I’d been secretly married to Charlie for six years, and this was the eighteenth time he’d refused to take wedding photos with me, using his busy work schedule as an excuse. As I removed my makeup and changed out of my wedding dress, preparing to leave, I unexpectedly heard Charlie’s voice. “Bring out all the most beautiful wedding dresses in your shop today. I want to take the most beautiful wedding photos with my wife.” My heart leapt with joy, and I blushed. I never expected Charlie to say such romantic words. I pulled back the curtain of the dressing room, about to call out to him, when I heard the attendant’s flattering voice. “Mr. Charlie, rest assured. Your wife is as beautiful as a celebrity. She’ll definitely be the most gorgeous bride.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t complimenting me, but another woman Charlie had his arm around. At that moment, our eyes met. His gaze shifted away guiltily. Seeing me emerge, the manager turned to me. “Miss Jenny, your husband doesn’t have time today. Should I schedule your shoot for next week instead?” I shook my head. “No need.” A flash of embarrassment crossed the manager’s face. “But we don’t refund deposits. If next week doesn’t work, how about next month? That would be fine too.” “No need. He got into a car accident today and died. He won’t have time ever again.”

The manager’s face went pale. “How could this happen so suddenly? Didn’t he just say he was too busy with work to make it?” “Miss Jenny, given your special circumstances, I can apply to see if we can refund your deposit.” I shook my head, a dense, prickling pain spreading through my chest. Charlie and I had a secret marriage. No ceremony, no wedding banquet. Even our friends and family didn’t know. That’s why I was obsessed with taking wedding photos. In six years of secret marriage, he’d refused me eighteen times, claiming he was too busy with work. But now, he was here taking wedding photos with someone else. Seeing my silence, the manager assumed I was in shock from my husband’s death and carefully supported me. “Miss Jenny, are you alright?” I suppressed the sour feeling in my throat, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked step by step toward Charlie. He took a guilty step back. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth, then I turned and walked out the door. That evening, he came home with a bouquet of red roses, his face showing a rare hint of flattery. “Jenny, you did great today. Thank you. Eve is sensitive. If you’d made a scene, I don’t know how much she would have cried.” “Didn’t you want to vacation in Hawaii? Once I get through this busy period, I’ll take you there.” A tear slid down my cheek. The scene I’d dreamed of could be realized so easily. My husband coming home from work with flowers, gently promising to take me to Hawaii. I should have been happy, if I hadn’t discovered his affair. I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked, “Why her?” Eve. My stepsister. Back then, to force my mother to divorce, she and her mother had joined forces and driven my mother to her death. She was my mother’s killer. Charlie knew full well that I hated her most. He could have cheated with anyone, but choosing her hurt me the most. Tears fell like beans as my voice began to tremble. “You know I hate her most of all. What did I do wrong that you would treat me like this?” Hearing this, Charlie frowned, his tone impatient. “Jenny, that’s all in the past. You can’t blame Eve for your mother’s death. She was just a child then.” “If you want to blame someone, blame your mother for being too weak. She couldn’t handle it, so she killed herself.” My vision gradually blurred. I stared in shock at the man who had promised to protect me for life. I never imagined he could say such things.

A slap landed across his face. I knew we could never go back. “Let’s get divorced.” After being slapped, Charlie could no longer control his temper. He looked at me furiously. “Jenny, I’ve put up with you for a long time. Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you just let the past go?” “Your mother has been dead for ten years. All these years, you’ve been making things difficult for everyone, making yourself miserable and dragging others down with you.” “Back then, your father stopped loving your mother long ago. If she’d agreed to divorce earlier, things wouldn’t have turned out that way.” “It was all caused by her personality. She got what she deserved. You can’t blame anyone.” Hearing him insult my mother again, I completely lost control. Like an enraged lion, I rushed at him, my fists flailing wildly against his body. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” “It was that pair of shameless mother and daughter who drove my mother to death! They’re shameless! Shameless!” Smack! I was violently slapped and pushed to the ground. My forehead hit the coffee table, instantly breaking the skin. Liquid slid down from my forehead. Charlie was terrified. He rushed over worriedly to support me, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to. I was so angry I lost control.” “I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’ll be fine. Don’t be scared.” Seeing him so worried about me, I felt momentarily dazed. It seemed like the man who put me first had never left. After my mother died, I lived a painful life at home. My father didn’t care about me. Eve and her mother constantly found ways to torment me. On rainy days, they’d kick me out of the house, or “accidentally” push me down the stairs. In that dark childhood, Charlie was my only light. For my sake, he’d rush into my house with a stick to confront Eve and her mother. Even when his father tied him up and beat him for it, he never made a sound. Thinking of how good he’d been to me, I suddenly wanted to give him a chance. My eyes pleaded. “Charlie, please don’t be with Eve, okay?” Charlie’s eyes flickered. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. A familiar voice came through the receiver. “Charlie, my mom found out about us. She’s going to break my legs. Come save me, quick.” Then came a miserable scream, and the call disconnected. Charlie anxiously stood up, knocking me over again without even noticing. The worry in his eyes wounded me once more. I crawled on the floor and grabbed his pant leg. “Charlie, please don’t go.” Charlie pushed me away, his eyes full of conflicted panic. “Jenny, go to the hospital and get bandaged up yourself. Something happened to Eve. I have to go save her.” With that, he strode away without looking back. I laughed bitterly and collapsed to the floor, letting the blood from my head drip down drop by drop. Eve’s mother had stolen my mother’s husband. Now Eve was stealing mine. But I couldn’t be like my mother, ending up dead by suicide over a man. After a while, my phone received a friend request from an unfamiliar account. The profile picture showed Eve in a wedding dress kissing Charlie’s face. Both looked deeply affectionate. I wanted to see what she had to say, so I accepted. She said nothing, just sent me a video. In the footage, Charlie was kneeling on the ground, making promises to Eve’s mother. “I will never let Eve down. I’ll give her a grand wedding.”

“But I heard Jenny has been living in your villa all along. Aren’t you two already married? I won’t let my daughter be a mistress.” Facing Eve’s mother’s interrogation, Charlie raised his palm in oath. “Jenny and I have no relationship whatsoever. I only let her live at my place out of pity, to help me clean.” “If Eve doesn’t like it, I’ll make her move out immediately.” The video stopped abruptly. The wedding I’d begged for in vain, he could so easily give to someone else. Six years of secret marriage, only to be told we had no relationship at all. Charlie, you gave up on our relationship, so I don’t want you anymore either. I dialed a number. “I agree to what you asked.” The next day, Charlie brought breakfast, his expression the same as last night’s. “Jenny, I stood in line to buy you breakfast. Mango smoothie and a sandwich. Come eat.” I’m allergic to mangoes, and Eve’s favorite is mango smoothies. Later, when she found out about my allergy, she deliberately put mango in my food. I ate it without noticing, then started having an allergic reaction. My whole body broke out in rashes, and my throat swelled so I couldn’t breathe. Eve deliberately told Dad I’d eaten it out of greed. Dad was so angry he whipped me before finally sending me to the hospital. After Charlie and I got together, for my sake, he stopped eating mangoes too. There had never been a single mango in the house. Now he’d forgotten. I knocked the breakfast from his hands. Charlie suppressed his anger, looking at me impatiently. “Jenny, I already bought you breakfast as an apology. What more do you want from me?” My expression was emotionless. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” Only then did he react, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot. How about this—tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go buy it.” “No need. You only need to remember what Eve likes to eat.” Seeing my sarcastic tone, his expression hardened again. “You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive. Look at everyone in our circle. Who the hell stays faithful to just one woman?” “I’ve been married to you for six years, and I’ve only had one other woman. You should be grateful.” I froze. I never imagined he could say something so shameless. Caught cheating, he felt no guilt. Instead, he acted like I should understand him. It was completely absurd. Did he think that just by giving me the title of wife, I should be grateful and tolerate his infidelity? Seeing my silence, he assumed I’d compromised. His attitude softened considerably. “Good girl. You’re a smart woman. You know what’s best for yourself.” “I already promised Eve’s mother yesterday that I’d give Eve a grand wedding. Otherwise, her mother will beat her to death. But don’t worry, you’re still my legitimate wife.” “I’ve already cleaned up the West Hill villa. It’s quiet there. While I’m preparing the wedding these next few days, move there. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you often.” He’d finally said it out loud. I looked straight at him. “No need. I—” I wanted to say divorce, but he impatiently interrupted me before I could finish. “Alright, who else can you depend on besides me? Stop being so stubborn.” “I’m going to be late for work. Move there yourself.” I shook my head and started packing my things, clearing away all traces of myself from this home. I took out my phone to order a pickup service for my old belongings, when a new message popped up.

It was a beautiful wedding photo. The two people in the photo were Charlie and Eve. I hurriedly pulled out my own marriage certificate to compare. I collapsed on the spot. Marriage certificates are supposed to have an official seal. Mine and Charlie’s didn’t. It was fake. That meant Charlie and I had never been married. His claim that I was his legitimate wife was also a joke. I laughed until tears came. I couldn’t believe the man who’d protected me since childhood had deceived me for six years. No wonder he refused to make our marriage public or take wedding photos with me. It was all fake. “Do you know why Charlie used a fake certificate to deceive you?” Eve had appeared behind me at some point. She looked at me triumphantly. “Because he thinks you’re not good enough. You’re an embarrassment. So he lied to you, kept you hidden away. He never took you to meet family or friends. When people asked, he just said he took you in out of pity to work as his housekeeper.” “Jenny, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and you can’t compete with me either.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes full of malice. “Didn’t you call my mother a mistress? Didn’t you hate mistresses most? Look at yourself now! You’re the mistress. You’re the mistress between Charlie and me!” I shoved her away, eyes bloodshot, shouting, “I’m not the mistress! I’m not! You’re the mistress! You’re the one who destroyed us!” Eve laughed triumphantly. “But now the marriage certificate has my name and Charlie’s. If you keep clinging to him, then you’re the mistress! The mistress!” “No, I’m not! No!” I rushed at her like a madwoman, grabbing her clothes and shouting, “I’m not! You’re lying!” But she didn’t struggle. A vicious smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Do you know how your mother really died? Let me tell you—your mother didn’t commit suicide!” I froze, stopping my movements, my whole body trembling. “What do you mean?” “My mother didn’t commit suicide?” She shook her head. “You’re just as stupid as your mother. That day, after I cursed at her, she did try to jump into the river to kill herself. But at the last moment, she regretted it. She said she couldn’t leave you behind, that she had to live for you. How could that be allowed? So I helped her along.” Eve made a pushing motion with her hands. “I just pushed her like this.” I staggered, unable to stay on my feet. “You pushed my mother? You killed her?” She nodded proudly. “Yes, I killed your mother. So what can you do about it?” I rushed at her like a madwoman. “I’m going to kill you to avenge my mother!” I exploded with tremendous strength, knocking her to the ground, pummeling and biting her wildly! Then I became more and more frenzied, eventually punching and kicking her like a beast that had lost all reason. “You killed my mother! Go to hell! Die!” But Eve suddenly flashed me a sinister smile. “You’re finished.” Then a great force struck me, and I was kicked to the ground. “Charlie, our baby! My stomach hurts so much. Quick, take me to the hospital.” Her lower body was covered in blood. She was pregnant. Charlie frantically picked up Eve and ordered the bodyguards behind him, “Lock Jenny up. I’ll deal with her when I get back.” After Charlie left, the bodyguards locked me up and directly set a fire. “Miss Jenny deliberately set a fire trying to escape, but ended up burning herself to death.” So this was Eve’s real goal—to burn me to death. The fire gradually grew. I struggled but couldn’t untie the ropes. I was choked by the smoke and gradually lost strength. A burning cabinet suddenly fell toward me. I closed my eyes in despair.

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I loved him for ten years, but I accidentally witnessed my husband Ethan and a female streamer making out in the elevator. When I confronted him with red-rimmed eyes, he said: “I still love you, but you’re old and boring now.” Ethan turned and pulled his mistress close: “Sophie is young, and… she looks a bit like you. That’s proof enough that I still love you.” I was infuriated by his absurd logic. So in his eyes, cheating was his way of showing devotion to me. I immediately posted photos of him and his mistress cheating online. But Ethan locked me in the basement and forced me to kneel and apologize to Sophie. I continued to fight back, and he continued to force me to apologize. Until the tenth time, when Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I pulled out the divorce papers and chose to compromise. Charlotte POV When Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I chose to compromise. His hand paused slightly while adjusting his tie. After a long moment, he smirked: “What, being so obedient this time?” “Did you finally realize that making a scene is useless, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I opened Ins and spoke calmly: “No, I just don’t want to keep entangling anymore.” After a long silence, Ethan picked up the car keys from the table. Leaning against the entrance, he said unhurriedly: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s mainly because Sophie is in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection.” “You always use the title of Mrs. Walker to pressure her. It’s really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Word by word. I seriously posted the tenth clarification statement in five years on that account with only a few hundred followers. Admitting I was being unreasonable, admitting Sophie and Ethan were just a simple boss-subordinate relationship. After posting, I said: “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Ethan’s figure paused slightly, as if thinking about something. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “That’s for the best.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled involuntarily. Last time I refused to compromise and went to the TV station to confront him. I was directly mocked on Sophie’s live show as a crazy woman with extreme control issues. Afterward, her millions of fans dug up my gallery address and splashed paint on it for three whole days. When he heard about my gallery going bankrupt. Ethan was just like this, watching me break down with complete calm. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a line: “Charlotte, have you learned your lesson?” How strange. It was so humiliating and hopeless at the time. But thinking back on it now. My heart felt nothing. As the door closed, Ethan left. He was rushing to celebrate with his new love. I had no time for sadness. With trembling hands, I opened my phone messages. Two messages popped up on the screen. One from the bank: [Your supplementary card has been unfrozen.] The other from the emergency room ten minutes ago: [Ms. Harper, if the surgery fee isn’t paid soon, the ICU equipment will be adjusted according to procedure if further delayed.] I stared at those words, my fingertips cold. I took a deep breath and quickly transferred all the newly unfrozen money into the hospital account. Watching the successful transfer screen, I collapsed onto the cold floor. That clarification post on Ins was the only bargaining chip I had to keep Grandma alive. As long as the money arrived, the equipment wouldn’t be removed, and Grandma could hold on until surgery day. I lifted the back of my hand to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, my gaze falling on the critical condition notice the caregiver had just sent. The red danger character stung my eyes. Only then did I realize. I could finally let go of this relationship. On the TV screen. Sophie was hosting “Metropolitan Observer,” the number one rated show nationwide, smiling with intellectual elegance. She gradually overlapped with the memory of that timid intern who used to follow me calling me Ms. Harper. Ethan had one thing right. Sophie was indeed in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection. Those rumors about her being a homewrecker not only didn’t affect her. Instead, her team used them for publicity. A few lines she said on the show about daring to love and hate were clipped into short videos and spread everywhere. Fans praised her as a clear-headed, independent strong female lead. But the first time I discovered Ethan’s change of heart. It came from Sophie actively crossing boundaries. At that time, in Ethan’s study, I saw Sophie’s late-night makeup test photos she’d sent him. During that period, all the socialite wives I knew were advising me. Advising me to be magnanimous. But I hated that Ethan betrayed our vows. Hated that he forgot who stayed up late writing business proposals for him until she had a stomach bleed during his most difficult startup days. Yet he himself took a substitute who looked a bit like my younger self, thriving in high society. I was unwilling and refused to compromise. Until that time, I confronted him with the contract for the multi-million dollar mansion he’d given Sophie. The matter blew up big. To protect Sophie’s public image. Ethan decisively chose to suppress the news and locked me in the villa for a whole week. At that time, the entire finance section was praising the Walker Group CEO’s business empire. I was so provoked I went crazy, screaming at Ethan when he came home. Ethan patiently let Sophie leave first, which made me break down even more. I threw that property deed with Sophie’s name on it in his face, calling him an immoral bastard. In the end, he said coldly: “Yes! I am keeping her, so what? If you can’t take it, then get lost!” When those words landed, both he and I froze. But in the end, I was the first to speak. I became even more hysterical than before. “Why should I be the one to leave?!” “Why should I fulfill you and that bitch?!” “Ethan Walker, you owe me for life! You and her should be condemned forever!!!”

