’t know. I just clicked confirm according to the procedure.” “Who gave you the permissions?” No one answered. Beyond the curtain, the host’s voice stuttered. The big screen must have gone dark. The applause stopped abruptly, like someone had choked it off. Adrian hissed at me, “Lena, do you have any idea how many people are watching today? If you sabotage this funding round, what happens to the company?” I put my phone back in my bag. “When you replaced the technical lead, you didn’t think about what would happen to the company.” His chest heaved twice. He wanted to say more. I walked past him toward the exit. Nora suddenly rushed forward, blocking my path. “Lena, I didn’t do it on purpose. How about I go on stage right now and tell everyone the technology is still yours?” She spoke softly enough for the nearby staff to hear. Like she was offering me a way out. Also like she was handing me a knife, waiting for me to lose control. I stopped and looked down at her. “Don’t worry.” “It’s not your turn to cry yet tonight.”

When I walked out of the conference hall, the applause behind me had turned into hushed discussion. Josh chased after me, still clutching the demonstration tablet. “Lena, Mr. Knox wants you to come back.” “What did he say?” “He said if you come back now, he can publicly add a technical acknowledgment.” I didn’t slow down. “Acknowledgment?” Three years of code, twenty-seven animal trials, eight months of preclinical validation—all reduced to an acknowledgment. Adrian really knew how to calculate. As the elevator doors closed, I saw Nora standing by the curtain, surrounded by people from the marketing department. She had her head down, shoulders shaking, like she’d suffered some terrible injustice. Josh lowered his voice. “Lena, everyone actually knows you built the system.” “What good does knowing do?” I pressed the button for the twelfth floor. “Credits don’t change themselves, and permissions don’t automatically migrate to other people’s accounts.” The twelfth floor housed the technical department. The launch had pulled away most of the staff, leaving the office area eerily empty except for the sound of server cooling fans. My workstation light was still on. On the desk sat the cold coffee Nora had brought me at five that afternoon. She’d said, “Lena, you’ll be so busy tonight. I got you a sugar-free latte.” I hadn’t touched that coffee. I opened my computer directly. The admin backend showed two anomaly alerts. One was for temporary elevation of demonstration port privileges. One was for modification of publication credits. Both timestamped at 6:42 PM. I opened the records. Applicant: Nora. Approver: Adrian Knox. Josh stood beside me, his face growing increasingly grim. “Lena, she shouldn’t have been able to access that permission level.” “Of course she couldn’t.” I scrolled down. “Unless someone temporarily added her to the core project team.” At the bottom of the page was an inconspicuous gray log entry. Core project member change: Nora added, Lena Sinclair’s presentation privileges removed. Operation source: Adrian Knox’s CEO account. I took screenshots, exported the logs, and packed them into an encrypted folder. My phone vibrated. Adrian sent a voice message. I played it on speaker. His voice was laced with anger. “Lena, are you satisfied now? Several investors have already left. With this stunt you pulled, you’re not just embarrassing me—you’re driving the company into the ground.” I replied with two words. “Check your inbox.” Ten seconds later, he called. “What do you mean?” “I just sent you tonight’s backend logs. If you can’t understand them, I can have legal translate for you.” I looked at the member change record on screen. “The system hasn’t passed final review, yet you let a non-technical lead access the live demonstration port. At best, it’s a management incident. At worst, it’s compliance fraud.” The line went quiet. After several seconds, he finally spoke. “Nora doesn’t understand these things. I told her to follow procedure.” That response made me pause. He’d defended her too quickly. I switched back to the data repository and opened the project filing folder. The original patent package was missing the earliest version of the algorithm documentation. In its place was a new file. Creator: Nora. Creation date: Three days ago. Josh leaned over for a look, his voice trembling. “Lena, this isn’t the original filing you submitted last year.” I slowly lifted my head. “Of course it isn’t.” “Someone doesn’t just want to steal tonight’s presenter spot.” “They want to change the ownership of this system from the source.”

