I must have been a koala in my past life. Other people survive the corporate grind on iced coffee. I survive on my fluffy fleece blanket. If I stay awake for more than six hours straight, my heart starts doing backflips and my vision goes completely black. During my internship year, a manager forced me to stand through a four hour morning meeting. I collapsed right there, ended up in the emergency room, and barely woke up. My brother was so terrified that he outright bought a boutique firm just so I could practice having a normal job. The hours were set from ten thirty in the morning to three thirty in the afternoon, with a mandatory three hour lunch break. There was only one golden rule in the entire building. Nobody was allowed to wake me up. That was until our new department manager decided to establish her dominance on her very first day. Right in front of our biggest clients, she ripped my blanket off and chucked my ergonomic neck pillow straight into the trash can. “The CEO didn’t sponsor my education for ten years just so I could babysit dead weight like you!” she screamed. “You sleep for one more minute, and I will fire you on his behalf!” My hands shook violently. Fat tears splashed onto my keyboard. Victor always told me to let him know if anyone dared to disturb my rest. But looking at her, I was terrified that if my brother found out, he would completely destroy the life she had crawled through hell to build. 1 “The CEO didn’t sponsor my education for ten years just so I could babysit dead weight like you!” The shrill female voice detonated across the open floor plan. Before my brain could even process the noise, the cashmere blanket draped over my shoulders was violently yanked away. The little memory foam pillow I was hugging vanished from my arms. A loud thud echoed through the room. My pillow had been violently hurled into the metal wastebasket. I was forced to pry my eyes open. Dark spots danced across my vision. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, beating so fast I thought my chest might crack open. I gasped for air, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. Standing over me was our new department manager, Rachel. A group of VIP clients stood awkwardly right behind her. “This company is not a retirement home!” she barked, leaning in close. “You sleep for one more minute, and I will fire you on the boss’s behalf!” The sheer volume of her voice left my ears ringing. Tears spilled down my cheeks without my permission. It wasn’t that I wanted to cry. My body had a severe physical stress response whenever I was frightened or pushed past my exhaustion limit. “I wasn’t slacking off,” I whispered, biting my lower lip to fight back the dizzy spells. “I have a medical condition. I can’t stay awake for extended periods. The company has always approved my rest schedule.” Rachel let out a vicious scoff. “If you’re sick, stay home in bed. Don’t use your illness as a VIP pass. Everyone else here works a full shift. What makes you so special?” She turned around, addressing the entire bullpen of wide eyed employees. “You guys are pulling overtime every single day to hit your quotas. Why should she get to sleep through her shift and collect the same paycheck?” Murmurs instantly broke out across the office floor. “She has a point. Sleeping at your desk is a terrible look.” “Why does she get a free pass when we are drowning in work?” The clients awkwardly averted their gaze, pretending to look at the ceiling. I shrank back into my ergonomic chair. Cold sweat drenched the back of my blouse. The room began to spin. Pure instinct made me reach for my phone. All I had to do was press one speed dial button. Victor would answer immediately. One word from him, and Rachel would be packing her things in a cardboard box. But her words echoed in my head. The CEO sponsored her for ten years. She had studied through freezing winters, fought tooth and nail to climb out of poverty, and finally made something of herself. If I made the call, her entire life would crumble. I didn’t want my medical privilege to destroy a normal girl’s hard earned future. I quietly locked my phone screen. The very next second, a hand shot out and snatched the phone right out of my grip, slamming it face down onto a stack of folders. “Playing on your phone during company hours?” Rachel glared at me, her eyes practically shooting daggers. “Today, I am going to do the boss a favor and discipline the nepotism right out of this office.” She spun around to face the entire department. “From this exact moment, this department is under new management. No sleeping. No blankets. No pillows. All extended lunch breaks are canceled until we meet our project deadlines.” The office went dead silent. Sarah, one of our senior accountants, couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She raised her hand hesitantly. “Manager Rachel, the big boss personally gave the order. No matter what happens, absolutely no one is allowed to wake Sophie up.” Rachel’s face darkened into a scowl. “The CEO is busy managing hundred million dollar acquisitions. You think he actually cares about trivial garbage like this? Nobody had the guts to manage her before, but I am here now. This company will no longer fund parasites.” She marched back to my desk and slammed her hands on the wood. “I don’t care who you batted your eyelashes at to get your little hall pass here. That garbage doesn’t fly with me. Stand up and get to work.” 2 It was eleven in the morning. Normally, this was the exact window where I would close my eyes to let my palpitations subside. Instead, Rachel slammed a massive stack of client dossiers onto my desk. “You have one hour to verify and input every single client ID number in this stack. Sophie, listen to me very carefully. If you make a single typo, this entire department loses their monthly performance bonus.” A collective gasp sucked the air right out of the room. Collective punishment. She had just handed a loaded gun to my coworkers and pointed it right at my head. I forced my trembling muscles to straighten up. My vision began to blur. The black text on my computer monitor doubled, then tripled. My fingertips grew numb from the lack of oxygen circulating in my blood. I forced myself to type, but my keystrokes grew slower and heavier by the second. The guy sitting in the cubicle next to me violently slammed his mouse on his mousepad. “Can you speed it up? Are we all supposed to starve this month just because you type like a turtle?” The woman sitting across from me chimed in immediately. “You’re so good at catching up on your beauty sleep, but you’re completely useless when it comes to actual work. Please don’t drag our paychecks down with you.” I frantically tried to apologize. “I am so sorry. I promise I will try to go faster.” But the harder I pushed, the more my brain felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. Through the blinding white spots in my eyes, I accidentally mistyped the last two digits of a client’s account number. “Stop.” Rachel had materialized right behind my chair. She reached down and ruthlessly yanked my keyboard cable out of the USB port. Then, she mirrored my monitor directly onto the massive presentation screen in the center of the office. Holding a laser pointer, she circled the two incorrect digits in glaring red. The blood red numbers loomed over the entire room. “Take a good look, everyone.” Rachel’s voice echoed off the walls. “This is the caliber of work you get from someone who relies on special privileges. She can’t even copy basic numbers. What is the point of keeping trash like this on the payroll?” The atmosphere in the room turned utterly toxic. Sarcastic whispers drifted from the cubicles. “Must be nice sleeping all day while our bonuses evaporate. So fair.” “If I knew playing the sick card worked so well, I would have faked an illness too.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. The back of my eyes burned fiercely. Jenna from the administrative department happened to be walking by. Seeing my face drained of all color, she quietly slid a fruit drop and a paper cup of warm water onto my desk. “Sophie, drink some water. Catch your breath.” “Jenna, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Rachel stormed over and slapped the paper cup right off the desk. Warm water splashed all over my skirt. “Who gave you permission to feed her on company time?” Rachel glared at Jenna like she was dirt. “Covering for a lazy employee? Consider your nomination for Employee of the Month permanently revoked.” Jenna’s face went completely pale. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t dare say a single word in her own defense. She just lowered her head and scurried back to her desk. The colleagues sitting closest to me immediately rolled their office chairs away. They treated me like a walking plague. The isolation took less than five minutes to cement. The whispering grew louder and significantly more vicious. “Who exactly is her sugar daddy anyway? How did she get away with sleeping on the job for so long?” “Take a wild guess. Look at that innocent little face. I bet she does plenty of overtime in the bedroom.” “Wait, are you saying she’s sleeping with the CEO?” My whole body shook with panic. “It is not like that at all!” I tried to explain, my voice cracking. “You guys are totally misunderstanding, the boss and I…” “What about you and the boss?” Rachel cut me off, leaning down until her lips were right next to my ear. Her voice was dripping with pure, unadulterated jealousy. “The kind of women I despise most in this world are parasites like you. You survive by whining and relying on men’s pity. Do you honestly believe the CEO is going to fall for your helpless little act forever?” The clock struck noon. The company’s officially mandated lunch break had finally arrived. My body was entirely giving out. I gripped the edge of my desk, trying to pull myself up so I could go lie down in the breakroom lounge. “Listen up, everyone! Grab your laptops. We are doing a project review in the main conference room right now.” Rachel clapped her hands. “Sophie, your attendance is strictly mandatory.” My knees buckled. “Manager Rachel, I physically cannot keep going. Please, just give me thirty minutes to rest.” Rachel laughed in my face. “You want to sleep for thirty minutes? So someone else can do your work for thirty minutes? The sheer entitlement is sickening.” My coworkers immediately joined the firing squad. “Just suck it up, Sophie. Stop trying to be a diva.” “None of us are sleeping. Why do you get to nap?” “Hurry up and walk. You’re wasting our time.” Surrounded by a wall of hostile faces, my tears finally broke free. There was nowhere left to hide. Clutching the hem of my ruined skirt, I dragged my leaden legs toward the conference room. 3 It was one o’clock in the afternoon. The air conditioning in the conference room was blasting freezing air. My consciousness was rapidly approaching the danger zone. Cold sweat dripped steadily down my forehead. My lips were as white as a sheet of printer paper. The frantic thumping of my heart echoed like a war drum against my eardrums. “Sophie. Stand up and recap the core