Charlotte POV After that argument, we parted on bad terms. Ethan didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I could know his whereabouts was through Sophie’s talk show previews. Under multiple blows, I made an extreme decision to drag them both to hell. I compiled evidence of Ethan’s suspected irregular operations during his startup period, as well as Sophie’s use of charity funds for money laundering. Planning to send it directly to the regulatory department. But before I could click send on the email, Ethan made his move. He not only froze all my supplementary cards. He also used his connections to cut off the imported medicine supply for my grandmother in the ICU. That was the last lifeline keeping Grandma alive. The moment I learned the news, I broke down. I didn’t even notice the provocative post Sophie made on Ins. I frantically dialed his number and screamed: “Ethan Walker, you clearly know Grandma’s surgery is this week!” “You clearly know stopping the medicine will kill her!” “How can you be so heartless?!” But Ethan remained unmoved. The sound of papers rustling came through the phone, terrifyingly calm. Only after I collapsed exhausted on the cold floor. Did he speak casually: “Charlotte, don’t expect me to go easy on you.” “You know, Sophie’s new show still needs a newsworthy guest.” “Tonight at eight, come to the station to record a clarification interview. As long as you perform well, the medicine will naturally be renewed.” In that moment, my heart suffocated like never before. I couldn’t even believe the cold-blooded man on the phone. Was once the boy who ran through half the city in a snowstorm just to buy me a cake. It was also in that moment I finally understood. The Ethan who loved me had long been dead. Dead in the decadence of fame and fortune. For Grandma, I could only wipe my tears. It was also that day, looking at my haggard self in the mirror. I finally decided to end this marriage that had made me unrecognizable. But what made me miserable was far from over. Grandma’s illness couldn’t wait. I could only choose to compromise. That night at eight, I appeared on time at the TV station’s studio. The moment the spotlight came on, I felt a moment of disorientation. Once, I was a regular here. When Ethan first took over the group’s media division, countless all-nighters were spent with me in the corner of this studio, helping him revise scripts and supervising rehearsals. Back then the staff respectfully called me Ms. Harper. But now, I sat on a cold bench at the edge of the guest seats. While Sophie sat in the main seat, wearing a pure white business suit with exquisite makeup. The live broadcast began. Sophie smiled warmly at the camera: “Today we have a special guest. She was once Mr. Walker’s capable assistant, but for various reasons, regrettably departed. Let’s welcome Ms. Charlotte Harper.” She emphasized the words “regrettably departed” heavily. Immediately after, a series of photos appeared on the big screen behind me. They were candid photos of me without makeup from the past few years when I was exhausted, contrasted with Sophie’s polished and retouched images. Sophie pretended to be shocked and covered her mouth: “I heard your mental state hasn’t been very good recently, always imagining non-existent business disputes. Actually, Mr. Walker has always been very understanding toward you, even keeping a nominal position for you at the company.” “Look, this is the mental health fund Mr. Walker set up for you. As long as you’re willing to cooperate with treatment…” She took out a document and waved it in front of the camera. That wasn’t any fund document at all—it was clearly a mental evaluation application. I jerked my head up to look at Ethan in the audience. He sat in the first row, hands folded, watching all this coldly. Tacitly agreeing that I was a lunatic. My hand holding the microphone was trembling. I wanted to refute. But a cold prompt came through my earpiece from the director: “Ms. Harper, if you don’t want the hospital to lose power, please answer according to the script.” That was Grandma’s ventilator lifeline! There absolutely couldn’t be a power outage! I closed my eyes and swallowed my hatred. Under the gaze of millions of viewers, I nodded mechanically: “Yes… my mental state isn’t good.” “I misunderstood Ms. Sophie.” “I… don’t deserve Ethan Walker.” In that moment, the comments exploded. The studio’s big screen scrolled real-time viewer comments, each one cutting to the heart: “OMG, so she’s crazy? I knew there was no way Goddess Sophie could be a homewrecker.” “This woman looks abnormal. No wonder Mr. Walker dumped her.” “A mental patient coming out to attack people? Suggest sending her straight to the asylum, don’t let her harm society!” “Crowdfunding to send her in, I’ll contribute five bucks!” “I’ll contribute ten bucks to cleanse Mr. Walker’s eyes!” That half-hour live broadcast felt like a lifetime. The moment the director called cut, Sophie immediately dropped her compassionate facade. She walked up to me and in a voice only we could hear, laughed contemptuously: “Charlotte, you see, this is how public opinion works now.” “As long as I control the narrative, I can make black seem white.” “Mr. Walker values his reputation. Your so-called past affection is worthless compared to my ratings.” I walked out of the TV station in a daze. The night wind was cold, making my bones ache. I thought this was rock bottom. As long as I could save Grandma, enduring some humiliation was nothing. At least I still had Grandma. But fate loves to torment the unfortunate.

Charlotte POV After that live broadcast, I became the despised wealthy madwoman of the entire internet. I didn’t dare look at my phone, didn’t even dare miss a single call from the hospital. I could only shut myself in my rental apartment in a daze. That villa where Ethan and I had lived for five years—I could never go back. It was now filled with Sophie’s presence. Even the lilies I’d planted were dug up and replaced with her favorite tulips. I thought hiding away would bring me peace. But I underestimated human malice and the madness of Sophie’s die-hard fans. In just one day, my address, phone number, and even the hospital room number where Grandma stayed were all dug up by Sophie’s fans. On the third morning, I was just preparing to cook and take food to the hospital. The moment I opened the door, a bucket of stinking red paint splashed toward me. Though I instinctively dodged, I was still splattered with quite a bit. Outside the door, several young girls wearing masks were frantically taking photos of me with their phones, cursing: “It’s her! That crazy woman who slandered Sophie!” “Looking so shabby, she dares to bully our goddess?” “Sisters, teach her a lesson and wake her up!” Flashlights went crazy, blinding me. Before I could explain, someone pushed me. I fell miserably onto the paint-covered ground, my knees hitting the cement floor. The pain was excruciating. But I couldn’t care about the pain. I desperately protected the thermos in my arms—the food I’d made for Grandma was still hot. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” I screamed. A mocking laugh came from the crowd: “Oh, you know about the law? Why didn’t you think about the law when you were slandering people online?” “We’re punishing you!” In the chaos, someone kicked over the thermos. I watched the mess on the ground, and tears finally couldn’t help falling. That was the last little thing I could do for Grandma, and they destroyed it. I struggled to get up, to rush out. The hospital hadn’t called me yet. I had to go check on Grandma. But this group of people surrounded me like an iron barrel, not leaving me any gap. Just as I was despairing, my phone suddenly rang. It was the emergency room at the hospital. The ringtone sounded weak yet piercing amid the noisy cursing. I frantically pushed away the person in front of me and answered with trembling hands. “Ms. Harper! Come quickly! The patient’s condition has deteriorated!” “Someone splashed paint in the hospital room. Your grandmother was frightened and is being resuscitated now!” In that instant, my world collapsed. Splashing paint in a hospital room? How dare they?! That was the ICU! A place that saves lives! I don’t know where I found the strength. I pushed away a girl blocking me and rushed out of the crowd desperately. Behind me came the girls’ screams and curses: “The crazy woman is hitting people! Call the police!” I couldn’t hear anymore. My mind was filled only with the doctor’s words. I frantically tried to hail a car on the roadside. But not a single car was willing to stop for a madwoman covered in red paint. In desperation, I dialed Ethan’s number. This was my last hope. He grew up under Grandma’s care. Grandma once sold her only jewelry to help him with tuition. He couldn’t ignore this. Even for old times’ sake, he absolutely wouldn’t stand by and watch someone die. Finally, the call connected. Just as I was about to cry out for help, a woman’s voice came through: “Ms. Harper?” “What bad timing. Ethan is taking a shower.” “You know, last night’s celebration was exhausting. He just went to sleep.” “Whatever it is, let’s talk tomorrow.” The call ended. I stood on the street holding my phone. Heavy rain poured down, washing away the paint on my body but unable to wash away the bone-deep cold in my heart.

Charlotte POV The rain kept falling. I begged a kind truck driver to take me to the hospital. But when I stumbled into the inpatient building, everything was already too late. Yellow police tape was pulled up at the elevator entrance. Several security guards stood around with serious expressions. I frantically tried to rush in but was held back firmly. “What are you doing? You can’t go in!” “Please, I’m a patient’s family member! My grandmother is being resuscitated! Let me in!” My face was covered in rainwater mixed with paint, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. The security guard frowned and was about to drive me away when a nurse happened to pass by and recognized me. She spoke a few words to the security guard in a low voice and pulled me through the staff passage. She looked at me with complex eyes—eyes filled with sympathy and pity. “Ms. Harper… there’s no need to go in.” She said softly. Those few short words were like a thunderbolt, shattering me completely. I stood frozen in place, opening my mouth but unable to make a sound. No need to go in… what did that mean? The nurse turned her head away, unable to bear looking at me: “Just now a group of people caused trouble outside the hospital room, throwing things and shining laser pointers at the patient’s eyes…” “Your grandmother already had a weak heart. She was frightened, and… and she kept calling your name. She couldn’t catch her breath.” “They tried to resuscitate her for half an hour but couldn’t save her.” I don’t know how I made it to the morgue entrance. That kind old woman who used to warm my hands in her armpits during winter now lay quietly on a cold metal bed. Covered with a white sheet. With trembling hands, I lifted a corner of the white sheet. Grandma’s eyes were still half-open, as if she died with unfinished business, or as if she was waiting for someone. “Grandma…” I knelt on the ground and pressed my face against her already cold hand. Tears burst forth but no sound came out. The caregiver who had been looking after Grandma walked over with red eyes and handed me a crumpled plastic bag. “Ms. Harper, this is what your grandmother was clutching tightly before she passed.” “She said… this is money for you, telling you not to wrong yourself.” I opened the bag with trembling hands. Inside was a stack of small bills and a credit card. The credit card had only thirty thousand dollars. That was what Grandma had saved penny by penny over these years through frugal living. She knew I wasn’t doing well at the Walker house, knew Ethan had changed. She wanted to leave me a way out. But I didn’t even see her one last time. I could even imagine her fear in the last moments of her life, surrounded by those cyber bullies. She was waiting for me. Waiting for the me she’d protected since childhood to save her. But I didn’t come. And the man she once loved was now holding the murderer who killed her, dreaming sweet dreams. I clutched that stack of bills still warm with body heat and sat on the cold morgue floor all night. The next morning, the rain stopped. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the rising sun. The sunlight was blinding, shining on me but without a trace of warmth. I took out my phone and looked at the dozens of missed calls, all from the hospital. Ethan’s chat box still stopped at last night’s message: “Sophie is timid. Don’t call and scare her.” I looked at that line of text and suddenly found it funny. Really funny. I laughed out loud, laughed until tears flowed, laughed until my stomach cramped. It was in that moment. A certain corner of my heart completely collapsed. The Charlotte who loved Ethan Walker died in last night’s rainy night.

Charlotte POV During the three days I handled Grandma’s funeral, I disappeared. There was no funeral service. I went to the crematorium alone and watched Grandma turn into a small box. Then I scattered her ashes in the river she loved most in life. After doing all this, I returned to that villa. I walked into the bedroom and started packing. My clothes, gifts Ethan gave me. Even our wedding photos—I threw everything into black garbage bags. Only keeping Grandma’s bankbook close to me. At eight in the evening, Ethan came back. He reeked of alcohol, obviously just coming from some party. Seeing me sitting in the empty living room, he paused, frowning: “Where have you been these past few days? Not answering calls either.” “Sophie said you called her that night? Didn’t I tell you she was preparing for interviews, not to disturb her?” He loosened his tie while complaining casually, his tone carrying a natural sense of reproach. I sat on the sofa, quietly watching him. Watching this face I’d loved for a full ten years. At this moment, it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. “Ethan.” I spoke. “Let’s get divorced.” “I’ve already submitted the divorce registration. Whether you sign or not, it will go through the court process.” Ethan’s movements paused, then he laughed mockingly and threw his tie on the sofa. “This again? Charlotte, are you kidding me or what?” “Still making a fuss three days later over a stupid award? How long are you going to keep this up?” He obviously thought I was still angry about the live broadcast. I took out the divorce agreement I’d already printed from my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “I’ve already signed. I don’t have any demands regarding property division.” “As long as you sign, I’ll leave right now.” Ethan’s eyes finally turned cold. He picked up the agreement and glanced at it, as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “Leave with nothing? Charlotte, are you insane?” “Without me, where can you go?” He didn’t believe at all that I would really leave. In his eyes, without him, Ethan Walker, I, Charlotte Harper, was like a dodder vine without water—couldn’t survive three days. “That’s none of Mr. Walker’s concern.” I stood up, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked straight toward the door. Ethan was enraged by my attitude. He strode over and grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “Charlotte! Stop right there!” “I’m giving you a way out and you’re taking it! Don’t be ungrateful!” “Next week Sophie and I are going to the Maldives. You come too. Consider it my apology. Will that work?” I looked down at my wrist, now red from his grip, and suddenly smiled. “Mr. Walker, your apology is too valuable. I can’t afford it.” “Also, let go.” “Otherwise, I’ll call the police right now and report you for marital rape.” Ethan looked at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. After a few seconds of standoff, he roughly let go of my hand, his face dark enough to drip water. “Fine, impressive.” “Walk out that door and don’t even think about coming back to beg me!” “I want to see just how long you can keep this up.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase and walked out the front door. Sitting in the taxi, I took out my backup phone and dialed a number. “Police?” “Regarding evidence that Walker Group is suspected of using shell companies to launder money for a certain foundation, I’ve compiled everything.” “I want to file a real-name report that Sophie incited fans to cyberbully someone to death.” “All the evidence is on that USB drive.”

Charlotte POV Early the next morning, I didn’t go to the police station. Because I knew that the moment I stepped through that door, Ethan would be notified. With his power and influence, there were ninety-nine ways I could disappear. So I went back to the villa. Ethan was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Seeing me return, a trace of expected mockery flashed in his eyes. “What, figured it out so quickly?” “I knew it. Without me, you can’t even afford breakfast.” He put down his coffee, his tone resuming that condescending sense of charity. I placed my suitcase in the entryway, changed into slippers, and even smiled at him: “I have figured it out, Mr. Walker.” “Yesterday I was impulsive. After all, we’re married—no need to make things too ugly.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, obviously satisfied with my sensibility. “Tear up that divorce agreement. Tonight Sophie has a gala. Come with me.” I nodded obediently, then walked into the kitchen and heated him a glass of milk as usual. Just when my back was turned to him, I crushed a sleeping pill and mixed it into the milk. Ethan drank it without suspicion. Half an hour later, he fell into a deep sleep on the study sofa. Using his fingerprint, I opened the safe that only he could access. Inside were not only Walker Group’s core secrets but also the original ledgers of Sophie’s money laundering through charity projects over the years, as well as Ethan’s stock market manipulation records done secretly to promote her. Once these things were exposed, they would be enough to bring down the entire Walker empire. I copied all the data onto a hard drive I’d prepared in advance. And set a timed send. The send time was set for the climax of Sophie’s party. After finishing all this, I restored everything to its original state and even thoughtfully covered Ethan with a blanket. Looking at his face that appeared cold even in sleep, I felt only deathly silence in my heart. At two in the afternoon, Ethan woke up. He rubbed his temples, only feeling that he’d slept unusually deeply, but didn’t think much of it. Seeing I was still home, he was in a good mood and casually tossed me a black card: “Go buy an outfit. Tonight’s gala is very important.” “Sophie is announcing her promotion to deputy director tonight. Remember to congratulate her.” He truly perfected humiliation. I took the card and responded meekly: “Okay, I’ll give her an unforgettable gift.” Ethan smiled, thinking I genuinely wanted to please Sophie. “Charlotte, as long as you’re sensible, the position of Mrs. Walker will always be yours.” With that, he got up to handle company matters. Watching his car leave the villa. I turned around, cut that black card in half, and threw it in the trash. Then, pulling my already prepared suitcase, I left without looking back. Afternoon. Terminal 3. I sat in a corner of the departure hall, watching planes take off and land through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The boarding announcement came through the speakers. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Ethan. I hesitated for a second, then answered anyway. I wanted one last look at him celebrating at hell’s gate. The video connected. The screen showed a magnificent ballroom. Ethan wore a perfectly tailored black suit, holding champagne, with Sophie in a red dress looking stunning on his arm. The background was full of flattering voices and camera flashes. “Charlotte, why aren’t you here yet?” Ethan frowned slightly. Even through the screen I could feel his displeasure. “Sophie’s speech is about to start. All the city’s media are here. As my ex-wife, your absence makes me look bad.” Sophie also leaned over and smiled fakely at the camera: “That’s right. Everyone’s waiting for you. Tonight is my highlight moment. It won’t be perfect without your blessing.” Looking at them, I felt like I was watching two clowns. “Ethan.” I spoke. “I’m not coming.” “But the big gift I prepared for you will arrive in ten minutes.” Ethan paused, then laughed mockingly. He obviously thought I meant an actual gift, even teasing somewhat: “Okay, looks like you really have learned to behave.” “As long as the gift is substantial enough, I’m not unwilling to forgive your previous tantrums.” “If you want to go out and clear your head, that’s fine too. When you figure things out and come back, the Walker family will still have a place for you.” Even now. He still thought my so-called leaving was just throwing a tantrum. Still thought I, Charlotte Harper, couldn’t leave him, Ethan Walker. “Ethan.” I called his name again. “Enjoy these last two minutes.” “Because after tonight, you’ll never have another chance to talk to me like this.” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. He seemed to finally sense something was wrong. “Charlotte, what do you mean?” “What are you doing?!” I didn’t answer again. I hung up directly. Then, in front of the security cameras, I pulled out my SIM card. With two fingers I snapped it in half. I casually threw both the phone and broken card into the nearby recycling bin. The announcement came through again: “The flight to London is about to depart. Passengers who have not yet boarded, please hurry…” I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the gate. On the big screen behind me, the live broadcast of Sophie’s party had just switched on.