Josh’s hand still rested on the desk edge. He stared at the new file, his lips moving several times. “Lena, should we back it up first?” “It’s already too late.” I opened the version history. The system displayed a string of red alerts. Original file overwritten. Historical versions migrated. Sharing permissions revoked. Every timestamp fell within two hours before the launch began. Nora hadn’t accidentally grabbed the wrong remote control. She’d walked in following a complete procedure. I exported the records one by one. Josh stood beside me, his face paler than the screen. “If this is confirmed, Mr. Knox won’t be able to escape responsibility either.” “He was never going to escape it.” I opened the company’s internal patent database and searched for “Starbridge.” The first result showed the applicant field had changed to three people. Adrian Knox, Nora, Lena Sinclair. I was listed last. Josh inhaled sharply. “They can change this too?” “Internal preliminary review allows it.” I opened the attachments. The earliest experimental records had been replaced with a product requirements document. On the first page was Nora’s name. She’d written: “I proposed the intelligent navigation system commercialization direction in the project’s early stages and drove the core algorithm implementation.” Drove. The cold wind in the lab at 3 AM, the smell of disinfectant at the animal facility entrance, the red error lights flashing beside the surgical table over and over—all erased by one line of her text. The office door suddenly flew open. Adrian stood in the doorway, his tie loosened and disheveled. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. “Josh, get out.” Josh didn’t move. I said, “Leave. Send the backup to my personal email.” Adrian’s gaze turned cold. “Lena.” Josh lowered his head, grabbed his tablet, and quickly left. After the door closed, Adrian walked to my desk. “What exactly do you want?” “I should be asking you that.” I turned the screen toward him. “Launch credits, temporary permissions, patent preliminary review. Which one was a misunderstanding?” He pressed his hand to his brow. “Nora has product capabilities. The investors have always felt the company is too technical, lacking someone who can tell a commercial story.” “So you wrote her into the patent?” “It’s just preliminary review materials, not the final submission.” He said it too quickly. So quickly it sounded like a prepared answer. I opened the attachment modification records. “Three days ago, you replaced my experimental records with her product document.” Adrian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lena, the company needs funding right now. Once the money comes in, we can negotiate whatever compensation you want.” “Compensation?” “Equity, bonuses, title—name your terms.” He took a step forward, his voice softening. “We struggled together to get here today. We shouldn’t tear each other apart over a credit line.” I picked up the sugar-free latte from the desk. The cup had gone completely cold. “Adrian, do you think I care about one line of credits?” He said nothing. I tossed the coffee in the trash. “Today you dare to change the credits. Tomorrow you’ll dare to change the experimental data. The day after, when this system actually has problems, who takes responsibility?” His expression finally changed. A soft knock came from outside the door. Nora stood beyond the glass door, her eyes red at just the right level. She held a document in her hands. “Mr. Knox, the board is waiting for an explanation.” Seeing me, she added softly, “Lena, I’ve already found the original filing. Should I bring it to you now?” I stared at the manila envelope in her hands. The opening had no seal. But the cover bore my authentication code. That code could only be generated by the project lead herself.

I didn’t reach out immediately. Nora held the manila envelope in midair, as if certain I would take it. Adrian frowned. “Bring it in first.” “Are you sure?” I stared at the authentication code on the envelope opening. “I only generated this code after midnight last night. It’s only visible in the project lead’s backend.” Nora’s eyes immediately reddened. “Maybe it was a system error. I found it in the archives. I brought it to you first because I was afraid you’d misunderstand.” After speaking, she pushed the envelope toward me. People had stopped outside the door. Marketing, administration, two board assistants fresh from the conference hall—all watching through the glass. She’d picked the perfect moment. If I lost my temper in front of these people, by tomorrow the company chat wouldn’t be talking about fake filings—they’d be talking about Lena Sinclair bullying the new hire. I took the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. The cover read “Starbridge Project Original Filing,” with the reference number, page count, and signature fields all complete. Even my handwritten notes were there. But the more authentic it looked, the faker it was. I flipped to the last page. The signature field only had a stamp, with ink bleeding at the edges—like it had been pressed from a scanned copy printed repeatedly. “This isn’t the original.” Adrian’s expression darkened. “Don’t make wild accusations.” I held the paper up to the light. “The real original has a security watermark. This one doesn’t.” Nora bit her lip, her voice barely a trembling whisper. “Lena, I really don’t understand these things. Mr. Knox asked me to find it, so I did. If you don’t believe me, I’ll go search again.” She’d pushed Adrian to the front again. Pushed him naturally, pushed him cleanly. But Adrian acted like he hadn’t noticed, only staring at me. “Making a scene to this point is enough. The board is already waiting for an explanation. Do you want to drag the regulatory departments down with us too?” “I’m not the one doing the dragging.” I put the document back on the desk. “You’re the ones who brought a fake document to my face.” He lowered his voice. “Lena, you’ve already sabotaged half the funding round. If we keep investigating, the company’s credibility will be completely destroyed.” “Then let it be destroyed.” I looked at him. “Before a medical system enters the operating room, credibility should pass under the knife first.” His expression finally changed. I opened my phone and called the financial audit department, pressing speakerphone. They answered quickly. “Lena?” “Cross-check the permission changes, preliminary review replacements, and filing anomalies. Investigate now.” Nora’s face went white. Adrian stared at me. “You’re calling an audit?” “Yes.” I pushed the fake envelope to the center of the desk. “From this second on, no one’s explanation matters anymore.” Keyboard sounds came through the phone. The audit manager’s voice quickly lowered. “Lena, there’s no door access record for Nora at the archives tonight.” Nora’s head snapped up. Adrian froze as well. I looked at the unnatural ink mark on the back of Nora’s hand. “Then who went in?” The line went quiet for two seconds. The audit manager said, “At 19:42, the sealed file cabinet was opened.” “The card swipe wasn’t Nora.” I tightened my grip on the phone. The next second, a door access screenshot appeared on my screen.