marketing metrics we just discussed.” Rachel sat at the head of the table, tapping her manicured fingernails against the glass surface. My brain felt like molasses as I forced myself up. “The metrics we discussed… regarding the target demographics… were…” “Stop.” Rachel cut me off with an exaggerated sigh of disgust. “I asked you for a professional recap, not a stuttering performance. Did you leave your brain in your bed this morning? Or is your skull just stuffed with pillow fluff?” Eager to stay off Rachel’s bad side, a few coworkers let out sycophantic laughs. “The manager is right. She sleeps so much her brain has completely rotted.” “She probably thinks she’s still tucked into her mattress at home.” Once the floodgates of bullying are thrown open, crowds love to disguise their cruelty as casual banter. Fighting the urge to sob, I kept my head down and tried to type the meeting minutes. My hands were shaking so violently that I produced a string of unintelligible gibberish on the screen. Rachel walked up behind me and stared at my monitor. “Read the sentence you just typed. Out loud.” I stared at the scrambled letters. My throat felt like it was packed with broken glass. “I…” “Read it!” I closed my eyes in utter humiliation. “The… client requi…” “Enough. Save us the embarrassment.” Rachel sneered. Hoping to score points with the new boss, a male coworker grabbed a heavy stack of printed reports and slammed them down right in front of me. “Since you can’t seem to wake up, why don’t you collate these files? A little manual labor will get your blood flowing.” A female coworker sitting next to me kicked my office chair away. “Stop sitting. It only makes you lazier. You can collate them on your feet.” I gripped the edge of the glass table, my calves trembling violently. I desperately wanted to grab my phone and hit that speed dial. My hand reached into my pocket, only to grasp empty air. I remembered with a sickening jolt that Rachel had confiscated it. During a brief five minute bathroom break, Rachel walked up to me. She lowered her voice, dripping with venom. “Don’t think the CEO will protect you forever just because you’re his flavor of the month right now.” “The boss respects competence. He admires women like me. Women who can actually carry his empire forward.” “Not useless, pathetic burdens like you.” I froze. Staring into her ambition warped eyes, it finally clicked. She was the girl my brother used to talk about at the dinner table. The brilliant, hardworking student he had sponsored for ten years. The one he praised for having a “relentless drive.” “My brother…” I gasped for air, clutching my chest. “My brother would hate the way you treat people.” He paid for her education because he felt sorry for her. Because she wanted to learn. He didn’t build her up so she could use her power to crush the people beneath her. Hearing the words “my brother,” a flash of absolute malice crossed Rachel’s face. She clearly assumed it was my pet name for my sugar daddy CEO. “Calling him ‘brother’ now? No wonder you walk around this office like you own the place,” she hissed, grinding her teeth. “Too bad the boss will eventually realize you are nothing but a dead weight.” Dead weight. Those two words drove a jagged knife straight into my soul. I had been severely ill since childhood. My entire family lived in a constant state of anxiety because of me. My greatest, most paralyzing fear was becoming a burden to the people I loved. At two o’clock, the administrative department sent out a frantic mass alert. The CEO was personally escorting the board of directors from our partner corporation to listen to the project pitch. The conference room exploded into a frenzy of preparation. Rachel’s eyes lit up with feverish excitement. She viewed this as her ultimate stage to prove her worth to the man who funded her life. She pointed a rigid finger at the conference room doors. “Sophie. Go stand by the main doors and act as the official greeter.” “I want our investors to see that this department has officially eradicated its culture of laziness.” I gripped the glass table so hard my knuckles turned white. “Manager Rachel, I am begging you. My heart can’t take this.” “Please, just let me lie down for ten minutes…” Rachel stepped forward and violently yanked my company ID lanyard. “If you dare pass out today, you are deliberately sabotaging a multimillion dollar deal. When we lose this contract, the entire department’s yearly bonus will be wiped out. Because of you.” The other employees immediately swarmed me. “Don’t you dare play the sick card now. Stop acting like a fragile little princess.” “Can’t you just hold it together for one hour? Will it actually kill you?” “If you ruin my paycheck, I swear to God I will make your life a living hell.” I looked around at the circle of resentful, hateful eyes glaring at me. The words pleading for my life died in my throat. Leaning heavily against the drywall, I dragged my feet inch by agonizing inch toward the entrance of the conference room. 4 It was two thirty in the afternoon. The executives from the partner corporation began filtering into the room. My legs had completely lost their strength. I was solely relying on the doorframe to keep myself upright. My vision was reduced to a swirling storm of television static. The voices around me sounded muffled, like I was listening to them from underwater. Inside the glass walled room, Rachel stood confidently in front of the projector, radiating triumph. “Distinguished guests, our department recently underwent a severe cultural overhaul.” “Previously, we suffered from a few negative elements. Lethargy, entitlement, and a complete lack of professionalism.” “But since I assumed control, I have shown absolutely zero tolerance for such parasitic behavior.” She didn’t say my name out loud. But her piercing gaze shot straight like an arrow, landing directly on me. Everyone in the room followed her line of sight. Dozens of judging eyes cast a suffocating net over my fragile body. My fingers dug into the wooden doorframe so hard my nails were close to tearing off. I really couldn’t stand anymore. I tried to let gravity take over, slowly sliding my back down the doorframe to crouch on the floor. The other greeter standing next to me immediately hissed a warning. “The manager is watching you. Don’t you dare get us in trouble.” She grabbed my arm and roughly hauled me back onto my feet. “I… I really need a doctor…” I wheezed. “Oh, cry me a river. Nobody likes working,” she rolled her eyes in sheer disgust. “Drop the pathetic act, okay?” Rachel used the excuse of handing out physical portfolios to march out into the hallway. Her eyes zeroed in on the thin cardigan draped over my shoulders. It was the only thing protecting me from the biting chill of the overhead AC vents. “Front facing roles require a crisp, professional aesthetic. What is this sloppy cardigan supposed to be?” Without waiting for an answer, she snatched my only source of warmth right off my back. “Stop looking like a dying Victorian orphan. It is embarrassing the company.” The freezing artificial wind blasted directly against my damp skin. I began to shiver uncontrollably. My heartbeat completely lost its rhythm. At exactly three o’clock, the VIP elevator at the far end of the hallway chimed loudly. The polished steel doors slid open. My brother, dressed in a flawless midnight blue bespoke suit, stepped out, surrounded by a phalanx of senior executives. His expression was chiseled out of ice, projecting an aura of dominance that made everyone instinctively hold their breath. The moment Rachel saw him, her eyes gleamed with pure adoration. She plastered on her most charming, professional smile and hurried over to intercept him. “Mr. Cannon, it is an honor.” “You have been far too lenient with this company in the past, which allowed a toxic culture of laziness to fester. But please, rest assured. I have completely disciplined the floor on your behalf.” Victor’s expression remained completely bored. He was flipping through a financial prospectus and barely even acknowledged her presence. Desperate for his attention, Rachel doubled down. “Specifically, there was a certain employee who slept on the clock, dragged down team metrics, and humiliated our corporate image.” “I have finally put her in her place.” “I plan to permanently dispose of this trash very soon. I will never allow parasites to suck this company dry under my watch.” Victor’s fingers froze on the edge of the paper. He frowned, his brilliant mind instantly catching the phrase “slept on the clock.” Assuming she had finally won the CEO’s interest, Rachel eagerly turned around and pointed her manicured finger straight at me. “That’s her.” “As you can see, sir, if we leave vermin like her unchecked, this firm will eventually be dragged into bankruptcy.” Every single pair of eyes in the hallway snapped toward the conference room doors. I was barely hanging on, clinging to the wooden frame. My face was completely drained of blood, resembling a porcelain doll. My eyes were bloodshot, my lips quivering violently. And lying on the carpet right by the trash can near my feet, covered in dust, was my little memory foam neck pillow. The very next second. My vision plunged into absolute darkness. My legs surrendered their final ounce of strength. Like a puppet with its strings brutally slashed, I plummeted forward, my body slamming hard against the freezing marble floor. CRACK. The sickening sound of impact echoed loudly down the sterile hallway. The financial prospectus slipped from Victor’s hands, scattering across the floor. The instant he registered the face of the girl collapsing on the marble, all the color violently drained from his face. “What did you just say…” Victor locked his eyes on Rachel, his voice sounding like a demon crawling out of the abyss. “What did you just do to my baby sister?”

