I was packing my bags for our vacation when Ethan changed our destination again. This time, to Bali—the exact place my sister, Chloe, had been begging to go. I stopped what I was doing and caught the knowing glance exchanged between my husband and my son. “If Mom has an issue, we can always vote on it,” Leo, my eight-year-old, said with a shrug. For years, whenever there was a disagreement between Chloe and me, they voted. On my birthday, I wanted to go to a nice French bistro. They voted to take Chloe to a taco joint instead. I wanted to hang our family portrait in the living room. They voted to hang an oil painting Chloe had randomly splattered together. And today, the vote was once again two to one. I lost. Again. I tried to argue. “Ethan, Greece is where we got engaged. It means something.” He didn’t even look up from his phone. He was already booking the flights to Bali on Expedia. “Both places have beaches, Luna. It’s the same thing.” Ethan finalized the booking. A package for three. “They only had a three-person discount package left. You’ll have to book your own ticket separately.” Just like that, he grouped himself, our son, and Chloe together, leaving me entirely out of the equation. I slowly slipped off my wedding ring and booked a one-way ticket to Greece. If they wouldn’t take me to the destination I wanted, I could go there by myself.

Seeing me buy my own ticket, the tension in Ethan’s shoulders finally relaxed. He ruffled Chloe’s hair affectionately, then reached out to take my hand. “Come on, let’s go buy some swimsuits.” “Chloe and Leo have been practicing their surfing lately. They can finally show off their skills in Bali.” Leo clung to Chloe’s leg, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “I bet Chloe will be the most gorgeous view on the entire beach.” My son rarely used sweet words. With me, he was always cold, his eyes filled with a strange, unspoken disdain. To get closer to him, I had spent weeks learning recipes from the food bloggers he followed on TikTok. But every time I eagerly asked him how it tasted, he would gag, spit the food into the trash, and roll his eyes. “Mom, your cooking is literal trash.” The food actually tasted fine. I used to think he was just a picky eater. But now I got it. He didn’t hate the food. He hated me, so he hated everything I did. Sitting in the passenger seat, I looked through the rearview mirror and saw Leo curled up peacefully in Chloe’s lap. Noticing my gaze, he pulled a face and stuck his tongue out at me. Chloe chuckled, covering her mouth. “Honestly, Luna, you and Leo must have been mortal enemies in a past life.” “He’s the sweetest kid to everyone else, but he just can’t stand you.” Ethan, keeping his eyes on the road, chimed in. “Yeah, Leo definitely adores Chloe. Every year when he blows out his birthday candles, he wishes Chloe were his real mom.” The car went silent for a second, and Chloe’s cheeks flushed crimson. She gave Ethan a shy, lingering look, then playfully tickled Leo. “Stop it, you two. You’re going to make Luna sad.” The laughter in the car felt like hot needles piercing my heart. This was the child I had nearly died giving birth to. But ever since Chloe moved into our house, he had never been close to me again. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Ethan leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. Perhaps sensing my heavy silence, he planted a quick, dismissive kiss on my forehead. “It’s just a kid’s joke, babe. Don’t take it to heart.” Inside the swimwear boutique, Ethan, who had been walking next to me, naturally drifted over to Chloe. Chloe held Leo’s hand, and Leo held Ethan’s. The sales associate smiled warmly at them. “You three make such a beautiful family!” Nobody noticed me standing a few feet behind them. Nobody corrected her that I was the wife and mother. My eyes burned. I watched Leo help Chloe pick out bikinis. Suddenly, he grabbed a bright yellow string bikini and ran over to me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Mom, you should try this on! You’d look amazing!” Ethan joined in, gently pushing me toward the fitting room. “Go on, let’s see if our boy has good taste.” A tiny spark of warmth flickered in my chest. After changing into the bikini, I even stood in front of the mirror, carefully smoothing out the fabric. I thought I would walk out to some kind of compliment. But the moment I pushed the curtain open, a bright camera flash blinded my eyes.

Leo had already uploaded the picture to our family Snapchat group. His childish voice was laced with pure malice. “Mom’s stomach scar looks like a disgusting giant centipede. Why does she always try to steal Chloe’s pretty clothes and make a fool of herself?” A cold dread washed over me. Right at that moment, Chloe stepped out of the adjacent fitting room. She was wearing the exact same yellow bikini, her flawless curves on full display. Everyone in the boutique turned to look at her. “Oh my god, her body is insane. Her skin is so smooth, not a single blemish. She looks like a model.” “Who’s that next to her? Look at her saggy skin and those nasty stretch marks. Yikes, put it away.” I felt like I had been stripped naked and paraded through the streets. I looked at Ethan in desperation. But his burning gaze was fixed entirely on Chloe. He didn’t even notice my humiliation. My phone buzzed repeatedly. The family group chat was already roasting me, calling me attention-seeking and embarrassing for a woman my age. I bolted back into the fitting room, locking the door as tears streamed down my face. Ever since Leo was born, I had tried everything to get rid of the ugly stretch marks and the C-section scar. I had fallen into severe postpartum depression and body dysmorphia. Back then, Ethan used to hold me, whispering that they were “stripes of honor” and “marks of love.” Even Leo, when he was younger, would kiss my stomach and tell me I was the prettiest mommy in the world. But today, they had ripped that half-healed wound wide open, letting it bleed in front of everyone. Outside the door, I heard the muffled snickers of my husband and son. “That’ll teach Mom a lesson for complaining about Chloe leaving her stuff around the house last week.” I slid down the wall, weak and numb, until Ethan’s voice finally called out, telling me it was time to go home. As we walked out of the store, Chloe gave me a smug, triumphant smirk, swinging her heavy shopping bags. “Luna, next time you buy clothes, maybe ask for my opinion first? Wearing the same outfit is kind of embarrassing for you.” Leo burst out laughing, scrambling to help Chloe carry her bags. Ethan tossed a cheap plastic pearl hair clip into my lap. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Luna. You need to accept your body for what it is.” “Classic, mature things like pearls suit you much better.” My nails dug deep into my palms. It wasn’t that pearls suited me. It was just that, in Ethan’s eyes, I was only worth the cheap freebies that came with Chloe’s purchases. Chloe wrapped her arm familiarly around Ethan’s. “Ethan, I still need to get some sunglasses.” Ethan grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward with force. “Don’t go home yet, we have more shopping to do.” I stumbled. The sharp edge of a designer shopping bag sliced right across my forearm. Beads of blood welled up instantly. I gasped at the sharp pain. But neither Ethan nor Leo even glanced back. They happily accompanied Chloe back into the mall. “Are you Luna? The photographer?” A soft voice broke through my daze. A young girl had stopped beside me, pulling a Band-Aid from her purse and handing it to me. I looked up, startled, and nodded slowly. The girl gasped, covering her mouth in excitement. “Oh my god! I love your work! I’ve been a huge fan of your photography for years!” “But… you haven’t uploaded anything new in eight years.” Ten years ago, I was a rising star in the photography world under the name Crescent. My photos were praised for capturing the raw, breathing soul of nature. Ethan had fallen in love with my work first. He had spent months trying to get my contact info. He used to send me flowers every morning, homemade lunches at noon, and hot cocoa in the evening. I was swept off my feet by his devotion and agreed to marry him. After our marriage, his career took off, while I was dragged into the domestic mud. Leo was born with a weak immune system, and I was forced to become a stay-at-home mom. I never touched my camera again. The only reason I had insisted on going to Greece was because Ethan had once promised me that we would take a set of wedding photos there for our tenth anniversary. He had forgotten his promise. But I decided I was going to keep mine—even if I had to go alone.

Saying goodbye to the girl, I looked her in the eyes and said, “I’ll be uploading new work soon. I won’t make you guys wait much longer.” Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Ethan walked up to me, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “What is taking you so long? You didn’t buy a swimsuit, and you’re not helping with the sunglasses.” “Drop the attitude, Luna. I promise I’ll take you to Greece next time, okay?” With me, it was always “next time.” With Chloe, it was always “right now.” When Chloe wanted a limited-edition Chanel bag, Ethan drove across three states to get it for her the same day. When I wanted a new Nikon lens, he promised he would have a friend import it for me. I waited excitedly for a week. When I asked him about the shipping status, he simply shrugged. “Oh, I forgot.” To Ethan, I had ceased to matter a long time ago. Maybe seeing how pale I looked, Ethan softened his tone a bit. “Luna, she’s your little sister. Why do you always have to compete with her?” I nodded quietly. “You’re right.” He smiled, satisfied, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “When we finally go to Greece, I’ll have my assistant book the best wedding boutique and makeup artist.” “I’ll make sure you get the dream wedding shoot you’ve always wanted. You’ll be my beautiful bride again.” Chloe and Leo walked out of the store, carrying dozens of shopping bags, looking exhausted but happy. “Let’s go home! We practically bought out the store!” Ethan’s eyes softened with affection as he took the bags from Chloe’s hands. Suddenly, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour began to flood the streets. The backseat and the passenger seat of our SUV were completely piled high with Chloe’s shopping bags. As the rain lashed violently against the windshield, Chloe poked her head out of the window, looking apologetic. “Luna… there’s literally no room left in the car. Maybe you could take an Uber back?” Before I could even respond, Leo slammed the door shut, ignoring where my hand was resting. A sharp, crushing pain shot through my fingers. I pulled my hand back in agony, took a step backward, and slipped. My heel got caught in a drainage grate. Ethan made a move to get out of the car, but Chloe stopped him. “Ethan, the rain is getting really heavy. If we don’t leave now, the visibility will be too bad to drive safely.” He started the engine, throwing a quick “Take care of yourself” out the window before speeding off into the rain. The heavy rain soaked me within seconds. I bit my lip so hard it bled, forcing myself not to cry. These heels were a custom-made gift Ethan had ordered from a boutique in Paris for our eighth anniversary. As I struggled to free my foot, the leather rubbed my heel raw and bloody. Just like our marriage, once beautiful, now worn down to a bloody mess. I pulled my foot out of the shoe, leaving it behind, and stepped barefoot into the freezing, muddy water. Years ago, during the worst of my postpartum depression, I had stood on the edge of our balcony. Ethan had trembled with fear, begging me with tears in his eyes not to jump. He said the baby needed me. He said he needed me. I didn’t jump. I walked back inside, barefoot. He had knelt on the floor, gently warming my freezing feet with his hands before putting my slippers on. “Luna, if you get cold, my heart breaks.” Now, the cold rain drenched me to the bone, but Ethan’s heart didn’t break anymore. I pulled out my phone to call an Uber, but the screen flickered once from the water damage and went completely black. I stood under the bus shelter, shivering, waiting for the storm to pass. When the rain finally stopped, a street sweeper pointed at the drain. “Hey, lady, did you lose your shoe?” I looked at my bare, bruised feet and smiled. “No. I don’t want it anymore.”

By the time I dragged myself home, Ethan was just walking out of the kitchen with a mug of hot milk. My heart sank. I didn’t even ask him when he had learned how to use the stove. Last month, on my thirtieth birthday, I had begged him to bake a simple cake with me. He had refused instantly. “I don’t know how to bake, Luna. Don’t be childish.” Seeing me stand there dripping wet, a rare flash of embarrassment crossed Ethan’s face. “Chloe and Leo got soaked. I didn’t want them catching a cold, so I made them some hot lattes.” “There’s… probably some left in the pot if you want.” I glanced at the kitchen counter. The pot was already sitting in the sink, filled with soapy water. “Dad didn’t make any for you,” Leo sneered from the sofa. “Dad promised that his love only belongs to me and Chloe.” Even though I had told myself I didn’t care anymore, my chest still throbbed with a dull ache. “What happened to your feet?” Ethan’s breath hitched slightly as he noticed the blood on my heels. He moved toward the closet to find the first aid kit. I wasn’t ready to forgive him for leaving me in the rain. “I’m fine,” I said coldly. But the moment I took a step, a sharp, stinging pain shot up my legs. Ethan suddenly stopped, covering his nose and grabbing a can of Lysol, spraying the air around me. “Chloe has a weak immune system, Luna. Your feet are literally covered in street filth. You’re going to bring bacteria into the house.” “If she gets sick, I’m the one who has to stay up all night taking care of her.” Every word felt like a sledgehammer shattering whatever was left of my heart. I stood frozen as Ethan sprayed the floor with disinfectant three times, wiped it with rubbing alcohol five times, and then threw a pair of disposable slippers at my feet. Chloe sipped her latte, clinking her mug playfully with Leo’s. Suddenly, she ran into my study and came out clutching three of my vintage cameras. “Luna, can I have these? I want to take some cool vintage aesthetic photos on the plane tomorrow.” Those cameras had traveled with me across the globe. They were my prized possessions. “No,” I said flatly. Chloe’s lower lip trembled, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. Ethan glared at me in frustration, snatching the cameras from my hands and shoving them into Chloe’s arms. “If she wants them, let her have them! I’ll buy you new ones later, Luna. Stop being so petty.” Chloe instantly beamed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around Ethan’s neck. Then, she pointed at the newest camera in the pile. “Actually, Ethan, I’ll just take this one. If I take them all, Luna might get really mad at me.” Ethan smiled tenderly. “You’re always so thoughtful, Chloe.” I stared at the camera in her hand. The initials of my name and Ethan’s were engraved on the leather casing. It was his wedding gift to me. He had forgotten. But it was fine. If she wanted my leftovers, she could have them. Leo gave me a wicked grin. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he knocked the remaining cameras off the table. With a sickening crash, the delicate lenses shattered on the hardwood floor. The memory cards rolled away. My mind went completely blank. I dropped to my knees, desperately trying to gather the broken pieces, but the power buttons wouldn’t even click. My dreams, my passion, my youth—shattered into worthless pieces by the people I loved most. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me. I bumped my head against the corner of the table, too weak to even stand up. Ethan sighed heavily, nudging my leg with his foot. “It’s just a couple of old cameras, Luna. Do you have to play the victim like this?” “Stop acting and pack your bags. Our flight is at nine tomorrow morning.” With that, he walked into the master bedroom with Chloe and Leo. I lay on the cold floor for a long time before I finally found the strength to drag myself up. From the bedroom, I could hear Leo’s sweet, spoiled voice. “I want to sleep with Chloe and Dad tonight!” I looked at the wreckage on the floor. I pulled out my backup phone, connected it to the printer, and printed out a copy of the divorce papers. I signed my name clearly at the bottom and left them on the kitchen island. The lights in the bedroom went out. No one cared if I was still breathing. I grabbed my passport, my ID, and walked out into the night. The house that wasn’t mine, the husband who didn’t love me, the son who hated me—I didn’t want any of it anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “451318”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was reborn on my eighth birthday. My dad, Edward, had secretly bought me a cheap, seven-dollar grocery store cake. Just as he lit the single candle, my mother, Victoria, looked at him and laughed coldly. “Edward, why are you pretending to be a loving father? Lily isn’t even your child.” The lighter slipped from my dad’s hand, falling right into the white frosting. The tiny flame died with a soft hiss. The dining room fell dead silent. We were in a private room at a high-end steakhouse. The long table was filled with our relatives and top executives from my dad’s company. No one dared to breathe. In my past life, it was at this exact birthday dinner that Victoria threw the word “bastard” at my dad and me. Devastated and humiliated, my dad had rushed out of the restaurant, completely losing his mind. He was hit by an oncoming truck and died on the spot. Afterward, Victoria held his portrait at the funeral, weeping and telling everyone that my greed for a birthday cake had killed him. And I believed her. I spent my entire life tormented by guilt and regret. It wasn’t until after her death that the man she had hidden for years showed up at my door with her will, demanding a share of my inheritance. Only then did I realize that my dad and I had lived our entire lives inside her massive lie. But this time, I didn’t cry. Instead, I let out a cold laugh. “You’re right, Victoria. I’m probably not Dad’s child. After all, you forced me to secretly call your secret lover ‘Daddy’ a long time ago!” 1 The smirk on Victoria’s face instantly froze. Everyone at the table looked like they were being choked. Their forks remained suspended in mid-air. My dad’s face turned deathly pale. His body swayed. I knew exactly what he was going to do next. In my past life, this was the moment he stood up in despair, knocked over his chair, and stumbled out of the restaurant. He never came back. This time, I jumped off my chair and tightly wrapped my arms around his leg. “Edward, don’t leave. Please.” He looked down at me, his eyes terrifyingly bloodshot. Victoria finally snapped out of her shock. Screaming, she lunged at me. “Lily! Say another word, and I swear I’ll kill you!” She grabbed the cake from the table and slammed it right into my face. The sweet frosting instantly blinded my eyes. The sharp edge of the birthday candle scraped across my cheek, leaving a burning red welt. A collective gasp echoed through the room. But Victoria wasn’t done. She grabbed my hair and slammed my face down toward the edge of the table. “Eat it!” she shrieked. “Weren’t you begging for this pathetic cake?” “Your father sneaked it in behind my back. You felt so proud, didn’t you?” “You just wanted to prove that you’re more important to him than I am!” My eight-year-old body was trembling from the pain. But inside, I was only laughing coldly. Seven dollars. My dad was worth hundreds of millions, yet he had to hide a seven-dollar grocery store cake in his briefcase just to give it to his daughter. Because Victoria had decreed that every single cent of the family’s money had to go through her. When my dad bought me sketchpads, she claimed he was favoring me to humiliate her as a stay-at-home mother. When my dad took me to the dentist, she locked herself in the bathroom and took sleeping pills, crying that we were conspiring to exclude her. And when my dad wanted to throw me a birthday party, she publicly claimed I wasn’t his daughter. She wasn’t angry. She was executing us. She wanted my dad to know that if he dared to love me, she would plunge a knife straight into his heart. “Victoria, you’ve lost your mind! She’s your daughter! How could you do this to her?!” My dad finally snapped. He snatched me away from her and pulled me protectively into his arms, his heart breaking as he saw my face. Victoria’s sister, Chloe, was the first to defend her. “Lily, how can you speak to your mother like that? What a toxic little brat. No wonder Victoria was driven to this point.” Her brother, Julian, snorted in disgust. “An eight-year-old accusing her own mother of cheating? Someone clearly coached her.” He looked directly at my dad. “Edward, have you been wanting a divorce all this time? Is that why you’re using this child to throw dirt at Victoria?” The company executives lowered their heads, pretending to be invisible. Nobody dared to look at my dad. And nobody dared to say a single word to defend me. I wiped the cream from my eyes, reached into Victoria’s purse resting on the chair next to her, and pulled out a phone from the side pocket. In my past life, I only found this phone when I was clearing out her belongings after her death. That was when I discovered the secret she had kept her entire life. Before Victoria’s horrified eyes, I quickly unlocked the phone and forwarded three photos to the family group chat and the company executives’ WhatsApp group. The first photo showed Victoria kissing a man at the entrance of a luxury hot spring resort. The second was a screenshot of a transaction where she had transferred $50,000 to the man, with the memo: Annual Wellness & Healing Package. The third was a security camera screenshot of her leading me into a private studio. In the image, the man was kneeling in front of me, handing me a plush toy. Below that was an audio transcript of Victoria’s voice. “Lily, be a good girl and call him Daddy Damian. He understands Mommy much better than your father does, and he’ll love you even more.” The group chats instantly exploded. Every drop of color drained from Victoria’s face. “How… how do you know about this phone?” “You little bitch! Did you steal my phone when I wasn’t looking?!” I grinned at her, showing my teeth. “Victoria, didn’t you say I wasn’t Dad’s child? Then let’s check.” “We can do a DNA test, audit the bank accounts, and find out whether your Wednesday visits to the luxury estate in the hills are for ‘wellness’ or for hooking up.” Victoria raised her hand to strike me again. But my dad was faster. He grabbed her wrist with a grip of steel, his eyes burning with pure fury. Victoria froze. She probably never expected that the man who used to apologize to her just for spending seven dollars would ever lay a hand on her. Tears instantly streamed down her face. “Edward, are you hitting me for this bastard?!” My dad’s lips trembled, unable to form words. But he didn’t let go of her wrist. I raised the phone and dialed 91