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After being reborn once, I still chose the wrong husband. In my past life, my fiancé James Foster broke both my legs for the fake heiress Claire Shaw and took away my position as principal dancer. After my rebirth, I married his uncle, Henry Foster. Before the principal dancer competition, someone broke my legs again. Henry Foster didn’t hesitate to offend the city’s elite and powerful figures. He personally sent Claire Shaw to prison. I mistakenly thought he truly loved me. Until five years later, I overheard him talking with our son. “Dad, back then you helped Claire destroy the evidence and gave her a new identity to escape punishment. You married Mom, that useless cripple, to cover it all up.” “Now that Claire is back, can you divorce Mom?” Henry Foster was silent for a moment. “No. Because of what I did for Claire back then, I already wronged your mother. I’ll spend my lifetime making it up to her.” “Her status as my wife will never change.” I sat in my wheelchair, nails digging into my palms. So the five years of marriage were an elaborate conspiracy. So he had always loved Claire Shaw. Even the son I nearly died giving birth to. If that’s the case, I don’t want Henry Foster anymore. And I don’t want this son either.

The door pulled open. Henry Foster stood in the doorway. The moment he saw me, his expression changed. From calm to panicked. Extremely quick, fleeting panic. Then back to normal. “Evelyn, what are you doing here?” He crouched down and held my hand. His fingers were as warm and dry as usual. But I knew these hands had helped Claire Shaw destroy evidence five years ago. Helped her get a new identity. Helped her escape legal punishment. Then married me. Spent five years putting on an act. “I came to call you for dinner.” My voice was very calm, even slightly cheerful. “Have you been waiting long? The soup’s gotten cold.” Henry Foster looked at me, seeming to judge how much I’d heard. I met his gaze without flinching. “Why are your eyes red?” He suddenly asked. “I was cutting onions in the kitchen earlier.” “Why were you cutting onions?” “Didn’t you say yesterday you wanted onion-braised ribeye steak? I figured I had nothing else to do anyway.” Henry Foster was silent for two seconds. Then he stood up, walked behind me, and gripped the handles of my wheelchair. “Let the housekeeper do this kind of thing from now on. Your legs aren’t convenient. Don’t busy yourself alone in the kitchen.” “Okay.” I responded. Just like every time in the past five years. Obedient, docile, never objecting. Dinner was very quiet. Henry Foster served me food several times, all light vegetables. “Eat more. You’ve gotten thinner lately.” “Mm.” I finished the food. Andy sat across from me, head down eating the whole time, occasionally glancing up at me before quickly looking away. His eyes looked like his father’s. His lips too. I used to think this was heaven’s compensation to me. Now I just felt they were strangers. “Andy, how was school today?” I asked him. “It was okay.” He gave a perfunctory response. “I’m full.” He jumped down from his chair and ran upstairs. “This child is getting more and more undisciplined.” Henry Foster frowned. “He’s just a kid. Let him be.” I picked up my plate and finished the last bite of rice. “Henry Foster.” “Mm?” “Tomorrow I want to go to the hospital for a checkup.” He looked at me. “Why do you suddenly want a checkup? Are your knees uncomfortable?” “No, I just haven’t been in a while. I’ll pick up some medicine while I’m there.” “I’ll go with you.” “No need. Don’t you have a board meeting tomorrow? Just have Charles drive me. It’s not a big deal.” He hesitated, then nodded. “Then be careful. Call me when you’re done with the examination.” “Okay.” I smiled at him. Just like every time in the past five years. Gentle, understanding, not needing him to worry. He also smiled and reached out to hold my hand. “Evelyn, marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life.” “Is that so?” “Yes.” I pulled my hand from his and picked up the plate from the table. “I’m going to wash the dishes.” “Let the housekeeper wash—” “It’s fine. I feel like moving around today. You go upstairs first.” He glanced at me, then got up and went upstairs. I pushed my wheelchair into the kitchen, put the plate in the sink, and turned on the faucet. The water rushed and splashed. I listened to the footsteps from upstairs gradually fade away. Then I turned off the faucet. I took out my phone and opened a conversation. Someone I hadn’t contacted in a long time. I typed a message: “Sophia, that Swiss rehabilitation center you mentioned before—can I still go?” I sent the message. Then deleted the chat history and put my phone back in my pocket. Henry Foster’s voice came from upstairs. “Evelyn, are you coming up? I drew you a bath.” I turned my wheelchair around to face the kitchen doorway. “Coming.” My voice was gentle, with a smile. Exactly the same as every evening in the past five years.