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After binding with the Hypnosis System, I immediately brainwashed every guy who was obsessed with me, turning them all into my little sister’s devoted lapdogs. My reason was simple. These psychopaths were way too possessive. I never even gave them the time of day, yet they tried to control every single aspect of my life. It just so happened that my sister, Lily, constantly talked about them and went out of her way to make my life a living hell because she was jealous. Now, she stood before me looking incredibly smug. “Didn’t see that coming, did you? You got dumped, and now they are all absolutely obsessed with me!” I let out a long breath of relief, putting on a fake look of regret. “They moved on. There is nothing I can do about it.” The feeling of absolute freedom, of finally being able to make friends without someone breathing down my neck, was absolutely intoxicating. But just as I was organizing my visa paperwork to move to Europe, a glaring red notification popped up on the System interface in my mind. [Warning. Target neural pathways experiencing severe fluctuations. Hypnosis state is loosening. Total failure estimated in exactly seventy two hours…] 1 Lily blocked my path, letting out a cold sneer. “You don’t have to act like you don’t care. I know you are dying of jealousy on the inside.” I just stared at her. Before I could say a word, she kept going. “You used to act so high and mighty, soaking up all their attention while looking down your nose at everyone. Now they are completely sick of you. You deserve this!” If the System hadn’t warned me that my bond with Lily wasn’t strong enough, the very first thing I would have done was hypnotize her into being a sweet, obedient little sister. Instead, I put on a sad face. “Yeah, you are right. I regret taking them for granted, but it is too late now.” Hearing me admit defeat, a look of pure contempt washed over Lily’s face. She opened her mouth to spit more venom, but the estate manager’s walkie talkie buzzed on his belt. “Mr. Jaxon is at the front gates,” the manager announced respectfully. I froze. Lily’s eyes instantly lit up. “Let him in! Hurry!” Even though I knew the hypnosis was fully active, just hearing Jaxon’s name gave me a trauma response. I tried to slip past her and run upstairs, but Lily grabbed my arm tight. The heavy mahogany double doors swung open. A tall, broad shouldered man strode into the foyer. He tilted his head slightly, his dark, piercing eyes sweeping toward us. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. In the past, those eyes would have locked onto me the second he walked in. He would have marched straight over, grabbed my hand without asking, and pulled me flush against his chest. My heart hammered against my ribs. Under Lily’s and my intense stares, Jaxon kept one hand casually in his pocket and strolled right past me. He walked straight up to my sister, flashing a lazy, wicked grin. “Miss me?” Lily’s face blossomed into a massive smile. “Of course I did, Jaxon.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “My sister and I were actually just talking about you.” Jaxon raised a single brow. His gaze never shifted in my direction for even a split second. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lily’s ear. “Was she talking trash about me?” “Aren’t you worried about what she might have said?” Lily teased. Jaxon’s tone was incredibly dismissive. “Why would I care about her? You are the only one who matters.” Complete and utter disregard. I finally let my guard down. But then Lily whispered softly, “But all of you used to be so obsessed with her.” My heart jumped straight into my throat. Jaxon narrowed his eyes. For a fraction of a second, his expression went completely blank. It was as if his consciousness was trapped in some distant, frozen void. After a long pause, his face smoothed out. “I must have lost my mind back then,” he said calmly. I held my breath. “Besides,” Jaxon shot a sideways glance at me, “I remember the eldest daughter of this house absolutely despising me. Consider this her wish coming true.” Lily let out a triumphant giggle. “She regrets it now, but you can’t turn back time.” “Is that so,” Jaxon smirked, looking like he couldn’t care less. Exactly one week ago. I had been pushed past my breaking point by Jaxon’s insane possessiveness. We got into a screaming match in this exact hallway. “Who gave you the right to control me?!” I had yelled. “Who I see and who I hang out with is my own business! Go find someone else to obsess over! Stay the hell away from me!” I turned around to storm off. The next second, Jaxon’s hand clamped around my arm like a vice, violently yanking me back. He pinched my jaw, his face darkening into a terrifying scowl. “Apologize.” I completely lost it, shoving him and hitting his chest. Eventually, all my energy drained away. I slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor, completely exhausted. Jaxon’s eyes were rimmed with red. He slowly crouched down until we were eye level. His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “You can control me too, Serena. I am perfectly happy letting you run my life.” I had turned my head away in absolute disgust. “I just want you as far away from me as possible.” 2 Now, my wish had finally been granted. Jaxon didn’t spare me another glance, completely engrossed in his conversation with Lily. I quietly slipped upstairs. Opening my phone, the group chats and private messages that used to blow up with their obsessive texts were completely dead. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, happily rolling around on my king sized mattress. Two hours later. Loud music and chatter drifted up from the ground floor. Confused, I walked out of my room and peeked over the banister. The entire living room had been transformed into a mood lit lounge, complete with a massive champagne tower. Lily was wearing a stunning cocktail dress, standing in the center of a crowd with a massive smile on her face. She caught sight of me standing on the stairs in my oversized sleep shirt. She offered a look of fake apology. “Serena, I completely forgot to tell you! I am throwing a little party tonight.” “But honestly,” she added loudly, “I figured you wouldn’t be in the mood to socialize anyway, so I thought it was best if you stayed in your room to process your feelings.” Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly snapped to me. Lily only invited her specific clique of friends, and they had always hated me. Someone in the crowd immediately snickered. “Why wouldn’t she be in the mood? Because all the rich guys she tried to string along finally realized she’s a total fraud?” I didn’t care in the slightest. I just waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, got it. I honestly thought we were getting robbed. Since everything is fine, I will go back to processing my feelings.” Right at that moment. Jaxon walked out of the open concept kitchen, carrying a beautifully decorated mini cake. He was wearing a floral baking apron over his designer shirt. It was an incredibly bizarre contrast to his bad boy aesthetic, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Lily gasped in pure delight. “I just mentioned I was craving something sweet, and you actually baked this for me?!” The crowd erupted into exaggerated “awws” and jealous whispers. Lily looked up at me again. “Serena, come down and have a slice! When Jaxon used to be obsessed with you, he never baked for you, did he?” She was absolutely right. I thought to myself quietly. Thank God he never did. If he had, I would have shoved the entire cake directly into his face. I shook my head, signaling my refusal. But Lily pretended not to see it. She reached out to take the cake with one hand while grabbing my wrist and yanking me down the remaining stairs with the other. I tried to pull my arm back. One of her mean girl friends reached out to help her drag me into the crowd. In the chaotic scuffle, someone stepped on someone else’s heel. A loud crash echoed over the music. Lily and I both hit the hardwood floor hard. I inhaled sharply, a sharp pain shooting up my ankle. The cake flew out of Lily’s hand, splattering directly onto my sleep shirt before rolling down to ruin the hem of her expensive dress. Jaxon clicked his tongue in annoyance and immediately reached his hand out to Lily. “What exactly is going on here?” A freezing, indifferent voice cut through the room. Steady footsteps approached from the front door, getting closer and closer. Then, another hand reached into my field of vision. It was a beautiful hand, with long, elegant fingers. I froze. The next second, Lily sniffled pitifully and placed one of her hands into Jaxon’s, and the other into the newcomer’s grip. They hoisted her up together. I slowly looked up. Jaxon had already turned around, barking orders at the estate staff to mop the floor. Silas was standing there, his long eyelashes lowered as he gently wiped the ruined frosting off the edge of Lily’s dress with a silk handkerchief. My mind drifted for a second. Not too long ago, Silas used to look down at me with that exact same expression. He would forcefully wedge his elegant fingers between mine, locking our hands together in an iron grip. He would lean in so close, his tall frame completely trapping me against whatever surface was behind me. “Why do you hate me so much?” he would whisper darkly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. My love is more than enough for both of us. I will never, ever let you leave me.” Silas naturally gave off a cold, detached aura, but he had the face of a fallen angel. He would curl his thin lips into a faint, chilling smile, while the crushing grip on my fingers never loosened for a single second. It always felt like I owed him a blood debt in a past life and he had crawled out of hell to collect it. Every time he did that, cold sweat drenched my back. Coming from a guy like Silas, those words were a literal promise. It was an absolute nightmare. I felt a surge of despair just remembering it. Why was I cursed to be surrounded by absolute psychopaths? 3 Thankfully, everything was different now. I pressed my palms against the hardwood and pulled myself up. The System’s mechanical voice suddenly buzzed in my head. [Host…] I must have severely twisted my ankle, because a sharp spike of pain hit me the second I put weight on it. Enduring the throbbing ache, I limped awkwardly toward the kitchen to wash the frosting off my arm. I mentally cheered at the System. [Oh man, you really outdid yourself this time! I never expected this hypnosis to be so thorough and effective!] But then I let out a soft sigh. Freedom really did come with a price. Lily had always despised me, and I usually avoided getting into fights with her. Now that she finally got what she wanted and stole all my suitors, she was still going out of her way to humiliate me! But the massive upside was that those psychos were finally out of my hair. I finally had the chance to escape. Exhausted by their constant drama, I had spent the last few weeks secretly preparing my relocation paperwork to move to Europe. The System remained completely silent for a long time before speaking again. [Host, there is a slight complication.] I wasn’t sure why, but I could clearly hear a trace of hesitation and guilt in that normally emotionless robotic voice. After scrubbing the sticky cake off my skin at the sink, I carefully limped back out of the kitchen. My ankle was still screaming at me. [What complication?] I asked mentally. The System didn’t answer immediately. Lily’s bubbly voice drifted over from the lounge area. “By the way, why didn’t he come tonight?” “He had business to handle,” Silas replied coldly. Jaxon let out a lazy, mocking laugh. “You have a pretty big heart, Lily, fitting so many guys in there at once.” Lily blushed and giggled softly. Listening to them, a wave of profound realization washed over me. I could never stand the three of them. I was constantly miserable, viewing them as unhinged, neurotic control freaks. But Lily seemed absolutely thrilled to juggle their attention. Wasn’t this what people called a match made in heaven? Ignored by the entire party, I happily minded my own business and slowly dragged myself up the stairs. Remembering the unusually quiet AI in my head, I called out. [System?] The System seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Before I could even process what was happening, the bright blue hypnosis dashboard violently materialized in front of my eyes, glitching and flashing red. [Warning. Target neural pathways experiencing severe fluctuations. Hypnosis state is loosening. Total failure estimated in exactly seventy two hours…] My pupils dilated in sheer terror. “What?!” I slowly, mechanically turned my head to look back down the stairs. At that exact second, Silas lifted his heavy eyelids. His dark, abyssal eyes locked directly onto mine. My heart completely stopped. I practically scrambled up the rest of the stairs like a terrified animal. Late that night. I tossed and turned, completely unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, their twisted faces hovered in the darkness. Sometimes far away, sometimes suffocatingly close. It felt so incredibly real that I woke up covered in a cold sweat over and over. The next morning. I dragged myself out of bed with massive dark circles under my eyes, looking like I was walking to my own execution. Thankfully, my phone was still completely silent. No psychotic text messages. The only update was a group photo Lily posted on her socials late last night. She was smiling brightly next to the champagne tower, surrounded by her friends. Standing like bodyguards on either side of her were Jaxon and Silas. I let out a shaky breath. So far, everything seemed okay. After all, the three day countdown wasn’t over yet. I frowned, a deep knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. I had to finalize my European relocation within the next seventy two hours. 