“Hello, I need to report an assault.” “Someone is publicly defaming a minor at a birthday party, physically abusing me, and is suspected of forging paternity documents and embezzling family assets.” “The address is the Steakhouse on 5th Avenue, private dining room three.” Victoria lunged to grab the phone. I immediately ducked behind my dad. She missed and fell hard onto the carpet. The next second, she sat on the floor and began to wail at the top of her lungs. “I don’t want to live anymore!” “I sacrificed eight years for this family, only for my husband and daughter to drive me to suicide!” “Edward, do the two of you want me to die right here to be satisfied?!” I watched her cry, feeling absolutely nothing. In my past life, this crying had kept me on my knees for decades. This time, I gently tugged at my dad’s sleeve. “Edward, don’t feel bad for her. She’d never kill herself. She just wants to make us too afraid to live.” 2 By the time the police arrived, Victoria had already styled herself as the victim. She had a shallow red scratch on her wrist. She had made it herself using a piece of a broken wine glass. It wasn’t deep, but it looked dramatic. Chloe was holding her, crying hysterically. “Officer, look at what they’ve done to my sister!” “Her husband got rich and abandoned her, and he brainwashed their daughter. She’s only eight, and she’s already accusing her own mother of cheating!” Julian pointed directly at my face. “A child like this needs to be sent to a juvenile boot camp, or she’ll grow up to be a menace to society.” My dad’s body stiffened. I knew he was about to fall back into his old habit of blaming himself. In the past, whenever Victoria’s family ganged up on him, his first instinct was always self-reflection. Was he too busy with work? Did he fail to support Victoria emotionally? Did he make his wife jealous by being too nice to me? I didn’t give him time for self-doubt. I spoke up immediately. “Officer, there are security cameras in this dining room.” “My mother just told everyone I’m not my father’s child, threw a cake at my face, and pulled my hair.” “I have a burn mark on my face from the candle, and my dad has scratch marks on his face from her.” Victoria’s sobbing paused. The lead officer was a woman named Officer Miller. She glanced at me, then at the ruined cake and the white frosting smeared on my face. Her expression instantly hardened. “Let’s check the security footage first.” Victoria panicked. “This is just a family matter! Is that really necessary?” Officer Miller replied coldly, “Publicly humiliating a minor and physically abusing a child is not a ‘family matter.’” Victoria’s face turned white. She quickly shifted her expression, clutching her chest and leaning weakly against Chloe. “I… I only said those things out of anger.” “I was in so much pain. Edward only cares about our daughter, never about me.” “I just wanted him to show me some affection.” I let out a laugh. “So your way of getting affection is calling your own daughter a bastard?” She glared at me. Her eyes were filled with pure venom. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she pulled a document from her purse. “You want proof? I have it!” She slammed the papers down in front of my dad. “Edward, see for yourself.” “Is this precious daughter you’ve raised for eight years actually yours?!” Just as my dad’s hand reached for the report, I slapped my hand over it. “Don’t look.” Victoria shrieked, “Are you scared now?!” I ignored her and looked up at Officer Miller. “I suspect this report is forged.” “There is no official lab registration number, no photos of the sample collection, and no signature from a legal guardian.” “The agency listed is ‘Anhe Wellness Consulting.’ They aren’t even certified to perform legal DNA paternity tests.” Julian’s face tightened. “What does an eight-year-old know about this?” “I might not know, but the police do. And Dad does.” I turned to my dad. “Edward, tomorrow we will go to a certified forensic lab. You and I will do a proper test on the spot.” “If I’m not your daughter, I’ll accept it.” “But if I am, you must sue her.” My dad stared at me. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t speak. I squeezed his hand. “Edward, even if it’s just for me, don’t let it go this time.” “Mom… no, Victoria is a bad person. I don’t want her to be my mother anymore.” Something in my dad’s eyes shattered completely in that moment. And then, a new light slowly gathered in them. After a long silence, he said hoarsely, “Okay.” Victoria bolted upright. “No!” Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Realizing she had reacted too quickly, she immediately began to weep again. “I am her mother! I won’t allow her to go through such trauma.” “She’s only eight years old! How can you bear to draw her blood?” I raised my arm. “It’s a cheek swab, Victoria. No needles.” Victoria: “…” Officer Miller almost cracked a smile. For the first time, my dad looked at Victoria with cold, dead eyes. “When you called her a bastard, you didn’t care that she was only eight.” “Now that we want the truth, you suddenly care?” Victoria’s face went completely pale. I picked up the phone and typed a message into the family and company group chats. “Tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM, at the State Forensic Identification Center.” “At the same time, I request the company’s financial team to audit Victoria’s personal accounts, secondary cards, company reimbursements, and consultant contracts over the last eight years.” “She claims all her expenses were for the family’s image. Let’s let the bank records speak for themselves.” The group chat remained silent for three seconds. Then, my dad replied: “Do exactly what Lily says.” Marcus, the Chief Financial Officer, replied: “Understood. We will begin the audit as soon as Edward signs the authorization.” My uncle, Richard, also replied: “Since things have come to this, we must investigate.” Victoria stared at her phone, her tears completely dried up. She glared at me, her eyes burning with a raw, murderous hatred that she no longer bothered to hide. 3 The next morning, before I could even reach the forensic lab, I went viral on TikTok. Victoria and her family had blocked the gates of my school. She was wearing a white dress, her wrist wrapped in layers of gauze, looking as pale as a corpse. Behind her, Julian and Chloe were holding up a massive banner: [Eight-year-old daughter defames mother; billionaire husband drives wife to suicide.] Next to it was a cardboard sign. It had my photo pasted on it. And underneath my face, written in giant, red letters, was the word: BASTARD. Parents and students were crowding around, filming with their phones and whispering. “Is that her?” “The kid looks so creepy.” “She drove her own mother to her knees. How heartless.” Looking at that cardboard sign, my fingers clenched into tight fists. Eight years old. She had plastered the word “bastard” under an eight-year-old’s photo for the entire world to see. She had done the exact same thing in my past life. After my dad died, she had hugged me and cried, saying: “If you hadn’t been so greedy for that cake, I wouldn’t have gotten angry, and your father wouldn’t have died.” Later, when I ranked first in school, she said: “What’s the point? Your father isn’t alive to see it.” When I had a 104-degree fever, she said: “Your father is dead. How do you have the face to ask me to take care of you?” Guilt was the leash she used to control me my entire life. And today, she wanted to slip it back over my neck. When Victoria saw my dad’s car, she immediately ran over and threw herself onto her knees in front of us. “Edward, I beg you.” “Don’t do the test.” “Don’t audit the accounts.” “Lily, Mommy will beg you on her knees, okay?” She actually began to bow her head toward the ground. The crowd’s cameras immediately zoomed in on my face. Chloe screamed, “Lily! Your mother is on her knees! Do you really want to kill her?!” I stepped out of the car. And then, before the entire crowd, I fell to my knees too. I bent down and pressed my forehead hard against the pavement. Thud. The impact sent a sharp pain through my skull. “Victoria, I beg you too,” I sobbed loudly, my voice echoing through the schoolyard. “Please stop calling me a bastard.” “Please stop hitting Dad.” “Please stop transferring Dad’s money to Damian.” “Please stop forcing me to call him Daddy Damian.” With that, I pulled out my phone and played the audio file I had backed up from Victoria’s secret phone at maximum volume. Victoria’s voice, sickly sweet and tender, echoed through the speaker: “Lily, when you see Damian, you have to call him Daddy.” “Your father only knows how to make money. He doesn’t know how to love.” “Only Damian understands how much Mommy suffers.” Immediately following was a man’s low laugh. “What a good girl. Daddy Damian will buy you a toy castle.” The entire school gate went dead silent. Victoria’s face turned white as sheet. She lunged forward to grab my phone. But my dad stepped in, shielding me. “Don’t touch Lily.” Victoria screamed, “Edward! You’d rather believe a lying child than me?!” My dad looked at the banner behind her, and then at the word “bastard” under my photo. His eyes slowly filled with tears, turning completely red. “She is your daughter, and you are her mother. How could you do this to her?” Victoria shook her head, sobbing, “I was forced into this by both of you!” Just then, Officer Miller arrived with several police cars. The moment she saw the banner and the cardboard sign, her face hardened. “Who organized this?” The relatives immediately looked away, pretending they had nothing to do with it. Officer Miller ordered her colleagues to record the scene and warned them to stop harassing a minor and disrupting school order. The surrounding parents began to whisper. “So the mother actually made a banner to harass her own kid?” “That is messed up.” “I almost believed her. What a psycho.” Hearing this, Victoria’s face twisted in rage for a split second. But she quickly went back to her act, clutching her chest and collapsing into Chloe’s arms. “My chest… it hurts…” I immediately spoke up. “I already called an ambulance.” “The hospital bill will be charged directly to her personal account.” Suddenly, her chest didn’t seem to hurt as much. At the forensic lab, the staff verified our IDs, took photos, and collected cheek swabs. When my dad signed the authorization form, his hand was still shaking. Victoria sat in the corner, her glare sharp enough to cut skin. I pushed a document in front of her. “Sign this.” She sneered, “What kind of game are you playing now?” “If the test results prove I’m not Dad’s biological daughter, I will make a public apology to you,” I said calmly. “But if I am, you must publicly admit to your defamation, delete all the videos you posted, and pay damages to Dad and me for destroying our reputation.” Victoria mocked, “You’re just a kid, yet you’ve learned such disgusting tricks.” My dad pushed another pen toward her. “I will sign it too.” “If the test proves Lily is my daughter, I will immediately file for divorce and sue you to recover every single cent you’ve transferred.” The smug smirk on Victoria’s face finally crumbled. Julian whispered urgently beside her, “Victoria, don’t sign it.” I immediately chimed in, “Oh, so you don’t dare?” “Doesn’t that prove you’ve been lying from the very beginning?” Victoria could tolerate anything except losing. “I’ll sign it!” she spat, grabbing the pen and scribbling her name. “You want to know if you’re really his daughter? I’ll tell you right now.” Suddenly, she leaned close to my ear and whispered a few words. My pupils contracted instantly. 4 During the three days we waited for the results, Victoria didn’t stay idle. She edited the video of the incident at the school gate and posted it on TikTok. In her version, the video only showed her kneeling before me while I stood there with a cold, unbothered expression. My kneeling, the audio recording, the banners, and the cardboard sign were completely edited out. The caption was designed to stir up outrage: 【Eight-year-old daughter forces mother to kneel; billionaire father watches coldly.】 The comment section exploded. “Are kids these days really this evil?” “Being a stay-at-home mom is a nightmare.” “Edward got rich and now he’s trying to get rid of his wife.” “The father clearly brainwashed the daughter.” Soon, people doxed my school. Someone threw rotten vegetables at the school gates. My desk was filled with nasty sticky notes. “Bastard.” “Ungrateful brat.” “You killed your own father.” When I read the last note, a chill ran down my spine. In my past life, Victoria was the only one who ever said those words to me. She was already setting the stage. If my dad died again in this life, she would once again pin the blame on me. I took photos of every single note and sent them to Arthur, our family lawyer. Arthur was an old friend of my dad’s. He had rushed back from an out-of-town business trip the night before. After reviewing the photos, he simply said, “Keep collecting evidence.” “Don’t engage with her online.” “If she wants a stage, we will build her a courtroom.” That evening, Victoria started a livestream on TikTok. She sat in a dimly lit room, with a bottle of sleeping pills clearly visible on the table next to her. She wept softly, looking incredibly fragile. “I admit, I lost control of my emotions and said things that hurt my child.” “But nobody knows how lonely I’ve been all these years.” “When Edward comes home, he only has eyes for Lily. He never looks at me.” “He bought her a cake, but he forgot that I need to be loved too.” The chat scrolled by at lightning speed. “Stay strong, sister! Don’t do anything stupid!” “Being a stay-at-home mom is so suffocating.” “The husband and daughter are both trash.” She began to justify her spending. “I bought luxury bags to maintain his image at business dinners.” “I took wellness courses because this house drove me into depression.” “I attended high-society galas to build networks for Edward’s company.” I watched her hands on the screen. Her wedding ring was gone. I immediately looked up at my dad. “Edward, she is going to meet Damian tonight.” My dad froze. “How do you know?” “Every time she meets him, she takes off her wedding ring,” I explained. In my past life, it was on this very night. After her pity-party livestream, she went to Damian’s luxury apartment to drink champagne and celebrate. When Damian came to claim the inheritance later, he had played me a recording of that night. Victoria had laughed and said, “Edward died at the perfect time. Otherwise, getting this money wouldn’t have been so easy.” I still remembered those words. Every single syllable felt like a knife. Arthur quickly tracked down a property in the prestigious neighborhood of the city. The title was under Victoria’s name. The purchase had been made using my dad’s secondary credit card. Coincidentally, the property management had just filed a report about a water leak, requiring the owner to open the door. At 9:00 PM, my dad, Arthur, the property manager, and a plumber arrived at the apartment. Before the door opened, my dad’s face was as gray as ash. I squeezed his hand. “Edward, if there’s no one inside, we’ll just go home.” “But if there is, you are not the one who should feel embarrassed.” The moment the door opened, a strong scent of expensive perfume wafted out. Victoria’s high heels were discarded on the living room floor. A man’s laughter echoed from the bedroom. “You put on a great show tonight. You’re number one on the trending page.” Victoria’s lazy voice replied, “Edward is an idiot. He’s so easy to manipulate.” “He’s probably sitting at home right now, blaming himself for being too harsh on me.” Damian asked, “What if he actually audits the accounts?” Victoria sneered, “He wouldn’t dare.” “He had to sneak around just to buy a seven-dollar cake. You think he has the balls to cross me?” My dad stood in the entryway, completely frozen like a statue. The next second, the bedroom door opened. Victoria walked out wearing a silk negligee. Damian followed her, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Their eyes collided. The smirk on Victoria’s face shattered instantly. “Edward…” Damian reacted quickly. “Edward, this is a misunderstanding. I’m Victoria’s emotional therapist. She was in a dangerous mental state tonight, and I was performing a crisis intervention.” I looked at the bright red lipstick mark on his neck and let out a laugh. “Do you usually strip down to a towel for ‘crisis interventions’?” Arthur immediately raised his phone to take photos and videos. Victoria screamed and lunged forward, “Stop filming!” My dad finally raised his head. His voice was very quiet. But it was as cold as ice. “Victoria, we are getting a divorce.” She froze. And then, she laughed. “Edward, you can’t survive without me.” “Without me, you don’t even know what medication you’re supposed to take.” “If you dare divorce me, I will make sure the whole world knows you’re a monster who drove his own wife insane.” My dad remained silent. So I spoke for him. “Then let’s show the world who the real maniac is.”