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At a gathering with friends, someone patted my wife Lara Blanchett on the shoulder and asked: “Lara, a beauty like you must have had a first love back in school, right?” Lara smiled and reached up to adjust my shirt collar. “No, I only love my husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Parker, her male best friend sitting beside her, suddenly laughed out loud. “First love? No.” “But she did have a fuck buddy.” He propped his chin on his hand and looked at me, blinking smugly. “Don’t be nervous, Mason. I’m talking about back then.” “Lara was like a nymphomaniac—she dragged me to all kinds of places for sex. Nearly wore me out.” Someone cursed in surprise, and laughter instantly exploded in the private room. Parker wasn’t satisfied yet. He slowly twisted the knife deeper: “Sorry about this, but I got to sleep with your wife before you did. Three hundred and sixty-five times, to be exact.” He raised his glass and smiled at me with curved lips: “Don’t take it personally, Mason. Just joking between guys. It’s all in the past.” “If we still had something going on, we wouldn’t pick the day you announce you’re having a baby to say it, right?”

The air froze for a moment. Finally, someone reacted first, raising their glass to smooth things over. “Well, everyone did foolish things when they were young.” “It’s all in the past. Don’t dredge up old accounts.” “Besides, Lara treats Mason so well now. No matter how busy she is at work, she comes home. He can use the card however he wants. She drives him everywhere. Now that she’s pregnant, she’s arranged everything at home perfectly.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly. A woman like Lara is already rare.” “Parker has a loose tongue and loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.” The private room became lively again, laughter and clinking glasses mixing into a cacophony. As if that previous exchange had really just been a harmless joke. I smiled too, but my fingertips were growing colder bit by bit. They weren’t wrong. Lara treated me well—proper, thoughtful, flawless. She gave me a watch for our anniversary, called a doctor when I was sick, never missed giving me gifts or clothes. But when Lara had sex with me, she was always calm, like completing a task. Always the same rhythm, the same positions, the same silence. No kissing, no flirting, no eye contact. From start to finish, she barely made a sound. Even her breathing was as controlled as if she were in a meeting. After it was over, she’d get up to shower immediately, her retreating figure efficient, without even asking how it was. At first, I thought it was because she had a reserved personality. Later, I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough. I tried many times. Changed to shirts she might like, learned those clumsy, pleasing moves from videos, and on nights when she came home from working late, I’d hold her with a flushed face. But she’d only frown and remove my hands. “Stop it. I’m tired today.” “Behave yourself.” Once, I worked up the courage, sprayed on new cologne, and changed into the suit she’d once complimented. She didn’t even look. She just draped her coat over the sofa, her tone flat. “Don’t wear that anymore. It doesn’t suit you.” Doesn’t suit me. That night, I washed the hair gel out bit by bit alone in the bathroom, suddenly feeling like the person in the mirror was a ridiculous clown. And now, Parker leaned next to her, laughing as he talked about their wild times back then. Lara said “that’s enough,” but she didn’t deny a single word. I finally understood. She wasn’t naturally cold. She just gave her passion to someone else and saved propriety for me. “Honey?” Lara suddenly called me, handing over a glass of warm water. “You don’t look well. Don’t overthink it. He’s had too much to drink and is talking nonsense.” I took the glass, my fingertip pressing against the warmth of the cup. Warm. But it couldn’t warm my heart at all. I looked up at her and asked softly: “Lara, have you ever truly loved me?” Her expression froze. She was about to speak. But Parker beside her laughed first, slowly swirling his wine glass: “Mason, that question really hurts the mood.” “For women, isn’t it enough that she’s willing to give you status and bear your child?” “After all, Lara slept in my arms for so many years and never gave me status.” I looked at him and suddenly laughed too. “You’re right.” “Status really is enough.” Except from this moment on, I don’t want it anymore.

On the drive home, the car was so quiet only the sound of the windshield wipers remained. Lara gripped the steering wheel. After a long time, she finally spoke. “Don’t take what Parker said seriously.” “It was just youthful foolishness. He can’t keep his mouth shut.” She paused, as if soothing someone being unreasonable. “I married you now. The baby is ours. Isn’t that enough?” I looked at the neon lights retreating outside the window, my nails digging into my palm bit by bit. “So you think I should be grateful?” Lara frowned. “Your emotions are running too high tonight. Go home and rest first.” When we got home, she took off her coat and, as usual, poured water, washed her hands, checked her phone. Calm, as if the humiliation in that private room had never happened. I stood at the bedroom door, my throat tight. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to know— Did she have no feelings for me, or did she simply not want me? I bit my teeth, unbuttoned my collar, and walked toward her. My fingers trembled, but I still reached out to hold her. “Lara…” “Look at me.” Her body stiffened for a moment, then she pulled away. No desire, no attraction—only exhaustion and impatience. She picked up the coat beside her and draped it back over my shoulders, her tone cold: “Stop fooling around.” My eyes immediately reddened. “You’ve been pregnant for three months. The doctor said it’s safe during the stable period…” “I’m not fooling around. I just want to know if you still want me.” Lara looked at me, her expression sinking bit by bit. “Mason, are you really this desperate?” Those words hit like a slap across my face. I froze in place, even my breathing trembling. But she had already turned around, grabbed her car keys, and headed out. The door slammed shut. The entire house was left with only me and my wretchedness. I sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling onto the back of my hand one by one. Half an hour later, my phone lit up with a notification. Parker had posted on Instagram. The photo showed a woman’s wrist in the driver’s seat, wearing the bracelet I’d given Lara. The caption read just one line: 【Someone’s mad I said too much when I was drunk. But she still came over in the middle of the night.】 Below that, he added another line: 【Back when we were poor students, we tried every place except car sex in a luxury vehicle.】 【Looks like we’re unlocking a new location tonight.】 I stared at those two lines of text and suddenly laughed. So when she said don’t overthink it, She meant for me to stay home with dignity. While she went to his place to let her true feelings run wild. I wiped away my tears, opened the family group chat, and sent a message. “Dad, Mom, please arrange a lawyer for me.” “I don’t want the baby anymore. I’m getting divorced too.” As soon as I sent the message, my father’s call came through. His voice was cold as ice. “Finally figured it out?” “Your mother and I never approved of Lara.” “The Blanchett family is good, but she’s been spoiled since childhood. Plus she keeps that unclear relationship with Parker as her male best friend.” “A woman like that has too fickle a heart. She can’t sustain a stable marriage.” “We only stepped back because you liked her.” “Now that you’ve woken up, it’s not too late.” My mother took over the phone, her tone both heartbroken and decisive: “I’ll have someone pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.” “The divorce lawyer is already on their way.” “As for the baby in her belly, Mom knows you can’t bear to give it up.” “But once this child is born, you and Lara will be entangled for life.” “This kind of marriage—cutting it off early is the real blessing.”

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the door unlocking. Lara walked in carrying a paper bag, her expression unusually gentle. “You’re awake? I bought you a small cake.” She pushed the box in front of me, her tone coaxing like talking to a child. “Isn’t this your favorite place?” I looked down. Mango mousse. My stomach immediately churned. I’m allergic to mangoes. In severe cases, I have trouble breathing. I stared at that piece of mango mousse, suddenly remembering many small, piercing moments. Parker can’t eat onions. She remembered. Every time before ordering, she’d say first: “No onions in his portion.” Parker gets stomachaches from iced Americanos. She remembered. On rainy days, she’d order him a hot latte in advance, with a note for less sugar. Parker’s flight lands at 1 AM. She remembered that too. I’d seen the reminders on her phone more than once. 【Parker lands at 01:20, temperature drop, remind him to bring a jacket.】 These reminders were accurate down to the minute. But the fact that I’m allergic to mangoes—after three years, she still forgot. Seeing my terrible expression, Lara’s movements paused, and a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. “I… grabbed the wrong one.” She quickly pulled another box from her bag, rushing to make amends. “Then look at this. I passed by the boutique today and got this for you.” “You said you liked this watch before.” The box opened to reveal a beautiful timepiece. It really was the one I’d admired for a long time. If it were before, I probably would have forgiven her with tears in my eyes. But now, I only felt exhausted. I pushed the box back flatly. “Just leave it there.” Lara frowned: “Still sulking?” I didn’t respond. I picked up my phone. As soon as the screen lit up, group messages popped up. The group was still that familiar “Original Crew.” Parker had posted a nine-grid photo set. Men’s shirts, women’s short skirts, black lace lingerie scattered all over the floor. The group instantly exploded. “Holy shit, who was Parker with last night?” “That’s some intense action!” “Details, details! How many rounds did you go?” Parker replied leisurely: “Seven or eight, at least.” “Nearly killed me.” “Some people act all refined normally, but when they get wild, they really know what they’re doing.” A bunch of smirking emojis followed below. Then he sent another line: “@Lara Did you get home?” “Does Mason like the watch you picked for him?” I stared at that line of text, my fingers growing colder bit by bit. So even the apology gift was chosen by Parker. Beside me, Lara’s phone vibrated almost simultaneously. She glanced down, her face changing instantly, and reached out to grab my phone. I pressed the screen dark first and looked up at her. “I haven’t even asked you yet. No need to rush to explain.” Lara’s movement froze mid-air, her throat bobbing. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” “What happened between Parker and me is long in the past.” “After the baby’s born, I’ll take you on a trip. You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland, right?” “Besides, if I still had something with him, the baby would be gone by now. Would we have made it to today?” She reached out to hold my hand, but I gently avoided it. I looked at her and suddenly smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” Lara paused, thinking I’d been pacified, and her tone relaxed. “See? That’s better. Don’t always get stuck in your head.” “Parker just loves to run his mouth. He posts whatever without thinking. Don’t stoop to his level.” I nodded, my voice flat and waveless. “For me, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara frowned slightly, clearly taking this as me being petulant. She glanced at the time and grabbed her car keys. “Alright, stop being moody.” “I have something this afternoon. I’ll come back later and have dinner with you.” The moment the door closed, the room became quiet again. I looked at the mango mousse on the table, slowly picked up my phone, and sent the lawyer a message: “We can proceed with the process now.”

At 3 PM, I sat in the hospital consultation room. The sunlight outside the window was blinding. The doctor finished reviewing the materials, looked up at me, and spoke in a calm tone: “Mr. Mason, terminating a pregnancy requires confirmation from the pregnant woman herself.” “As her husband, you can accompany her and sign some of the documents, but you cannot make the decision for her.” I nodded. Actually, before I came, I already knew. It was Lara’s body. Even if I hated her, even if I no longer wanted this child, I shouldn’t be the one to put her on the operating table. But I still came. Because I needed to hear a clear statement with my own ears before I could extinguish the last bit of hope in my heart. The doctor pushed the form back, his voice softening somewhat: “If you’re just having marital problems, I suggest resolving the relationship first.” “Children shouldn’t be used as bargaining chips.” I lowered my eyes, my fingertips gripping tighter bit by bit. I wasn’t being petulant. I finally understood that once this child was born, Lara and I could never cut ties cleanly. My phone vibrated once on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Lara: “Honey, I just picked out a baby stroller.” “It’s made so beautifully. He’ll definitely love it.” I stared at those two lines of text, my vision blurring. I suddenly remembered the day we found out about the pregnancy. When the test results were handed to me, Lara froze first, then tears filled her eyes the next second. She hugged me, laughing in the living room like a child. “I’m going to be a mom?” “Mason, I’m going to be a mom!” That night she leaned on my shoulder and talked about so much. Said the nursery should be painted light blue, or light yellow would be good too. Said I should choose the name. Said no matter how busy she was, she’d come home on time to be with me and the child. Back then, I really believed her. I thought this child would warm up the cold places between us again. But now, the same person was sending me baby stroller photos while leaving ambiguous traces in Parker’s social media during the night. Sincerity and betrayal could actually exist on the same face. I pressed the phone screen dark and said quietly to the doctor: “Thank you.” “I understand.” When I came out of the hospital, the lawyer was already waiting for me at the entrance. He handed over the drafted agreement. “Mr. Mason, the agreement states that if Ms. Lara insists on having the child, subsequent custody, visitation rights, child support, and property division can all enter separate clauses.” “However, whether to terminate the pregnancy cannot be unilaterally decided by you under the law.” I took the documents. The pages were light but felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. “Then let’s divorce first.” “The child’s matter will follow legal procedures.” The lawyer nodded. “Understood.” When I got home that evening, I’d just pushed open the door when I heard familiar laughter in the living room. Parker sat on the sofa while Lara poured him hot water. Seeing me, he immediately stood up, his eyes reddening, his tone sickeningly soft. “Mason, you’re back.” “I drank too much last night and talked nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” He walked forward two steps, as if sincerely apologizing. “Lara and I have just been fooling around since we were kids. I can’t keep my mouth shut.” “She’s pregnant now, and you’re emotionally sensitive. I understand.” “I’ll be more careful about boundaries from now on and won’t let you misunderstand again.” The words were apologetic, but the knife was hidden in every syllable. As if all of this was just me, the husband, making a mountain out of a molehill. Lara also spoke up, her tone certain: “I already said it was a misunderstanding.” “From now on, let’s live our lives well and raise the child properly. That’s more important than anything.” “You’re about to be a father. Stop overthinking and getting jealous all the time.” I leaned against the doorway, pale-faced, feeling exhausted even lifting my hand. Parker saw the hospital documents in my hand and exclaimed with fake surprise: “Mason, why do you look so terrible? You didn’t go to the hospital for random tests and scare yourself, did you?” “Men shouldn’t be so sensitive.” “Lara still has a baby in her belly. Don’t use the child as leverage in a fight.” I slowly raised my hand and waved it lightly. “Stop acting.” The living room fell silent. I looked at Lara and spoke word by word: “I don’t want this child anymore.” Lara’s expression instantly froze. “What did you say?” Before I could answer, the lawyer behind me stepped forward and handed over documents. The pages opened. Black text, clear and piercing. “Divorce Agreement.” The lawyer’s tone was steady: “Ms. Lara, this is the divorce agreement drafted by Mr. Mason. Please review it.” “Regarding the child, the agreement clearly states: if you insist on giving birth, Mr. Mason will fulfill his legal obligations.” “But this marriage—he has decided to terminate it.”