4 When I limped downstairs for lunch, I froze at the sight of the dining room. My eyes widened in shock. “I thought this was a private family lunch?” My Mom and Dad had just flown back into the country a few days ago. Because of their chaotic corporate schedules, they specifically carved out time today for a private family meal. So why were there two completely irrelevant men sitting at our table? Lily rested her chin in her hands and let out a dramatic sigh. “Serena, just because they aren’t obsessed with you anymore doesn’t mean you can hold a grudge and banish them from our house.” Jaxon raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Silas’s face remained as calm and unreadable as ever. My Mom quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “Serena, be polite. We might all be family in the future anyway. What is the harm in sharing a meal together early?” Dad nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right.” I scoffed internally. It was exactly because my parents constantly enabled them that Jaxon and the others felt so comfortable completely invading my life. My Mom used to constantly complain about how coldly I treated them. Both of my parents were absolutely obsessed with their billionaire family backgrounds. Honestly, if polygamy were legal, they probably would have forced me to marry all three of them at once just to secure the corporate mergers. I kept my mouth shut and sat down. Lily let out a victorious little hmph and started serving premium cuts of meat to Jaxon and Silas. Mom smiled warmly, looking incredibly proud. Even Dad’s usually stern face softened. To them, a son in law was a son in law. As long as it benefited the family corporation, they didn’t care which daughter married which billionaire. It was a perfectly harmonious scene that satisfied everyone. And honestly, I was completely satisfied too! Halfway through the meal. Mom suddenly remembered something and looked over at me. “Serena, I had my assistants finalize all your overseas trust funds and visa sponsorships like you asked. Is there any other paperwork you need sorted out?” My chopsticks paused in mid air. Instantly, several heavy gazes snapped to my side of the table. “You are leaving the country?” Jaxon’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. I didn’t try to hide it. “Yeah, I am.” Lily looked genuinely surprised. “Serena, even if they don’t like you anymore, you don’t need to exile yourself to Europe just to numb the pain.” Silas elegantly wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked up, his eyes ice cold. “If there are still documents pending, I can make some calls and have them expedited for you.” Lily burst out laughing. My eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “Wait, seriously? I actually do have a few background checks stuck in the system. Can you get them cleared within three days? I am in a massive rush.” Silas’s expression didn’t change a single degree. “Done.” After lunch. Jaxon accompanied Lily to the garden patio to trim her prized roses. I handed a folder of my pending documents to Silas in the living room. He gave a curt nod. Just as I turned around to head back upstairs, he spoke. “Serena. I am absolutely disgusted.” “Excuse me?” I spun around, totally caught off guard. Meeting those deep, abyss like black eyes, Silas’s thin lips curled into a sneer. A strange, indescribable loathing washed over his beautiful features. “I have no idea why I was ever so obsessed with you.” I stayed completely silent. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “It felt like a sickness.” I quickly tried to comfort him. “Hey, it is totally fine. Look on the bright side, the universe corrected itself, right?” Honestly, the current version of Silas was way more normal. I vastly preferred being hated to being loved by him. The old Silas was basically a sleep paralysis demon in a designer suit. He was absolutely terrifying! Silas’s thin eyelids twitched. I kept going, using my most persuasive, soothing voice. “Think about it. You like Lily now, and she clearly likes you. Isn’t this a massive win? Everyone gets a happy ending.” Silas stood frozen in the center of the living room. A hollow, drifting emotion flashed through his eyes. After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke in a completely deadpan voice. “I suppose. But just looking at your face makes my skin crawl. The fact that you are willingly leaving the country proves you at least have some self awareness. I will make sure your paperwork is cleared immediately so you disappear from my sight.” I nodded enthusiastically. That was literally the best case scenario. But at the same time, a tiny part of me felt a bizarre sense of whiplash. In the past, Silas only ever strung this many sentences together when he was whispering psychotic, obsessive threats into my ear. Right at that moment, Jaxon and Lily walked back in from the patio. Lily was holding her phone to her ear, her voice dripping with sugar. “Vincent, you work way too hard! Once you finish your meetings, come over for dinner! I will tell the chef to make your favorite steak.” A deep, magnetic voice answered through the speaker. “Alright.” Lily casually added, “Oh, by the way, my sister is moving to Europe in a few days.” The gentle chuckle on the other end of the line instantly stopped. “What?” “Yeah,” Lily continued. “Silas even offered to call his contacts to fast track her visa so she can leave faster.” Vincent’s voice was perfectly calm. “Understood.” I carefully studied Jaxon and Silas’s faces while Lily was on the phone. Jaxon was spinning a pair of gardening shears around his finger, looking completely bored out of his mind. Silas was still standing there like a beautiful marble statue, completely unbothered. I mentally rolled my eyes. A wave of pure unfairness washed over me. Why were they acting like totally normal people now? Back when I was the center of their obsession, I couldn’t even make a phone call without them throwing a psychotic tantrum! Vincent ran his own private equity firm, so he was usually the busiest out of the three. I saw him the least in person. But he used to call my phone constantly. Whenever he did, Jaxon would intentionally smash things or start screaming in the background, essentially forcing me to hang up. And Silas was even worse. He would silently walk up, intertwine his fingers with mine, and lightly trace the palm of my hand with his nails. It felt like a feather burning my skin, completely shattering my focus. I would end up not hearing a single word Vincent said. And when that smiling psycho realized I wasn’t listening, he would get pissed off, and I would be the one who paid the price! 5 But how they interacted with Lily now was none of my business. And I absolutely did not want to find out. The problem was, these two billionaires were acting like squatters, refusing to go back to their own penthouses. Lily was obviously thrilled. But I was living in absolute misery. Having them in my house gave me a massive headache. Jaxon had a vicious mouth. Whenever Lily wasn’t around, he took every opportunity to verbally drag me. Like right now. “It really is ironic,” he drawled, slumping lazily onto our custom Italian sofa, kicking his long legs up onto the coffee table. “When I was throwing the world at your feet, you treated me like trash. Now that no one gives a damn about you, you are so heartbroken you are fleeing the continent.” I bit my tongue. I didn’t dare trigger his temper, terrified that the glitching hypnosis might snap completely. I just swallowed my pride. “Yeah, you are so right! It is a massive tragedy.” Jaxon let out a cold scoff and ignored me. Silas was sitting by the window reading a hardcover book, completely ignoring the conversation. Jaxon looked over at him. “Can you hurry up with her visa stuff? Let’s get her on a plane so she stops polluting the air in here.” Silas didn’t even look up. “It is being expedited.” Hearing that, Jaxon’s mood visibly improved. “Vincent!” The front doors swung open, and Lily’s cheerful voice echoed through the foyer. “You work way too much. Since you rarely come to this side of the city, you should just stay in our guest wing for a few days!” I slowly lifted my gaze. Lily walked in, beaming brightly next to a tall, imposing figure. The steady rhythm of expensive leather shoes against the marble floor echoed in the room. The man was casually rolling up the sleeves of his tailored dress shirt. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a warm, welcoming smile. A classic wolf in sheep’s clothing. The living room went quiet. Vincent’s gaze landed squarely on me. A split second later, he looked away. Lily glanced at Jaxon and Silas, then looked over at me. “Serena, were you guys just chatting?” “Yeah,” I nodded, keeping my tone perfectly honest. “They were just begging me to get out of the country faster.” Lily sighed dramatically. “They can be so blunt. Don’t let it hurt your feelings, Serena.” “When exactly is your flight?” Vincent asked, raising a brow with what looked like mild curiosity. “Sometime in the next two days,” I replied. “Is that so,” Vincent murmured. I frowned slightly. Something about his vibe felt incredibly off. I stood up and walked into the kitchen to grab an apple, but my brain was working in overdrive. Neither Jaxon nor Silas was showing any signs of the hypnosis breaking. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Vincent was the only one whose brain was rejecting the system, right? Rationalizing it to myself, I let out a breath of relief. Out in the living room, Lily and Jaxon were jokingly fighting over a console controller. Unable to pry it from his grip, she whined, “Silas, tell Jaxon to stop cheating!” Silas turned a page in his book. “Give it back to her.” Looking at them from the kitchen island. It was a perfectly harmonious, disgustingly cute scene. I didn’t even notice Vincent walk into the kitchen until he was standing right next to me. He followed my gaze into the living room. “Are you jealous?” A faint scent of cedar and crushed snow washed over me. It was an objectively expensive, high end cologne, but I absolutely hated it. It matched Vincent’s entire personality. It wasn’t aggressive, but it slowly wrapped around you until you were completely suffocated. But remembering that I was literally days away from absolute freedom, I was in a great mood. I gave him a bright, genuine smile. “I think it is great. Don’t you think they look like a perfect match?” “And you don’t think you two were a match?” I thought about it for a second, then shook my head. “Relationships only work if the feeling is mutual.” Vincent was the oldest of the three, and definitely the most ruthless. Even under the effects of the hypnosis, he didn’t act like a petty teenager the way Jaxon and Silas did. He offered a soft, calculated smile. “Is that so?” That creepy, unsettling feeling flared up in my chest again. Ignoring his intense stare, I pressed my lips together, turned around, and went back upstairs to my room.