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Lucas Hart had fought in underground boxing rings for five years, and he finally stepped onto the World Championship stage. To support his fights, I washed dishes at a diner during the day and delivered food at night. Lucas had once held my cracked hands and cried until his eyes turned red, and he swore: “Nina, when I win the World Championship, I’ll make sure you live a good life.” But on the day he walked toward the World Championship stage, I said I wanted to go with him. Lucas stayed silent for a few seconds, then brushed me off. “What would you even do there when you don’t understand it?” When he won the title, I was crouching down washing dishes. On the TV screen, Lucas stood there in high spirits, giving his acceptance speech. I felt happy for him, and then I heard the reporter ask who he wanted to thank the most. Lucas’s gaze seemed to meet mine through the screen, and his lips moved. I tightened my grip on the greasy plate in my hand, and a wave of expectation rose inside me. But in the next second, Lucas’s familiar voice came crashing down. “The person I want to thank the most is my love, Sophie Blake.” Before I could react, my best friend, whose name had just been mentioned, smiled shyly and ran onto the stage, then kissed Lucas deeply. The applause and blessings of the whole world surged in at that moment. I stared at the two people hugging tightly on the screen. Then I lowered my head and looked at my own rough, cracked hands. Silently, I put down the plate in my hand and called my dad. “Dad, I agree to go back and inherit the family business.” 1 After I hung up, Sophie’s updated Ins post popped up. A nine-photo grid. In the picture, a man’s slender hand was interlaced with hers, and that glittering gold medal rested against her chest. 【Nothing in the world is happier than my husband winning his match while I happen to be by his side.】 I casually liked the post and turned off my phone. The dark screen reflected my sallow face. The apron on me was covered in water stains and grease. I was only twenty-five, yet a few strands of white hair had already appeared at my temples. I took off my apron and went to the back kitchen to resign to my boss. “You’ve worked here for so long, and you’re always the last one to leave every day, so why are you suddenly leaving?” The boss was cooking, and when he heard me say I was quitting, he looked a little surprised. Lucas often got injured from boxing, and sometimes when he came home, his fingers would be terribly swollen. To buy him a good pair of gloves, I worked part-time jobs like my life depended on it, and sometimes I stayed busy at the diner until after midnight before leaving. I let out a soft laugh and put the apron on the counter. “I’m a little tired, and I want to rest properly for a while.” After I left the diner, Lucas sent me a message. 【Nina, I’ll be back later.】 I did not reply, and I followed the address in Sophie’s photo. Outside the plaza downtown, a crowd of onlookers and reporters had gathered. Hot-air balloons with Sophie’s name on them floated in the sky all around. Lucas knelt on one knee inside a heart made of candles and rose petals. He held a ring in one hand and offered it to the shy-faced woman in front of him. “Sophie, will you marry me?” Amid the lively teasing and blessings from the people around them, Sophie’s ears turned bright red, and she reached out with teary eyes. “Of course I will~” Lucas carefully slipped the ring onto her pinky. The crowd instantly erupted, and everyone began clapping. Reporters pushed forward one after another to interview them. Lucas held Sophie and looked at her with a gentle, unwavering gaze. Then he turned his head toward the reporters’ cameras. “I promised Sophie that I would marry her if I won the match, and now, I’ve finally done it.” I stood outside the crowd, my nails digging deep into my flesh. I felt as if all the blood in my body had frozen, and I could not stop trembling. I remembered the night I delivered food until midnight and ran into thugs at the mouth of an alley. To protect myself, I was beaten by several burly men until my left eye became severely blind. Lucas knelt beside my hospital bed, held my cracked hand tightly with red eyes, and made me a promise. “Nina, don’t worry, when I win the match, I’ll be able to propose to you.” “On that day, I will make you the most beautiful bride in the world!” And now, I looked at the heart-shaped balloons floating all over the sky. My heart felt as if it had been struck hard by a blunt object, and my nose stung. I could no longer hold back my tears. As if afraid someone would see me in such a wrecked state, I pushed through the crowd and ran away like I was fleeing. I did not know how I got home. At ten o’clock that night, the door opened. Lucas changed his shoes in the entryway, and the fluorescent light switched on with a snap. When he saw me sitting on the couch and staring straight at him, Lucas jumped in fright. “Nina? Why are you sitting there in the dark this late?” I did not speak and just stared at him. There was now a Strawberry Bear bracelet on his wrist. I had seen Sophie wearing one in her Ins post, and theirs were a couple’s set. Lucas drank a glass of water, walked over, hugged my waist from behind, and rubbed his face against me. “I’m so tired today, and you have no idea, I almost lost this afternoon.” He leaned closer and tried to pinch my cheek, but I turned aside and avoided him. The gardenia scent Sophie always used drifted into my nose. A wave of nausea surged inside me, and the emotion I had buried suddenly exploded. “Don’t touch me!” Lucas froze, and his raised hand stiffened in midair. His face darkened instantly. “What are you throwing a tantrum about? Are you still mad because I didn’t let you go watch the match?” I raised my head and looked at his face, which was still as handsome as before. Yet at this moment, I found him unbearably fake. I opened my mouth and asked directly: “When did you and Sophie get together?” 2 Lucas froze in place, and when he looked at my trembling body, panic flashed through his eyes. I looked into his eyes and stubbornly asked aloud. “You said you wanted to marry me, so was all of that fake?” I clenched my fists, wishing so badly that Lucas would tell me right now that everything was fake. That I was dreaming. But after a long moment, he suddenly let out a scoff. He leaned lazily back against the couch. “You know everything?” He raised his hand and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes, just like before. With a soft laugh, he rubbed the top of my head. “Although I can’t marry you, you can still continue being my lover.” “Now that I’ve won the match, I have everything, and other than a wedding, I’ll give you whatever you want.” “It’s just a marriage license, and it doesn’t mean anything.” I looked at the man’s mouth opening and closing. He still looked the same as before. Yet at this moment, I found him unbelievably fake. I remembered the night five years ago when he held my hand and said he wanted to give me a good life. I was held tightly in his arms, and he said that when he made a name for himself, we would get married. Back then, the young man’s eyes were full of me. I ignored my dad’s warnings, and because I was afraid Lucas would feel inferior because I was a wealthy heiress, I never told him. I resolutely gave up wealth and luxury, and I stayed with him through hardship while he fought illegal matches. I thought that when Lucas finally made a name for himself, we really would get married. But now, I thought of the way he proposed to Sophie. In the end, he succeeded, and the first person he abandoned was me! Overwhelming emotions surged up inside me. I shoved him away and shouted with red eyes. “Lucas Hart, don’t you think you’re disgusting?” Lucas lost his patience, stood up, and looked at me indifferently. “Nina Sterling, you should be thanking me right now, because you have nowhere to go after cutting ties with your dad for me.” “Now, other than me, where else can you go in this huge Harbor City?” He patted my face, picked up a bath towel, and walked toward the bathroom. “Stay by my side like a good girl, and stop making trouble all the time.” I stared at the tightly shut door and collapsed completely to the floor. I tilted my head back and refused to let the tears fall. My phone vibrated, and my dad’s driver, Mr. Finch, called. “Miss, the boss has arranged everything, and I’ll come pick you up in two days.” “Okay.” After I hung up, I went to the bedroom and started packing. I did not have much luggage, and one suitcase held everything. Lucas rarely bought me anything, and I understood that boxing was hard for him. All the money I earned was saved to buy Lucas protective gear and gloves. I could not even bear to buy myself a decent piece of clothing. After I finished packing and dragged the suitcase up, a sharp sinking pain suddenly came from my lower abdomen. I curled up on the floor and reached toward my thigh. A blinding red fell into my palm. I looked at my slightly swollen lower belly, and half a month ago, I had found out I was pregnant. But because I had crouched for long hours washing dishes, the baby was in danger. The doctor had warned me that if I did not go to the hospital for treatment as soon as possible, both the mother and the baby could be in life-threatening danger. But when I saw the expensive follow-up fee, I still did not tell Lucas. The sinking pain in my lower abdomen grew stronger and stronger, and blood gushed out from between my legs. Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom, and Lucas had finished his shower. Hope sparked inside me, and I gripped the floor and crawled toward the door, wanting to ask him for help. “Lucas… save me…” All the strength in my body seemed to have been drained away, and I used every last bit of effort to squeeze out my voice. I kept slapping the door. “Nina, are you in there?” Lucas heard the faint slapping at the door, frowned, and was just about to walk toward the bedroom. Just then, a knock suddenly came from outside the front door. “Lucas, when I got home, I found my place had been completely ransacked, and I’m so scared…” Sophie’s soft, delicate voice rang out outside the door. Lucas could no longer care about the movement in the room, and he quickly walked to the entryway and opened the door. “How could a thief get in, and it’s so cold, but you didn’t even put on a jacket.” “Come on, I’ll go back with you and take a look.” The conversation outside the door drifted over, and the sound of fabric rubbing followed. Then the front door was shut. The whole house fell silent again. I lay on the floor with a pale face and felt blood keep flowing out of my body. My throat seemed to be gripped tightly, and the pain made it so I could no longer make a sound. My phone vibrated, and Lucas’s message came in: 【Something came up, so I’m heading out for a while, and don’t wait up for me, sleep early.】 3 Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, and the hope that had lit up in my heart completely fell through. I used the last of my strength to call 91

“What kind of family leaves a pregnant woman home alone?” “If she had been brought in any later, you would’ve lost your life!” When I opened my eyes, the doctor was flipping through my medical records and looking at me with complaint and regret. I stared blankly at the ceiling, touched my lower abdomen, and felt as if a piece of my stomach was empty. I asked the doctor in a hoarse voice. “The baby…” The doctor stared at my lips, which were so pale they were cracked, and sighed. “If you had been brought in earlier, the baby might have been saved, but don’t be too sad, there will be another chance…” I touched my belly, and my tears finally burst out uncontrollably. I took out my phone and sent my dad a message. 【Dad, I don’t want to wait anymore, come pick me up today.】 I completed the discharge procedures, called a cab, and went back to get my luggage. As soon as I reached the door of my home, I saw Lucas getting out of a car. When he saw me, his brows knitted tightly, and he strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you all morning.” “Do you know that this makes people worry?” The Strawberry Bear bracelet on Lucas’s wrist jingled with his movements. I looked at the worry for me written all over his face, and I thought of the Lucas who had abandoned me to care about Sophie. Suddenly, I could not tell which one was the real Lucas. “I’m fine.” I pulled my hand free from his and walked into the house with no expression. Lucas froze, and his face darkened. “Nina Sterling, it’s been a whole night, and you’re still throwing a tantrum?” He seemed to have run out of patience, walked over, and grabbed my shoulders. “I already said that other than the title of wife, I can give you anything you want.” “You don’t need to fight Sophie over this, because it’s just a marriage license.” “Having two wives isn’t impossible.” I looked at his certain face. He had decided that all my unhappiness was because he did not marry me. He thought I was just being jealous. He believed that after so many years of feelings between us, I would never bear to leave him. My phone rang once, and it was Dad. I lowered my head and looked. 【Nina, Mr. Finch will pick you up in an hour.】 I looked at his face and laughed softly in calm. “Okay.” I was leaving anyway. I did not care about any of this anymore, and I did not want to waste words arguing with him. When Lucas saw my smile, he let out a breath of relief. He thought I had finally figured it out. He kissed my forehead gently. “That’s my good girl, and the coach from the boxing match has arranged a celebration party for me tonight, so stay home like a good girl.” “I’ll take Sophie with me, and I’ll come back once the socializing is over.” Lucas nodded with satisfaction. He got into the car, and the exhaust sprayed all over my face. A call came into my phone from Attorney Carter. 4 “Hello, Miss Sterling, I have a lead regarding the matter about your mother that you asked me to investigate last time.” “I’m at the coffee shop, and I’ll send you the address.” “Really? I’ll head over right now.” My dad was a giant in the business world, and countless rivals watched him closely. They could not do anything to my dad, so they turned their aim toward my mom. They bought smear stories claiming that my mom was the mistress who seduced my dad, and they even released evidence. Public opinion online turned completely against my mom. She was born into a scholarly family, and after being cyberbullied until her mind fell apart, she could not take it anymore and finally took her own life. Even now, the real person behind it all had never been found. This had always been the thorn in my heart, and five years ago, I contacted Attorney Carter. Now, there was finally a lead. I walked toward the coffee shop full of hope. But as soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I saw Lucas and Sophie on the couch in the corner. His group of friends was there too. “We drank too much, so we came out for some air.” “Hey, Sophie, I heard Lucas say that Nina’s mom used to be a mistress?” “Isn’t her family super poor? If she lives off Lucas, how could her dad have money to keep a mistress?” One of Lucas’s friends asked. Sophie let out a soft scoff, as if she was too embarrassed to say it. “I’m not sure, but that’s what Lucas told me too, and I heard she ended up jumping off a building…” Laughter broke out all around them. “Then doesn’t that mean Nina inherited her mom’s legacy, hahaha!” “Hey, Lucas, isn’t that right?” A wave of teasing surged over. I looked at Lucas, expecting to hear his explanation. But Lucas had his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, and when he heard that, he only gave a soft laugh. He did not deny it. That heart-rending rage surged into my chest. I still remembered when I cried and told Lucas about all of this, and he held me with heartache and swore. “Nina, from now on, I’ll protect you in your mother’s place.” “I believe your mom was definitely not that kind of person, and we’ll investigate together and find the truth for your mom.” The vows from the past were still vivid in my mind. But now, he had actually taken the deepest thorn in my heart and told it to others as a joke. Sophie was even laughing at my mom without restraint with everyone else over there. A sky-high rage surged up inside me. I picked up a cup of coffee and rushed straight over. Then I splashed it hard in her face. “Ah!” Sophie screamed and threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Before I could raise my hand to hit Lucas, he suddenly stood up and shoved me hard. My waist hit the corner of the table behind me, and the wound that had not yet healed began bleeding again. “Nina Sterling, what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked at me angrily. I lay on the floor and felt as if my whole body had been torn apart. With red eyes, I gritted my teeth and asked him. “Why did you slander my mom with them?” When he noticed my pale face, he froze for a moment, and guilt flashed through his eyes. “I…” Just as he was about to say something, Sophie cried out from his arms. “Lucas, my eyes hurt, and I think coffee got in them, so am I going to go blind…” Lucas could no longer care about me, and he picked her up in his arms and went to the hospital. His friends looked at me with sneers. “A mistress still wants to hit the real girlfriend, how shameless!” When I came out of the coffee shop, it was pouring rain outside. The Sterling family car had stopped at the entrance according to the location I sent. A bodyguard got out and opened the car door. “Miss, please get in.” …… After Lucas accompanied Sophie through the examination and confirmed that nothing was wrong with her eyes, he thought of my pale face at the coffee shop and could not help feeling a little worried. “What happened this afternoon was too impulsive of you, and since you only hurt Sophie because you were jealous, I won’t hold it against you.” “Are you feeling unwell? I’ll go with you for a checkup when I get home.” He hung up the phone and was just about to go home. Then several of his friends called. “Lucas, we saw Nina get picked up by a luxury car.” Lucas froze and spoke in shock. “What?”

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Every time one of the girls Carter messed around with showed up at my door, I would say the exact same thing: “Answer three questions for me. Get them right, and I’ll sign the divorce papers. You can have the title of Mrs. Sterling.” “Get them wrong, and you disappear. Or, I make you disappear.” They all thought they were the exception. But not a single one of them had ever gotten all three questions right. Until Carter personally brought that young girl and sat her down right in front of me. The girl squinted at me with a smug smile: “Hi. He doesn’t love you. Why don’t you just beat it?” “I really don’t want to get my hands dirty fighting an old woman.” I rested my chin on my hand and asked her the same three questions as always. She answered fast, and she got them wrong just as fast. But when my assistant, Maya, stepped forward to escort her out, I smiled and nodded: “Congratulations.” I slipped off my platinum wedding ring and slid it across the table: “As of today, I’m stepping down.”