The next morning, before Henry Foster left, he kissed my forehead. “Call me when you’re done with the checkup.” “I will. Drive carefully.” “Mm.” He left. Andy was also taken to school by the driver. The entire villa became quiet. I sat in the living room, listening to the pendulum clock ticking. Then I pushed my wheelchair into the study. Henry Foster’s study was large, with bookshelves on three walls. On one wall of shelves were my physical therapy records from all these years. Each one arranged by date, with labels on the spines. He had told me before that this made it convenient to review during follow-up visits. Back then I thought he was thoughtful. Now I realized he just had a habit of filing everything away. Including me. I opened his computer. The password was my birthday. For five years, he’d always used this password. I used to think that was love. Now I just found it ironic. Every piece of evidence he processed to help Claire Shaw escape—he probably used this computer. I didn’t touch those files. I just logged into a browser, booked a plane ticket to New York for tomorrow afternoon. Then logged out and cleared the browsing history. I also checked my bank account balance. When I married into the Foster family five years ago, I had no assets to my name. Over these five years, Henry Foster deposited living expenses into my account every month. I never asked the exact amount, and I never spent recklessly. After saving for five years, it wasn’t a small amount, but not huge either. At least enough for me to start over in another city. I transferred the money to a newly opened account. That card was one I’d secretly opened last week when I went out for physical therapy and passed by a bank. It wasn’t linked to any notifications or tracking alerts. I had the card sent to my sister’s address. After finishing this, I closed the computer and pushed my wheelchair back to the living room. I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Attorney Reed? It’s me, Evelyn Reed.” “Miss Reed? It’s been a while. What can I do for you?” “Nothing major. I just wanted to consult about child custody issues in a divorce agreement.” The other end went quiet for a second. “You’re getting divorced?” “Just consulting. Better safe than sorry. Don’t tell anyone for now, including Mr. Foster.” “Understood.” “As for custody, I don’t plan to seek it. But I want to add a clause to the agreement—the father must transfer all my personal assets to the child after the child reaches adulthood. Could you draft a plan for how to handle this?” “Miss Reed, are you certain you don’t want custody?” “Certain.” “What about property division?” “I don’t want any of his assets. Some of the living expenses I’ve saved over five years have been transferred to another account. The rest I’ll leave for Andy. As for marital property, I’m giving up all of it.” Attorney Reed was silent for a long time. “Miss Reed, has something happened?” I gripped my phone, looking at the osmanthus tree in the garden outside the window. Last autumn, Henry Foster pushed me in my wheelchair under that tree. He said he’d planted it for me. Because I’d once said I loved the fragrance of osmanthus flowers. Back then I leaned against his arm, feeling like the happiest woman in the world. “No, I just want to leave myself an escape route. Please draft it for me. When it’s ready, send it to my email. Don’t call.” “Alright.” After hanging up, I deleted the call record. Then I pushed my wheelchair to the kitchen and made spaghetti. The exact same flavor as usual. No more, no less. In the afternoon, Charles drove me to the hospital. After the checkup, I told Charles I wanted to go to the mall to buy something. At the mall, I said the wheelchair was inconvenient and told him to wait in the car. Then I exited through the mall’s side door and hailed a taxi. Went to the airport. I didn’t collect the ticket, just stood in the terminal for a while. Looking at the electronic board showing flights coming and going. Tomorrow at 2:10 PM, flying to New York. I took out my phone and sent Attorney Reed a message. “After you finish the agreement, keep it with you. Wait for my notice.” After sending it, I deleted the message. Then I returned to the mall and bought a tie. Navy blue with a subtle pattern. Exactly the same style Henry Foster usually wore. “Charles, let’s go back.” “Yes, ma’am.” Charles glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, you look a bit pale. Were the examination results not ideal?” “No, the doctor said I’m recovering well. I’m just a bit tired.” I leaned my head against the car window and closed my eyes. My hand clutched that tie. Just like every time I’d bought him a gift over the past five years. Except this time, I knew he would never wear it.