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I am the child of a mistress. When I was seventeen, my biological father passed away. At the funeral, dressed in my school uniform, I faced a room full of financial titans, brilliant young scientists, and a reigning movie star. My voice trembled as I spoke: “I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” Before I could finish, the legitimate children all stared at me, their gazes like daggers. I burst into tears. “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” The movie star’s eyes lit up. “A sister? A soft, little sister?” The young scientist pulled out a notepad and pen. “Senior year? Come solve some calculus, let’s see where you’re at.” The titan pulled out a black card. “What’s there to care about that old man’s meager money? Call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” 1 My mother was a master manipulator, a gilded cage bird kept by a wealthy man. The arrangement was simple: he’d provide the money, she’d provide the charm. A clean transaction, no strings attached. But too many good days often breed greed. She got pregnant, and, emboldened by her growing belly, pulled a ‘gilded cage bird runs off with the heir’ stunt. Before she disappeared, she broadcast her address widely, practically begging to be found. She fantasized about her patron locking down the entire city, pursuing her with possessive passion. She imagined his wife, consumed by insecurity, collapsing and willingly stepping aside. Alas. She overplayed her hand. Her patron didn’t even bother to look for her. He didn’t want her, or the child she carried. This simply wouldn’t do! She, with her full-term belly, blocked his mansion’s entrance. Two bodyguards lifted her out, tossing her into a dumpster. They also delivered a message from his wife: “If you’re so capable, take him. But give me the child to raise once it’s born. Money? Not a single penny!” After her desperate pleas failed, she finally gave up. But the child couldn’t be aborted. Filled with resentment, she gave birth to me and raised me haphazardly. Not out of love, but solely for money. The phrase she repeated most often to me was: “You’re his blood. He thinks he can just refuse to give us anything?” “Dream on! Even if he dies, you’ll get your share of that estate!” As she wished, in my seventeenth year, my biological father died. Upon hearing the news, she swiftly deposited me at the funeral home. “Skye, listen up! Including you, your father only has four children! You get a quarter of his inheritance!” “Today is your last chance. If you don’t get that money, don’t bother coming back to see me!” Her contorted features terrified me. “Mom, don’t leave me here, I’m scared…” “Scared, scared, always just scared! What did I raise you for? To make money!” “For all these years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, and kept me from finding someone else. Don’t I deserve compensation?” “Get the inheritance, give it to me, and then I’ll still be your mom!” She hurried a few steps away, then stopped abruptly. Turning back, she rummaged through my pockets, taking my only ten dollars. I froze. Without money, I couldn’t take the bus. From this funeral home in the middle of nowhere, it would take me until dark to walk back home. She shoved me. “Cut off your retreat, and you’ll work harder!” “If you get the money, take a cab home. If not…” She gestured vaguely at the surrounding hills. “This whole area is a graveyard. Just stay here and keep the ghosts company!” 2 The cold mountain wind whipped around me, sending shivers down my spine. Every small mound in the deep woods seemed to be staring at me with unseen eyes. I steeled myself and walked into the funeral home. The service had ended, and the guests had all left. The room was empty save for the benefactor’s three legitimate children and their lawyer, discussing the final arrangements. “According to Mr. Stone’s last will, his estate, totaling two hundred million dollars, will be divided equally among the three of you.” Two hundred million dollars! So much money! No wonder my mother was so obsessed. For over a decade, she’d been scrambling to get her hands on some of it. And what I had to do today was claim a quarter of those two hundred million. Fifty million! My palms were sweating from nerves. With that much money at stake, who would willingly let the child of a mistress take a share? I figured a beating was inevitable. I just hoped they’d go easy on me. I had an exam tomorrow, and my hands still needed to write… As I thought this, the division of assets had already begun. The eldest, Seraphina Stone, sat at the head of the table. She was a renowned movie star, having just swept the nation’s top film awards. Her sleek black dress couldn’t hide her breathtaking beauty. With delicate, slender fingers, she took the document, glanced at it, and then casually tossed it to her younger brother. “That’s it? This is what’s worth wasting my time?” Her brother, Benedict Stone, was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, silver-rimmed glasses adding a touch of maturity to his refined, boyish face. He stared at his laptop, typing incessantly, not even looking at the paper worth two hundred million. “Money isn’t something I need.” I’d heard of him. He was the nation’s most brilliant young scientist, unparalleled in cutting-edge fields. He truly had no need for money; all his needs were covered by state funding. The paper drifted lightly into the hands of the youngest, Jason Stone. His articulated fingers grasped it, then he casually tore it to shreds. “Two hundred million is enough to warrant a will? Donate it.” Jason carried an air of nonchalant ruthlessness. For someone consistently on the rich list, two hundred million wasn’t worth his time. Seraphina and Benedict raised their eyebrows but offered no objection. The lawyer was about to draft a new donation agreement. I weakly raised my hand. “Um… excuse me…” As soon as the words left my lips, the three legitimate children and the lawyer – four pairs of eyes – all focused on me. My scalp tingled. The lawyer spoke, “May I help you?” I swallowed, then cautiously began, “I’m sorry, I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” 3 By the time I fully registered what was happening, I was surrounded. The three legitimate children were tall, handsome, and exuded an exceptional aura. Compared to them, I, in my school uniform, felt like a corner-dwelling sprout. I was on the verge of tears. Even if they didn’t care about money, it didn’t mean they’d willingly hand it over to a mistress’s child! I stammered, “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” Could I just borrow two dollars… …to take the bus? I secretly peeked up, but their intimidating presence made me shiver. Never mind, never mind. Just thirty miles of mountain road. I could walk it… I quietly started to inch away. After just a few steps, Seraphina’s hand clamped onto the collar of my uniform, and she lifted me back. “Tsk, too light. All bones.” Seraphina turned me over, examining me from head to toe, her beautiful face full of disdain. “First, gain twenty pounds. You need to be plump for good health.” “Your hair is dry and split; it needs treatment. Your face is sunburned; it needs repair.” “Your school uniform is worn, your shoes don’t fit, your backpack zipper is broken.” “Replace, replace, all of it needs replacing!” She pulled out her phone and called her stylist. “Five feet three inches tall, eighty-pound frame. Prepare a complete wardrobe from head to toe.” “Who is it for?” Seraphina’s tone became light and cheerful. “For my sister, of course!” 4 I shifted uncomfortably. “You… you know who I am?” Seraphina wrapped an arm around my waist, her usually elegant face beaming with excitement. “Of course, the old man’s illegitimate daughter, right?” She pointed to her brilliant scientist brother and her wealthy businessman brother, complaining to me: “Benedict was always a prodigy. Three years old, memorizing vocabulary. Five years old, writing advanced math. Take him out to play, and in less than five minutes, he’s pulling out a textbook to do problems. So boring!” “Jason is shrewd and cunning, full of schemes from head to toe. As soon as he could talk, he was setting traps for me. As soon as he could go out, he was figuring out how to charter car fleets. Absolutely no cuteness whatsoever!” “Being the eldest sister, I had the title but no real power.” “Now I’ve finally caught myself a normal human sister! Never mind anything else, let me just have a taste of being a big sister!” As Seraphina spoke, she opened her personal makeup bag, ready to cleanse and moisturize my face. Benedict elbowed her aside. He pulled out a paper and pen, his silver glasses glinting with excitement. “Sister, you’re a senior? How’s school?” “Here, start with a calculus problem, let’s see what you know!” Looking at the long English characters on the paper, I felt my mind go blank. “I… I don’t know…” I was a high school senior, not a college junior. Who studies calculus in high school? Benedict scratched his head, confused. “That can’t be right. Even the slowest person should have learned it by seventeen, shouldn’t they?” Jason scoffed, pushing Benedict aside and leaning in close to me. “You said you came to claim your inheritance?” The question brought us back to the main topic, and I looked at Jason nervously. Right, right. Finally, time to talk money and get hit, wasn’t it? Jason pulled out a black card, his sharp features softening. “That old man’s money? It’s nothing. Be a good girl, call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” Their enthusiasm made me feel a bit flustered. This was different from what my mother had told me. Before I came, she repeatedly instructed me: “The richer they are, the stingier they are! If they