Carter was standing just two steps behind her. A half-burned cigarette was pinched between his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly. He looked as if he hadn’t expected the words “stepping down” to actually come out of my mouth. “I got them right?” The girl’s smile was still plastered on her face, her brain failing to process what was happening. I shook my head. “You got every single one wrong.” She blinked. Her eyes were bright, but filled with insolence: “Didn’t you say I had to get them right for you to leave?” “Wait, is it because…” Her hand slowly drifted down, resting over her flat stomach. “You know you can’t compete with me anymore?” My gaze followed her movement, landing on her flat belly. Last winter, I found a photo on Carter’s phone. In the neon-lit VIP room of a private club, a young girl was leaning heavily on his shoulder. He had explained it away easily: “She’s just a business partner’s daughter. We had a drink.” Then, he had pinned me against the sofa. “Evelyn, you are the only Mrs. Sterling I will ever have in this lifetime. The others? They’re just toys.” “I would never let them carry my child. You don’t have to worry about that, okay?” … Another empty promise, as expected. The platinum band scraped against my knuckle, feeling uncomfortably tight. I had worn it for seven years. It had left a deep, pale indentation in my skin. I placed the ring on the glass table. Hailey glanced at the ring, her lips curling upward. “Are you really taking it off?” “Look, if you don’t want to give him up, don’t. Making such a dramatic scene is just embarrassing.” Carter lowered his hand, letting the cigarette ash fall onto the dark hardwood floor. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” he asked, his voice laced with impatience. I stood up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and walked right past him. “Evelyn,” Carter called out. I stopped. He walked up behind me, spun me around by the shoulder, and gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He wasn’t looking at his wife. He was looking at a subordinate who had suddenly stopped obeying orders. “The door is right there. Walking out is easy,” he said, his voice dropping. “But walking back in is hard. Think carefully.” I looked down at his hand. His fingers were long and well-defined, his skin warm. I had held this hand for seven years. I had been terrified of letting it go. From the early days of his startup when he stayed up all night rewriting business proposals, to the day Sterling Group went public. From his very first affair to this young girl who had finally broken my spirit. For seven years, after every fight, every silent treatment, and every time I slammed the door and left, I was always the one who crawled back. He only ever had to stand in place and wait. Wait for me to calm down. Wait for me to swallow my own humiliation and pretend nothing happened. He knew I suffered from severe codependency. He knew I was emotionally paralyzed without him. To avoid losing him, I had spent years playing the fool. But now, all the strength had drained out of me. I gently pulled away from his grip. “I’ve thought it through.” He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke: “Then lay it out. Make it make sense.” “What do you want me to say?” “Those three questions. She got them all wrong. Why are you giving up your spot?” I lowered my eyes. This was the first time he had ever demanded an explanation. But at this point, this conversation, those three questions—none of it mattered anymore. I let out a dry laugh. “Well, I can’t exactly let your baby be born illegitimate, can I?” He froze. “Just because of that?” “Yes,” I nodded. “Just because of that.” Even though it was just a wild guess based on her rubbing her stomach to show off. But at least, it was a clean, undeniable reason to end this. The man looked down, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. The crease between his brows smoothed out. Now that he had a logical explanation, he didn’t mind acting generous: “You’re being much more sensible than I expected.” “I’ll give you the estate upstate. Move there first.” “Hailey needs a quiet place to take care of the pregnancy, and you’ll get some peace and quiet over there. I’ll come visit you whenever I have time.” I said nothing, turned around, and walked out. Behind me, the girl’s high-pitched, whiny voice drifted through the door: “Carter, what did she mean by that? Those questions were so simple. I’m so smart, how could I have gotten them wrong?” “And I don’t want people saying I only got to be with you because of the baby!” The man let out a low, indulgent chuckle. He pinched her nose playfully. “How about the baby got to be born rich because of you? Does that work?” Amidst her giggles, my hand gripped the brass doorknob. The cold air of the hallway hit my face. My heart went entirely numb.

My assistant, Maya, came running out, catching up to me right at the elevator. Her face was pale with anxiety. “Evelyn, what is going on?” “That Hailey girl was just guessing randomly! Why did you let her win?” Let her win? I had never been winning in the first place. How could I talk about losing? Seeing my silence, she lowered her voice even more. “She’s just a homewrecker. She’s loud-mouthed, and we don’t even know if she’s actually pregnant.” I pressed the elevator button. “Then you’re giving her too much credit. She’s not even the third party.” I couldn’t even count which number she was anymore. After all, at least ten girls had come to find me directly. As for the ones who hadn’t? Who knew? “Evelyn…” She took a step closer. “If you leave, then Carter—” “He has Hailey now,” I said simply. In the future, this highly sought-after, exhausting position of Mrs. Sterling belonged to her. The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the suffocating waves of anxiety crashing over my chest. I remembered the day he confessed his love to me seven years ago. He had said, “Evelyn, I’m never letting you go. You’re stuck with me for life.” Back then, he had jumped into a street fight with some thugs to protect me, ending up with a broken nose. His face had been covered in blood. I had been crying hysterically, screaming for help. But even while lying on the dirty asphalt, he had smiled at me and whispered, “Don’t cry, babe. I’m okay.” Our love had been a beautiful, consuming wildfire. We dated, we got married, we built a business empire together from scratch. But then, my parents were killed in a horrific car crash. On that exact day, I developed a severe psychological trauma response: Severe Codependency Disorder. At my worst, my obsession with Carter was borderline pathological. If he went on a three-day business trip, I would suffer from insomnia for three days straight. If his phone died and I couldn’t reach him, my anxiety would spiral so wildly that I would knock on his coworkers’ doors in the middle of the night. Whenever he didn’t reply to my texts, I couldn’t sit still. My mind would scream on a loop: He’s leaving you. He doesn’t want you anymore. If he didn’t come home, I would turn on every single light in the penthouse and sit on the couch, staring at the door until sunrise. In those early days of the company, no matter how swamped he was, he would always text me to check in. He never spent a night away. Even on business trips, he would catch a 2 AM flight just to come back and hold me. He used to tell me, “Don’t worry, Evelyn. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” But later, I heard rumors about his beautiful new secretary, Ashley. After she accompanied him on a few major project trips, the entire company started whispering about how “compatible” they were. I heard she stayed late with him in his office every night, and they frequently went out for late-night dinners. I heard he picked out expensive birthday gifts for her and took her to watch private firework displays. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to see the girl. The very next day, Ashley jumped from the office roof. Even though the police investigation cleared me of any wrongdoing, and even though I swore to Carter that I had only talked to her… the way Carter looked at me changed forever. To please him, I begged him, “Let me be your secretary. I know the company better than anyone, and I know you.” He agreed. I went to work with him every day and came home with him every night. I followed him like a shadow. Some people joked behind my back that I was like a leech, but I just smiled and ignored them. But then, I found a receipt in his suit pocket. A high-end jewelry boutique. A pair of diamond earrings. Eighty-three thousand dollars. My ears weren’t pierced. The gift wasn’t for me. After days of agonizing, I chose not to ask. He chose not to mention it. I knew that curing my dependency on him would be harder than trying to stop breathing. And he had grown utterly exhausted of the eyes watching his every move. One refused to let go, while the other desperately wanted to escape. We both pretended to be blind. I thought keeping up the charade would save us. But the women outside had been spoiled rotten by him. One after another, they began showing up at my office. They sat across from me, throwing proof in my face. Expensive gifts, wire transfer screenshots, promises of eternal love. Everything they had, I didn’t. Everything I had, they got too. My birthdays, our wedding anniversaries, holidays—the only thing he gave me was a rushed dinner before rushing off to his “meetings.” Those nights he claimed he was busy entertaining clients? They were spent in the arms of other women. So, those girls all believed they were the ones truly loved. They would ask me when I was going to pack my bags. My emotions went from rage, to terror, and finally, to complete numbness. I learned to ask those three questions. I listened to their answers, and then I escorted them out. I foolishly believed that as long as I got rid of them one by one, he would eventually come back to me for good. But the women kept coming. Each one younger, prettier, and more entitled than the last. Until Hailey. In seven years, he had never personally accompanied a girl to face me. He had finally brought his infidelity right out into the open. In that single instant, I finally understood. I wasn’t protecting a marriage. I was just guarding an empty desk.

The elevator hit the lobby, and the doors slid open. I walked out, crossed the polished marble floor, and pushed through the revolving doors. Standing on the steps outside, I pulled out my phone and sent Carter a text on Snapchat. [Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, meet me at the Family Court. We’re filing for divorce.] The chat remained on “Read.” No reply. He was always like this. Whenever it came to things that didn’t benefit him—like losing half of his net worth in a divorce settlement—he chose to ignore it. But this marriage had reached a point where it had to end. The next morning at 8:30 AM, I arrived at the Family Court house early. Several young couples were waiting in line outside, their faces glowing with the sweet, naive hope of newlyweds. I walked past them and found a seat by the window. 9:15 AM. He didn’t show. I set my designer bag on the empty seat next to me and looked down at the pale indentation on my ring finger. The skin underneath was still strikingly white. Like a scar of my failure. Seven years of devotion, and all I had left to show for it was a blank space on my finger. Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t show up. But it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I was done waiting. Just as I was about to stand up, a voice called out from above me: “Well, well. If it isn’t Mrs. Sterling?” I looked up and saw a heavily made-up face. Short, dark hair, wearing a low-cut black slip dress. I recognized her. She had cornered me last summer. Her name was Amber, a contemporary dancer. Carter had secretly funded several of her solo shows. She stood in front of me with her arms crossed. “What is the grand Mrs. Sterling doing here?” “Filing for divorce.” She blinked in shock, then let out a sharp laugh. “Divorce? Who actually got those three ridiculous questions right?” I shook my head. Her laughter faded, and she tilted her head, her eyes flashing with a strange, complicated expression. “You two are honestly the most bizarre couple I’ve ever met,” she said suddenly. “But Carter is on a whole different level of psycho.” “Back then, I asked him what those three questions of yours meant. I asked him if I really had to answer them correctly to be with him.” “Do you want to guess what he said?” She leaned in closer, whispering: “He said…” “Those questions are just a trap she set up to humiliate you guys. She’ll never give you the correct answer anyway.” She let out a scoff. “Turns out you two were just using us like circus monkeys for your little marriage games. Absolutely pathetic.” My hands clenched into tight fists over my knees. But I forced my face to remain perfectly serene. “When you accepted the half-million-dollar breakup settlement, you didn’t seem to think it was pathetic.” Amber’s face stiffened. She couldn’t find a single word to fire back. I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked right past her. When I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the courthouse, the sky outside had turned a gloomy gray. I slumped onto a public bench by the street. My fingers had started violently trembling. My therapist had warned me that under extreme stress, my dependency disorder would trigger severe physical withdrawal symptoms. Trembling, heart palpitations, hyperventilation… I gripped the strap of my bag, digging my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to count. “One, two, three, four…” My heart was hammering against my ribs. Cold sweat broke out across my back. My vision started going dark. I knew this was the withdrawal. I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my lungs. I wanted so badly to call him. I knew that if he just said one kind word, the pain would stop instantly. He doesn’t want me anymore. The thought screamed in my head, making my skull throb. I forced myself to rewrite the narrative: No. I don’t want him anymore! I pulled out my phone and dialed a different number. “Dr. Evans, it’s me,” my voice was shaking violently. “You said there was a treatment that could completely cure my codependency… that could decouple my trauma triggers.” He hesitated on the line. “Yes, Evelyn. But that method is highly extreme. It could cause…” “I want to do it. Now.”

Inside the VIP lounge of a private club, Carter was sitting in the center of the plush leather sofa. He was swirling a glass of neat Macallan. A guy with a buzz cut leaned over: “Man, how is it so quiet today, Carter? Your wife hasn’t spammed your Snapchat with fifty calls yet?” Carter’s childhood friend, Mason, chimed in with a smirk: “Hey, I heard she wanted you to meet her at the family court today? Is she actually trying to divorce you?” “She’s just putting on a show,” Jax, the buzz-cut guy, sneered. “Guys like us, our wives have to beg us to come home. Carter goes home every single night. What more does she want?” “Exactly,” another guy at the poker table agreed. “She hit the jackpot marrying a guy with your net worth. Divorce? She literally can’t survive without you.” The guys laughed, throwing in their two cents, the atmosphere growing louder. Carter didn’t say a word. He just threw his head back and downed the whiskey. He was purposely ignoring her today. Responding meant giving in. Giving in meant admitting her divorce threat actually carried weight. He wasn’t going to play her game. The heavy door of the lounge was pushed open, and Hailey poked her head in. Her eyes were red. “Carter, my stomach hurts a little.” Carter stood up immediately. He set his empty glass on the coffee table and walked over to support her arm. “What’s wrong?” The guys at the table started whistling and teasing: “Whoa, look at that. I’ve never seen Carter look this stressed before.” “Well, Hailey’s got the golden ticket in her belly.” “Healthy mom, healthy heir…” Mason tapped his cigarette against the ashtray, looking at Carter, and lowered his voice: “Man, your wife is seriously obsessed. Last year, my girlfriend was waiting for me downstairs and ran into her. Evelyn interrogated her for thirty minutes asking where you were.” “I used to think she was just crazy, but damn, she actually is clinically insane.” The table erupted into laughter. “Alright, stop talking. Her call is going to blow up his phone any second. Are we playing poker or what?” “Of course we are,” Jax said, shuffling the deck and slamming it on the table. “I bet fifty bucks she calls within thirty minutes.” “I bet an hour.” “Two hours. Carter said her record during a silent treatment is one day. Don’t underestimate her obsession.” Carter helped Hailey sit down on the sofa. Instinctively, his eyes drifted toward his phone on the coffee table. The screen remained black. He handed Hailey a tissue and looked back at the table. “Just play.” The game began. Chips clinked as they were pushed across the green felt. Laughter and cursing filled the room. Three hours passed, and the game was winding down. Mason stretched his arms, glancing at the coffee table. “Wait, something’s off. It’s been over three hours. Not a single call from her?” Someone else laughed, “She probably spammed his texts instead. Open your Snapchat, Carter. I bet there are fifty unread messages.” Carter didn’t reply. He reached out, grabbed his phone, and tapped the screen. But the most recent message in the chat was still the one she had sent yesterday morning: [I’m here. When are you getting here?] His brows knit together. The men at the table looked at each other. “No way… literally nothing?” The room went dead silent for a moment. Suddenly, a phone vibrated. It belonged to Leo, Carter’s driver. He answered, listened for a second, and walked over to Carter. “Mr. Sterling, it’s for you. It’s urgent.” Jax’s eyes lit up. “See! I told you! There she is!” The others started laughing again. Someone threw their cards on the table. “Damn, I lost the one-hour bet. I’ll Venmo you.” The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched upward into a confident, lazy smirk. He crossed his legs and took the phone from Leo. But the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his smirk vanished. “What did you say?” Carter froze, his hand tightening around the phone. The guys were still joking. “What’s the verdict? Is she crying? Is she begging you to come home?” “Her codependency must have triggered an attack. She’s probably hysterical.” Carter slowly lowered the phone from his ear. His knuckles were white. He turned to Leo, his voice cold: “Take Hailey home.” Hailey, who had been looking smug a second ago, gasped. “Carter? Where are you going? I want you to take me!” “Go home.” It was a flat, icy command. Without looking at her again, Carter grabbed his coat and stormed out of the club. The moment he arrived at his corporate headquarters, he marched straight to the front desk. “Did a delivery arrive for me?” The receptionist stammered, startled by his intensity. “Y-yes, Mr. Sterling. A courier named Ethan Hayes left a package for you about ten minutes ago.” He snatched the manila envelope from her hand and ripped it open. The words PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE glared back at him. His hands went numb.

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The eighth time I caught him cheating, Ethan didn’t say a word. He calmly grabbed a bottle of concentrated bleach and poured it directly over his crotch. “Is this enough?” His face was deathly pale. He looked at me through the mess on the floor as if he were looking at a psycho. This was the first time in his life Ethan had ever shown weakness to me. I stood frozen, clutching a sharp piece of broken porcelain, suddenly feeling completely lost. After all, during our worst fight, I had strapped a bomb to myself and his little mistress, forcing him to choose between us. He responded by tying himself and my parents to five trucks connected end-to-end. He had smiled and asked me if I still wanted him to choose. That was our decade of mutual madness. No choosing. No backing down. No letting go. Now, he looked at me with pity, as if he found my state pathetic. “Leave Chloe alone. She’s normal. She’s not like you.” “I’ll take whatever revenge you want. This time, you can take it all out on me.” I froze. “What do you mean?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled his lips back in a tired smirk. “It means I’m giving up.” “Are you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Yes, he gave up. But for whom? The answer was obvious. The hatred in his eyes made my ten years of devotion look like a pathetic, one-sided joke. At that moment, a wave of pure exhaustion hit me. I finally wanted to let us both go.

While I was lost in thought, the porcelain shard slipped and sliced my wrist. Blood instantly gushed out. An annoyed look of “here we go again” flashed across Ethan’s face. He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly strode over, grabbed me, and threw me into the bathtub with no expression. The ice-cold water soaked through my clothes. The moment I realized what he was doing, I began to struggle frantically. “Ethan! I’m pregn—” “Shut up,” he growled, cutting off my words brutally. He pinned my wrists above my head, staring down at me for a few seconds. His eyes were filled with disgust. “Didn’t you drug me just to get me into bed? Was my performance not enough to satisfy you?” I froze in disbelief, a sense of absolute absurdity washing over me. I don’t know where I got the strength, but I broke free from his grip. I grabbed whatever was near me and threw it at him like crazy. “Get out! Get the hell out!” He didn’t dodge. He took the hits numbly, as if he were already used to it. When I finished venting, he wiped the blood dripping from his forehead. Without a shred of warmth, he walked away. “I recovered the videos you secretly recorded. Whether you want to send them to the media or plaster them all over the city’s billboards, go ahead.” “The files you used to stalk and threaten me are on the flash drive on the desk. Do whatever you want with them.” He assumed I wouldn’t let this go, so he laid out all the ways I could ruin him. Because those, at least, were consequences he could handle. He was afraid of me. This realization made me laugh until tears came out. “Ethan, then why don’t you just divorce me?” His footsteps stopped at the doorway. He seemed to find it hilarious. “Would you even agree?” “Scarlett, I’ve accepted that I’m stuck with you for life.” The last shred of hope in my heart shattered. “Just please, leave Chloe alone.” Those words, followed by the deafening slam of the door, made my head spin for a long time. This was the third time I had heard Ethan say the word “please.” The first time was when we were eighteen. His billionaire father had his private security guards beat him bloody to force him to break up with me. He was bruised and battered, but he just wiped the blood from his mouth and said, “I’m marrying Scarlett. Please, disown me or beat me to death. I don’t care.” The second time was during my postpartum depression. He had rushed onto the rooftop, dragging me back just as I had one foot over the edge. He was shaking all over. “We can have another baby! Please don’t leave me! If you jump, I’ll jump with you right now!” And this was the third time. Only this time, he was begging me to spare Chloe. My lips curled into a bitter smile. Tears mixed with the blood dripping into the tub. Shaking, I reached for my phone, but my finger accidentally swiped the emergency contact. I thought no one would answer, just like always. Just as I was about to hang up, Chloe’s voice drifted through the speaker. “Ethan, a cold shower will make you sick… let me help you.” Ethan’s muffled voice came through, mixed with the sound of running water. “No. I don’t want to hurt our baby. Or you.” Chloe paused, a hint of a smug smile in her tone. “Then why don’t you go find Scarlett?”