At dinner, I gave Henry Foster the tie. “I bought this for you. At the mall today, I thought this one would really suit you.” He took it and looked at it, then smiled. “You still remembered I mentioned last week I wanted a new tie.” “Of course I remembered.” He stood up, walked over to me, and placed the tie on my lap. “Help me put it on.” I picked up the tie. He lowered his head. I wrapped the tie around the back of his neck, my fingers moving to tie a Windsor knot. I’d done this action for five years. Every morning before he left, I would help him with his tie. Sometimes when he woke up late, I’d chase him to the garage to do it. Andy used to say, “Mom is Dad’s personal tie specialist.” “Evelyn.” He called my name softly. “Mm?” “Keep helping me with my tie every morning from now on, okay?” He asked so gently, so earnestly. For a moment, I almost believed we were just an ordinary loving couple, without those secrets, without Claire Shaw, without that car accident that broke both my legs. But that thought only lasted a second. “Sure.” I responded, my voice light and sweet. He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. Just like every time before he left over the past five years. Except this time, I didn’t close my eyes. That evening, I prepared his bath, heated a glass of milk and placed it on his nightstand, and straightened his slippers. I’d done these things for five years, flawlessly. After he lay down, he held my hand. “Evelyn, good night.” “Good night.” He fell asleep quickly. His breathing steady, his expression relaxed. I’d looked at this face for five years—from unfamiliar to familiar, from moved to dependent, from love to pain. I gently pulled my hand away. He didn’t wake. I pushed my wheelchair to the study. Closed the door tightly. Didn’t turn on the light. Only the blue glow from the computer screen fell on my face. I opened a blank document and started typing. “Divorce Agreement”—four words, bolded. Then my fingers hovered above the keyboard. A wind suddenly picked up outside. The osmanthus tree in the garden rustled. Last year Henry Foster pushed me under that tree and picked a small branch of osmanthus flowers to place on my lap. He said, “Evelyn, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” The osmanthus was very fragrant then. He spoke so earnestly. I lowered my head and typed the first line in the document. “The husband Henry Foster and the wife Evelyn Reed voluntarily dissolve their marriage.” I stopped there. Light footsteps came from the hallway—Andy’s slippers on the wooden floor. He got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Passing the study, his footsteps paused for a second, then continued. He didn’t push the door open. He probably thought I just couldn’t sleep. I continued typing. “Regarding child custody: The biological son, Andrew Foster, shall be raised by the husband. The wife voluntarily gives up custody rights. Regarding property division: The wife voluntarily gives up all marital property. The wife’s personal premarital assets and independent post-marital savings shall be managed by the husband and transferred entirely to the biological son Andrew Foster upon his reaching adulthood.” I lifted my fingers from the keyboard. Read it through from start to finish. Very fair. He wouldn’t lose anything. I wanted nothing. I wouldn’t even fight him for the child. Andy wanted Claire as his mother—let him have his wish. I clicked print. The printer hummed and spat out an A4 sheet. I picked it up, blew on it, folded it, and put it in my bag. Then returned to the bedroom. Henry Foster was still sleeping, his position unchanged. I lay back down and closed my eyes. Tomorrow, everything would be different. The next day was the weekend. Henry Foster got up later than usual. I helped him with his tie and stood at the door watching him leave for the office. After he left, I started packing. Not luggage—traces.