don’t give you anything, throw a tantrum on the floor!” “Getting hit is even better. The harder you’re hit, the more money you can demand!” She said the Stones and I were sworn enemies. But the way these “enemies” looked at me… it felt a little warm? 5 I couldn’t shake the feeling they were playing a simulation game with me. Like now. I was brought back to the Stone family estate. Seraphina had canceled her upcoming appearances, spending every day fussing over me. On my first day home, she had a carload of beef, lamb, fish, and seafood prepared. Dish after exquisite dish was brought to the table. I was overwhelmed. To avoid wasting anything, I ate furiously, feeling ready to burst. Seraphina was shocked. She stopped me. “You’ll make yourself sick this way.” “We made so many dishes just to see what you like. You don’t have to eat what you dislike.” I felt a little lost. Did she mean I could be picky? But my mother always said being picky was wrong. When I was three, she brought home leftover stir-fried pork. I took a bite, cried from the spice, and pushed it away with tears streaming down my face. She got angry, pulled me up, and hit me. “So young and already picky? Want good food? You don’t have the right!” But it was truly too spicy; my mouth hurt with every bite. I cried and only ate rice, avoiding the dish entirely. But even that didn’t satisfy her. She said I was being dramatic, that this bad habit had to be broken. That same stir-fried pork, if I didn’t eat it for one meal, she’d save it for two. If I didn’t eat it for two days, she’d save it for three. I wouldn’t get new food until I finished it. I starved for three whole days, and in the end, I cried as I ate the spoiled stir-fried pork. That night, I came down with a high fever. After the fever broke, she stood beside me, lecturing. “Being picky is wrong. Mom is teaching you this for your own good. Did you remember?” I remembered. So, facing a table full of food, I ate with all my might. Hoping to finish before the food went bad. Preferences? Favorites? None. I had no right to choose. Seraphina couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She took my chopsticks and, in a softer voice, said, “Don’t be afraid, Skye. You’re still a child. You can just eat what you like.” A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me. It was like the three-year-old me, forced to eat chili, being held and gently comforted: “The chili hurt your mouth? It’s okay, we won’t eat that. Let’s eat something else!” I gathered my courage and whispered, “I… I don’t want to eat chili…” Seraphina waved her hand, and several housekeepers came forward, swiftly clearing all dishes with chili. Not only that. From that day on, I never saw chili on the dinner table again. So this is what it felt like to be favored. One simple “I don’t like it,” and that thing could disappear from my world. Under her careful nurturing, I rapidly grew plump and pale, like a balloon inflating. My hair visibly became dark and lustrous. She was very pleased, often showing off her results to her two younger brothers. 6 Benedict, not to be outdone, was astonished by how terrible my academic performance was after a comprehensive assessment. High school already! Couldn’t do Fourier transforms in math, didn’t understand quantum physics, didn’t know supramolecular chemistry. Tsk! How could someone be so dim-witted! He stopped going to his lab and took me to school to arrange an extended leave, planning to personally design a tutoring program for me. His car parked at the school gates, attracting a crowd of stares. Even the most understated Stone car was still the most eye-catching vehicle on the street. He opened the car door, carefully shielding the frame for me. Just as I got out, I ran into some of my classmates. “Well, well, isn’t it Skye, the mistress’s daughter? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Landed a sugar daddy?” “What’s so strange about that? The mistress’s daughter becoming a mistress herself, it’s only natural!” A group of them burst into laughter. My face burned. I opened my mouth to defend myself. “No, he’s my brother!” Selene Miller retorted rudely, “Oh, please! Everyone knows your mistress mom only had you! Seriously shameless, just claiming relatives everywhere!” “Big brother, you should stay far away from Skye, or her mom will cling to you and you’ll have hell to pay!” My classmates all nodded. Actually, they weren’t like this at first. Even though they knew I was illegitimate, they didn’t discriminate against me. When Selene saw my tattered clothes, she even begged her mother to let me wear some of hers. We became good friends. But it didn’t last. One weekend, I came home happily wearing a red dress Selene had given me. My mother grabbed the dress like a madwoman, demanding, “Who bought you this?” I stammered an explanation, saying a classmate gave it to me. She cursed furiously, “Are you so poor you’ll take any old junk?!” “Don’t you have any taste? You’re a Stone heiress! Not some beggar on the street!” She took a pair of scissors and cut the red dress into pieces. My heart ached. I was worse off than a beggar on the street! At least beggars didn’t have a mother as crazy as mine! She dragged me to school and caused a huge scene, insisting Selene had bullied me and insulted me with old clothes. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. She threw a tantrum in front of the school principal, demanding that Selene’s parents pay for my emotional damages. Helpless, the principal made Selene apologize to me in person. The way Selene looked at me changed. From that day on, all my classmates knew not only that I was illegitimate, but also that I had a mercenary mistress mom. They nicknamed me “the mistress’s daughter,” and no one wanted to talk to me anymore. Benedict patted my shoulder, stepping in front of me. “Selene Miller? I’ve heard of you. You once helped my little sister, Skye. Thank you!” Selene was stunned, blushing and stammering, “I-I-I said those things about Skye, how-how can you still thank me?” Benedict smiled, making him even more approachable. Just then, the homeroom teacher arrived, having heard the commotion. He eagerly invited Benedict into the classroom, proudly introducing him: “Benedict Stone, Silverwood’s top student in the middle school entrance exam, national champion in physics and chemistry competitions, a prodigy from Capital University’s gifted program!”

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Five years into our marriage, William Max brought his pregnant secretary home. “You’re not well, so let her carry the baby.” I looked at him, no tears, no drama, just a nod. As I left, his friends in the living room guffawed: “William’s still got it! Sophia Miller used to be so arrogant, but now she’s completely docile.” “Sophia traded her paintbrush for a spatula, I guess she’s finally returned to her proper place.” William leisurely blew smoke rings. “Can painting put food on the table? She wouldn’t survive without me.” I didn’t say a word, just walked upstairs. My phone lit up with a new message: “Can’t you just come to me?” “You promised.” I texted back: “Okay” 1. “I’ll make the arrangements.” The reply came instantly. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down. Those words, which had felt muffled moments ago, now echoed with painful clarity. A wave of nausea, a dry heave. I collapsed onto the cold floor. I met Elara Green even before William Max did. A high school graduate, she’d been harassed by a client and fired from her hotel job. Ignoring William’s objections, I got her a position at his company. At first, he complained that I’d hired a ‘princess.’ She couldn’t even use the printer, and her data always had errors. Later, she remained clumsy, spilling coffee all over William. Yet, he, who was always fair, promoted Elara several times until she became his personal secretary. “The person you want to protect, I’ll naturally take good care of.” And he did take excellent care of Elara. The young woman now wore designer clothes and sparkling jewelry. She strutted around, proudly caressing her belly. The first time she came to our house, she seemed a little nervous around me. William grandly gestured, opening the art studio that had been locked for three years. He told her to go in and do whatever she wanted. I thought it was to entertain a guest, so I suppressed my displeasure and watched her paint haphazardly. Until she knocked over a tray of paints, ruining my old artworks. He shielded her, saying she was always clumsy, and I shouldn’t blame her. That’s when I started to grasp the true meaning behind his actions. He said my artistic skill was inferior to the young woman’s. So I learned to cook and make soup. He said I wasn’t as well-behaved as the young woman. So I tried hard to control my temper. He said men sometimes got distracted. But that he always loved me. I believed him. Until that day, when I brought him the new soup I’d learned to make. The man who said he was working late was actually ‘working late’ on the young woman. Clothes lay scattered everywhere. That was our worst fight ever. I took my cat, Luna, and my suitcase and left. He tried to coax me back a few times, but it didn’t work. Then he cut off all my credit cards. When I couldn’t afford Luna’s exorbitant vet bills and cried as I called him for help. He was on a date with Elara, his voice on the other end still calm. “Sophia Miller, you need to be obedient.” Luna died. I learned my lesson. And the young woman stood even taller. My phone screen lit up again. “The hotel is booked.” “Flight tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up.” The churning in my stomach subsided, the buzzing in my ears faded. The weight of my body suddenly returned. I moved my fingers. “Okay.” 2. I painstakingly pulled open my suitcase. The display cabinet in the room was spotless. In the very center sat a worn notebook with dog-eared pages. Beside it, a wooden carved cat, Luna. We adopted her together five years ago. William, his hands covered in scratches, gave me that gift. “Now Luna can be with you forever.” The William of today had personally cut off Luna’s life-saving funds. He had merely frowned. “It’s just a cat.” “Want me to buy you another one?” I didn’t want another cat. Tickets, photos, necklaces, handwritten letters… all the items blurred into a jumbled spot of light before my eyes. I closed my eyes, steadying myself by gripping the cabinet. I wouldn’t look at the display cabinet anymore. I casually threw a few clothes into my suitcase. Then I took off the ring on my hand. I pushed open the window and tossed it out. A tiny glint of silver arced through the air, disappearing into the artificial lake. 3. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The noisy living room fell silent for a moment. Among his friends, someone’s expression subtly changed. “William, maybe you should try to soothe her? She’s… Miss Miller, after all.” Adrian Brooks remarked. “Yeah, back on the yacht, Mr. Davies just offered her one extra drink, and she threw him and the glass overboard.” William released his arm from Elara’s waist and stood up, walking toward me. He gently and meticulously buttoned my coat. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, avoiding him. He wasn’t annoyed, just smiled faintly. “Come back soon after you’ve had your tantrum.” “Elara loves your carp soup.” So it was Elara who drank it. I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of bringing back the empty lunchbox that day. It was a long-lost joy. I hummed a tune, learning how to make other fish soups that very night. The air suddenly felt sucked dry. I had to stop, taking two deep breaths. “I won’t be coming back.” “What?” “I said, I won’t be coming back.” He let out a small, amused shake of his head, not taking my words seriously. “For our fifth anniversary, I was going to take you whale watching in Iceland. It’s the first item on your wish list, you know.” “Don’t be late, Miss Miller.” The outdated title felt like a thorn, gently pricking my heart. But it quickly vanished without a trace. I said nothing, turning to leave. The person who had spoken earlier admired, “William, you truly are something. To break Sophia Miller down like this.” William pulled Elara onto his lap, his smile cold. “There’s no ‘Miss Miller’ now, only Mrs. Max.” “Without me, she wouldn’t last three days.” Laughter and playful sounds spilled out from the not-quite-closed front door. Elara’s giddy giggles were especially distinct. I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and quickened my pace. 4. Just as I settled into the hotel, my phone rang. A video call from Dorian. I hesitated for two seconds, then swiped to answer. The man was tall and slender, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His handsome eyes held an anxious glint. “How are you feeling now?” I stood barefoot on the soft carpet. A lush green mountain view stretched outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The air was filled with a fresh, bitter orange scent. I let myself sink into the soft, beige sofa. A long-lost sense of relaxation and safety. “Not bad.” He visibly relaxed. “The doctor’s already booked. I’ll pick you up in France tomorrow.” “Mm.” “Can you be alone tonight? I’ve arranged for a companion.” “Yes, I can.” He didn’t hang up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Dorian?” “Hm?” “You need to board. The announcement is calling.” “Right… see you tomorrow, then.” “Mm, see you tomorrow.” Thinking about seeing him tomorrow, I felt a little uneasy. 5. Dorian was my fan. Many years ago, when I first started learning to paint. I opened a private account on social media. Posting daily exercises and musings. He was my thousandth follower. All these years, I always thought he was a girl. A pink dinosaur avatar, gentle and polite comments, a simple username – Dorian. After I got married, my update frequency decreased, and my likes and comments became fewer. But he was always among the first to respond. I added him as a friend and drew some pieces for him without charge. Three years ago, I completely stopped painting. Occasionally, I used that account to vent my emotions. My follower count dropped to double digits. He was still there. Later, I rarely logged into the account. He started sending me frequent messages. The impossibly blue sky of France. A small cat fighting by the roadside. Texts, videos. We became good friends. Not long ago, Luna passed away. I was in a daze for a long time. It wasn’t until he called that I noticed the 99+ messages. “What’s been happening lately?” A pleasant male voice came through. That’s when I realized he was a man. William never allowed me to interact with other men. But that day, I was too sad. I talked for a very long time. About Luna’s passing, my failing marriage, the paintbrush I’d abandoned. The uncontainable pain poured out like a floodgate. Afterward, I regretted it. Even though he absorbed all my emotions. I hung up the phone, but he sent messages even more patiently. No questions, just beautiful scenery and a single phrase: “Want to come see it?” Later, he video called, looking at me and saying: “Sophia, you’re sick.” I froze. I had insomnia, aches all over my body, and occasionally couldn’t hear sounds. But William said I was just overthinking. Dorian asked me to promise him two things. Always put myself first. Always consider him a friend I could rely on. When I said I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. He asked, “Can’t you just come to me?” I said, “Okay.” 6. I felt a little disoriented when I arrived at the airport. Years ago, my father, from his sickbed, entrusted both me and the company to William Max. I thought I would never leave. “What’s wrong?” Dorian tilted his head, asking. “Nothing.” He nodded slightly, and the bodyguards at his side naturally gathered closer. He looked cool and distant when speaking to others. But he was exceptionally patient with me. Just then, two familiar figures entered my sight. William Max, with his arm around Elara Green, looking intimate. He suddenly turned his head. Without thinking, I turned and hid myself in Dorian’s arms. He paused, then gently patted my back. “It’s alright.” I clutched his sleeve until we boarded the plane. 7. William Max felt restless. It wasn’t until Elara’s sweet voice reached him that he barely snapped back to reality. Wasn’t Dorian Sterling always in France? Though things had ended messily back then. But for all these years, their two companies had coexisted peacefully. When had he gotten married? He couldn’t help but think of Sophia Miller. All these years, Dorian Sterling had only been rumored with her. Immediately, he dismissed that ridiculous idea. She had never met Dorian Sterling. Besides, three years ago, he forbade them from contacting each other. He still felt a little uneasy. He took out his phone and cut off all of Sophia Miller’s cards. Watching the successful operation prompt, The irritation in his heart finally subsided. After they married, he restricted her social life. Three years ago, he even made her put down her paintbrush. Her every need – food, clothing, shelter – was in his hands. Without him, where could she go? He had intended to let her throw a fit for a few more days this time. But now he changed his mind. He’d indulged her too much, making her wild. When Elara’s child was born, there would be even more trouble. “William, if you’re not taking me to Iceland, you’ll have to make it up to me these next few days.” Elara leaned closer. “Alright.” He replied casually, already calculating when Sophia Miller would give in. 8. The sunlight in France was dazzling, the sea a brilliant blue. The house faced the ocean, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the seascape like a beautiful painting. Dorian was very busy, always on video calls, his low voice a constant backdrop. When I woke up startled in the night, the light from the living room under the door crack gave me a sense of peace. I can’t recall how many days had passed when I found myself standing on the porch. Barefoot on the wooden floor, it was a little cool. Before I knew it, I was squatting on the beach. Clutching a handful of sand. Two children were building sandcastles beside me. Dorian found me, wiping away grains of sand from my face with the back of his hand. “Tomorrow, do you want to meet a friend?” He asked, “Just to talk. I’ll be in the next room with you.” I nodded. The room was cream-colored. The lady had a gentle smile and gestured to the sofa opposite her. “You can choose any position you find comfortable, or we can just sit here for a while.” I hugged a throw pillow, curled up in the corner of the sofa closest to the door. Most of the time, I remained silent. I shared fragments, broken, chaotic, and painful memories. She didn’t say, “I understand.” Nor did she say, “You’ll be alright.” She said, “That sounds like a very difficult time.” William would only say: “You’re just overthinking.” “Company matters are stressful enough; don’t add to the trouble.” “You should learn from Elara.” The session wasn’t long. As it ended, she said softly, “If you’re willing, same time next week, I’ll be here.” I felt a little tired as I stepped outside. “How do you feel?” Dorian waited at the door. “She said… ‘that sounds difficult.’” I repeated. He looked at me, nodding gently. “Mm. Let’s go home.” 9. It was the tenth day since Sophia Miller left. William Max was genuinely furious this time. Ten days, not a single text or call. Excellent. She’d really grown audacious. He was seething with rage, smashing a wine glass. “William…” Elara looked over cautiously. “Book tickets, we’re going back.” “Whatever you say, William.” The woman’s obedience temporarily soothed him. Followed by an even deeper anger. Why wouldn’t she ever learn her lesson? He must have been too lenient. When she came back, she’d be grounded for at least three months. Back at the familiar villa. William finally calmed down to think. Her cards were cut off, and mutual friends had all been warned. Where could she go? That best friend, the divorce lawyer? Or those artist friends? He had made her cut ties with all of them long ago. Who else could she rely on besides him? He walked into her room. Nothing was missing from the display cabinet. He picked up the notebook in the center. Opened it, and saw familiar handwriting. He remembered how she used to be a somewhat famous painter. And he, a part-time model. He was drawn to her bright, confident smile. To strike up a conversation with her. He even changed the music he listened to on the subway to dull art history lectures. When she found this notebook, her eyes curved into a smile. His gaze shifted to the carefully framed art exhibition ticket. To get that ticket, which wasn’t for public sale. He went to be a punching bag for others. When the girl, her eyes full of concern, applied medicine to his wounds. He felt it was all worth it for a lifetime. William’s anger suddenly dissipated significantly. If she wouldn’t back down, then he would make the first move. They were going to spend their lives together, after all, so he’d coax her back first. He found the number saved as ‘Wife’ and dialed. A cold, mechanical voice came through the receiver: “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” 10. Today was my fourth meeting with the lady. But it was different. She led me into a children’s art studio, said “feel free,” and then closed the door. The children in the room looked up at me, then went back to their drawings. I sat in a corner. A little girl with a topknot brought over a drawing board and pencils. Seeing me not take them, she gently placed them beside me. The sunlight was orange-yellow, and the sea of flowers she drew was crimson. The little girl was running in the painting. “That’s really good.” I heard myself say. The little girl shyly pressed her lips together and smiled, pushing the drawing board towards me. The room was very quiet. I don’t know how much time passed, but I picked up the pencil. … I brought the drawing home. Dorian’s eyes lit up when he saw the painting. “Sophia,” he stopped in front of me, “can I hug you?” I nodded. He gently embraced me. I buried my face in his chest, my arms slowly tightening. A very solid, very warm hug. With my permission, he took down the famous painting from the wall and replaced it with mine. “Is it suitable here?” I asked, clutching the hem of my skirt. The cartoonish, childlike drawing seemed out of place in the entire space. He stepped back two paces, looked for a long time, and then, with a serious expression, said: “It’s perfect. I love it.” 11. I went to that children’s art studio more and more frequently. The children here were very quiet. Some children liked to paint with their eyes closed. Some children liked to paint with both hands. The teachers were all very patient, speaking in soft whispers. Here, no one was better at painting than anyone else. Every painting was precious and unique. Just like every child. I walked home light-footed. Watching Dorian skillfully hang my new painting on the wall. My heart suddenly softened. “Can you be my model again?” He froze, his eyes bright, and answered quickly. “Yes.” The art studio had beautiful sunlight, and the paints were all new. This was a place he had shown me on the very first day. But I only walked in today. Dorian didn’t seem to have much experience as a model. His body was a little stiff, letting me arrange him. The sunlight gilded the side of his face. I painted very slowly. When I finished, he leaned in to look, for a long time. “Can I keep this one?” “It was always yours.” He curved his lips and left for his meeting. I sat in the studio, my mood complicated. My friends would be happy for me, knowing I’d picked up my paintbrush again, wouldn’t they? I logged into my social media, and messages flooded in. At the top was a message from my best friend. “Sophia, where have you been? William Max has been looking for you like crazy.” 