Without waiting for his answer, I hung up. I didn’t need to hear the rest to know Ethan’s reply wouldn’t be pretty. After all, the last time, I really had drugged him. After that wild, disastrous night, the way he looked at me was cold enough to pierce my soul. Yet, I had still naively hoped that if we had another baby, maybe we could start over. And now… I touched my flat stomach, feeling like a complete joke. After a while, I dragged myself out of the tub. Then, I texted my lawyer and told him to draft a divorce agreement. Once that was done, I leaned against the headboard, feeling completely empty inside. When Ethan came home at 11 PM, he acted as if nothing had happened. He carried a shopping bag containing a necklace I had casually mentioned a few weeks ago. Come to think of it, he had been extremely good to me this past year. He reported his whereabouts proactively, took me to every business dinner, and bought me countless designer bags and jewelry. If I hadn’t run into him at the hospital last week, holding Chloe’s hand at her prenatal checkup… I would have believed our love had reignited. I never would have guessed that his kindness was just a calculated move to protect Chloe from me. While I was lost in thought, the gift box was pushed in front of me. His voice was calm, showing no emotion whatsoever. “I went to Chloe’s place this afternoon. I only took a shower and left. It took thirty minutes. You can ask your private investigator if you don’t believe me.” “After that, I was working overtime at the office. If you’re suspicious, ask your spies in the company.” “On the way home, I bought the necklace you wanted. I didn’t go anywhere else. The paparazzi you hired should have sent you the photos by now.” Every word was cautious and formal, as if I were some terrifying monster. Even though he had already bribed my people and turned them into Chloe’s secret bodyguards… He was still on guard against me. My heart ached, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?” If Chloe hadn’t added me on Snapchat this afternoon, I actually would have believed him. I slid my phone over. The screen displayed a stream of photos Chloe had sent me. Ethan cooking. Ethan mopping the floor. Even Ethan clumsily picking out baby clothes. Over three hundred photos, from every angle. It was a side of Ethan I had never seen. In my memory, Ethan never did chores. Even when the maid took a week off, he wouldn’t even notice if we ran out of toilet paper. I stared at those photos for a long time. I had truly lost this ten-year game. The last photo, showing his back as he walked away, was taken thirty minutes ago. The lie shattered instantly. The moment Ethan saw the screen, his pupils dilated. He slammed me against the wall, his hand gripping my throat. He spat out every word through gritted teeth: “Did I not tell you to keep your hands off Chloe?” “You can do whatever the hell you want to me, but not her!” My lower abdomen throbbed with sharp pain. My face turned pale, but he didn’t notice. Looking at his frantic state, I smirked mockingly. “As long as I don’t touch her, I can do whatever I want to you?” I shoved him away with all my might, grabbed the red wine bottle from the table, and held it threateningly over his head. He froze for a second. Then, he let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “Smash it if you want.” When he opened his eyes again, his gaze drifted past me. He looked exhausted, not even wanting to look at me. “It’s not the first time anyway.” “Once you’re done venting, just don’t go after Chloe.” I stood there, bottle raised, suddenly feeling like everything was incredibly meaningless. I set the bottle down and took my phone back from his hand. The moment my finger touched the screen, his face twisted in panic. He grabbed my wrist tightly. “What are you sending your people to do to Chloe now?!” He used so much force that the momentum threw me backward. I stumbled and fell hard onto the floor. My vision went black for a moment before I could recover. I looked up at him. His chest rose and fell, his face pale with fear. He really loved Chloe to death. He loved her so much that even my normal breathing made him defensive, terrified that I would hurt her. I smiled bitterly. “Ethan, actually, I already…” The special ringtone he set for Chloe cut me off. His hand, which had been reaching out to help me up, froze. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone. Chloe’s crying voice leaked through the speaker. His expression darkened instantly. When he looked back at me, his eyes were dripping with disgust and warning. “Scarlett, as long as I’m alive, I won’t let you touch a single hair on Chloe.” “If you want to drag us both to hell, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” The door slammed shut so fast. It was so fast that I didn’t even get to finish my sentence. I sat there in silence, then let out a soft laugh. I wanted to say… Actually, I already signed the divorce papers. They’ll be delivered tomorrow morning. I’ve decided to let you go, and let myself go. But now, it seems there’s no need to say anything at all.

I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. The four-month-old baby couldn’t be saved. Coupled with the fall and the stress from my fight with Ethan, the hemorrhage came with no warning. As I was wheeled into the emergency room on a gurney, I passed Ethan, who was carrying Chloe in his arms. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the messy scars on his forearms. I felt a sudden pang of irony. Years ago, during my postpartum depression, Ethan had cut himself dozens of times just to force me to stop hurting myself. Back then, his love was even crazier than mine. Later, when he cheated on me seven times, I self-harmed, lost my mind, and tried every trick in the book. But he would always find a more ruthless way to hurt himself, forcing me to back down. We were like two toxic, extreme gamblers, betting our own lives against each other. We were exactly the same. But this time, why was it different? Before I could figure it out, Ethan had already carried Chloe to the doctor. “Doctor! Save her! Her stomach hurts, check her now!” The doctor pushed him away anxiously. “Move! It’s just stress! Can’t you see Scarlett is in critical condition?!” Ethan’s eyes followed the doctor’s hand. The moment he recognized me, he froze. The next second, he grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with fury. “Scarlett, is this your new trick?” “First you leak Chloe’s photos to stress her out, forcing me to bring her to the nearest private clinic—which happens to be yours. And now you’re faking a medical emergency to delay her treatment?” He sneered. “A perfect trap. You really are something!” I had already lost too much blood. His rough grip made my vision fade. The doctor was horrified. “What do you mean faking?! She’s hemorrhaging because she was preg—” His words were cut off by the heavy thud of Ethan’s knees hitting the floor. “Is this enough? Can Chloe be treated now?” I stared at him. The man kneeling before me looked nothing like the proud Ethan who would rather die than bend his spine. Seeing me silent, he knelt there, staring at me with eyes full of hatred. “What about now?” Looking into his eyes, I finally understood… He was forcing me. He was betting on my love for him, using himself as leverage to win the game, just like he did a thousand times before. Only this time, it was for another woman. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. I couldn’t tell if it was the blood loss or the heartbreak. “Fine… fine…” his voice shook. Suddenly, he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket and plunged it straight into his own chest. Blood bloomed across his shirt instantly. He groaned, his voice turning desperate and broken. “Scarlett, I yield. Do whatever you want to me, take my life…” All the warmth left my body. I closed my eyes. “Ethan, what if I’m not faking? What if I’m actually dying today?” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll die with you.” I knew he meant it. But that was why I felt so utterly defeated. I forced a weak smile and looked at the doctor. “Save her first.” I was the majority shareholder of this private clinic. If Ethan hadn’t been completely panicked, he would never have risked bringing Chloe here. Hearing this, Ethan let out a sigh of relief. His tears hit the floor. As he stood up, his voice was raspy. “Thank you.” Such a foreign word. Just like the stranger he had become. Before I blacked out… I saw Chloe peeking over his shoulder. She looked at me and smirked. It was the smug, triumphant smile of a winner.

During my week of hospitalization, Ethan stayed in the VIP suite right next door to take care of Chloe. I listened to the intimate whispers coming through the wall. As I stared blankly out the window, my doctor knocked and walked in. “Scarlett, the lab results are back. Chloe’s baby is not a match to Ethan.” I kept my eyes on the window, not even reaching for the paper. “Throw it away. His life has nothing to do with me anymore.” When I passed Chloe’s room, Ethan was gently feeding her soup. To be honest, that gentle, clumsy side of Ethan was something I had never been given. My hand hovered over the doorknob. In the end, I didn’t knock. I just left the signed divorce papers with the nurse to hand to him. Then, I went straight to the airport and left the country without looking back. … Ethan hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He knew me too well. My obsession with him was bordering on psychotic. Now that we had completely ruined each other, he was certain I would go after Chloe. So he deployed all his security. He blocked all local media, terrified that some scandal would stress Chloe out. He kept bodyguards stationed all around the clinic to ensure Chloe could leave safely. He even prepared blackmail material to use against me if I pushed him. I had no doubt that if my parents hadn’t died in a plane crash three years ago, he would have kidnapped them to use as leverage against me. He was ready to burn everything down. Yet, I had only glanced at them through the window and left. This made him incredibly uneasy all day. He checked his Snapchat. The chat box, which used to be spammed with my endless demands for his location, had been dead silent for days. He locked his phone, feeling a strange, hollow emptiness. That feeling peaked when he finally tucked Chloe in and rushed back to our penthouse. Everything belonging to me was gone. Every single piece of jewelry and gift he had ever given me was smashed to pieces on the floor. Anger flared up. He swallowed his pride and sent me a Snapchat message. When the red exclamation mark popped up, showing he was blocked, he froze. He rushed back to the clinic. The doctor stopped him at the entrance, looking relieved as he handed him a folder. “Ethan, thank goodness you’re here. We need your signature on these files for Scarlett and Chloe.” Ethan held back his irritation and glanced at them. The next second, all the color drained from his face.

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On the day I went with Carter Davis for our pre-wedding health checkup, the nurse looked up from her clipboard and gave him a second glance. “Carter? Weren’t you just here last week?” He paused for a microsecond, then smiled warmly. “You must have me confused with someone else.” On the way back, he squeezed my hand. “We’re getting our marriage license at City Hall next month. Nervous?” “A little,” I said. The next day, I took a half-day off and went back to the clinic. I didn’t book an appointment. I just walked straight to the reception desk and asked one question. “My fiancé was here last week. What department did he visit?” The nurse looked at me, hesitating for a long time. Finally, she uttered two words: “OB-GYN.” I stood in the clinic lobby. Outside, the sky was a brilliant, mocking blue. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Carter: “Booked the wedding photoshoot for Saturday. What style do you like?” I swiped the notification away and opened the City Hall appointment portal. I clicked “Cancel”. The system flashed a prompt: “Please state your reason for cancellation.” I typed in: “The groom has already started a new family with someone else.”

“Why didn’t you reply to my texts today?” Carter’s voice came through the receiver, carrying his usual, perfectly measured tone of concern. I had been sitting on the plastic bench in the clinic lobby for forty minutes. The seat was ice-cold, and the metal armrest behind my back felt even colder. “My phone was on silent. I didn’t notice.” “Where are you? It sounds noisy.” “Just at the mall, walking around.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Buy whatever you want. I’ll transfer you the money on PayPal.” “Okay,” I said. After hanging up, I placed the phone screen-down on my lap. The lobby speakers kept announcing numbers, calling patient after patient to various departments. I listened for forty minutes. I didn’t hear the word “OB-GYN” again, but those letters were already burned into my brain. OB-GYN. I started tracing back through our relationship. Nine months ago, we met on a blind date set up by our families. Carter was eight minutes late. The moment he sat down, he ordered a hot Americano for me. He said, “I saw on your Instagram that you posted a latte with foam art. It’s ninety-six degrees today, so you probably wanted an iced coffee. But drinking iced coffee on a first date might seem too casual. So, hot Americano is the perfect compromise.” At the time, I thought he was incredibly observant. Now, I realized he wasn’t observant—he was just calculating. Three months into dating, he took me to meet his parents. His mother, Eleanor, looked at me over the dinner table not as a future daughter-in-law, but like a customer comparing two similar brands on a supermarket shelf. She said something that stayed with me: “Carter has always been independent. I don’t interfere with his choices.” The emphasis was on the word “choices”. A choice, not love. I thought I was being paranoid back then. But sitting on this hard clinic bench, I finally understood—she was telling me that I was just a choice he made, but I wasn’t necessarily the only one. My phone buzzed again. Carter sent a three-second voice message. I tapped it. He said with a warm smile, “I miss you.” Three words. His tone was as steady as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times. I locked my phone, stood up, and walked out of the clinic. I took an Uber home. The first thing I did when I got back was open the jewelry box on my nightstand. My Nana’s diamond earrings were still there. They were clip-ons because Nana always said, “Earlobes sag when you get old. Clip-ons can be taken off anytime.” I clenched the earrings in my palm. The metal clips dug into my skin, causing a dull ache. Then, I made a decision—I wouldn’t confront him yet. Not because I was hesitating, but because I needed to figure out one thing. In this relationship, who exactly was I? Was I really his fiancée, or just a prop in someone else’s story? At 7:00 PM, Carter arrived. He brought takeout and a bouquet of baby’s breath. He never showed up empty-handed. “You’re quiet today,” he said, looking at me while unpacking the food. “Toothache.” “Then don’t smile too big during the photoshoot on Saturday. I don’t want you in pain.” He transitioned seamlessly, his expression tender and his logic flawless. I kept my head down, my fork hovering over a piece of steak for half a second. “How do you always have the perfect response to everything?” “Because you don’t even have to think about the words you say. They are like pre-packaged meals. You just heat them up and serve them.” When he went to take a shower, I picked up his phone. There was no passcode. He was confident enough not to set one—not because he had no secrets, but because he was absolutely certain I would never snoop. Three chats were pinned at the top of his iMessage: me, his mom, and someone named “Audrey.” The last message from Audrey was sent at 2:00 PM today: “The checkup went well. The baby is healthy. Waiting for you.” It was accompanied by an ultrasound photo. I scrolled up. Audrey’s profile picture was a side profile of a girl with a tiny mole on her collarbone. There were too many messages, so I only scrolled through the past month. Within three minutes, I discovered three things. She called him “babe,” and he called her “my sweet Audrey.” The way they talked was completely different from how he talked to me—it was softer, more casual, more genuine. Three days ago, he had texted her: “Just wait a little longer. I’ll break it off with her right after the wedding photoshoot.” “Her.” I was that “her.” The sound of running water continued in the bathroom. I took screenshots of three key conversations, emailed them to myself, deleted the screenshots and the sent mail trail, and placed the phone back exactly where it was. By the time he came out, I was curled up on the sofa watching a home renovation show. “What do you think of this color palette? We should do our house like this.” “Looks great,” he said, smiling as he rubbed his wet hair with a towel. I smiled back.

“Why isn’t the bride smiling?” The makeup artist’s hand hovered over my cheek, her brush coated in blush. I said, “Just keep it natural, please.” In the mirror, I looked ethereal in my simple white lace gown. I had opted out of the tiara and the long train. Carter was next to me, changing into a grey suit. The collar was perfectly pressed. He walked over, wrapped his arms around my waist, rested his chin on my head, and gave the camera a warm, picture-perfect smile. The photographer smiled. “The groom is very photogenic.” Of course he was. He had practice. During the break, an assistant casually mentioned while packing up a light stand, “Mr. Davis, do you want to try the same lighting style from your last shoot? I still have the angles saved.” Carter’s face went stiff for a split second. Just a split second. Then he laughed it off. “You must have me confused with someone else. This is my first time here.” The assistant looked confused but was quickly pulled away by the photographer. Carter turned to me, his expression as natural as if nothing had happened. “Tired? Want some water?” “I’m fine,” I replied. When he went to change into his next suit, I found the assistant. “What kind of photos did he take here last time?” The assistant hesitated for two seconds. “Maternity photos… I think it was for his sister? He said she was his sister. The girl had a pretty big bump already.” “Thank you,” I said, walking back to the shooting area. Carter was already changed. He was wearing the same grey suit—I recognized it now. He was wearing this exact suit in the ultrasound photo. Same brand, probably the exact same one. “Come on, last set,” he said, reaching his hand out to me. I walked over and stood by his side. The shutter clicked forty times. Every single time, his smile was mathematically precise. On the drive home, Carter kept his right hand resting on my knee. The car stereo was playing a slow R&B track from my playlist. He said, “This is a good song. Who recommended it?” “I found it myself.” “Ah.” I noticed his fingers tapping on my knee three times, but the rhythm was faster than the song playing. I recognized that beat from Audrey’s chat logs—he had sent her a song once, and the intro had that exact tempo. The music playing in his head wasn’t the one coming from my car speakers. That night, I washed off my makeup in the bathroom. In the mirror, my eyes looked a bit sunken, my cheekbones more prominent. In nine months of living in a fake relationship, I had lost six pounds. My phone buzzed. Carter had posted a grid of nine wedding photos on Instagram. His caption read: “She said yes, and that’s all that matters.” The comment section exploded. Colleagues, friends, and distant relatives were all leaving congratulations. His mother liked the post and commented: “Finally.” I finally understood what those seven letters meant. She wasn’t waiting for me. She was waiting for someone who could play the part of the perfect wife so her son could fulfill his duty. I put down my phone and opened Carter’s old iPad. I had found it three days ago in a toolbox in his trunk. His secondary iMessage account was logged in, and he had only one contact: Audrey. Their Snapchat was filled with their daily life. Cooking together, shopping at local farmers’ markets, eating bagels outside the clinic after her prenatal checkup, and a candid photo of her sleeping on his shoulder. The latest post was from yesterday. The same day as our wedding photoshoot. After we finished shooting in the afternoon, he had gone to Audrey’s place in the evening. He had posted a picture of her hand resting on her pregnant belly. The caption was: “Waiting for you. These words are enough to get me through a lifetime.” I closed the iPad. I didn’t take any screenshots. I didn’t need any more evidence. What I needed was the right moment.