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Six years ago, I went to prison for Ethan’s accidental assault. Six years later, I stood at the prison gates and watched Ethan ride past in a wedding car. And his bride was the very person who had landed me in jail all those years ago. The officer escorting me out handed over my belongings and asked casually: “You got out two years early for good behavior. Didn’t you call your family to pick you up?” I looked away and took the bag, my voice hoarse: “My mom’s health isn’t good. She’s in the hospital.” “What about your husband?” the officer added. I paused, then fished out the marriage certificate from the bottom of the bag, revealing the seal that had long since faded. “This?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth in something like a smile. “It’s fake. Three bucks for a rubber stamp.” Chapter One This was the certificate she and Ethan had obtained before her imprisonment. Back then, his eyes had been calm as he promised that no matter how long it took, she would be his only wife. She had always believed what he said, until the stamp gradually faded and peeled away over these six years. The officer looked embarrassed and turned to watch the luxurious convoy disappear into the distance, changing the subject: “What a spectacle. I heard it’s a merger between the Pierce and Taylor families. The groom is the young master the Pierces found a couple years ago.” “Apparently he spent years struggling in the slums. Who would’ve thought? One day he’s nobody, the next he’s a wealthy heir.” Sophia Bridge lowered her eyes gently. Yes, who would have thought that a guy who had to deliver packages to save up for tuition a few years ago was the Pierce family’s lost heir? And who could have imagined that after returning to his birth family, he would marry Clara Taylor—the woman he once despised most? In college, Clara had used the Taylor family’s influence to pursue him relentlessly. And because she was his supposed childhood friend, she constantly made trouble for Sophia. So Ethan had hated Clara with a passion. Until Clara was publicly rejected by Ethan yet again. Humiliated and furious, she called people to corner him. When Sophia arrived, she threw herself in front of him without hesitation, blocking the blows and shoving someone away. But that person fell down the stairs and ended up in a vegetative state. Afterward, Clara sued her for intentional assault. She was sentenced to eight years in prison. At first, Ethan came almost every day. Even when he couldn’t see her, he would stubbornly stand outside the prison. Later, Ethan could only make it once every few months. On visiting days, she could only stare out the empty window, though she understood his life was difficult and his work demanding. Then for two full years, he never appeared again. And in her day-after-day waiting, she had actually been preparing herself. Seeing him get married today with her own eyes finally shattered that last sliver of hope. She picked up her bag, said goodbye to the officer, and headed toward a slum area well-known throughout River City. The alley was narrow and cramped, but it had been home for her and Ethan for several years. But when she reached the entrance, she stopped abruptly. The rows of dingy low houses had vanished, replaced by a massive shopping mall. She stood there almost dazed, not knowing where to go. The lady running a food stall by the road saw her and exclaimed: “Sophia? You’re back!” It was Mrs. Wilson, who used to live next door. Sophia’s throat felt tight as she pointed at the mall: “When… when was this demolished?” Mrs. Wilson sighed and looked up at the mall’s sign, her tone complicated: “Two years ago. Right around when that Pierce heir returned to his family.” Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. “If you ask me, your mom shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted and taken him in back then. Such a beautiful child—you could tell he wasn’t from an ordinary family.” “Look, once he grew up and went back to his wealthy parents, he thought living here was embarrassing. He bought up everything and had it demolished, said he wanted to give his fiancée a new mall.” “This place was run-down, sure, but a lot of people could only afford to live here. Even with compensation, it wasn’t enough to survive on. So plenty of folks didn’t want to leave. In the end, a construction crew came and forced everyone out. Those who refused were driven away anyway.” It was summer, but Sophia felt cold all over. Instinctively, she didn’t want to believe Ethan could do such a thing. But Mrs. Wilson’s words were crystal clear, leaving no room for disbelief. Mrs. Wilson packed up her stall, shook her head, and said wearily: “I don’t know where you’ve been these years, but take my advice—even though you two grew up together, he’s a Pierce heir now. Not someone people like us can reach anymore.” With that, she pushed her cart away, leaving Sophia standing alone. Sophia didn’t know how long she stood under the blazing sun until someone shoved a flyer into her hand, snapping her back to awareness. The glossy paper showed a photo of Ethan and Clara together. The man wore a tailored suit, his features refined and distant—nothing like the green boy in her memories. Below was a line of gold text: “Celebrating the Pierce-Taylor union. Our hotels offer three days of complimentary stays and meals.” Sophia clutched the flyer tightly. She knew she and Ethan now lived in two different worlds. She had no intention of disturbing his bright future, but she was worried about her mother. Before going to prison, she had entrusted her chronically ill mother, who had been hospitalized for years, to Ethan’s care. Following the address, she found the hotel. One glance told her it was luxurious beyond measure. And all she had was a six-year-old outfit, washed until it was nearly white, standing out awkwardly. She also saw Ethan coming downstairs. Money really did transform people. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, his bearing aloof and distant. When he saw her, Ethan paused briefly, as if encountering an insignificant old acquaintance. He stepped forward and spoke unhurriedly: “Why didn’t you let me know you were getting out early? I could have arranged for someone to pick you up.” Sophia was speechless, momentarily unsure what to say. Ethan paused, then spoke again. “What happened back then—I owe you for that.” “I’ll compensate you. But I hope you won’t disrupt today’s wedding.” Sophia took a deep breath. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze directly. “No need to go to such trouble. I only came to ask which hospital my mother is in now.” As if not expecting this reaction, Ethan paused, but quickly replied: “She’s at a nursing home under the Taylor family. The environment is excellent.” “Assistant Chen will take you there.” With that, he called someone over and turned to leave. But Assistant Chen approached with an embarrassed expression, stammering: “Miss Bridge… your mother actually passed away a year ago.” “As for the body, it was donated to the medical school according to her wishes.” Chapter Two A roar, like something exploding in her head. Sophia stood frozen, her ears ringing. A year ago? She died? Then why did Ethan say her mother was still at the nursing home? Her legs went weak. She could barely stand, stumbling as she pushed through the glass door. “Miss Bridge! You can’t go up! There’s a ceremony in progress!” Assistant Chen tried to stop her but was shoved away hard. “Move!” Sophia’s mind went blank. She had only one thought: to demand answers from Ethan. From the time she could remember, her father had died of illness. Her mother raised her alone. When she was four, on a stormy night, her mother brought home six-year-old Ethan. She’d meant to hand him over to the police, but Ethan was traumatized and wouldn’t let go, so she brought him back. Unable to find his birth parents, Ethan stayed. From age six to sixteen, Ethan was treated like her mother’s own son. They shared childhood bonds and a sibling-like connection. After her mother fell ill, it was Ethan who ran back and forth handling payments and prescriptions, working with her—attending school by day, working nights to save for her mother’s medicine. No matter where things stood between her and Ethan now, she couldn’t believe he would abandon her mother. Inside the revolving door, the banquet hall door stood ajar. She could faintly hear the emcee’s passionate voice. Sophia charged forward without thinking, shoving the door open. The room fell silent. Every gaze turned toward her. Ethan on stage turned his head as well. When he recognized her, his expression darkened. He strode down and stood before her. “Sophia, I told you I would compensate you, but only if you didn’t disrupt today’s banquet.” “I thought you knew better.” Sophia stared at him, her voice raw. “Ethan, didn’t you promise to take good care of my mom?” Curious guests cast nosy glances. Ethan frowned at her appearance, his words tinged with anger. “The nursing home under the Taylor family has top-tier resources. Clara wouldn’t be petty enough to mistreat Aunt Bridge because of you. What’s wrong with her being there?” Without another glance at Sophia, he gave the security guards a cold order. “Lock her in a lounge. Don’t let her out without my say-so.” Security rushed forward and forcibly dragged Sophia out. Sophia struggled desperately but was eventually shoved into an empty room. Bang. The lock clicked. She slid down the door and sat on the floor, trembling all over. Voices came from outside—the guards talking. “Who is that woman? She looks pretty pathetic.” Another voice spoke sympathetically: “She’s the childhood friend from when Mr. Pierce was stuck in the slums! But damn, what bad luck, making a scene on his wedding day.” “Though her mom really did die horribly. She could’ve lived a few more years with proper treatment, but Miss Taylor interfered and stopped the medication.” “Even made the old lady clean to pay off medical bills. The woman could barely get out of bed—how could she survive that? In the end, even her body was put to use, donated to the medical school.” Sophia froze. The other person asked in surprise: “Mr. Pierce didn’t do anything? She raised him, didn’t she?” “Hard to say. If Mr. Pierce hadn’t gone over a year without visiting the old lady, Miss Taylor wouldn’t have just killed her off.” The rest became a buzzing roar in Sophia’s ears. Chapter Three Her mother hadn’t died of illness—she’d been driven to death by Clara Taylor. And after death, she couldn’t even keep her body intact. And Ethan, the man who once swore to protect her, either knew nothing about it or chose to turn a blind eye. Sophia curled up on the floor, tears streaming down uncontrollably, but she couldn’t make a sound. At some point, the voices outside stopped. The door cracked open quietly. An old cell phone was pushed inside. A hushed voice came through: “Miss Bridge, my condolences.” “This was your mother’s belonging. Before she died, she asked me to give it to you if I could.” Sophia thanked them shakily, her hands trembling so badly she could barely unlock the phone. Finally opening it, she saw a video file. The camera showed her mother’s gaunt, pale face. Anyone could see she was in terrible condition. But her tone was as gentle as ever. “Sophia, I might not be able to wait for you to get out.” “The doctor said I owe fifty or sixty thousand in medical bills. I thought about cleaning hospital rooms to offset some of it… but it’s nowhere near enough.” “Ethan’s been so busy he hasn’t visited in over a year. Sometimes I think I’ve been too much of a burden on you both.” “If I’m gone, the weight on your and Ethan’s shoulders will be much lighter. So I’ve decided to stop treatment.” “The young lady at this hospital told me that if I voluntarily donate my body to the medical school, she’ll write off the debt.” “Sophia, when you learn about this, don’t blame Ethan. He did his best. You two be happy together, okay?” The video ended abruptly. Sophia felt as though all the blood had been drained from her body. She was ice-cold. Her mother chose to end her own life simply because she didn’t want to burden the child she’d raised as her own. Even in death, her mother had worried about Ethan. But what was fifty or sixty thousand to Ethan after returning to the Pierce family? Less than the cost of a single meal. The phone dropped to the floor. The emotional shock was too much—her vision went dark. In the darkness, Sophia seemed to return to a rainy night many years ago. She’d just started middle school. Her mother was working the night shift. She woke up in the middle of the night with a fever, burning up. Ethan hoisted her onto his back and ran to the clinic. Rain dripped from his hair, mixing with sweat and splashing onto her face. He gasped for breath but still comforted her: “Don’t be scared, Sophia. I’m here.” Later, when she woke up, she saw him slumped over the bedside, fast asleep with dark circles under his eyes. That was their poorest time, and the time when they thought they’d always be together. When she opened her eyes again, tears had crusted in her lashes. She exhaled softly and picked up the phone again. Sophia dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang three times before an elderly voice answered: “Hello?” “Professor Lewis, it’s me.” Silence on the other end, then rapid breathing: “Sophia? You’re out?” “Good girl,” the old man’s voice trembled with emotion. “You gave up your grad school recommendation to take the fall for that Pierce boy. Such a promising student, wasted… It’s been eating at me all these years!” “That aerospace materials project proposal you submitted—I’m actually heading it up now. If you’re interested, you’re always welcome.” Chapter Four Sophia lowered her eyes, her voice gentle. “Not becoming your student back then is one of my regrets. I heard you mention this project last time, but didn’t you say the team was full? And that Clara Taylor was on it too.” The professor’s voice clearly grew heavy. “She just wants to pad her resume. I hate people who fish for glory like that. If you agree to join, I’ll have my assistant adjust the team roster immediately.” “Alright.” Sophia’s reply was soft. “Thank you, Professor Lewis.” After hanging up, Sophia closed her eyes. During her six years in prison, it was Professor Lewis who visited her monthly and updated her on the world outside. So she knew Clara had been trying to join Professor Lewis’s research team to polish her image and shed her “trophy wife” label. Well, she’d take that away from her—this was only the first step. After the wedding banquet noise died down, her door finally opened. The guard indicated she could leave. Sophia took a deep breath, grabbed the old phone, and walked out. She didn’t look at the lavish venue or at Ethan in the distance. She simply walked, step by step, back to her alma mater, waiting for next Sunday to head to South City with her research team. Over the following days, she buried herself in the library and lab, slowly recovering what she’d lost over six years. Until the university hosted an internal banquet to send off Professor Lewis’s project team. She saw Ethan and Clara again. The pair stood intimately together, radiant under the lights. Their presence wasn’t surprising—both held PhDs from River University. Sophia lowered her eyes, pretending not to see them. She stood quietly behind Professor Lewis like a dutiful shadow. Midway through the banquet, Sophia excused herself. She’d just turned a corner when she saw Ethan. He leaned against the wall, blocking her path, a thin card pinched between his fingers and held out toward her. “This is the compensation I promised you. The amount inside is enough for the rest of your life.” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “I won’t hold what happened last time against you. But after you take this, stop appearing in front of me and Clara.” Sophia looked at the card and almost wanted to laugh. “Ethan, get this straight.” “I’m not trying to appear in front of you two. I’m just living my normal life.” She stepped back, creating distance, her voice calm: “I don’t need your compensation. I just want us to be even. Nothing more between us.” Ethan frowned, apparently not expecting this reaction. He was about to say more when Sophia sidestepped him and walked forward without looking back. After the banquet ended, the crowd gradually dispersed. Sophia remembered she still had materials Professor Lewis had hastily compiled that needed to be delivered to a team member. Following the room number from memory, she lifted her hand and knocked. The door opened quickly. The next second, a powerful force struck. Caught off guard, Sophia was yanked into the room by someone inside, her back slamming hard against the door. Only then did she realize the person in the room was Ethan! He was clearly not in his right mind—skin burning hot, eyes tinged red. He gripped her tightly, his scalding body heat seeping through and making her momentarily dazed. But that daze vanished instantly. She snapped alert and began struggling violently, shoving hard at his chest. Chapter Five But not only did Ethan not let go, he began tearing at her clothing, kisses falling on her neck. In the struggle, Sophia could bear it no longer. All the humiliation and rage she’d accumulated erupted in that moment. She raised her hand and slapped him across the face with all her strength. Ethan’s head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming rapidly on his cheek. The slap seemed to restore some of his senses. He shook his head and pressed his stinging cheek. “Sophia Bridge, what are you doing here?” His head throbbed. He looked down, and his expression darkened completely. “…You drugged me?” Before he finished speaking, Clara’s voice came from the hallway. “Sophia Bridge, what are you two doing?” She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene, and shrieked. “Have you no shame? Ethan just got drunk and came here to rest, and you take advantage to throw yourself at him?” “Even if you were childhood friends, he’s married to me now!” The commotion immediately drew nearby faculty and students. A crowd gathered outside the door, pointing and whispering like a rising tide. “So that’s the one who went to prison…” “No way, Mr. Pierce is married. How shameless is she?” “Throwing herself at him on campus—my God, I think I heard Mr. Pierce say she drugged him?” Sophia bit down hard, suppressing the metallic taste in her throat. “I didn’t.” “I didn’t do this. I only came to deliver a document.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “If not you, then who?” “You refused the money, then turned around and pulled this stunt. Sophia Bridge, what exactly do you want?” His words cut off any path for her to defend herself. The surrounding gazes became tangible needles, piercing her densely. Ethan cast Sophia a cold glance, his breathing still unsteady, then turned to face Clara: “To the hospital.” The protagonists left, and naturally the crowd dispersed too. But that very night, the incident exploded across the campus forum. Someone had recorded video. Ethan’s final words were captured clearly. The comment section fell instantly, countless anonymous IDs launching personal attacks. They dug up everything from her prison record to her background, saying she’d deluded herself into thinking she could marry into wealth just because her family took in Mr. Pierce, that money wasn’t enough and she wanted more. Someone even found Professor Lewis’s project team and mocked him for being senile, recruiting anyone into his group. The next morning, the dorm supervisor came to her door with a cold tone, telling her to pack up and leave. The reason: bad influence. Actually, she didn’t need the university to kick her out—she knew she had to leave. Professor Lewis couldn’t keep her even if he wanted to, so he moved up her flight to South City by two days and pressed some cash into her hands. Sophia first checked into a hotel near the airport, waiting for departure time. But the fallout from public opinion far exceeded her expectations. She’d just grabbed her suitcase to head downstairs when someone blocked her path. The man wore flashy designer clothes, his eyes raking over her up and down. “Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous bed-climbing Sophia? Why don’t you have a drink with me?” Sophia paused but didn’t acknowledge him, gripping her suitcase and trying to walk around him. But he grabbed her arm, his hand falling to her waist as he tried to drag her toward a nearby room. Sophia tried to shake off his grip but couldn’t break free. “Get off me!” People watched but no one intervened. The man snorted coldly and reached for her clothes. Chapter Six “Playing innocent? Aren’t you just selling yourself anyway?” “I’m not eating for free, sweetheart. I’ll pay you, okay?” Just then, a commotion came from the lobby downstairs. She instinctively looked down and saw Ethan entering. The hotel manager bowed and scraped at his side, holding a stack of documents—clearly they’d just finished a business meeting. In that moment, Sophia had only the instinct to escape. She couldn’t care about dignity or appearances anymore. Across the railing, she shouted loudly: “Help! I don’t know him! He’s harassing me, someone help me!” Ethan, who’d been speaking to the manager, paused. Then he raised his eyes, his gaze landing on her. But his eyes stayed only a moment before shifting to the man beside her. The man grinned and waved casually downstairs: “Brother-in-law! Is this the one who climbed into your bed?” “She was just throwing herself at me, but the second she saw you she started acting, claiming I’m harassing her. I’m innocent here!” Brother-in-law. Sophia’s whole body went rigid, her pupils contracting sharply. He was Clara’s brother. Ethan’s expression remained cold. He didn’t even glance at Sophia, simply speaking flatly without a trace of warmth: “You’re saying a Taylor heir is harassing you?” He paused, his gaze returning to Sophia’s ashen face, a mocking edge entering his tone: “Does he need to?” Sophia stood frozen, her face burning hot. He didn’t believe she was being harassed. Instead, he believed she was deliberately trying to latch onto someone. Seeing her silence, the subtle anger in Ethan’s eyes intensified. He continued coldly: “Can’t climb into my bed, so now you’re looking for another branch to climb?” His words were clear, each one like a slap across the face, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Ethan stopped looking at her. He turned back to the hotel manager: “Go over the contract details one more time. I’m going to check the site.” With that, he strode away, his figure quickly disappearing through the hotel entrance. Seeing Ethan leave, the man grabbed Sophia’s wrist with a sleazy grin: “Come on, beautiful. My brother-in-law won’t help you. He only likes my sister. You might as well come with me.” Sophia’s limbs went stiff as he dragged her into the nearby guest room. She closed her eyes. The instant he pressed down on her, she grabbed the water glass beside her and smashed it hard against the back of his head. A dull thud. The man screamed, clutching his head and rolling to the floor. Sophia stumbled to her feet. Without thinking twice, she rushed to the window. Without hesitation, she pushed it open, climbed over, and jumped. Searing pain exploded from her ankle on impact. She even heard the horrible sound of bone displacement. But she didn’t dare stop. Enduring the agony, she practically crawled to the roadside. Fortunately, the airport was nearby, and a kind passerby helped her. By the time Sophia sat in the airport, her ankle was already in a cast. She took out the fake certificate she’d never gotten around to throwing away, studied it briefly, then tossed it in the trash. The plane would depart for South City in two hours. In two hours, she would begin a new life. Ethan had filled her first twenty years. He would not be in the rest of her life.