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After I got pregnant, my husband became obsessed with his young, sexy secretary. On New Year’s Eve, my husband was “welcoming the new year” with his secretary, who was wearing sexy lingerie, in a private room. When I caught them, the secretary lifted her snow-white neck, covered in circles of bright red kiss marks. “Rachel, don’t misunderstand! The new year is coming. I’m just helping your husband get rid of bad luck and welcome good fortune.” My husband, whose sex life had been interrupted, complained. “You can’t satisfy me since you got pregnant. I’m a normal man. I need to release my physical needs. Kelly is just kindly helping out.” Seven months pregnant, I was so upset that my water broke. But the secretary said I deliberately wet myself to embarrass my husband. My husband, disgusted by me, locked me in the bathroom. After he and his little secretary spent three days and nights together, he decided to end my punishment. But when he saw my deflated belly, he lost his mind.

On New Year’s Eve, my husband Simon and a group of his buddies had plans to celebrate together. I stayed home because of my pregnancy. As night fell, I received a message from Simon with an address attached. “Honey, I have a surprise for you.” With my seven-month belly, I hurried to the club to meet him. My excitement was doused like cold water over flames. The private room was hazy with smoke, a scene of drunken luxury. Simon’s little secretary Kelly had dazed eyes and flushed ears. She sat on Simon’s lap, looking both innocent and seductive. Simon’s right hand, veins bulging, gripped the woman’s waist tightly. Kelly had stripped down to just her sexy lingerie. That lingerie was custom-made by Simon for me on our wedding day. One of a kind. On our wedding night, I wore it, and Simon possessed me fiercely. But now Simon had secretly taken it out to seek thrills. Kelly’s exposed slender white waist stung my eyes. “Daddy~ Be gentle with me, slow down~” “You duplicitous little vixen, begging me five times a day and still playing innocent.” They kissed and embraced passionately, oblivious to others. The people around them seemed unfazed. I realized who had really sent that text message. Simon’s group of buddies each had their arms around a young girl, watching this scene with amusement. Carl teased, “Kelly, that New Year’s outfit is so hot! No wonder Simon was willing to leave Rachel behind on New Year’s Eve to come here.” Simon pulled Kelly’s waist forcefully, exhaled, and smiled with a smirk. “Some positions Rachel won’t try. So I find someone who will to release my urges. I know my priorities.” “Besides, Rachel’s gotten fat as a pig since she got pregnant, sloppy all the time. Makes me sick just looking at her. How could she compare to Kelly’s sultry charm?” Kelly’s little hand drew circles on Simon’s chest as she pouted coquettishly. “You’re terrible, treating me like that. I’m daddy’s good girl~” “Yes, yes, yes. Happy New Year to my good girl!” Simon pulled out an expensive diamond necklace from his pocket and tucked it into Kelly’s cleavage. The girl in his arms giggled continuously. Someone joked, “Simon’s going too far. Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out and divorce you?” Simon didn’t care. “So what if she finds out? She loves me so much and she’s carrying my child. Where could she go?” Then came their indecent flirting sounds. “Damn!” My stomach cramped and I felt waves of nausea. My face pale, I pushed the door open. My arrival broke the room’s cheerful atmosphere. Simon quickly grabbed the coat from the sofa and draped it over Kelly. I found it ironic. I clenched my fists in anger. “What, she dares to ride on top of you in public but you’re worried about her exposed shoulders?” “Watch your mouth. The girl’s sensitive.” Kelly, protected by him, looked at me provocatively. “Rachel, as his secretary, I’m just helping Mr. Simon. You should understand.” Everyone tried to smooth things over, giving Simon a way out. “Rachel, we were playing truth or dare. Everyone got drunk and things got out of hand. We’ll drink three cups to apologize to you. Just forgive Simon!”