“Working late tonight, won’t make it over.” Carter’s iMessage voice memo was short. The background noise sounded like an office. I replied with a simple, “Okay.” Then, I did something I had never done before—I followed him. His car pulled out of his office garage, but he didn’t head toward his usual route. He turned left and stopped in front of a quiet, older apartment complex in the suburbs. I parked across the street and turned off the ignition. A warm yellow light was on on the third floor. The curtains had a floral pattern, and a potted ivy sat on the windowsill. He carried two grocery bags upstairs. His steps were light. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock; he used his own key to open it. That door didn’t require any ceremony for him because that was his real home. I stood downstairs for twenty minutes. The window on the third floor cast two silhouettes—one stirring something at the stove, the other sitting by the table with a hand on her belly. The one at the stove brought over a plate, sat down, and turned to say something. Both shadows were laughing. It wasn’t the secretive, tense laughter of an affair. It was just cooking, eating, talking, and laughing. A complete, mundane family routine. I was the outsider. When I walked down, I passed the mailboxes on the ground floor. The label for Unit 301 had two names written side-by-side in the same handwriting: “Carter Davis & Audrey Pearson.” In this apartment complex, they were an open couple. Only in front of me did this reality cease to exist. Back at my apartment, I took out the cherries Carter had brought over last week from the fridge. I washed a few and took a bite. They were sweet. I ate another one, still sweet. But I didn’t want to eat them anymore. Because in Audrey’s chat logs, she had written: “Babe brought home so many cherries today, we can’t even finish them.” He had bought two batches from the same store. I threw the rest of the cherries into the trash. I opened my laptop and created a new Excel sheet. On the left column, I wrote “Me & Carter.” On the right column, “Carter & Audrey.” I charted the dates precisely. For nine months, the two timelines ran in perfect parallel. Not a single day was missed. One date was highlighted in red: four months ago. My birthday. Carter had given me a necklace, took me out for sushi, and posted a picture of us smiling on Instagram. But on that very day, Audrey’s log showed he had accompanied her to her first major ultrasound at 3:00 PM. On my birthday, he went to see his unborn child first before coming over to blow out my candles. I recalled him being forty minutes late that night. When he walked in, his scarf smelled faintly of disinfectant. I had asked him about it, and he said he had stopped by a pharmacy to grab some cold medicine for a colleague. And I had believed him. Every time I trusted him, I was just signing off on my own stupidity. I scrolled to another date from two months ago. He had told me he was going on a three-day business trip. He sent me a selfie from a hotel room, writing, “Miss you, sleep tight.” But Audrey’s records showed he was in another state during those three days, meeting her parents. Audrey had posted a group photo. Carter was sitting at a round dining table, and the middle-aged couple opposite him were beaming. Her caption was: “Mom and Dad finally met you. Mom says you’re even handsomer in person.” He had met the parents on both sides. Both lines were moving forward. I closed my laptop, picked up my phone, and texted him: “The photos from Saturday are ready. Which ones do you want to select for the final edits?” Carter replied instantly: “You choose. I trust your taste.” He always knew the right thing to say. Always. I selected a photo of the two of us facing away from the camera—our faces completely obscured. I sent that one to the studio for final editing.

“Chloe, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” On Friday night, Carter came out of the shower, his wet hair messy as he sat on the sofa. He spoke slower than usual, as if he were carefully rehearsing every word. I set down my mug. He said, “I have a childhood friend named Audrey. She’s in a bit of a mess recently—she got pregnant, but the guy walked out on her. She’s all alone now with nowhere to stay. I was thinking of letting her crash at my old studio apartment for a while, the small one near my office.” He looked at me, his eyes clear, honest, and filled with a gentle plea. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing going on between us. I’m just trying to be a good friend.” If I didn’t know the truth, I would have said, “Of course, go ahead and help her.” I almost did. Instead, I smiled. “Sure, go ahead. Is there anything I can do to help?” He visibly relaxed and chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “No need. Just don’t overthink it, okay?” On Sunday, I “casually” suggested going over to his studio apartment to help clean up. “Since your friend is moving in, after all.” He hesitated for a second. “No need, I already cleaned it.” “You’re a guy, you probably missed some spots. Let me help you wipe down the windows.” He couldn’t find a way to refuse, so he agreed. When we got to the studio apartment, he had arrived thirty minutes ahead of me. The moment I walked in, I smelled three distinct scents: air freshener, laundry detergent, and a very faint trace of baby powder. The first two were meant to cover up the third. But the third had leaked through. I helped him wipe down the windows in the living room. As I bent down, my fingers brushed against the gap between the radiator and the wall. My fingertips touched something hard. I pulled it out. It was a diamond clip-on earring. I froze for three seconds. Last Wednesday, Carter had come over to my place. Before leaving, he said, “I put your jewelry box back in the cabinet. I accidentally knocked it over earlier.” I had checked it then—both earrings were there. But I had only glanced at them; I didn’t count them. I pulled out my phone and checked a photo of my jewelry box. Only one earring remained. He had stolen my Nana’s earring. I clutched the earring and walked into the bedroom. Carter was folding clothes. Seeing the expression on my face, he asked, “What’s wrong?” I opened my hand. The earring lay in the center of my palm, the diamond catching the light. “Care to explain this?” His expression went through three distinct phases: blankness, calculation, and then a practiced smile. “Oh, that? Audrey saw you wearing them once and thought they were beautiful. I told her I’d help her find a similar pair, so I borrowed one to show her the design. I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.” “Where is the other one then? Get it back for me.” “It’s with her. I’ll get it tomorrow.” “Now.” He was caught off guard. “She’s not home today—” “Not home? I thought you said she hadn’t moved in yet.” He pressed his lips together, remaining silent for two seconds. “…I meant she hasn’t fully moved in. She just brought some of her things over first.” I didn’t press further. I walked out to the balcony and pulled back the drying sheets hanging on the rack—there were indentations of two pillows, one large and one small. I opened the washing machine. Inside was a men’s t-shirt and a maternity dress, tangled together. Carter stood at the balcony door, his composure finally crumbling. “Chloe, listen to me.” I didn’t listen. I walked to the front door and started putting on my shoes. He rushed over and grabbed my wrist. I turned to look at him. “Carter, do you have any idea how much those earrings mean to me?” He opened his mouth. But no words came out. He had taken my most precious possession, and yet he didn’t feel a shred of guilt. I wrenched my wrist free and pulled open the door. The hallway lights were motion-activated. My footsteps turned on the bulbs one by one—illuminating each flight of stairs, then fading to black behind me. His voice echoed from above, growing more distant: “Chloe, it’s not what you think—Chloe—” I reached the lobby. A taxi pulled up in front of the building, and a woman stepped out of the back seat. She had a round pregnant belly, a floral dress, a pale face, and dry lips. She was holding a bag of fruit and a bag of baby clothes. She saw me and froze. “Are you… Chloe?” I didn’t move. She looked down at her own left hand—a ring was on her ring finger. It was an antique diamond ring set in silver. I recognized that diamond. It was part of the set that went with Nana’s earrings. The earrings were passed down to me, and the ring was given to my mom. My mom told me last year that she had lost the ring. Audrey’s voice was barely a whisper. “This… Carter gave this to me. He said it was an old family heirloom.” The two of us stood under the dim streetlights of the apartment complex, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. She was the first to cry. It wasn’t the dramatic cry of a villain—it was the quiet, shoulder-shaking sob of a woman six months pregnant who had suddenly realized the truth. Her lips turned white as she bit down on them. I didn’t cry. I walked over, pulled the earring from my pocket, and placed it on the concrete pillar next to the streetlamp, right beside her ring. “He told you this was a family heirloom?” “It belonged to my Nana. She passed away last year.” Carter ran down from the stairs. The moment he saw the two of us standing together—he stopped dead in his tracks. His mask of perfect expressions shattered completely for the first time.

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Three years of marriage, and my seemingly celibate husband had never touched me. Then, out of nowhere, he sent me a text: “Wanna do it?” I quickly changed into a sheer silk nightgown and rushed into his room. For a whole week, we used no protection. I thought I had finally touched his heart. Clutching my positive pregnancy test, I went to his office to share the good news. But outside the conference room, I heard him laughing with his sister-in-law, Evelyn, and some foreign investors. “You’re too much, Austin. I was just curious if mixed-race babies would look cuter, so you actually invited them over? If Chloe finds out you drugged her and she’s pregnant with a mixed baby, won’t she lose her mind?” My husband, Austin Sterling, replied in his signature cold tone, “She won’t. She’s thrilled just knowing she’s pregnant.” Marcus, a white investor, grinned wickedly. “Sterling, you’re a real man. Letting us have a taste of your wife first? Respect! So generous!” Another investor, Damon, laughed. “How about a bet on the baby’s skin color? I bet black. If I lose, I’ll buy Evelyn a Lamborghini!” Evelyn watched them banter with a smile, throwing a smug glance toward the door… ……

I stumbled backward. My body slammed into the decorative vase by the door. With a loud “shatter”, the vase smashed to pieces. The laughter inside came to a screeching halt. The door was ripped open. Austin, Evelyn, and those two foreign investors—five people, ten eyes—all stared straight at me. The remnants of their twisted smiles were still plastered on their faces. Austin’s expression instantly turned incredibly dark. Looking at them, my mind flashed back to that week. The first time he walked into my room, smelling faintly of cologne. The first time he kissed me, clumsy yet gentle. The first time we made love, his sweat dripping onto my eyelids. I thought that was the turning point of our three-year marriage. I thought my devotion had finally won him over. Now, those memories replayed in my mind like a horror movie, leaving behind nothing but the sickening realization of being set up and defiled. Every single frame made me want to throw up. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” Austin spoke, his voice carrying a rare, barely noticeable hint of panic. I didn’t answer. I looked at him, and then at Evelyn behind him. Evelyn’s lips curled into a smirk, enjoying the show. I turned around and ran toward the elevator as if my life depended on it. I could feel their eyes burning holes into my back. The air in the entire office building felt thick with humiliation. I just wanted to escape. I frantically mashed the elevator button to close the doors. At the very last second before they shut, I saw Austin chasing after me, his face as dark as a storm cloud. I collapsed inside the elevator, gasping for air. The pregnancy report slipped from my weak fingers, fluttering down onto the cold floor.

I ran back home. I locked myself in the bathroom, washing my body over and over again. I turned the hot water to the maximum, burning my skin bright red. But I couldn’t feel the pain. The sheer humiliation of being violated was etched into my bones. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash it away. I loathed myself. I don’t know how much time passed before someone knocked on the door. Austin was back. His voice came through the door, flat and emotionless. “Where did you go?” “Did you get the pregnancy report?” I didn’t answer. I shut off the shower. When I walked out, he was standing right at the door. He reached out, wanting to touch my stomach. I flinched as if I’d been stung and threw myself backward. His hand froze in midair, and his eyes instantly grew cold. But quickly, he returned to his usual calm, indifferent self. “Stop throwing tantrums.” “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the best private clinic for a full checkup.” His tone was patronizing, like he was soothing a petulant dog. Staring at his hypocritical face, I found it incredibly funny. I asked him coldly, “Austin, do you really want a baby?” He froze for a second. Then, a gentle smile appeared on his face—a smile I had never seen before. “Of course.” “Our baby will be brilliant.” Watching him act made my stomach churn. His gentleness was never meant for me. It was for that sick, twisted bet he made with Evelyn and those investors. He didn’t care about the baby. He only cared about the outcome of the bet. He wanted to see what color the baby would be. I let out a cold laugh in my head and didn’t say another word. The next day, he took me to the most expensive private clinic in the city. In the VIP waiting room, I saw the last people I wanted to see. Evelyn and those two foreign investors were already waiting there. They looked like they were the baby’s actual family. And I was just a surrogate container holding their prize. Seeing me, Evelyn immediately walked over and grabbed my arm affectionately. “Chloe, you’re finally here. Austin was so worried about you, he insisted we all come to keep you company.” The two investors stood up as well. Without any shame, they stared at my belly with slimy, calculating eyes, assessing me over and over. They were looking at me like a lottery ticket about to be drawn. Feeling utterly disgusted, I shook off Evelyn’s hand. She didn’t get angry. She just covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes filled with triumph. Soon, the nurse called my name. After a series of tests, the doctor held the report and smiled at us. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling is indeed pregnant, and the fetus is very healthy.” The moment those words left his mouth, I clearly saw a greedy, excited light flash in the eyes of the two investors. They exchanged a look, silently celebrating. My heart sank into a bottomless abyss. For me, this was the beginning of a nightmare. For them, the game had officially begun. I sat in the chair, my entire body frozen cold. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me completely.

Before the doctor could even finish, Austin spoke up impatiently. He said, “I heard we can do amniocentesis for precise genetic screening right now. Arrange it.” His tone was calm, but it was an absolute command. The doctor immediately objected. “Mr. Sterling, the gestational age is far too early. Amniocentesis right now carries an extremely high risk.” “It could cause severe harm to both the mother and the fetus. I highly advise against it.” Austin interrupted him, his eyes icy. “I’ll pay double.” “I’ll sign the waiver.” “Just do it.” His words were ruthless and cold, devoid of any warmth. Intimidated by his authority, the doctor didn’t dare say more and went to prepare for the procedure. I let out a bitter laugh, staring at Austin, and finally spoke. My voice was dry and raspy. “Why are you in such a rush?” He looked at me blankly, as if I were a stranger. “Evelyn is weak. She gets anxious when things are left uncertain.” “Let’s get this over with so she can have peace of mind.” What a ridiculously absurd excuse. At that moment, my heart was completely crushed by his own hands. It turned out that in his mind, the immense pain and risk I was about to endure didn’t even compare to Evelyn’s slight “anxiety.” The nurse wheeled me into the operating room. To my horror, those two investors actually followed us right to the door. They stood outside, discussing loudly in English. “I bet it’s black!” “No way, Austin’s genes are dominant. It’s got to be Asian!” Their shameless conversation drew stares from everyone in the hallway. Those scanning, judging, and curious eyes stabbed me like needles. This was a public humiliation. I lay on the cold operating table. As the long needle pierced through my abdomen, a sharp pain shot through my body. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound. Yet, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, dampening my hair. “My baby, I’m so sorry.” “Mommy couldn’t protect you.” When the procedure was over, the nurse wheeled me out. I was completely drained, my face paper-white. At the door, I immediately saw Austin. And Evelyn was right beside him. The moment Evelyn saw me, she clutched her head, leaning weakly against Austin. She frowned, her voice trembling. “Austin, I feel so dizzy. I think I’m running out of oxygen.” Austin immediately scooped her up in his arms, his face filled with panic and care—a look he had never directed at me. He didn’t even cast a single glance in my direction. Holding Evelyn, he turned to leave. As he passed by my gurney, he stopped for a fraction of a second and snapped at me coldly. “Take a cab back yourself.” “Don’t embarrass me here!” With that, he walked away with the woman he loved, never looking back. I was left all alone in the crowded hallway. Like a piece of discarded trash. My husband forced me into a high-risk procedure for a sickening bet. And then, to comfort his beloved sister-in-law, he abandoned his weak wife at the hospital. Betrayal could really be this absolute. At that exact moment, my heart died completely.

I leaned against the wall, taking one agonizing step at a time to get out. People around me whispered and pointed. Words like “slattern” and “she got what she deserved” drifted clearly into my ears. I was numb. I felt nothing. I walked out of the hospital alone, standing helplessly by the curb. Eventually, I called a cab and went back to the empty mansion. Before I could even catch my breath, the doorbell rang violently. I looked through the peephole. It was Evelyn. I didn’t want to open it, but she kept pressing the bell relentlessly. Finally, I opened the door. She was wearing Austin’s jacket, strolling inside as if she were the mistress of the house. She deliberately adjusted her collar, revealing several dark hickeys on her neck. That jacket was one I had just bought for Austin a few days ago. She was marking her territory. She smirked contemptuously, looking me up and down. “Chloe, you didn’t actually think Austin loved you, did you?” “He only has eyes for me.” “Three years ago, if my family hadn’t gone bankrupt and needed cash, do you think you’d ever have married him?” “He thinks you’re too dirty to touch. That’s why he let outsiders have you.” Her words were like poison-tipped daggers, stabbing straight into my heart. She stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “You know what? Austin recorded everything.” “He filmed that entire week.” “If you don’t behave, I’ll send the video to all the board members. I’ll make sure you’re famous.” I trembled violently, staring at her in disbelief. Pure terror gripped my heart. Seeing my fear, she looked incredibly satisfied. But then, her eyes drifted to my flat stomach, flashing with jealousy and madness. “But this stomach of yours… is really eyesore.” “If I can’t have his baby, you sure as hell won’t either!” She grabbed my wrist with terrifying strength. Before I could react, she pushed me hard toward the basement stairs. Caught off guard, I screamed as I tumbled down the steep staircase. A ripping pain exploded in my abdomen. Lying on the cold concrete floor, I felt warm liquid gushing out from between my legs. It was blood. “My baby.” Just then, the front door opened. Austin walked in, witnessing the scene. I lay in a pool of blood, while Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs, looking panicked. I reached out my hand toward him, begging for help. But Evelyn was faster. She immediately pointed at me, crying out, “Austin! It’s not my fault! She tripped and fell! She’s trying to frame me!” Austin rushed down. He stepped right over me—bleeding on the floor—and ran straight to Evelyn. He didn’t look at me once. Then, he turned around and walked over to me. “Slap!” A stinging slap landed squarely on my face. My head whipped to the side, my ears ringing violently. He glared down at me, roaring, “Chloe! Have you had enough of your drama?!” I stared at his furious face, and at Evelyn standing behind him, giving me a malicious smirk. I laughed. Blood and tears mixed together, tasting bitter in my mouth. My consciousness began to fade. Right before I blacked out completely, a memory surfaced. I remembered the day I got married. My parents had handed me a key to a private deposit box. They told me, “Chloe, this is your way out. If there comes a day when you feel like you have nowhere left to go, open this.” That was my last shot.