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My wife, Vivian Wright, was drugged with an aphrodisiac at a cocktail party and had sex with a male college student who looked a lot like me. I gave her three chances. The first time, to prove her loyalty, Vivian immediately sent that college student named Zachary overseas and spent three days and three nights with me in our bedroom. The second time, I ran into Zachary accompanying her to a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Vivian clutched my chest tightly, her voice trembling: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m pregnant. The doctor said if I abort, I might never get pregnant again.” “I swear, once I give birth, I’ll send the baby to my parents’ house right away and send Zachary away too. Please don’t leave me…” But just three days later, she competed against me at an auction for my father’s belongings—because of Zachary. When she saw my bids getting more and more aggressive, Vivian directly offered the highest price. This was the third time, and the last chance I’d give her. I rushed over to confront her. But Vivian didn’t panic. She just frowned slightly: “Ethan, you know I’m about to give birth. Why are you still angry with me?” “Just endure for three more months, and we can go back to how things were.” Hearing her words, I almost laughed until I cried. I finally decided to get divorced. But Vivian brazenly brought Zachary home. 1. “Ethan, I was wrong. Please don’t leave, okay?” Seeing me decisively coming downstairs with my suitcase, Vivian’s eyes instantly turned red. She immediately abandoned Zachary, whom she’d been comforting, and rushed to me, grabbing my wrist. Her whole body was trembling. “Honey, please! Don’t leave me. Trust me one last time.” “Zach just wants to be there when the baby’s born. Once he sees the baby, he’ll go abroad immediately. Everything will go back to how it was.” Go back to how it was? During our struggle, the ring I’d worn on my finger for seven years suddenly fell off. I watched as Vivian panicked and let go, her pregnant belly making it difficult as she bent down to pick up the ring. But I was forced to remember that just this morning, eight-months-pregnant Vivian had brazenly brought Zachary through our door. He sat on the sofa, cradling my wife’s pregnant belly, soothing her in gentle tones. At that moment, my heart—which should have been beating fresh and alive—felt like someone had split it open with an axe. The pain tore through me. I watched Vivian pick up the ring, full of joy as she tried to put it back on my hand. I stepped back and suddenly laughed, tears falling. “Vivian, we can’t go back to how things were.” “…Ethan.” Vivian stood frozen in place, the ring falling from her hand again, rolling to where Zachary stood. I ignored it, pulling my suitcase to leave past Vivian. But the next second, my hand was grabbed again with desperate force. I turned back to see Vivian, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, her head turned, lips trembling. “Ethan, tell me what I need to do for you to stay…” I looked at Zachary, who was standing on my wedding ring, his face full of anxiety as he watched me. My eyes unconsciously swept to Vivian’s belly, ready to give birth any day. I was about to say it didn’t matter—whatever Vivian did couldn’t change my decision to leave. “Vivian…!” Behind me came Zachary’s alarmed cry. His face pale, he collapsed to the floor. “My heart hurts…” Vivian’s expression changed instantly. She immediately released the hand she’d refused to let go of and shoved me aside, rushing to support Zachary. The force made me lose my balance, and the back of my head hit hard against the corner of the stairs. Everything went black. “Vivian!” I called out to her, my voice shaking. But Vivian didn’t look back. I watched her frantically call for the driver, gently comforting Zachary, leaving me with only her hurried back. I was left kneeling there, laughing harder as more tears fell. Staggering to my feet, I casually wiped the blood from my forehead and called my lawyer. After drafting the divorce agreement, I went to the hospital. I stood outside the hospital room, watching Vivian anxiously guarding Zachary’s bedside, though she was the pregnant one. Even though she wasn’t carrying my child, whenever she showed even slight nausea during her pregnancy, my brow would knot in concern. But now she was serving Zachary tea and water. “Vivian, I want to eat food you cook yourself…” Zachary said pitifully. Vivian didn’t hesitate for a second, her pregnant belly protruding as she headed out: “I’ll make it for you. Wait for me.” My heart ached. After she left, I emerged from the shadows and pushed open the hospital room door. When Zachary saw me, his eyes reddened and he started his act: “Mr. Wright, I’m sorry. I really do have a heart condition. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. Please… don’t hit me.” His shoulders trembled, his sobs continuous, like a kicked puppy. What did Vivian see in him? I had no interest in watching his performance. I handed over a document: “I have no intention of blocking your rise to power.” Seeing the word “divorce” on the document, Zachary’s tears froze on his face. “You know very well that Vivian loves me. She won’t agree to divorce. So, this document—you help me get her to sign it.” “But…” Zachary seemed conflicted. “This is a one-time opportunity, Zachary,” I emphasized. Zachary stared at the document for a long time, biting his lip, finally clutching it in his hand: “…Thank you for making our family of three complete, Mr. Wright.” Family of three. My heart seized painfully, the pain stabbing through every breath. “Then… I wish your family of three happiness.” 2 Returning to the villa, I packed up and burned everything related to Vivian. Gold and silver jewelry, luxury goods, dolls, and couple photos—I burned them all. But when I saw a drift bottle, I paused. Inside was a wish written by seventeen-year-old Vivian. I’d read it many times. But today, holding the thin letter paper, I still couldn’t resist opening it to read one last time. The paper had yellowed, but the handwriting remained clear. Seventeen-year-old Vivian’s handwriting was graceful and neat: [To Vivian Wright ten years from now: Vivian, you must be married to Ethan now, right? I’m so jealous of you. You have to love Ethan well for me! Remember to cook for him often. Ethan said he loves my cooking the most. Give him handmade gifts. He says the gift doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts. Make sure he stays warm. He gets cold so easily. Also, I promised to give him a baby that looks like him. A family of three would be the happiest…] At the end of the letter, I discovered a line of small text I’d never noticed before. It was written to me: Ethan, if the me ten years from now treats you badly, leave me and never forgive me. A tear fell heavily on that line of small text, accompanied by my bitter smile and nod of agreement, before I threw the letter into the fire. The flames leaped higher, bursting with sparks. By the time Vivian returned with Zachary, the sky was darkening. Zachary eagerly piled large and small luxury brand packages in front of me, saying they were gifts for me. Seeing this, Vivian looked at him with approval, but when she saw my lukewarm response, she helped Zachary try to please me: “Ethan, look, Zach is actually quite kind. He picked all these out for you. If… you don’t like them, tell me what you want and I’ll buy it for you, okay?” But before she could finish, Zachary spoke up: “Miss Wright, it’s fine. Besides these, I prepared another gift for Mr. Wright. He’ll definitely like it!” With that, Zachary handed me a document envelope. I paused. Without thinking, I knew it contained the divorce agreement. I reached out to take it, but couldn’t pull it away. Zachary hadn’t let go. In front of Vivian, he looked at me, his voice low: “Mr. Wright, don’t forget what you promised me…” “Promised what?” Vivian’s face showed doubt as she turned to me with searching eyes. Under her sharp gaze, my heart tightened. I quickly nodded and pulled the agreement away. “Fine! I promise.” Perhaps Vivian’s gaze was too probing, as she moved forward to look at the agreement. I glanced at Zachary. He smiled triumphantly, then turned to Vivian and said: “Miss Wright, Mr. Wright said that after I leave, he’ll take good care of the baby. So I specially prepared this gift. You don’t mind, do you?” “I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind.” Hearing this, Vivian’s eyes lit up, smiling as she kissed my lips: “Ethan! That’s wonderful. You’ve finally come around. I knew you still loved me.” Vivian, delighted, kissed my lips several times, making Zachary’s eyes flash with jealousy. Perhaps the look was too obvious. Vivian released me, her eyes hesitating: “Ethan, Zach wants duck soup… You’re the best cook. Could you let him try some?” The joy of finally getting the divorce agreement was instantly dispersed by absurd, laughable mockery. So what exactly did Vivian take me for? Her lover, her husband, or Zachary’s personal chef? But thinking that I’d soon be able to leave and not wanting any complications, I nodded wearily: “I understand. I’ll make it for him.” The moment I returned to my room, I opened the envelope and saw Vivian’s signature on the agreement. I suddenly smiled. After signing the divorce agreement and hiding it, I went downstairs to the kitchen and made the soup as promised, instructing the servants to take it to Zachary. But soon after, I was startled awake by Zachary’s alarmed cry. Hearing hurried footsteps in the hallway and Vivian’s piercing scream, I quickly threw on clothes and opened the door. Then I heard Zachary’s shout: “I know now, Vivian—the soup… that soup! There’s something wrong with it!” As his words fell, I met Vivian’s disappointed, resentful gaze, then watched as Zachary carried her rushing downstairs. By the time I realized the large patch of crimson blood on her nightgown—miscarriage blood— I was completely stunned. 3 I watched Zachary carry Vivian rushing toward the door, but even at this moment, she was still gently comforting him. “Don’t be scared… I’m fine. I only had a small sip.” “Vivian.” I instinctively called out, my voice trembling. Finally Vivian looked back at me. Seeing my terrified expression as I followed behind, her eyes suddenly became conflicted and sad. “…Ethan…” She wanted to call to me, but the pain in her body made Vivian’s gaze turn from conflicted to ice-cold. “Ethan Wright, you bastard!” I still followed to the hospital. Standing outside the operating room, I watched Vivian gripping Zachary’s hand, crying out again and again. “Zach, I’m sorry. If I die, take care of the baby. We were meant to be but fate pulled us apart!” The gurney was pushed inside, and Zachary desperately clutched at the door, shouting inside, his voice trembling terribly: “Vivian! Come out alive! Do you hear me! You and the baby both have to live. I love you. I can’t live without you.” Watching their life-and-death vows, my heart quietly fell into an bottomless abyss. Fortunately, Vivian was fine and was eventually transferred to a hospital room. I breathed a sigh of relief, but unexpectedly overheard Vivian’s conversation with the doctor. “Miss Wright, you ingested an excessive amount of abortifacient medication, which caused the miscarriage. And the soup you asked us to test does contain abortifacient components.” As the words fell, the hospital room filled with suffocating silence. I could barely stand, clenching my fists tightly. Vivian lay in bed, pale and cold all over. She didn’t speak, but I only felt suffocated. But I hadn’t done anything! So who put the abortifacient in—that was obvious. I hurried away to the water room to confront Zachary. “Zachary, what’s the point of this? I said I’d leave. I never wanted to get involved in your games. Why do you still have to frame me like this?!” Looking at Zachary’s haggard face across from me, my heart filled with both anger and confusion. But when Zachary met my eyes, his gaze revealed twisted malice: “Of course I know. But… she loves you, doesn’t she?” “Even if you leave, just that love alone will crush me and my son’s future. So I had to do this…” I laughed bitterly. By his logic, wouldn’t it be more convenient to just kill me directly? With a light laugh, I suppressed my anger and spoke coldly: “Since you know that… do you think she’ll believe you?” Hearing this, Zachary’s expression froze, looking at me with clenched teeth and helplessness. Clearly, he had no confidence he could make Vivian hate me. In the standoff, Vivian appeared in the hallway in a wheelchair. Her eyes were dark, but she said nothing. She told Zachary to leave, then looked at me with longing: “Ethan, I want to go home.” As she spoke, I caught the slightest tightening of Zachary’s hand clutching his clothes. “But…” He tried to say something, but his words were stopped by Vivian’s icy gaze. Zachary immediately fell silent, not daring to say more. I looked at Vivian’s weak, exhausted face, completely devoid of anger, and pushed her wheelchair out of the hospital. Vivian’s voice was still warm, but my heart was cold. The car was deathly silent. Vivian unusually didn’t speak to me the whole way. I didn’t pay attention, focused only on going to the civil affairs bureau in the morning to process the divorce. After arriving home, she sent Zachary back to his room. I was about to leave, but Vivian’s hand holding mine still hadn’t let go. Her voice was gentle: “Ethan, come with me.” Not suspecting anything, I obediently followed her all the way to the underground wine cellar. Then I saw it—a huge golden cage. Immediately, my temples throbbed. I instinctively turned to run. But Vivian reacted faster. With a wave of her hand, bodyguards suddenly appeared and grabbed me. She had them stuff me into the cage!