I didn’t respond. Simon’s face darkened, his tone slightly reproachful. “Why did you come? Didn’t I tell you to stay home and rest?” My heart felt like it was being pierced by hundreds of needles. I couldn’t believe the man who had once excitedly helped me set up the nursery was now protecting another woman and speaking harshly to me. Tears slid down my cheeks. I pressed my lips together hard before speaking. “Simon, you said it yourself—those who betray deserve to die.” Simon’s face turned ugly. “Rachel, show some respect. Kelly and I just fool around a bit. You’ve gotten fat as a pig since you got pregnant. I’ve been forcing myself to sleep next to you in disgust—I’ve been good enough to you.” “Besides, everyone in our circle has mistresses. At least I’m planning to come back to the family after you give birth.” I touched my belly, feeling sad and angry. After getting pregnant, I inevitably gained weight and swelled up. My legs swelled like carrots. Leg cramps at midnight, tormented by morning sickness, unable to sleep night after night. My once fair and delicate skin gradually became rough and sallow. Simon went from being concerned at first to impatient, working overtime at the company every day. Especially when he saw the ugly stretch marks on my belly, though his face showed nothing, his eyes held disgust. For the child’s sake, I pretended not to see his changes. I kept thinking, things will get better after the baby is born. But how could he use my suffering—while I was carrying his child—as capital to belittle me? I shouldn’t settle for a terrible man just for the child’s sake. “Simon, let’s get divorced!” Simon’s haughty expression froze instantly. His tone was unquestionable. “You’re carrying my child. Where could you go if we divorce? As long as you two get along peacefully, you’ll always be my wife.” Seeing my devastated expression, Simon softened his tone. “Just be good and obedient. I promise the only children of the Brandy family will come from your belly.” Kelly twisted her waist, dissatisfied. “Simon, don’t make Rachel angry because of me. She’s carrying your child!” Simon pinched Kelly’s slender waist. “Every woman gives birth. Only she’s so dramatic.” Watching the shameless couple flirting in front of me, I couldn’t suppress the convulsions and nausea. “Ugh… ugh…” The contents of my stomach came up. Kelly and Simon, closest to me, bore the brunt. Especially Kelly—the coat she was wearing was covered in the sour-smelling vomit. She looked pathetic. Her eyes turned red as she threw off the coat and cursed. “Bitch, did you do that on purpose?” I was furious and slapped her across the face. “Who are you calling a bitch!” She flew into a rage and pushed me hard. “Simon, you have to stand up for me. The clothes you gave me are ruined!” A server brought hot towels to clean up the mess. Simon warned me. “Rachel, that’s enough.” The push threw me off balance. My heavy body fell hard to the floor. With my bulky figure, my struggling attempts to get up looked ridiculous. It made everyone present laugh and joke. “Doesn’t Rachel trying to get up look like a turtle?” “A fat turtle! Hahaha.” My eyes stung. Before I could feel the humiliation, my belly started cramping painfully. A warm flow gushed from below. I looked down. The carpet beneath me was soaked through a large area. Oh no… I instinctively called to Simon for help. “Honey, take me to the hospital quickly.” “My water broke…”

Simon sobered up considerably. He stood up in panic, his eyes flashing with pity and regret. “Honey, don’t be scared. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” Kelly’s sarcastic exclamation rang in my ears. “I really envy Rachel. No matter what lies you tell, Simon believes you unconditionally.” Simon shook off Kelly’s delicate hand wrapped around his waist, his voice cold as ice. “Get lost. If anything happens to my wife, you’ll answer for it.” Kelly, pushed away, lay weakly on the sofa. Unwilling to give up, she kept rubbing Simon’s calf with her red-stockinged foot. “Simon, can’t you see? Rachel just got too excited and wet herself.” “She’s only seven months pregnant. The due date hasn’t arrived yet. How could her water break?” His buddies shook their heads beside him, their tones disgusted. “I heard pregnant women often lose control of their bladder and bowels. Turns out it’s true.” “Can’t even control her own urine. No wonder Simon’s looking for a mistress.” Simon’s movement to pick me up stopped. He let out a breath. What followed was anger and disgust at being played. He grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at me. “Disgusting! Are you willing to use any lowly trick to compete for my attention?” “It’s not that. I’m really about to give birth. My stomach hurts so much…” He watched me wailing on the floor with cold eyes, his tone sarcastic. “Good acting. If Kelly hadn’t enlightened me, you would have fooled me.” Kelly’s eyes were full of triumph as she threw herself into Simon’s arms, acting cute. “Hmph… I’m your smartest little secretary.” My voice trembled with pain. “Save me… the baby… save the baby… Please, someone call an ambulance.” Carl sneered. “Rachel really goes all out. Pissing herself everywhere and still wants to waste medical resources.” Kelly added fuel to the fire. “If outsiders find out Rachel wet herself in public, what about Simon’s reputation? Rachel, you’re so inconsiderate.” The cigarette smoke in the room made me dizzy. My heart felt cold. I couldn’t count on anyone. Ignoring the pain from my belly, I gritted my teeth and crawled toward my purse nearby. My phone was inside. I could save myself. Laughter filled my ears as they kept mocking me. “Simon, Rachel’s acting is Oscar-worthy!” “Simon, why don’t you humor Rachel? If she keeps pissing, we won’t be able to enjoy ourselves.” I was drenched in sweat from the pain, my hair at my temples soaked. Ignoring these scumbags’ mockery, I reached my phone in the bag. The moment my trembling fingers pressed the dial button, Simon stepped on my hand and kicked the phone away. “Enough! Are you sick? Making EMTs work on New Year’s Eve?” The pain made me unable to straighten up. I curled up on the floor. “I’m really going into labor. The baby’s only seven months—it’s dangerous. This is your child too. Let me go to the hospital…” An abnormal pain came from my belly. I wasn’t sure if I had compressed the baby when I fell earlier. For the sake of the baby in my belly, I put aside my dignity and grabbed his pant leg, begging humbly. “Give me my phone. I’ll call the ambulance myself. Please…” “This is your child.” Simon kicked me away, looking with disgust at the carpet soaked with amniotic fluid. I was in so much pain I had no strength left, lying on the floor like a dying dog. Simon crouched down, gripping my neck, his voice even colder. “Stop acting. Getting addicted to the performance? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll walk all over me tomorrow.”