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I spent millions of my own money building a free, state-of-the-art daycare for my employees. But a fresh graduate on our management track, Chloe Miller, reported me for it. She cried on TikTok, claiming the company’s perks were a form of “maternity gaslighting” that discriminated against child-free employees. But nobody knew that this daycare was funded entirely out of my own pocket. I hired the best early-childhood educators in the state. The meals were 100% organic. From tuition to meals, everything was completely free. All I wanted was to give the working moms in my company—who, like me, had to balance career and family—a chance to breathe. Once the video went viral, the entire internet began attacking my company culture, calling me heartless. I didn’t bother explaining. I just issued a company-wide memo. “To ensure absolute equality, the on-site daycare will close immediately. In its place, a universal monthly child-care stipend of $50 will be distributed to all employees.” The moment the notification went out, the parents went wild. They rushed into my office holding their kids, begging me to give them a lifeline. ……

Our free daycare had only been open for a month when an employee dragged it onto social media. [My boss is using a daycare to gaslight me into having babies. No thanks!] The thumbnail featured Chloe Miller, our newest Management Associate, with tears streaming down her face. Looking at the thumbnail, my heart sank. The video started with a clip of my speech at the grand opening. I remembered that day clearly. The sun was shining, and the kids had the brightest, most innocent smiles. Looking at the parents behind them, their faces full of gratitude, I got emotional. To show my support, I said from the bottom of my heart: “I’ve always viewed this company as a family. This daycare is my gift to all our ‘family members’!” The video editor had captured that exact sentence, drawing a thick red circle around the words “family members.” [Boss-certified: Single dogs don’t deserve to be ‘family members.’] The screen cut back to Chloe, her voice cracking in front of the camera. “Did you hear that?” “Our company offers a free daycare, but only for employees with kids.” “Sounds amazing, right?” “But is that fair to those of us who choose to be child-free?” “So in our boss’s eyes, only those who breed are worthy of being called ‘family’ and receiving ‘gifts’?” “What about us single people? Are we just corporate outcasts?” “We work our asses off. Why should our hard-earned labor fund other people’s kids?” “This is literally reproductive coercion.” “And if you don’t agree with it, you’re labeled as ‘not a team player’ or ‘ungrateful.’” “I literally cannot breathe in this toxic environment.” The comment section blew up. “What kind of messed-up company is this? Name and shame, sis! We’ll cancel them!” “Reproductive coercion and workplace discrimination! Someone report them to the Department of Labor!” “I feel so bad for the creator. Is breathing while single a crime now?” Anger flared in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Nobody knew that this daycare was funded entirely by my private trust. I had hired the best educational team in the state, and the food standards were premium organic. Tuition, meals, everything—free. It was meant to give working mothers, who struggled just like I did, a moment of peace. My assistant panicked as she pushed the door open. “Eleanor, the PR department’s phones are ringing off the hook!” Before I could reply, my office door was thrown open. Chloe walked in holding a Starbucks cup, her face showing no trace of the tears from her video. “Eleanor, I assume you saw the video?” She sat down on the sofa opposite me without waiting to be asked. “It’s nothing personal. I just think this whole setup is unfair.” “My generation cares about self-prioritization and personal wellness.” “The company shouldn’t turn benefits into a moral guilt trip.” Looking at her young, fearless face, my throat tightened. “Company perks are incentives for those who contribute, Chloe. They aren’t welfare to be distributed equally.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled a document from her designer bag, tossing it onto my desk. “Fine. Let’s lay all the cards on the table.” “This is a petition signed by every unmarried, child-free employee in our department.” “Our demands are simple.” “Either calculate the operating cost of the daycare and pay it out to us as a cash bonus,” “Or shut down this ‘privileged’ institution that only serves a select few.” I picked up the petition. I saw several familiar names. I even saw the name of our lead engineer, who just last week had thanked me profusely with tears in her eyes when her child was enrolled. Near the end of the day, I saw Brenda Higgins, a notorious corporate parasite, leaning over Chloe’s desk. Brenda was in her late forties and excelled at nothing except starting drama. “Chloe, you are literally our hero! You said what we were all thinking!” Chloe smirked proudly. “Of course. Don’t worry, Brenda. I’m going to fight this to the end for all of us.” Brenda lowered her voice, darting a glance toward my office. “Keep making noise. If the sky falls, us senior staff have your back.” “I know Eleanor. She folds if you play the victim, but she pushes back if you’re aggressive. The more noise you make, the weaker she gets.” Watching them play off each other made me sick. As the company grew, it had accumulated a lot of dead weight. I had wanted to introduce a new performance-based point system to tie benefits to actual contributions and break this culture of entitlement. But every time I brought it up, senior managers like Brenda and Arthur Ward would push back, claiming it would “harm team stability.” Now I realized they weren’t afraid of instability. They were just afraid I’d touch their free ride. That night, as soon as I got home, a new notification popped up on my phone. This time, Chloe had exposed our company name and posted my photo. [Exposing the toxic female CEO who uses a ‘free daycare’ to discriminate!] In the video, she sobbed again, claiming I was bullying her at work because she stood up for “equality.” “She called me into her office today and threatened to fire me before my probation ended if I didn’t delete the video!” “She even said single people are ‘liabilities’ to the company!” What chilled me to the bone, though, was a screenshot of the daycare’s internal budget sheet shown in the video. Even though the critical numbers were blurred, that specific spreadsheet format was something only two people had access to. Me, and Arthur Ward, our COO. Arthur had been with me for five years. He was always incredibly respectful, constantly calling me “a visionary leader.” I treated him as my right hand, and he was stabbing me in the back? Suddenly, things clicked. How did Chloe, a fresh graduate, get the courage and resources to pull this off? Her talk of “self-wellness” and “fairness” was just a shield. The real puppeteer was Arthur! He must have been unhappy with me pouring funds into a “non-profitable” daycare for a long time. Or perhaps, he wanted my job.

He was using Chloe’s “idealism” and Brenda’s “loud mouth.” One in the light, one in the dark, using public outrage to overthrow me, the founder. No wonder a lazy veteran like Brenda dared to make a scene—Arthur was backing them. Everything made sense now. I had noticed some discrepancies in Arthur’s administrative expenses recently, but I hadn’t pushed it out of respect for our history. This daycare’s expenses were audited directly by me. Every penny was transparent, completely cutting off Arthur’s ability to skim money from administrative procurement. This had threatened his pockets. He wasn’t mad that I invested in a non-profitable project. He was terrified that I was auditing things too closely and would uncover his dirty laundry! Chloe’s “idealism” and Brenda’s “gossip” were just tools he used to muddy the waters, hoping to get me fired to bury his own crimes. The comment section this time was even more unhinged. “Evil capitalist! I hope your company goes bankrupt tomorrow!” “How has this toxic company not been shut down yet?” The next morning, reporters and local news vans were parked outside our office building. The moment I stepped inside, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. Everyone kept their heads down, pretending to work, but secretly watching me out of the corners of their eyes. Chloe and Brenda were surrounded by a group of younger colleagues. When Brenda saw me, she walked over with a fake, sympathetic smile. “Eleanor, please don’t be mad. Chloe’s methods were a bit extreme, but she is speaking for the people.” “Why don’t you just give everyone what they want to settle this?” Chloe crossed her arms, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. “See this, Eleanor? The whole internet is watching.” “If you don’t find a way to make us happy, I can’t promise we won’t hit number one on trending tomorrow.” I ignored them both and walked straight into my office. I thought, surely, the parents who used the daycare would stand up and speak the truth. But I was disappointed. All they did was post a lukewarm “Everyone calm down” in the company Slack channel, and then they went completely silent. They were terrified of being dragged into the online firestorm and labeled as “privileged.” They were even afraid of offending Chloe’s vocal mob. My kindness had become a joke. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. I picked up my phone and dialed my assistant. “Announce a company-wide meeting in the main conference room at 3:00 PM.” My assistant hesitated. “Eleanor… are we… giving in?” “No. It’s time to give them the ‘fairness’ they’re begging for.” “I want to see how long they can hold onto their own bowls once they smash someone else’s.” Chloe and Brenda were just clowns. I wanted to drag the wolf hiding behind them out into the light. If you don’t pop the blister, the infection never clears.

By 3:00 PM, the main conference room was packed. The employees looked excited. The atmosphere felt less like a crisis meeting and more like an annual bonus announcement. Chloe and Brenda sat in the front row, surrounded by their supporters. Brenda was loud, bragging to anyone who would listen: “I told you, Eleanor is a paper tiger.” “As long as we stand united and make enough noise, she has to compromise!” Chloe was even streaming live on her phone under the table. [Live! Witnessing a Gen-Z associate take down a greedy capitalist for true equality!] I walked in right on time. Every eye in the room locked onto me, waiting for the show. I turned on the projector. The screen lit up with photos of the daycare kids smiling. They were playing in bright, spacious classrooms and eating nutritious lunches in a clean cafeteria. In the audience, the parents couldn’t help but smile. But Chloe’s group let out quiet, mocking scoffs. I ignored them and skipped to the last slide. It showed the qualifications and degrees of our daycare teachers. Every single one of them was an Ivy League graduate specializing in early childhood education. I picked up the microphone, my voice echoing clearly through the room. “This daycare, from planning to opening, cost twelve million dollars.” “All equipment meets the highest safety standards.” “Every teacher was recruited from the best private academies in the city, lured here with triple their usual salary.” “The organic food the children eat daily is sourced from a premium farm three hundred miles away.” “The total monthly cost per child is twenty-three thousand dollars.” “And yet, I have never charged a single employee a single penny for this.” Silence fell over the room. You could have heard a pin drop. The employees who had been snickering froze. Even Chloe’s live stream chat went quiet for a few seconds. I saw Maya Jenkins, our lead engineer and a single mom, look down as her eyes welled with tears. Just last week, she had sat in my office crying, telling me how relieved she was that she could finally focus on her work. Now, she sat in the crowd, her head buried low. I scanned the shocked, uneasy faces in the room. “I thought that by taking away your biggest worry, you could focus on your work with peace of mind.” “I thought kindness would be met with kindness.” “But I was wrong.” My gaze landed directly on Chloe’s face. “I was wrong because I overestimated the decency of some, and underestimated the greed of others.” Chloe looked uncomfortable under my gaze, but she quickly lifted her chin and snapped back. “What does any of this matter? It’s still unfair!” “Do those of us without kids deserve to be ignored?” “You’re just using your wealth to flex your privilege and hold us hostage!” Her words rippled through the crowd, sparking murmurs of agreement.

Brenda, whose kids were already in college and couldn’t benefit from the daycare anyway, stood up to support Chloe. “Exactly! Eleanor, we aren’t ungrateful, we just want equality!” “Why do they get over twenty thousand dollars in benefits while we get nothing?” “If you’re sincere about fairness, pay that twenty thousand directly to us in cash!” “Yes! Cash! Give us the money!” The crowd grew restless. Greed quickly swallowed any lingering guilt. Their masks were completely off. Looking at their ugly, demanding faces, I nodded. “Fine.” “I’ll give you what you want.” “I will give you your ‘fairness’.” The room erupted into cheers. On Chloe’s live stream, the chat was flooded with “We won!” I waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. “To return absolute choice and fairness to everyone,” “After careful consideration, I have made a decision.” Everyone held their breath, staring at me with greedy expectation. “Effective immediately, the on-site daycare is permanently closed.” The parents in the room gasped, instantly whispering in panic. On the other side, Chloe’s group was barely holding back cheers and high-fives. I ignored them and announced the second decision. “To compensate all employees, the company will transition to a universal stipend.” “Every employee will receive a monthly stipend of fifty dollars.” The room went dead silent again. Chloe’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the carpet. The sheer drop from twenty thousand to fifty dollars left everyone stunned. A few seconds later, Chloe was the first to shriek. “Fifty dollars? Eleanor! Are you kidding us?” “You just said it costs twenty-three thousand per child! Why do we only get fifty?” “You liar! You greedy capitalist!” I looked at her coldly. “The daycare’s investment and operating costs came from my personal trust, not corporate funds.” “My willingness to spend my personal wealth on my employees was my choice, not my obligation.” “You chose to destroy that goodwill.” “So, I am withdrawing my personal funds.” “As for the fifty dollars, that is the maximum ‘fair’ stipend our corporate budget can afford for everyone under our current financial framework.” “This is the equality you fought so hard for, even at the cost of the company’s reputation.” “Now, everyone is perfectly equal.” The blood drained from everyone’s faces. The single employees who had been celebrating looked horrified. For a non-existent “cash bonus,” they had just destroyed a world-class benefit they might have used in the future. And all they got was fifty measly dollars a month. Meanwhile, the parents completely broke down. Maya sobbed loudly and rushed to the stage, grabbing my arm. “Eleanor, I’m sorry! We were wrong!” “Please don’t close the daycare! My child has nowhere else to go!” “The local daycares are either ridiculously expensive or completely unsafe!” “We were wrong, please!” Dozens of parents rushed forward, crying and begging. The room fell into absolute chaos. Brenda’s face turned white. She tried to slip out the back door, but several angry parents blocked her path. “Brenda! This is all your fault! You and Chloe ruined this for everyone!” Brenda stumbled backward. “Why are you blaming me? I did this for equality!” Chloe was terrified, hiding behind a chair and trembling. She never expected that the colleagues who had praised her as a hero yesterday would look at her with such pure hatred today. Watching this farce play out, I felt nothing but exhaustion. I pulled myself away from the crowd and turned to face them one last time. “The decision is final.” “As of tomorrow, the daycare is closed. All teachers and staff are dismissed with severance.” “Good luck to you all.”

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I ended up throwing up three rounds in the bathroom outside the VIP lounge. All because I had spent the night taking shots for my husband at a high-stakes investor dinner. Weak and leaning against the cold tile wall, I pulled out my phone and texted him, asking him to grab the stomach medicine from my clutch. Two minutes later, his reply popped up on Snapchat. “I just got a hand treatment. Do you not have legs of your own?” But when I finally dragged myself back to the hallway, I saw Ethan Carter rushing past, carefully carrying Chloe Bennet in his arms. I stood frozen in the hallway for a long moment. Then, I dialed my lawyer’s number. “Draft the divorce papers.” Ethan didn’t come home until the following afternoon. When he walked through the door, he instinctively reached for the coat rack. Usually, his freshly pressed loungewear would be hanging there, waiting for him. Today, it was empty. He frowned. “You didn’t come home last night?” “I went to my lawyer’s office.” I pulled a document out of my briefcase. “Sign this.” Ethan didn’t even look at it. He flipped straight to the last page and scribbled his signature. Ten years of marriage, seven years of running a business together. He was so used to me handling every piece of paperwork that he didn’t even bother to read what it was. I took the papers and turned to leave, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Chloe had acute gastroenteritis last night. I had to rush her to the ER.” He paused, his voice stiffening. “Nothing happened between us.” This was the first time in seven years he had ever bothered to explain himself to me. Too bad he forgot what he had said to me three years ago when I was the one rushed to the ER with acute gastroenteritis. He had snapped, “Clara, is your assistant just for ornament? I have an international conference tonight.” Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Chloe’s tearful voice echoed through the speaker. “Ethan… am I totally useless? I’ve only been at the company for a month and I’ve already taken two sick days… Are you going to fire me?” “Don’t talk nonsense,” Ethan said, his voice instantly softening. “Being sick isn’t your fault.” He shot a cold glance at me, his tone dropping to sub-zero temperatures. “Some people force their employees to work around the clock just to hit their targets. That’s why people get sick.” “Be good and rest at home. I’m coming over to check on you.” He hung up and grabbed his car keys. As he brushed past me, he glanced at my pale face and the folder in my hand. He said nothing, slamming the door behind him. I looked down, opened an email on my phone that had been sitting in my inbox for three months. I tapped reply: “I accept the offer. I can start next week.” While I was reviewing the equity agreement from my new company, a Snapchat notification popped up. It was a voice note from Chloe, sweet and dripping with fake innocence. “Clara, I’m so sorry. Ethan insisted on coming over to take care of me. I hope I didn’t ruin his board meeting this afternoon… Please don’t be mad at him…” I didn’t bother playing the second voice note. My eyes locked onto her new profile picture. I zoomed in. It was a photo of a man’s hand gently holding a thermometer against Chloe’s forehead. On that wrist was the limited-edition watch I had gifted Ethan for his birthday last year. He really did care about her. I closed the picture, went to my own profile, and changed our wedding photo to a blank white screen. On the day of the new product launch, as the head of the project, I had to be there. After the presentation, I walked over to the media photo-op area, only to find Ethan already standing dead center, his arm wrapped around Chloe’s waist. The reporters’ cameras flashed rapidly. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter look so in love!” “I heard Mrs. Carter was the lead designer for this new product? Truly a match made in heaven!” The two of them smiled at each other. Neither of them corrected the press. It wasn’t until Chloe spotted me that her face went white. She ran over to me and bowed deeply. “Clara, I’m so sorry! They misunderstood, and I didn’t have time to explain… This project is entirely your hard work…” The entire room went dead silent.