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My little brother is the most hated rising star on the internet. When we joined a family reality show together, he was walking on eggshells, while I roasted everyone in sight—I would have kicked a passing dog just on principle. My brother: “Sis, keep a low profile, I’m begging you.” The fans: “This is so satisfying! Keep roasting them, we love to see it!” 01 I had just returned from studying abroad when my younger brother, Hayes, took a gig on a family reality show. He invited our mom. She took a sip of her coffee and said coldly, “No. I can’t afford that kind of humiliation.” He invited our dad. Dad didn’t even look up from his stack of corporate files. “For five million an episode, I’ll consider it.” Hayes: “…” So, he could only turn his pleading eyes toward me. I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a reality show. I’ll go with you.” My mom looked at me like she wanted to say something, but held back. Hayes was so moved he practically cried. He hugged me tight. “Sis, you’re the absolute best. I’m so grateful for you.” I patted his head modestly. “Hayes is a big deal now. Having a superstar brother is my pride and joy.” Hayes looked a little embarrassed. “Sis, maybe you should check the internet first?” I had rushed back to the States so fast I hadn’t caught up on local news. Hearing him say that, I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter with a smile. Then, my smile froze. He was “popular,” alright—but not in a good way. Ever since he debuted two years ago, the internet had been flooded with non-stop hate. His singing and dancing were mediocre at best, yet he had debuted near the top of an idol survival show. People accused him of “crying” his way to a debut spot, and someone had even edited his dance compilation to look like a “geriatric physical therapy” video. In that exact moment, I severely regretted saying he was my “pride and joy.” And soon enough, Hayes would severely regret saying he was “grateful” for me. 02 The show, Dearest Family, was shooting at a luxury resort. It was a seven-day live-streamed event. From the moment we stepped onto the property, camera drones buzzed overhead. When Hayes and I arrived at the foot of the hill, another pair of guests was already there. The guy was around twenty-five, tall with a slight tan, accompanied by a girl in casual clothes. They were whispering to each other, and the girl looked visibly annoyed. Seeing us, she tilted her chin up and let out a cold scoff. Hayes leaned in and whispered in my ear. “That’s Carter Vance. He ranked twelfth and got eliminated in the survival show two years ago. The internet says I stole his debut spot.” I instantly understood. The producers were just trying to stir up drama for the ratings. As we walked over, Carter lowered his eyes and greeted us meekly, looking like a bullied victim. Hayes was so traumatized by the online hate that he was practically walking on thin ice. He reached out to shake hands with a painfully eager, people-pleasing smile. But even then, the live-stream chat was going rabid: “Carter is so pitiful. He actually has to shoot a show with the guy who stole his spot.” “Seeing Hayes’ fake, pretentious face makes me sick.” “Carter is too nice for initiating the greeting. Hayes has zero social awareness.” “If it wasn’t for his face, Hayes would have nothing on Carter!” I stood to the side, staring blankly at Carter until he flashed me a friendly smile. “You must be Hayes’ sister, right? I’m Carter Vance, and this is my little sister, Riley. She won the National Youth Dance Championship last year.” Right on cue, Riley smugly lifted her chin and looked at me with disdain. “Oh, Hayes actually has a sister?” Carter chimed in softly, “Hayes doesn’t like mentioning his family in public. It’s normal you didn’t know.” Riley’s sneer deepened. “Makes sense. For someone who debuted purely on his looks, his family probably isn’t very presentable anyway.” 03 The Vance siblings were coming out swinging from second one. I didn’t know if the producers put them up to it, but the chat was eating it up. “True, I’ve never found any background info on Hayes online.” “Some influencers analyzed that his family must be poor, otherwise he wouldn’t have used the ‘pity card’ to debut and make a quick buck.” My brows furrowed slightly. Seeing this, Hayes quickly grabbed my hand. “Sis, endure it. Please. Fan outrage is terrifying.” While we waited for the other guests, Carter and Riley rattled off like a machine gun. “The Youth Dance Championship—do you even know what that is? Ah, I forgot you probably never studied dance. You definitely wouldn’t know.” “Winning a national title is okay, I guess, but my real goal is to win an international competition within five years.” The chat showered them with praise: “Expected nothing less from Carter. Even his sister is outstanding.” “A dance champion! Compared to a certain someone who debuted high and knows nothing, the irony is thick.” “His sister isn’t even saying anything. Guess that whole family is just empty pretty faces.” As Riley got more and more carried away, I suddenly turned to my brother. “Go get me a bottle of water.” Hayes nodded obediently and trotted off to find a staff member. Watching him disappear, I finally turned my deadpan gaze back to them. “Carter? Your sister is a dance champion, but what about you? What titles or honors do you have?” I looked at the mocking man, pulled out my phone, and opened a search bar. “All the info I can find on you online is that you placed twelfth on a reality show. If you had any actual achievements, considering how much you love showing off, the PR articles would be flying everywhere by now, wouldn’t they?” Carter: “…” I turned to Riley. “National Dance Champion? Which competition? Which category? What scale? As far as I know, there are no less than twenty youth dance competitions in the US every year, and a dozen of them are worth even less than your brother’s twelfth-place finish.” Riley: “…” 04 Their faces turned from red to a very ugly shade of green. I calmly looked away. Sigh. I should hold back a little. No need to bully the kids too hard. I was ready to call a truce, but they weren’t letting it go. Riley’s eyes widened in defiance. “My brother is just low-key! Everyone knows he was better than Hayes on Idol Maker!” “Oh.” She choked, then took a deep breath. “Last year, I won the Dance Revolution championship. That’s a hell of a lot better than you and your talentless brother.” Dance Revolution. The name rang a bell. My nine-year-old niece had won it three years in a row. But last year, she thought the judging system was flawed and rejected the organizers’ invitation to return. Listening to Riley’s arrogance, I frowned. With the drone hovering above and the crew standing nearby, I walked over, pointed at Riley, and asked the staff, “She’s making personal attacks. Does production not care?” The crew member made a hand gesture. “This is a live broadcast. The directors can’t interfere during filming.” I had an epiphany. “So, you don’t care about insults?” “According to the rules, we can’t step in.” “Understood.” My simple questions sparked massive outrage in the chat. “What is she doing? Tattling? Is she in elementary school? Disgusting!” “Exactly like Hayes!” “I admit Riley is a bit arrogant, but at least she has talent. Does this woman only know how to run to the teachers?” “Production obviously wants drama. Tattling is useless. She looks like a clown.” “She only knows how to play these pathetic tricks behind people’s backs. Riley is much more straightforward.” 05 By the time I returned to the group, two more sets of guests had arrived. Riley was still dramatically recounting her glorious competition days. I listened for a moment, then spoke up. “Dance Revolution, huh? That rings a bell.” Everyone instinctively looked at me. Riley’s smile stiffened, but she raised an eyebrow smugly. “I’m impressive, aren’t I?” I smiled faintly. “They invited me, but I didn’t go.” “Why?” “Because I was overseas at the Golden Swan International Cup.” She was completely playing into my hands. Her eyes went wide in disbelief. “What place did you get?” The Golden Swan International Cup was one of the most prestigious, heavyweight dance competitions in the world. The chat went wild: “She’s bluffing, right? Does she even know how big the Golden Swan is?” “The competitors are the elites from every country. If she’s that good, how could Hayes be so untalented?” I raised my eyes and, under everyone’s expectant gazes, said completely deadpan: “Oh, I was a judge.” Riley: “…” The silence lasted for a full ten seconds. Then Riley shrieked, “You’re lying! You’re only in your early twenties! That’s impossible!” I tilted my head. “The Golden Swan is divided into twelve regional tracks. I was just a judge for one of them, not the grand finals.” Remembering something, I looked over at Carter, who was staring blankly. I let out a dry laugh. “Twelve tracks. That’s so funny. Just like your ranking.” Carter: “…” Riley was practically jumping in anger. “Impossible! You’re definitely lying.” I looked at her like she was an idiot. “The judges’ roster is public online. Oh, right—my name is Blair Sterling.” 06 At first, the audience reacted just like Riley—complete disbelief, fiercely accusing me of bragging. That was until someone posted a screenshot of the official judges’ roster from the Golden Swan website. In the screenshot, under the five judges for the sixth track, the name “Blair Sterling” was unmistakably there. “Holy shit, Blair Sterling really is a judge.” “My god, just competing is incredible, but she’s actually a judge?! How good is she?!” “She might be awesome, but Hayes still has zero talent. The fact that he stole Carter’s spot remains. His sister’s talent doesn’t change that.” “Exactly, don’t get it twisted. Even if Blair is a god, Hayes should still get out of the entertainment industry.” “Am I the only one who thinks Blair’s comebacks are brutal? Lmao, look at Carter’s face, he looks sick.” “…” The conversation ended when Hayes ran back happily with a bottle of water and handed it to me. I took it naturally and opened it. “What took you so long?” “They were short-handed setting up the venue, so I helped out a bit.” “Oh. Well, everyone’s here. Let’s go.” Hearing that, Hayes finally looked up and smiled at the others. Then, he shuffled closer to me and asked, thinking he was whispering, “Sis, why does the vibe feel so weird? What did you guys talk about while I was gone?” Carter and Riley’s venomous glares immediately locked onto me. I stayed completely composed and tilted my head. “Huh? Weird vibe? Not at all, we’re getting along fabulously.”

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Everyone knows that Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir has a beloved dog. How much does he love it? When a popular Hollywood “It” girl’s perfume irritated the dog enough to make it sneeze, she was instantly blacklisted from the industry. That was, until I kicked his dog. Everyone thought I was completely ruined. No one knew that the dog was my breakup gift to the heir. First thing in the morning, the hashtag #HarperKicksDog shot to the top of the trending page. It started with a video shot by a bystander. In the clip, a woman kicked a Golden Retriever, sending the massive dog tumbling into a shallow ditch. The Golden Retriever dramatically collapsed at the bottom of the ditch, eyes squeezed shut, all four paws stiff in the air, looking absolutely dead. [Oh my god, animal abuse! That poor dog!] [This isn’t just abuse; she practically killed it! She needs to be in jail.] [You can tell just by looking at her that she’s a terrible person. Dox her!] At that point, the traction wasn’t huge. Until someone recognized the woman in the video was me. I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “love-to-hate” actress. Normally, I get dragged into the trending topics just for sneezing. Let alone kicking a dog. In a flash, the hashtag skyrocketed to the number one spot on the entertainment charts. Haters flooded in, teaming up with outraged locals to hurl a tsunami of abuse at me. It escalated to the point where they were photoshopping gore and black-and-white memorial photos of me, cursing me to die. Soon enough, other celebrities jumped into the fray. Namely, my industry rival, Vanessa Blake. Vanessa was the current rising “It” girl. And she built that status by stepping on me. We had filmed a rustic farm-life reality show together, where she was edited to look hardworking and sweet, while I was portrayed as lazy and gluttonous. Vanessa posted a tweet: [Spreading love starts with me.] She attached a photo of herself volunteering at an animal rescue. It was a blatant jab at me. Sure enough, her fans flooded the replies, praising her for being beautiful inside and out—unlike some people with mean faces and toxic hearts. It sparked another massive wave of hate directed at me. Even as things reached this point, my manager was completely unfazed. It wasn’t that she considered me disposable. In fact, I was her only client and her biggest cash cow. She was calm because I got dragged online all the time. To her, this just meant another wave of free publicity. “As long as the Golden Retriever is fine, let them yell for a bit. We’ll post a cute selfie of you with the dog later, explain it was a misunderstanding, and this whole thing will blow over.” My manager had the entire PR strategy mapped out. She calmly sat beside me, snacking on sunflower seeds. That is, until someone on the internet discovered that this wasn’t just any dog. It was the beloved pet of the ultimate Manhattan billionaire heir. [Holy crap! That’s the Heir’s dog! Harper Evans is completely finished!] [Do you guys know how obsessed he is with that dog? An A-list starlet got blacklisted just because her perfume made that dog sneeze!] [Harper didn’t just irritate the dog; she literally kicked it. Being blacklisted is going to be the least of her worries.] [Tsk, karma always catches up. Grab your popcorn, let’s watch this toxic witch get destroyed.] My manager was no longer unfazed. She looked like the sky was falling. She immediately whipped around, dragged a suitcase out of the closet, and started frantically packing her things. “Maggie, what are you doing?” I asked curiously. “Packing so I can skip town! You think I’m going to sit here and wait for the apocalypse?” “Isn’t that an overreaction? All I did was kick that stupid mutt once.” Here is what actually happened: I was on location shooting promo photos yesterday. That stupid dog came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop sticking to me. I didn’t want to see the person who owned it, so I nudged it away with my foot. I didn’t use any force at all. It dramatically threw itself into the ditch and played dead. It was just acting spoiled—that was its favorite trick. Because in the past, whenever it pulled that stunt, I would forgive it no matter what trouble it had caused. Too bad I wasn’t going to pamper it anymore. So, before it could react, I quickly slipped away. “Stupid mutt?! Are you actually calling the New York billionaire heir’s beloved pet a ‘stupid mutt’?!” Maggie looked like she was about to tear her hair out. Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it with trembling hands. When she finally lowered the phone, all the color had drained from her face. “It’s over. We can’t run. The Heir is at our door.” Maggie had just received an offer for a reality show called Celebrity Kitchen. It was an A-list, top-tier variety show broadcasted entirely via live stream, boasting massive ratings. The guests they invited were usually Oscar winners and Grammy-level pop divas. Even though my name generated a lot of traffic, it was mostly trashy tabloid fame; I had no real prestigious work. I could never naturally land a resource this good. Normally, Maggie would have been over the moon. But now, she looked like she was attending a funeral. Because the biggest financial backer behind this show was none other than the Manhattan billionaire heir, Kingston Astor. This invitation felt exactly like walking into an execution. “Harper, reading between the lines… they made it clear that if you refuse, you’ll never book another job in this town again.” Maggie looked conflicted. “If you don’t go, you’re blacklisted. If you do go, he might make your life a living hell. Honestly, maybe you should just retire from showbiz?” I felt equally conflicted. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Kingston. But based on what I knew about him, his pride was carved into his bones. He seemed cold and difficult to approach, but he was a man of his word. Even though we had a bit of a dispute over the dog’s custody when we broke up, we generally parted on decent terms. Once the breakup was final, he wasn’t the type to stalk or exact petty revenge. So, inviting me to this show might have had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe the producers just wanted to exploit my current viral infamy for ratings? After all, my bad reputation was generating massive numbers. “Maggie, how much does the show pay?” She gave me a number. My eyes lit up. As expected of an A-list show, they threw cash around like water! To buy a giant mansion and retire early… I gritted my teeth. “Maggie, we’re taking the gig.” I officially announced my participation in Celebrity Kitchen. The internet was entirely filled with people gloating over my impending doom. [Isn’t the investor for Celebrity Kitchen the billionaire heir? He made a brief cameo in a video before. He’s incredibly hot. I must have replayed those few seconds a hundred times.] [Haha, seriously gorgeous. Plus, his dad is a Wall Street tycoon, his mom is a legendary director, his sister is an Oscar winner, and his older brother is a tech mogul. The ultimate heir.] [He might be hot, but his personality is supposedly ruthless, and he’s wildly protective of his own. Especially that dog. Remember the trending hashtag #ManRushesGoldenRetrieverToVetInTheRain? That man was the heir.] [Hahaha, Harper Evans is so dead. He invited her to Celebrity Kitchen just to torture her on live television, right?] [I was planning to go throw trash at her house, but since the billionaire heir is handling it, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.] Shortly after, Vanessa Blake also announced she was joining Celebrity Kitchen. Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is she a piece of gum on our shoe? We can’t shake her.” Vanessa’s fans, however, were ecstatic. Most of them were fiercely protective “mom” fans. And their ultimate dream son-in-law was the billionaire heir. Kingston had the looks, the pedigree, the competence—he was top-tier in every category. In their eyes, he was barely worthy of their perfect, fairy-like daughter. Furthermore, they had actually managed to dig up some “clues.” Once, the luxury SUV that picked Vanessa up from set belonged to Kingston. Not only that, but she had posted a photo of a Golden Retriever’s back on her Instagram. The dog looked remarkably like Kingston’s. Being allowed to walk his beloved dog obviously meant she had an intimate relationship with him. All signs pointed to the billionaire heir being the mysterious man backing their precious Vanessa! [Did the Heir personally invite her on the show?] [No way, no way! Is the Heir finally getting impatient and ready to go public?!] [He’s probably been dying to go public so he can openly dote on her. But because our girl wants to focus on her career, she made him keep it a secret. The Heir finally snapped, pulled her into his arms, and said: “Woman, I can’t hide you anymore.”] [Ahhh that narrative is so good, keep it coming!] Vanessa’s fanbase was partying like it was New Year’s Eve. And naturally, they didn’t forget to trample all over me in the process. [I heard a certain someone was also invited. The Heir and our girl are going to tag-team destroy her.] [Can’t wait to watch them beat the drowning dog.] [Hey, don’t insult dogs. That woman doesn’t even deserve the comparison.] Before long, Celebrity Kitchen began broadcasting. Maggie dropped me off at the live stream location. The show had strict rules: no managers and no assistants allowed on set. So Maggie had to say a tearful goodbye at the front gates. “If the producers try to torture you, just endure it for the sake of avoiding the breach-of-contract penalty.” She paused, then added, “But if it gets truly unbearable, I’ll sell my kidney to pay your buyout fee.” I felt a mix of exasperation and genuine warmth. I reached out and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Maggie. I’ll be fine.” The shooting location for this season was an expansive, rustic farmhouse estate in the Hudson Valley, full of vintage charm. After saying goodbye to Maggie, I walked in. There were five guests in total. Vanessa and I were the new additions. The other three were Oscar-winning actor Harrison Reed, pop diva Serena Cole, and the current teen heartthrob Liam Pierce. When I arrived, Vanessa, Serena, and Liam were already there. Vanessa had said something that made Serena giggle uncontrollably, and the way Liam looked at Vanessa was painfully tender. The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly froze. Liam and Vanessa in particular looked at me with open hostility. My chaotic fans had previously shipped me and Liam, editing romantic fan-cams of us. Liam, however, felt I was leeching off his popularity. Whenever we shared a stage, he stayed as far away from me as physically possible. He had even publicly expressed his disdain for me. Simultaneously, he was a massive simp for Vanessa. Sadly for him, Vanessa didn’t give him the time of day. I greeted Serena politely. Liam acted like he was terrified I would speak to him and immediately scurried to Vanessa’s other side. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Who wants to talk to you anyway, you narcissist? Shortly after, the Oscar-winning actor arrived. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting! But I’m not the last one here. We have a mystery guest!” Harrison wasn’t just a guest; he effectively acted as the host, guiding the flow of the show. “Our guest is a big deal. He’s the youngest billionaire on the Forbes list… and this is his first ever reality show appearance…” Harrison knew exactly how to hype up the crowd, rattling off a string of impressive titles. At this point, both the guests and the viewers watching the live stream had their suspicions. Vanessa’s fans had completely taken over the live chat. [No way, no way! Is it really him? I thought he’d just make a cameo, but he’s actually a guest!] [He definitely came for Vanessa. Ah, he loves her so much, I totally approve of this marriage.] Harrison dragged out the suspense before finally dropping the name. “Let’s give a warm welcome to our mystery guest, Kingston Astor!” Honestly, the moment Harrison mentioned a mystery guest, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I kept a calm poker face, but inside I was panicking. No way, no way. Is Kingston actually participating in this show? Doesn’t that mean we’re going to be staring at each other all day? How awkward is it to be stuck with your ex? What the hell is he thinking? I held onto a sliver of hope, praying to every deity that it wasn’t him. Until Harrison said the name, and that tall, striking figure stepped onto the set. My last shred of hope shattered. Objectively, Kingston was breathtaking. He stood six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and incredibly long legs. Because his grandmother was European, he had a stunning mixed-heritage bone structure with deep-set features and pale amber eyes. Add to that his aura of cold, untouchable old money. Just standing there, he made the trendy teen heartthrob Liam look like a valet parking attendant. And he didn’t come alone. In his hand, he held the leash of a massive Golden Retriever. The Golden Retriever was bouncing out of its skin, barking enthusiastically in our direction. If Kingston hadn’t been gripping the leash so tightly, the dog would have charged right at us. Kingston swept his gaze toward our group, his deep eyes unreadable. Simultaneously, the live chat exploded. [Oh my god! The Heir brought his beloved dog to the show!] [He is SO hot. That face, that body, he’s basically a god. I’m drooling.] Vanessa’s fans chimed in right on cue: [Hey, wipe your mouths, the Heir belongs to our girl.] [Wait, bringing the dog to the show… he’s letting the dog exact its own revenge!] [Looks like the Heir is legitimately furious. Look at that Golden Retriever barking at them, it must despise that toxic witch. Grab your popcorn, the show is about to start!] When Kingston appeared, whether it was due to his freezing aura or the wildly barking dog, no one spoke. The silence was deafening. “What an adorable dog! Can I pet him?” Vanessa finally broke the ice. [Hehe, our girl’s acting is so good. She’s obviously walked the dog before, but she’s pretending this is their first meeting.] [She’s definitely super close with the Golden Retriever. Watch it pounce on her the second she gets close.] [Oh man, is their secret romance about to be exposed?!] [Bold theory: The Heir did this on purpose. This man is so calculating.] [Manipulative mastermind boyfriend, hehe, I love this dynamic.] Vanessa walked toward Kingston, looking at the Golden Retriever with overflowing affection, and reached out a hand to pet it. I watched with cold indifference. I had to admit, Vanessa was a spectacular actress. Previously, when we filmed the farm-life show, the host family owned a dog. Vanessa absolutely despised it and threw a tantrum until the dog was banished to a locked vegetable garden. I used to sneak it leftover bones. When the show aired, the editing team twisted the narrative entirely. They made it look like I was the diva who demanded the dog be locked up, and framed Vanessa as the sweet angel sneaking it food. However, this stupid dog was just as neurotic and elitist as its owner. Furthermore, it was highly intelligent—practically psychic. It knew exactly who actually liked it and who didn’t. Vanessa was about to kick a steel plate… Sure enough, the stupid dog violently leaped backward. Its canine face practically spelled out the words: Don’t touch me, peasant. Then, it furiously kicked its hind legs, launching a fistful of dirt straight into Vanessa’s face. The set fell dead silent.