“Lock her in the bathroom.” “Get two servers to clean up the urine stains on the carpet. It’s disgusting to look at.” Two lower-status lackeys grabbed my arms and dragged me into one of the bathrooms in the private room. I called out loudly to everyone present for help. “Call 911! Please, someone help me call 911…” One of the escort girls looked worried and spoke up softly. “Mr. Simon, she really looks uncomfortable. Maybe let it go? She’s pregnant, after all.” Carl grabbed the girl’s hair and slapped her. “What are you? Your turn to question my buddy’s decision?” The girl didn’t dare speak again, forcing a smile on her stiff face. Several more experienced escort girls laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re still young. These are just tactics wives use to control their men. I bet if Mr. Simon took her home, she’d be jumping around immediately.” Kelly was extremely pleased, pretending to advise me. “Rachel, your husband’s doing this for your own good. Letting you stay in the bathroom to clean yourself up so you don’t embarrass yourself.” Kelly twisted her graceful waist and sat back on Simon’s lap. She looked back at me and mouthed silently. “You lose.” Outside the door, singing and dancing continued. Inside, I was left alone in misery. I leaned against the wall, sitting on the cold floor, using all my strength to pound on the door. “Help…” The door closed, isolating my already faint cries for help. Like countless iron nails driving into my body, I recalled the lessons from prenatal classes. The contractions came closer and closer together. I slowly adjusted my breathing, trying to rely on myself to deliver the baby safely. Calm down, Rachel. You can do this. The baby needs you. Tears and sweat mixed together. My throat was hoarse from shouting until I almost lost my voice. The area below my lower abdomen felt like it was being torn apart. The air was thick with the heavy smell of blood. I don’t know how much time passed, but the situation was getting worse. It hurts so much… the baby won’t come out. Panicked and frightened, I gritted my teeth and felt the blood beneath me with my hand. Trembling, I used my finger to write on the frosted glass door of the bathroom. “SOS” To attract attention, I slapped several bloody handprints on the door. Someone who had just come out of the adjacent bathroom was startled and shouted loudly. “Simon, something’s wrong!” “There’s blood all over the bathroom door. Rachel might really be giving birth.” Hearing someone notice something wrong, hope kindled in my heart. Baby, hang in there. Drunk Simon laughed mockingly. “What blood? She probably snuck a bottle of red wine in there. The baby’s only seven months. How could it be born this fast? Let her act.” The person was a bit scared and continued to persuade. “Simon, why not open the door and take a look? Better safe than sorry.” Simon didn’t care. Kelly in his arms said sweetly. “Rachel played this game before, insisting Simon fire me. You don’t know her—she’s just upset Simon didn’t celebrate New Year’s with her!” The person outside stopped insisting. The light in my eyes dimmed little by little. The cramping pain from my belly brought me back. No, I can’t give up. Baby, Mommy will save you. I took off my coat and used my finger to write a distress message on it with blood. With all my might, I struggled to climb onto the toilet and pushed open the ventilation window above, trying to throw my coat downstairs. But the severe pain made me unable to straighten up. The clothes got stuck on the window. My lips were bitten through as I finally managed to throw the clothes down. Just then, my foot slipped and I fell backward. “Bang”—a loud crash. The huge noise caught the attention of those outside. Everything went black before my eyes. I vaguely heard Simon’s voice. “Rachel…”

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