Ethan strode over, pulling Chloe behind his back to shield her. “Clara, do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone? Chloe is just an intern. I brought her here to get some exposure.” He lowered his voice, hissing, “This is a public event. Show some restraint.” I smiled. I stepped forward, gently helped Chloe up, and smiled at the cameras. “Everyone, this is Chloe Bennet. She’s a new intern on our team. She has a lot of potential.” The farce ended in a tense, hypocritical peace. When the interviews wrapped up, I pulled out my phone to book a flight. Ethan suddenly snatched it out of my hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Paris.” “Paris?” He frowned. “We don’t have any business in Paris right now. Did you book this on your own?” I took my phone back. “Personal business.” Ethan’s reaction surprised me. This hands-off husband was actually interrogating me. A flash of panic crossed his eyes as he grabbed my wrist. “What exactly are you trying to do?” Before I could answer, a scream echoed from backstage. Ethan let go of me instantly and sprinted toward the noise. I picked up my dropped phone, confirmed the ticket payment went through, and then walked backstage. The display area was a total mess. Chloe was sitting on the floor, a jagged piece of shattered acrylic panel having sliced a bloody gash across her arm. “Ethan… my arm hurts so bad… will it scar?” She looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Clara asked me to double-check the displays. I really didn’t know these shelves were unstable…” Ethan carefully cradled her arm, his eyes turning red with fury. He whipped his head around and glared at me. “Clara Miller, have you had enough?” “Chloe is just an intern, and you made her move heavy displays? What is wrong with you?” “I didn’t care when you drank with clients to close deals, but now you’re resorting to these pathetic, dirty tricks?” The surrounding staff whispered, throwing judgmental looks my way. I said in a flat voice, “I was at the front stage giving interviews half an hour ago. I never told her to—” “You didn’t have to tell her yourself!” Ethan cut me off, his voice shaking with rage. “Who in this company doesn’t listen to you? A single hint from you is enough!” He pointed at Chloe’s bleeding arm. “Apologize to her. Now! Or I’m calling the cops!” I smirked. I was about to say, “Go ahead, call them and check the security cameras,” but Chloe threw herself into his chest. “Don’t call the police, Ethan… I’m sure Clara didn’t mean to…” Ethan took a deep breath. His eyes swept over the corner of the room, and he suddenly grabbed the crystal trophy sitting on the shelf—the Golden Design Award our company had won last year. He slammed it down violently at my feet. The crystal shattered into a million pieces, a stray shard slicing right through my ankle. Blood began to seep out. “Consider this payback!” Ethan’s roar echoed through the backstage. “Listen up, everyone! Starting today, Clara Miller is barred from all company affairs! Anyone who takes orders from her will be fired on the spot!” He scooped Chloe up, shoved past me, and walked away without looking back once. I stood there, and my tears finally fell, mixing with the blood on the broken crystal trophy. This trophy was something Ethan and I had pulled countless all-nighters for during the early days of our startup. He had once told me, “Clara, half of this trophy belongs to you.” Now, he had smashed it with his own hands. I knelt, picked up the largest shard, and squeezed it tightly in my palm. The pain was sharp and clear. Then, I opened my hand and let it drop back into the wreckage.

Ethan was right. From now on, the company had nothing to do with me. I was never officially his business partner anyway; I had just managed everything in the capacity of his wife. But very soon, I wouldn’t even be that. The next day, I went to my office to pack up my personal belongings. Through the cracked door, I heard the project manager trying to reason with Ethan. “Ethan, you were too impulsive yesterday… Clara has been running the operations for years. If she really steps down, next quarter’s project is going to fall apart…” Ethan sneered. “Fall apart? Our products succeed because of my designs. She just does the busywork.” “Let Chloe take over her tasks. It’s just administrative stuff. Anyone can do it.” He paused, adding, “Chloe is different from Clara. She’s pure-hearted. Don’t let her go to those sleazy client dinners.” I stood outside the door, and any lingering urge to do a proper handover vanished. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my new company: “Your visa is approved. We are ready when you are.” I turned and walked away. I was halfway through packing my bags at home when Ethan unexpectedly walked in, holding a pastry box. “Chloe said the Mille-feuille from this bakery is amazing. I brought some for you.” I looked at the box, which had clearly been opened. The top pastry was missing a corner. I took the box and threw it straight into the trash can. Ethan’s face darkened. He saw the missing piece and forced down his anger. “…It’s not leftovers.” He had completely forgotten that I have a severe nut allergy. And the Mille-feuille from that bakery was heavily dusted with almond flakes. Three years ago, when I went into anaphylactic shock after drinking to cover for him, he had stayed outside the ICU all night, swearing he would never let a single nut enter our house again. I guess vows have an expiration date. My silence made Ethan uneasy. He paced around the living room before finally speaking. “I was too impulsive yesterday and embarrassed you. But as the founder, I have to be fair.” “I’m not actually banning you from the company… Just give Chloe a private apology, and we can move past this…” “Excuse me.” I dragged my suitcase past him. Ethan’s words caught in his throat, a strange, helpless expression crossing his face. In the bathroom drawer, there was a tube of lipstick I had never used. A bright red shade—Chloe’s favorite color. Right on cue, his phone rang. It was Chloe. “Ethan… I left my lipstick in your bathroom. I need it for our date tonight… Can you bring it to me?” Ethan walked into the bathroom and saw the open drawer. His eyes flickered with guilt, but he walked out and said into the phone, “I can’t find it. I’ll buy you a new one.” “Make sure it’s quick… It’s rude to be late for a date…” Ethan patiently wrote down the shade number and brand. By the time he hung up, my suitcase was locked. He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “She came over last week to borrow the bathroom and change clothes… It was an accident.” “I understand,” I said flatly. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Do you have to be so cold? If it bothers you that much, I won’t go tonight.” I smiled slightly. “Do whatever you want.” He stared at me, trying to see if I was just playing hard to get. Realizing I genuinely didn’t care, he hesitated before turning to leave. At the door, he looked back. “Where are you taking that suitcase?” “Paris.” Ethan seemed to remember something, and his tense posture relaxed. “Let’s go next week. I’ll clear my schedule and take you on a vacation.” At the very last second, he actually remembered our old promise to visit Paris together. Too bad it was too late. While waiting at the airport, I scrolled past Chloe’s Instagram post—the one she had made sure I’d see. In the photo, she was sitting at a vanity, and Ethan’s hands were gently fastening a necklace around her neck. In the Live Photo, his voice was incredibly tender: “Don’t move, the clasp is a bit small.” The caption read: [Hurt my arm so I can’t put on my necklace, but he insisted on helping~ He said he’ll take care of me from now on. 💖] At the same time, a text from Ethan popped up: [Something came up next week. Reschedule your flight, I’ll go with you next month.] He had no idea I never booked a ticket for him in the first place. BBefore boarding, I had my lawyer email him the digital copy of the divorce papers. Then, I turned off my phone.

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Right before the wedding ceremony was about to start, my mom suddenly had a heart attack. I dropped everything, rushed her to the hospital, and stayed by her side. But the moment we arrived at the emergency room, a notification popped up on our family Snapchat group. “I successfully got Chloe to the hospital. You can start the wedding now.” A second later, my dad replied: “Don’t worry. I’m already walking Melody down the aisle.” My brother, Julian, added: “Melody has waited ten years for this. Today, she finally gets to marry Ethan legally.” The three messages were quickly deleted. But a moment later, my best friend, Sarah, accidentally sent a video to our group chat. In the video, my sister, Melody, was wearing the custom wedding dress I had handpicked. She wore my ring, walking toward my fiancé, Ethan Vance. On the hospital bed, my mom finally stopped pretending. She snatched the phone from my hand and said, without any guilt, “Chloe, Melody has loved Ethan for so many years.” “She just wants a wedding of her own. Just let her have this one, okay?” I looked at the heart monitor patches still stuck to her chest and suddenly laughed. It turned out everyone was acting out their own little play. And I was the only fool, fooled for seven years, treated as a massive joke by the people I loved.

By the time I rushed back to the hotel, Ethan was holding Melody’s hand, reciting his vows. “From the day I met you, I knew you were the only one I wanted for the rest of my life.” My breath caught in my throat. I wrote those vows myself. To condense seven years of love into one sentence, I had stayed up for three nights straight. Just last night, Ethan held me in his arms, whispering that he would only say these words to me on our wedding day. Yet here he was, not changing a single word. He read them to Melody. The applause in the hall died down instantly when the guests saw me standing at the door. Ethan immediately let go of Melody’s hand and walked toward me. “Chloe, go back to the hospital.” “I’ll explain everything once the ceremony is over.” I lost control and stormed forward, confronting him. “I want you to explain right now!” “Why is she wearing my wedding dress? Why is she wearing my ring, standing next to my groom?!” Ethan stepped in front of Melody, a flash of impatience in his eyes. “Because this wedding was meant for Melody from the very beginning.” Those words froze me to the spot. I had spent an entire year planning this wedding. But Ethan was telling me it never belonged to me. He looked at the diamond veil on Melody’s head, his voice dead calm. “Melody picked out this veil a long time ago.” “She was living abroad and couldn’t come back for the fittings, so I had you try it on to make sure the measurements were right.” I stared at him, my heart breaking. “What about the dress?” “It’s hers too.” “The original design sketch was made to fit Melody’s measurements.” A cold sweat broke out all over my body. No wonder Ethan refused to let the tailor alter the waistline. He kept telling me to lose weight to fit into the dress. I starved myself for six months just to fit into it. Now, I finally understood. I was never the bride. Melody held Ethan’s arm, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “Chloe, don’t blame Ethan. I was the one who told him to pursue you.” “Back then, I had to go abroad for my medical treatment, and I didn’t know if I would survive.” “You had just been dumped by your ex, and you couldn’t sleep at night.” A perfect look of sorrow washed over her face. “I couldn’t bear to see you suffer, so I begged Ethan to take care of you for a while.” “The food Ethan brought you every day? I wrote that menu.” “The restaurant for your first date? I picked it.” “Even the confession he said to you? I taught him word for word.” My throat felt like it was blocked by concrete. Ethan had pursued me for ninety-nine days. I used to write down every little detail of those ninety-nine days in my diary. But it turned out none of those moments belonged to me. Sarah, holding her bridesmaid dress, walked over to us. “Chloe, it was wrong of us to keep you in the dark.” “But Melody has suffered way more than you.” “She watched the man she loved stay with you for seven years, and she never tried to break you up.” “She’s been kind enough. Stop pushing her.” I looked at Sarah, the girl I had called my best friend for over ten years. “So, you knew too?” Sarah nodded. “We were just afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” “You have such an extreme personality. If you found out Ethan actually loved Melody, who knows what you would have done?” Everyone stood by Melody’s side. They looked at me with defensive, wary eyes. As if I weren’t the victim who had been lied to for seven years. As if I were a crazy woman about to ruin my sister’s happiness. The phone in my bag suddenly vibrated. It was the director of the London project who had offered me a job three months ago. “Hi Chloe, tonight is the deadline to confirm your permanent transfer to London.” “We saved the last seat on the flight for you.”

I gripped my phone. I had turned down this job once before, all because of Ethan. Back then, he had hugged me tightly, whispering in my ear. “Chloe, if you go to London, what am I going to do?” “We’re getting married soon. Can you really leave me behind?” After agonizing over the decision, I chose him. I gave up a career-defining opportunity just to marry him. Thinking about the seven years of sweetness we shared, I looked at Ethan, my voice cracking. “Since Melody is back, why didn’t you just break up with me?” “Did you ever love me? Even for a second during these seven years?” Ethan remained silent for a long time. Melody smiled softly, her tone dripping with pity. “He didn’t break up with you because I didn’t let him.” “You made Ethan your entire world.” “I was afraid that if he left, you would lose your mind again.” She walked over to me like a generous saint. “Chloe, I let the man I love stay with you for seven years.” “I watched him celebrate your birthdays, take wedding photos with you, and even plan a wedding.” “I have compromised for so long.” “Now, I just want my wedding back. Why can’t you grant me this one wish?” With that, she gently placed her hand over her stomach. “If it were just me, I could keep waiting.” “But I’m three months pregnant.” “I can’t let my baby grow up without knowing their own father.” Ethan’s face paled, and he immediately put his hand on her waist. “The doctor said you need to stay calm.” “Don’t waste your breath explaining things to her.” He looked up at me, his voice freezing cold. “Chloe, Melody has sacrificed seven years for you.” “Now that she’s pregnant with my child, I can’t keep playing this game with you.” With a few short sentences, he erased the seven years we had built together. But Ethan once cared about me more than anything. When I was hospitalized with acute gastritis, he cancelled all his business meetings to stay by my bedside for two days and nights. When his family opposed our relationship, he cut off his trust fund and moved into my tiny, rented apartment. During our hardest times, we shared a single piece of toast. He gave me the only egg we had, smiling. “Chloe, wait for me.” “I will prove to everyone that you didn’t make the wrong choice.” Later, when his startup failed and he was drowning in debt, I worked my day job and took freelance design gigs at night, pulling him through the hardest two years. The day he got his first major investment, he cried in my arms for a long time. He swore he would never betray me. Those hugs were real. Those tears were real. But now, he was shielding a pregnant Melody, telling me our seven years of love was just a show. Suddenly, the giant screen behind them lit up again. The staff, unaware of the chaos, started playing the couple’s memorial video as scheduled. Bold gold letters flashed across the screen: “Ethan Vance & Melody Miller: Ten Years of Love.” Photos began to slide across the screen along a timeline. On my twenty-fourth birthday, Ethan told me his flight was delayed, leaving me alone with a cold birthday cake. But in the photo on screen, he was wrapping a scarf around Melody under a snowy mountain, leaning down to kiss her red nose. Six months ago, when I had my first miscarriage. Ethan said he had an urgent business trip and couldn’t sign the surgery consent form at the hospital. My mom said her chest was hurting. My dad and Julian both turned off their phones. I lay on the cold operating table alone, shivering from the pain. In the photos on screen, they were celebrating Melody’s birthday on a private island. My mom was holding a gift, my dad was cutting the cake, and Julian was setting off fireworks by the beach. Sarah stood behind the camera, capturing their perfect family reunion. The photos filled the seven years I was excluded from. And they exposed all the lies they had fed me.

The doors of the ballroom opened again. My mom rushed in, wiping away Melody’s tears with a pained expression. When she looked at me, her voice was filled with annoyance. “Melody has suffered enough for seven years.” “She just wanted her wedding back. Why did you have to come back and make a scene?” My voice trembled. “Mom… so you didn’t have a heart attack? You were faking it the whole time?” “Three years ago, when Ethan and I were supposed to get married.” “You suddenly said your chest was hurting and made me stay at the hospital with you.” “Was that just to keep me away, too?” Melody suddenly laughed. “Chloe, you finally figured it out.” She pulled a marriage certificate out from beneath her bouquet. In the photo, she was leaning against Ethan’s shoulder. They looked incredibly happy and perfect for each other. The date stamped at the bottom was the exact day I was stuck at the hospital three years ago. My dad and Julian were the witnesses. Sarah took the photos. Ethan had married Melody with everyone’s blessings. Meanwhile, I was sitting alone, watching over my “sick” mother. I had sent Ethan dozens of messages, apologizing for not being able to make it to the courthouse. I told him we would find another day to get married once my mom was better. He took a long time to reply. “It’s okay, we have plenty of time.” Melody waved the certificate in front of my face and laughed out loud. “Chloe, I was the one who sent that text.” “Because at that moment, Ethan’s hands were all over me. He didn’t have time to look at his phone.” Standing in the middle of the crowded ballroom, I felt completely numb. I bit my lip so hard it bled, turned around, and ran out. If I stayed a second longer, my heart would literally stop beating from the pain. Standing outside, listening to the wedding march playing inside, my hands shook as I typed my reply to the London project director: “I’m in.” The reply came almost instantly. “Great, Chloe. Your transfer is confirmed. We’ve booked your flight.” I had twenty-four hours left before I could leave them forever. Originally, Ethan and I were supposed to head straight to the airport for our honeymoon after the wedding. My passport and luggage were already packed in the bridal suite. I stuffed my passport into my suitcase, but before I could walk out, the door was pushed open. “Chloe!” Ethan rushed in, panting, as if he was terrified of losing me. My face was pale. I let out a mocking laugh and opened my mouth to speak, but he shoved a piece of chocolate into my mouth. The gesture was so natural, just like he had done a thousand times over the last seven years. “Look at you. Your blood sugar is dropping.” The rich chocolate melted in my mouth, but it tasted incredibly bitter. Seeing my silence, Ethan took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “I’ll have the driver take you to a hotel.” “I’ve booked a room for you. Stay there for a few days.” “Once the wedding is over, I’ll come find you and explain everything.” My nose stung. He didn’t say he loved me, and he didn’t say he couldn’t let me go. But these instinctive acts of care still reminded me of the old Ethan, the one who would run through the rain to buy me medicine and make sure I finished my food before leaving. Seven years of habit don’t disappear instantly. The jacket still carried his warmth. I used to think this warmth belonged only to me. But now, his wife was someone else. “Ethan, I knew you’d be here.” Melody’s voice came from the door. Sarah was right behind her. Melody looked at Ethan’s hand, which was still hovering near me. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Am I always going to be second to her?” “I know you still care about Chloe. If that’s the case, I’ll just back out and let you two be…” The next second, Ethan pulled her into a tight embrace, his eyes red. Melody stood on her tiptoes, kissing him through her tears. At that moment, I felt like the villain in their fairytale.

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