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During a reality show, my phone’s lock screen was exposed. It was a picture of Manhattan’s most elusive, old-money billionaire heir. The internet immediately tore me apart, accusing me of clout-chasing. My rival starlet sneered, “Delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” That very night, the billionaire heir created an official X (Twitter) account just to post: [She uses a picture of her own man as her wallpaper. Delusional? Are you out of your fing minds?]* 1 I am a trending actress in Hollywood. To build up some hype, I joined a highly popular, live-streamed reality TV show. The very first game required us to call our top pinned contact and invite them to dinner. If they refused, we failed the challenge. I pinched my phone, looking troubled as I racked my brain. Chloe Sterling strolled over to my side, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “What are you thinking about, Serena? Are you afraid of failing?” She was a big deal in the industry. We shared the exact same career trajectory when we blew up, making us undeniable rivals. Right now, though she was smiling, her eyes held a hidden, mocking glint. I glanced at her and stayed quiet. Given the time difference in Europe, my top pinned contact was definitely dead asleep right now. Even if I got lucky and woke him up, expecting him to cross the Atlantic just to eat dinner with me seemed pretty unrealistic. Seeing me ignore her, Chloe looked a bit annoyed. “Serena, why aren’t you saying anything?” The live chat was already coming for me: [This Serena Blake is so rude. Chloe is trying to interact with her and give her screen time, and she’s just giving her a resting bitch face?] [She’s probably pinning some guy who strung her along. She’s terrified of the embarrassment when he rejects her, lol.] [So annoying! Chloe is beautiful and sweet, don’t pay attention to this trashy girl.] I snapped back to reality and met her fixed stare. “Sorry, I zoned out.” She smirked at me provocatively, urging, “Then hurry up and start.” I had no choice but to slowly unlock my phone, revealing my top pinned contact. I never had the habit of setting long nicknames. My pinned contact was simply the letter “F”. Live chat: [Who is that? F? Doesn’t even have a full name? Probably some random nobody.] [Agreed. This girl doesn’t even have any friends in the industry. She’s struggling so hard.] I hit the audio call button. The dial tone echoed from the speaker. Once, twice… The ringing filled the room, but no one picked up. Chloe covered her mouth, giggling. “Are you not close with this person? Why aren’t they answering?” He was definitely fast asleep. I didn’t bother explaining. I just lowered my eyes, fully prepared for the call to automatically disconnect. Chloe looked like she was enjoying a show. “If you can’t even reach your top contact, we should just announce that you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the ringing abruptly stopped. The call connected. A lazy, incredibly magnetic, deep voice came through the speaker. It was thick with the raspy tone of someone who had just woken up. “Hello? “What’s wrong, baby?” 2 Chloe froze. The live chat instantly went ballistic. [Holy sh*t! This voice is lethal! I’m pregnant!] [Hold off on the pregnancy, didn’t you hear him call her baby?!] [Omg omg omg, if I dated a guy online with this voice, I’d let him scam me out of my life savings!] [Just asking quietly… is this Serena’s boyfriend?] I hadn’t expected to actually wake him up. I always thought he kept his phone off when he slept. But right now, I couldn’t care less about that. I just wanted this segment to be over. “Do you want to get dinner together tonight?” He clearly paused. “Tonight? “Your tonight?” Chloe looked confused. “Who is this guy? Why does he have to specify ‘your tonight’?” Her fans echoed: [Lmao, looks like she found herself a long-distance loser boyfriend.] I ignored her and continued, “Yeah.” The person on the other end didn’t hesitate for a second, his voice gradually clearing up. “Alright. I’ll have the jet prepped now.” I was stunned. “You’re really coming?” There was a rustling sound through the speaker, like he was getting out of bed. Then came his teasing voice. “It’s rare for you to take the initiative. Even if I have to cross the ocean, I’m going.” Live chat: [Wait, what?! Cross the ocean? He’s flying internationally just for dinner??] [No wonder he asked about ‘tonight’, he’s definitely in a different time zone right now!] [Who is Mr. F?! The bar is on the floor and he just raised it to the sky!!] Chloe’s face looked a bit ugly. She seemed displeased that I had stolen the spotlight. She gritted her teeth and raised her hand. “I’ll go next.” The host immediately passed the mic to her. She aggressively tapped into her pinned contacts. The name was boldly displayed: “Felix T.” Just as she hoped, the chat started spamming. [Felix T.? Is that the Felix I’m thinking of?] [Is there even a second one? It has to be Felix Thorne! The heir to the Thorne Empire, a true Wall Street heavyweight!] [Omg, I heard even tech CEOs can’t get a meeting with Felix Thorne. Is Chloe really that close to him?] [Lol, compared to Felix Thorne, that random Mr. F is a literal nobody.] [Hahaha, Serena definitely thought she was about to go viral, but she didn’t expect Chloe’s connections to be this insane!] Chloe feigned modesty. “Oh stop, don’t say that. Felix doesn’t like being too high-profile.” She turned, gave me a triumphant smile, and pressed the call button. I watched her quietly. I was actually a little curious about what was going to happen next. Almost immediately, a notification popped up on her screen— [You are not friends with this user. Call cannot be completed.] 3 Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She awkwardly tried a few more times, but the result was the same. She could only mutter to herself, “Huh? Felix must have accidentally deleted me. I totally forgot, he mentioned he was going to clear out his contacts…” The host quickly tried to save her face. “It’s fine, it’s fine! You can just pick someone else.” Next to her, I silently closed out of my messaging app. What I didn’t realize was that my phone was still being mirrored to the studio screen. My lock screen wallpaper flashed brightly for everyone to see. It was a man in a bespoke suit, looking straight ahead. His long, elegant fingers gripped a steering wheel, and a sleek, black luxury watch rested on his wrist. I quickly locked my phone. But the damage was done. The live chat absolutely exploded. [Holy sht! Felix Thorne! That’s Felix Thorne!] [I’m getting a nosebleed. How have I never seen this picture before?! He is so hot, is he trying to kill me?!] [Wait, this btch’s wallpaper is Felix Thorne? And she deliberately flashed it for us to see right now?] [Yeah, what is she trying to prove? Trying to chase clout on a live stream, excuse me?!] [Uh, what if she just genuinely likes him?] [That makes it even funnier! Does she not look in the mirror? Dreaming of marrying into a billionaire family? Especially someone on Felix Thorne’s level. I’m laughing my head off.] The other celebrity guests on set widened their eyes, covering their mouths and whispering. Chloe shot me a look and rolled her eyes. The host immediately asked if she was okay. Chloe gently touched her cheek, looking delicate. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized… delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” Live chat: [Oh yeah! Isn’t Chloe really good friends with Felix? Someone tell Felix there’s a stalker fangirl here using him for clout!] [Too bad Felix Thorne doesn’t care about the entertainment industry. Otherwise, I’d love to see Serena get blacklisted, hahaha.] Everyone on set caught Chloe’s implied insult. They all turned to look at me in unison. I didn’t say a word. I just pocketed my phone and stared at the production crew to cut my screen feed. Because it was a live broadcast, this tiny incident snowballed instantly. Someone clipped that segment and posted it on X. The caption read: [Chloe is such a straightforward queen, love her! Delusional trash needs to get out of Hollywood!!] The hashtag started trending, and a massive wave of netizens voiced their support: [Tsk tsk, my girl Chloe is a boss! I felt secondhand embarrassment for Serena through the screen.] [She probably didn’t expect Chloe to be so blunt. Look at her deadpan face, her clout-chasing failed and she’s big mad.] [Vomiting. I never understood how she got famous anyway. Cancel her already.] Chloe kept scrolling on her phone and somehow clicked into the trending hashtag. A screen full of insults directed at me was mirrored onto the main studio screen for everyone to read. She froze for a second, then looked at me in a complete panic. “Oh my gosh! How did this happen?! I’m just too outspoken, I never thought people would say all this! Serena, you aren’t mad at me, right?” I was the one getting dragged, yet she looked like the victim. Someone nearby immediately put an arm around her. “Chloe, we know you have a good heart. This is totally normal in Hollywood, it has nothing to do with you.” Chloe looked innocently into the camera. “I just think as public figures, we should watch our behavior and not do anything inappropriate.” The surrounding crew threw me looks of pure disdain. Feeling their judgmental stares, I was speechless. I just didn’t get it. If these people cared so much about Felix Thorne, couldn’t they recognize his voice? The “F” I just called… was him. And that picture? I took it on a whim when he came to pick me up from work one day. Is it illegal to use a picture I took of my own husband as my lock screen? 4 We had been secretly married for three years, and Felix had protected me flawlessly. No one had ever dug up our relationship, and I was perfectly happy with that freedom. But Chloe’s constant insinuations about being close to Felix felt incredibly bizarre. I had never heard of Felix being in contact with any Hollywood starlet other than me. How did she even get his contact info? Chloe was still acting wronged. The host pivoted to comfort her. “Don’t be sad, Chloe! We’re still recording, you can make another call!” She wiped away non-existent tears, scrolled through her list, and found someone named Preston Vance. “Okay! Can I call Felix’s absolute best friend?” The host nodded frantically. “Of course!” As Chloe dialed, she explained to the camera, “Preston is the heir to Vance Industries. He grew up with Felix, they’re practically brothers!” Live chat: [My girl Chloe is so professional. She was so wronged, but she immediately jumped back into work mode!] [Upvote! But who is Preston Vance? Never heard of him.] [Checking in, I just Googled him. His family runs a massive construction empire. Filthy rich!] [Anyone who is best bros with Felix Thorne is definitely a big deal. If Chloe is this close to all of them, she must be a real high-society princess!] [Omg, our Chloe is gorgeous AND comes from a crazy background! That’s my queen!] Amidst the envious gazes of the room, I slowly furrowed my brows. Preston Vance? Felix’s best friend? How come I had never heard of this guy? If I remembered correctly, Vance Construction was merely a sub-contractor for one of Thorne Enterprises’ subsidiaries. Preston Vance probably hadn’t even met Felix in person. How were they best friends? I was genuinely baffled, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you absolutely sure this guy is Felix Thorne’s good friend?” Chloe’s expression instantly changed. “What do you mean by that? Serena, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face, but you shouldn’t question me like this!” I looked her dead in the eye. “I just think that bragging on a live stream might be hard to walk back later.” She lost her media training for a second and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror? What right do you have to accuse me of bragging? Preston and Felix are incredibly close. When you’re ruined, don’t come begging me for help!” Looking at Chloe’s supreme confidence, I was both confused and fascinated. Where was she getting this audacity? The chat debated: [Is Serena Blake mentally ill? She can’t access high-society circles, so she gets jealous and accuses others of lying? How dark is her soul?] [Knowing Chloe’s background is so insane, I really want to know who Mr. F is. He was so obedient on the phone, is he just some boy-toy model Serena paid for? No wonder she’s having a meltdown comparing herself to Chloe!] [Lmao, it’s probably someone she’s ashamed to show. With Chloe’s powerful friends, Serena is about to be humiliated on all fronts!] Someone next to us chimed in, “Chloe, ignore the jealous hater. Make your call!” Chloe glared at me, then acted all sweet and flirty once the call connected, quickly completing the challenge. Everyone praised the Vance heir for treating her so well. She just smiled, looking shy and modest. Director Davis seemed to have a sudden stroke of genius. He pulled Chloe aside, practically fawning over her. “Chloe, since you have plans with Mr. Vance, why don’t we invite him to the studio for dinner? Let our little show bask in some of that billionaire aura! “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Felix Thorne for ages, but he never looks twice at our productions. It’s been my biggest regret…” Chloe immediately understood the assignment and patted the director’s shoulder aggressively. “Oh, Director Davis, say no more! I’ll send Preston the location right now. He and Felix are practically family. Getting him an interview? It’s just a matter of saying the word!” A matter of saying the word? Felix absolutely despised fluff interviews meant only to farm engagement. Did she really not consider the consequences of talking this big?

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College acceptance letters rolled in, and I sent a message to my online tutor and virtual crush. “I didn’t get into Harvard. Goodbye.” Then I turned right around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked him. Fast forward to my freshman year lab. The grad student TA called me out in front of the entire class. “Come up to the board and solve this. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why is the online crush who desperately wanted me to go to Harvard standing in an MIT classroom?! Chapter 1 When I started taking AP tracks in my junior year of high school, my GPA tanked hard. I was terrified I wouldn’t make it into MIT. Out of desperation, I started flirting with a guy on a study forum whose username was “Harvard Reject.” I asked him to help me study. He was gentle, considerate, and incredibly understanding. “Don’t worry. With me around, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered, but panicked. “No, no, Harvard isn’t necessary.” Secretly, I was muttering to myself: MIT is exactly what I want. “Tsk, what kind of talk is that? You can look down on your own IQ, but don’t insult my abilities.” Me: “…” Right, right. I certainly didn’t dare insult his abilities. “Harvard Bro” really knew his stuff. Under his tutoring, my grades didn’t just skyrocket; they stabilized. On my final practice SAT, I scored a massive 1560. I excitedly shared the news with him. Harvard Bro was completely unfazed. “Yeah, that score should be enough for Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had my heart set on MIT since day one. But over the year he tutored me, I clearly felt that Harvard Bro had a weird obsession with Harvard. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept “Harvard Reject” as his username for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would he be disappointed? Staring at his message, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t get into Harvard?” “Relax, you’ll definitely get in.” Hmm… He probably thought I was just having pre-test jitters and was trying to comfort me. Just like that, I kept my MIT dream a secret. The day before college decisions, Harvard Bro messaged me, telling me to stay calm. He said he was busy with his master’s thesis and told me to text him the moment my official acceptances came through. Chapter 2 Late March arrived, and decisions dropped. I had a near-perfect SAT and stellar extracurriculars. Hmm… I got into Harvard, and I got into MIT. While I was agonizing over which to officially accept, my mom got a personal recruitment call from MIT admissions. She practically forced the decision for me: MIT it was. Goodbye, Harvard. Getting into my dream school was obviously amazing. But whenever I thought of Harvard Bro, who had tutored me for so long, anxiety crept in. He kept pushing me toward Harvard. Choosing MIT felt like a massive betrayal. While I was agonizing over how to break the news, his message popped up first. “Decisions are out, right? How did you do?” Look at that gentle check-in. My guilt deepened tenfold. I steeled my heart, gritted my teeth, and sent a message. “I didn’t do well. I didn’t get into Harvard.” “…” He fell silent. Before his second message could come through, I fired off another line: “I’m sorry. Goodbye.” Then I decisively blocked him and went offline. Chapter 3 After that, I completely lost touch with Harvard Bro. Even though it was just a fleeting digital romance, passing by the Harvard campus in Cambridge during my first week of college still made me stop in my tracks. My roommate, Zoe, asked what was wrong, noticing the mix of regret and longing in my eyes. I sighed. “Once upon a time, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” Zoe was speechless. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the library to fight for a seat. “Let me tell you a secret: every MIT student walking past Harvard says the exact same thing. Now hurry up, or all the good tables will be gone.” Me: “…” What a painfully honest humblebrag. Sure enough, the library was already packed. Zoe groaned. “Are these people monsters? We made it to MIT, why are we still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every table was full. There were a few spots in the group-study zone, but after hearing a chaotic blend of three different languages, we decided the silent reading area was vastly superior. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Zoe smacked my shoulder in excitement and sprinted over to negotiate with the occupants. Seconds later, she waved me over. “Chloe, hurry! We got seats.” As I walked up, I caught the end of their conversation: “Don’t mention it. You guys freshmen?” “Yeah!” Zoe smiled, her voice dripping with sweetness. I sat down quietly, noticing the seat directly across from me was empty, though a textbook was resting on the desk. “You should technically call me ‘Senior,’ but I’m actually a few years ahead. I’m a grad student now,” the guy said. “Wow, impressive!” While I was wondering if the empty seat across from me belonged to someone else, Zoe had already exchanged contacts with the senior. Once everyone settled, silence fell again. I looked down at my textbook. A few minutes later, a shadow fell over the desk, and someone pulled out the chair across from me. Whispered conversation ensued. “The PI dragged you back to the office?” “Yeah. Found an error in the data. Had to recalculate.” The first voice was Ethan, the senior who gave us the seats. The second voice was unfamiliar, but incredibly pleasant. I peeked up. Sitting across from me was a young man with glasses. He had high brow ridges, deep, expressive eyes, and thick eyelashes. His eyes were stunningly gorgeous—like something straight out of an anime. Sensing my gaze, he looked up. The moment our eyes met, my breath hitched. He was ridiculously handsome. But the anime-esque guy merely gave me a cold, sweeping glance. Then, his eyes landed on the textbook in front of me, and he raised an eyebrow. “Materials Science and Engineering? You’re an MSE major?” he asked, sounding surprised. Oh? He was actually talking to me. I nodded. I was always good at STEM in high school, largely thanks to Harvard Bro, so I declared MSE the moment I got into MIT. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the guy’s lips curled up slightly. “Not bad.” Before I could process that, Ethan chimed in amicably, “What a coincidence! That’s our department too.” Ah. Very coincidental. Direct seniors. “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said politely. The handsome guy just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” his attitude turning frosty again. “Don’t mind him,” Ethan laughed. “He’s just like that.” I smiled and brushed it off. Chapter 4 My major is notoriously brutal. The homework is endless and soul-crushing. It was another weekend. Zoe and I were trapped in our dorm, pulling our hair out over a Physical Chemistry problem set. Finally, Zoe let out a dramatic wail. “I literally can’t do this anymore. Just kill me. Why is it this hard?! I’ve recalculated it three times and it’s still wrong.” Looking at the stray hairs she had literally pulled from her scalp, I felt bad for her. But I was just as helpless. The difficulty jump from high school to college was a massive cliff. “Should we ask someone?” “Ask who?” Zoe’s question stumped me. The professor? Absolutely terrifying. Classmates? Zoe was the valedictorian of her high school and even she was stuck. In my despair, a figure popped into my head. Harvard Bro. If he were here, this problem would probably be child’s play for him. But I deleted him! If I had known college homework would be this torturous, I wouldn’t have acted so impulsively. Suddenly, Zoe sat bolt upright from her dead-corpse pose on the bed. “I know exactly who to ask!” “Who?” “That senior we met at the library! Ethan! I have his number. He’s an MSE grad student, he definitely knows this.” Zoe didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and fired off a text. A minute later, she was dragging me out the door. “Let’s go, let’s go! He said yes. We’re heading to his lab right now.”

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I grew up alongside New York’s most untouchable heir, Carter Winchester. For ten whole years, I transitioned from the “older sister” who took care of him, to his unacknowledged underground lover, and finally to the most obedient piece in his endless rotation of women. Everyone in our circle knew I loved him. Until his first love—his white moonlight—returned to the States. To prove his devotion, he cleared out all the beautiful distractions around him. Including me. The night I left, he and his friends laughed me out of the room. But later, they all said the same thing. Carter Winchester had lost his mind. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, Carter was still sound asleep. The floor was a mess, and my sheer stockings were completely ruined. But I had an executive meeting at the company this morning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, rubbing my aching lower back as I rummaged through the dresser drawers. I distinctly remembered leaving a spare pair here last time, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. Just then, a low whistle sounded behind me. Carter’s voice dripped with teasing amusement. “Big sis, your body is still as incredible as ever.” I didn’t have the energy to entertain him. “Where are my stockings?” He furrowed his handsome brows, thinking for a second, looking entirely unbothered. “I think Chloe or Lily from Columbia University might have worn them home last time? I don’t remember.” My hands stopped moving. Even though it wasn’t the first time I had heard him say something so casually cruel, my heart still gave a dull ache, followed closely by a wave of self-deprecation. After all these years, hadn’t I learned my lesson? I was never anyone special to him. I let out a long sigh, stood up, and started putting on my clothes. But Carter patted the empty space beside him. Like a lazy, satisfied predator, his implication was heavy. “Big sis, why are you leaving so early?” “I have a meeting at the company.” He gave me a look and clicked his tongue. “Is this about that commercial plot in Manhattan? Why work so hard? Just stay here with me this morning, and that land is yours.” It was afternoon by the time I made it to the office. My whole body ached. The moment I sat down, my father called. His voice was oozing with praise. “Maddie, we got the land! You did great this time. Keep Carter happy, your younger brother’s future depends entirely on you.” Holding the phone, I stared at my twenty-six-year-old reflection in the glass window. A bitter smile crept onto my face. “Dad, I’m not that young anymore. Carter has plenty of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls throwing themselves at him. What makes you think I can keep his attention?” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Besides, this is probably the last time Carter is going to look out for us.” “Why?!” My father’s voice instantly spiked with panic. “Madeline, did you offend him?! Go apologize right now! Your brother’s inheritance—” I gripped the phone tightly. My so-called family was a bottomless pit of greed. To them, I was just a bargaining chip. As long as I slept with Carter, I brought in resources. I could be anything to them, except a human being. A crushing wave of humiliation washed over me, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. “Because Madison is coming back.” I didn’t want to say another word. I hung up. Outside, my secretary knocked tentatively on the door. “Ms. Hayes, the gift you requested is ready. Would you like to inspect it?” I wiped my tears and signaled her to come in. The watch in the velvet box was stunning, and obscenely expensive. A Vacheron Constantin Les Cabinotiers. Just like me. An endless traveler, lost at sea, never finding a place to land. That was the reality of my relationship with Carter. You could call us lovers, or you could call it a transactional exchange. But out of all the women in his orbit, I was undeniably the most obedient. After all, my father relied heavily on the Winchester family empire. From the time I was in high school, I was constantly given orders: “Serve the young master of the Winchester family well.” I carried his bags, did his homework, and cleaned up his messes. He went from being annoyed by me and ordering me around, to secretly beating up an upperclassman who was harassing me. I genuinely thought I was special. I watched him grow into a devastatingly handsome young man. I watched as countless beautiful girls flocked to him. I watched him fool around with one—or several—of them the night before, only to throw his arm over my shoulder the next day, looking incredibly smug. “Listen up, everyone. This is my big sis.” His hand was so warm against my shoulder that I almost shivered from the heat. I watched my own heart sink into an abyss of unrequited love, forcing myself to hide it carefully. Until the night he got blackout drunk and called me to pick him up. I finally managed to get the drunken heir back to his penthouse. I was just about to leave when he grabbed my wrist. He narrowed his eyes, half-asleep, looking at me with a gaze dripping in affection. “Maddie.” When his kiss fell, I didn’t push him away. There were no confessions, no flowers. Only pain. But I took it willingly. I just never expected the look in his eyes when he woke up the next morning. It was pure disdain. “Madeline, you really are…” Are what? I sat up, bewildered. Before I even had the chance to feel shy, Carter went straight to the shower, changed his clothes, and left. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. He didn’t even look back at me. I sat frozen on the bed for a long time, having no idea what I had done wrong. It wasn’t until later that I found out. The day before, my father had gone to him on his knees, begging for a massive capital injection to save our crumbling family business. And it wasn’t until much, much later that I realized the “Maddie” he was calling out for that night wasn’t Madeline. It was Madison. He didn’t love me. My fragile, blooming feelings were slaughtered before they even saw the light of day. From that day forward, he only ever called me “Big Sis.” It felt like a custom-made, condescending brand of humiliation. Reserved only for me. He didn’t contact me for a whole week after that. Until his birthday. Carter loved grand spectacles. His birthdays were massive events, swarming with the heirs and socialites of New York’s upper crust. I originally didn’t want to go, but his childhood friends kept blowing up my phone. “Madeline, Carter is celebrating at The Onyx tonight. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t show, would it?” I hesitated for a long time before finally giving in. I planned to just show my face, hand over the gift, and leave. But right as I reached for the handle of the VIP suite, I heard one of Carter’s friends ask a question. “Carter, now that Madison is back, what are you gonna do about her?” The room erupted in a chorus of teasing whistles. My hand froze on the door. A moment later, Carter’s lazy, careless drawl drifted through the wood. “What do you mean, do about her? She’s been following me around for years. We’ll just deal with it how it usually goes.” “Damn, you’re generous. A breakup gift of prime Manhattan real estate? Careful, she might cling to you like a leech. Sugar daddies as generous as you are hard to find.” It felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My fingers gripped the watch box so tightly they trembled. I just wanted to turn and run. But suddenly, someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my footing, stumbling straight through the door and crashing violently into a towering champagne pyramid. The glowing, crystal tower collapsed in an explosive crash of breaking glass. Sticky champagne soaked my hair and drenched my body. My white strapless dress was ruined, clinging to my skin. My carefully done makeup ran down my cheeks with the alcohol. I was a pathetic, unsalvageable mess. “Oh! My bad, I didn’t mean to.” It was Blair Kensington. A wealthy socialite and Madison’s best friend. I looked up. Carter was sitting dead center on the plush leather sofa. Madison was leaning delicately against his chest, wearing a perfectly calculated expression of surprise. “Madeline? What are you doing here?” When did she get back to the States? I didn’t want to look this pathetic in front of her, but everyone in the room was watching the show. Not a single person stepped forward to help me up. Blair’s voice was the loudest. “I’m just saying, Madeline, if you’re getting too old for heels, just say so. Didn’t know you wanted to bow down to us so badly.” “Too bad we aren’t Carter. We don’t have any real estate to hand out.” The room erupted into laughter. They exchanged secretive, knowing glances, fully enjoying the spectacle. Until the laughter naturally died down. Carter furrowed his brows, looking at me like I was a stain on his reputation. “What are you doing here?” If I didn’t understand it by now, I was an idiot. This whole thing was a coordinated ambush by Carter’s inner circle—a welcoming “gift” for Madison’s return. As I tried to stand, a sharp, shooting pain flared in my ankle. I almost collapsed again. When I threw my hand out to catch myself, shards of broken glass dug deep into my palm. I shuddered in pain. “I… came to give you your birthday present.” “No need.” He glanced at the watch box in my hand, his tone airy and dismissive. “I have plenty of things like that. Keep it for yourself. I’ll have my driver take you home.” The AC in the club was blasting heat, but I felt like I was drowning in a freezing lake. I couldn’t stop shivering. The moment the suite door clicked shut behind me, the room erupted into roaring laughter again. My heart finally, entirely, sank to the bottom. Later that night, someone texted me a video. Carter, slightly drunk and egged on by the cheers of his friends, pulled Madison into his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately. He murmured her name over and over. “Maddie, Maddie…” So cherished. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Watching it, a sudden laugh escaped my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks. Carter had never kissed me in front of his friends. To him, I was just a convenient, well-worn object he kept around. Tasteless to chew on, but a pity to throw away. My phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number in their circle. “What do you think you are?” Yeah. What am I? Just a joke. I parked my car under the Brooklyn Bridge and walked up to the pedestrian walkway. In front of me was the endless, rushing stream of New York traffic. Below was the dark, silent river. People in Carter’s circle hated crowded places. They always felt like being around normal people tainted their status. But I loved watching people. I watched young couples kissing in beat-up sedans. I saw exhausted blue-collar workers resting their heads against the bus windows, looking drained of life. I saw girls with perfectly engineered faces sitting in the passenger seats of convertibles, ecstatic as they clutched orange Hermès bags. They were so young. They didn’t realize that every gift life hands you already has a price tag secretly attached. Just like me. I turned around, stepped onto the lower railing, and reached my hand out toward the open water to feel the freezing wind. Suddenly, a voice screamed from behind me. “Don’t do it!” Before I could even process the words, a massive force yanked me off the railing. The person dragged me backward, shouting at the top of his lungs. “You’re so young! Don’t do anything stupid!” Caught completely off guard, I tumbled onto the concrete, tangled up with a man. The heel of my shoe snagged, twisting my already injured ankle again. I let out a sharp cry of pain. But the nightmare wasn’t over. My already ruined cocktail dress let out a horrifying, audible RIP. I froze, absolutely terrified to move, and screamed at him in blind panic. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! Let go of me!” “Don’t be st—” The guy froze mid-sentence. “Wait, you weren’t jumping?” It was only then that I got a good look at the culprit. He was young. Really good-looking. Wearing a white hoodie, looking as fresh and earnest as a sapling. His face turned bright red, and he started stammering. “I-I’m so sorry…” He frantically stripped off his oversized jacket and draped it over me. “I am so sorry, I really thought you were jumping, I just panicked and tackled you.” I must have forgotten to check my horoscope today, because every single thing that had happened was an absolute disaster. But this guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He trailed behind me like a guilty puppy. “Let me walk you to your car.” “I said no.” But the kid was acting like a Golden Retriever with a wagging tail, desperately trying to show his remorse. He followed me step for step. My patience finally snapped. I spun around, reached out, hooked a finger into his hoodie strings, and yanked him down. The kid went rigid as a board. I watched my reflection grow larger in his wide, panicked eyes… Then, a sudden flash of white light blinded me. I turned my head stiffly. The speeding traffic on the bridge had slowed to a crawl. In almost every passing car, someone was excitedly holding up their smartphone—filming this highly entertaining “rescue” scene. I didn’t even have to guess. By tonight, every social media platform would be flooded with the tag: #HeartbrokenWomanJumpsOffBridge #HandsomeCollegeStudentSavesTheDay. I made a split-second decision. I pulled his oversized jacket completely over my head. And I bolted. When I got home, I drew the blackout curtains and slept like the dead. Until I was jolted awake by a vicious slap across the face. I opened my eyes to see my father’s face twisted in rage. “What kind of shameful, humiliating stunt did you pull?!” My vision went black for a few seconds before I finally caught my breath. “What are you doing?” “Madeline, you’ve really outdone yourself! You get dumped and you go jump off a bridge?! Do you care about the Hayes family’s reputation at all?!” He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. Behind him stood my stepmother, Linda, barely hiding the smug look on her face. “Oh, Richard, calm down. Maddie definitely didn’t mean it. She was just upset about being dumped. Don’t yell at the poor girl.” My mother had barely been dead a month before Linda moved in, already heavily pregnant. My nightmare started the day she crossed the threshold. Even sending me off to act as a “study buddy” for Carter was Linda’s “well-intentioned” suggestion. She had used her soft, venomous voice: “Childhood sweethearts are the hardest to forget. If our Maddie gets lucky, she might be able to help her little brother out in the future.” And just like that, I was boxed up and given away as a gift. “She’s a useless piece of trash! She clung to him for all these years and couldn’t even secure a ring. And now she’s been thrown out on the street!” My father was getting angrier by the second, barking orders at me. “Since you can’t get Carter to change his mind, there’s no reason for you to sit on the board of the company anymore. Hand over the keys!” As if I actually cared about that sinking ship. It was almost funny. “I can give you the keys.” I cut him off. “Give me my mother’s ashes.” For years, the only reason I hadn’t disappeared was because they were using my mother’s urn as collateral. I stared dead into my father’s eyes. I watched his face shift from red, to green, and finally to purple, before he erupted into a screaming fit. “You little bitch! You’re just like your mother—” “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” A sudden wave of intense nausea hit me. I turned my head and vomited over the side of the bed. Linda violently tugged on my father’s sleeve, cutting off his tirade. She whispered something to him, and to my horror, I saw a flash of wild ecstasy ignite in both their eyes. Instantly, my father’s entire demeanor flipped. “Maddie, sweetie… are you pregnant?” I froze. Come to think of it, last time we really didn’t… “You rest up. Your stepmother and I will make you some soup and come check on you later.” My father rubbed his hands together greedily, looking like a disgusting blowfly hovering over rotting meat.

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