12. I held my phone, hesitating for a long moment. “I’m fine, in France.” The reply was instantaneous. “As long as you’re okay.” “That Max guy was like a mad dog a while back, harassing all of us.” “Don’t get me wrong, even if I knew where you were, I wouldn’t tell him a single word.” It felt like sucking on an orange candy, tart and sweet, finally leaving a pleasant taste. We hadn’t been in touch much these past two years. But I knew she always cared about me. As I was scrolling through other messages, a call came in. It was Adrian Brooks. Even though William Max had given a warning, he had still secretly paid for Luna’s funeral expenses. His family and mine were old family friends, growing up together. Before the marriage, he disliked William and advised me to break up. After the marriage, William became “Mr. Max,” and Adrian called him “William” affectionately. When William and I argued, Adrian always tried to make us reconcile. Hesitating for a moment, I pressed answer. Adrian’s voice was urgent and noisy: “Sophia! Where did you run off to?!” “This time the fuss is too big, William is really mad, says he wants a divorce!” “We’ve all tried to persuade him countless times, even drank ourselves into the hospital! William said, come back before the fifth anniversary, and we can still talk!” “Hello? Do you hear me?” I didn’t answer. The paint on the canvas hadn’t dried yet. I reached out, my fingertip dipping into the golden yellow of the sun. “I hear you.” “Please tell him I wanted a divorce a long time ago.” Before he could reply. I hung up, then blacklisted him. The person in the painting seemed to be smiling.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After successfully completing my mission, I chose to stay for Adam Lannister. Perhaps because I didn’t belong to this world, in our fifth year of marriage, I still hadn’t conceived. Just as everyone was secretly mocking me for failing to produce an heir for the wealthy Lannister family. Adam returned with a test report, which showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. The Lannister family, who had always been cold and sarcastic towards me, immediately changed their tune. For my sake, Adam took all the blame upon himself. He said he loved me, that he didn’t want to divorce me, even if I couldn’t conceive, even if we never had our own biological children, he didn’t want to leave. Later, he took it upon himself to arrange for us to adopt a child, and our lives became calm and happy. Until today, when I suddenly received an email. The email stated that the child Adam and I had adopted, the precious baby I had cherished for ten years, was Adam’s illegitimate son. 1. Today marks my wedding anniversary with Adam Lannister. Under the envious gazes of onlookers, Adam and our son, like a prince and his knight, came before me, presenting me with an anniversary gift. It was a star named after me. “Jenny, you are truly blessed. Your husband loves you, and your son is so thoughtful,” my friend said. Indeed, to outsiders, I was undeniably a winner in life. I arrived in this world at eighteen, married Adam Lannister at twenty-two. Now, our son, Leo, is eight years old, intelligent and adorable. My life has been smooth sailing, full of happiness and contentment. The only bump in the road, perhaps, was the fact that in the five years after marrying Adam, I hadn’t conceived. Everyone assumed it was my problem; even I believed it. Because I didn’t truly belong to this world. But as the only son of the Lannister family, an heir was crucial. Facing constant criticism and pressure from the Lannister family, Adam was caught in the middle, torn between loyalties. Until one day, Adam brought back a medical report. It showed that he was the one who couldn’t have children. From that moment on, no one dared to utter the words “childbearing” in front of Adam and me. To be with me, he was willing to endure all the gossip and criticism. “I don’t want you to be sad, or to blame yourself, or to feel burdened. All the pressure, I can bear it alone.” He said. With such a husband, what more could a wife ask for? Recalling the past, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me, and tears streamed down my face. “Such a grown woman, still so prone to crying,” Adam said, gently wiping away my tears as he comforted me. I stared into his loving eyes, shaking with sobs. His love for me really didn’t seem fake. But he could also love me, while simultaneously bringing his illegitimate son home as an adopted child, keeping me completely in the dark. For five whole years. He had played me for a fool for five years. 2. Outside, the night was deep and dark, with only a dim bedside lamp illuminating the room. I lay with my back to Adam Lannister, pretending to be asleep. Adam sensed my low spirits and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Still worried about Leo’s birthday?” Yes, Leo’s birthday was just a week away. I had been so busy planning the perfect birthday for Leo these past few days, but now, I no longer had the heart for it. The content of the email was like a thorn, deeply embedded in my heart, leaving me no peace. Adam suddenly got out of bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out an exquisite wooden box. “Oh, almost forgot. Look at this,” he said, opening the box. Inside was a diamond necklace, sparkling brilliantly under the light. “Isn’t it beautiful? I had it specially custom-made for you. Do you like it?” he asked gently, picking up the necklace. Looking at Adam, my eyes stung. He was always so thoughtful; throughout our marriage, I had received countless little surprises. But what were these surprises compared to the package I received this morning? I closed my eyes, the contents of that package still vivid in my memory. It was a paternity test report, along with several intimate photos of Adam and a woman. I recognized the woman in the photos: Maya Thorne, the housekeeper’s daughter, who had gone abroad years ago and recently returned. And the paternity test report clearly stated: Adam Lannister and Leo, a paternal relationship is supported. Leo was already ten years old. This meant that as early as our third year of marriage, Adam had already been unfaithful. 3. Leo’s birthday party was lavishly arranged; almost half the city’s elite were present. I stood beside Adam, elegantly playing the role of hostess. The banquet proceeded smoothly, with guests clinking glasses, chatting and laughing, a scene of joyful revelry. “Mrs. Lannister looks so young and beautiful, one would never guess she’s the mother of a ten-year-old,” a socialite said, holding a glass of champagne and complimenting me with a smile. “Indeed, Mr. Lannister is truly fortunate,” another echoed. I looked at Leo, diligently eating cake in the distance, and smiled modestly, a hint of bitterness in my heart. Leo was indeed well-behaved and thoughtful. For years, I had treated him as my own son, but after learning the truth, I truly didn’t know how to face him. The accident happened suddenly. As soon as Leo finished his cake, red rashes suddenly appeared on his face, as if he was having an allergic reaction. “Leo, what’s wrong?” Even though I knew Leo’s true identity, the child was innocent. I quickly put down my champagne and rushed over to check on him. “Mom, I’m itchy…” Leo scratched at his face in discomfort, his small face scrunched up. “Quick, call a doctor!” Adam was also flustered. Seeing Leo’s distress, I fumbled in my bag for tissues, wanting to wipe the sweat from his face, but my mother-in-law shoved me aside. “How could there be mango in the cake? Don’t you know the child is allergic to it?!” “What kind of mother are you?!” My mother-in-law glared at me furiously. “Just because he wasn’t born from your belly, you don’t feel any affection for him, do you?!” Hearing those words, I froze. My mother-in-law’s words exploded in my ears like thunder. Adam’s mother had always disliked me. In the past, I would have just thought she was indirectly criticizing me for not being able to have children. But her attitude towards Leo was clearly that of a doting grandmother! Connecting all the dots, I uncovered a shocking truth. This entire Lannister family—was I the only one kept in the dark? My mother-in-law was still nagging me, but Adam stepped forward, shielding me, his tone stern: “Mom, I arranged this birthday party, and the cake was also my choice. It has nothing to do with Jenny; please don’t blame her.” My mother-in-law still wanted to say something, but seeing Adam’s gaze, she eventually closed her mouth. The family doctor arrived quickly, examined Leo, and confirmed it was a mango allergy. I looked at Leo’s red and swollen face with a pang of heartache, gently holding his hand, wanting to offer some comfort. But Leo forcefully pulled his hand away, saying tearfully, “I don’t want Mom, I want Dad!” Seeing the child’s strong resistance towards me, the guests at the party looked on with strange expressions. Helpless, I could only get up and go to the room to get Leo a change of clothes. When I returned, I overheard Adam softly asking Leo. “There was no mango in the cake. You secretly ate it yourself, didn’t you?” Leo’s small face turned even paler, his eyes darting away, not daring to look at Adam. “Speak up!” Adam’s voice hardened. Leo’s tears welled up in his eyes. “I ate it myself.” “Why would you do that?” Adam’s voice turned cold. Leo bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I wanted Grandma to think that Mom doesn’t like me. That way, Maya-Mommy could come pick me up…” Adam’s face instantly changed. He grabbed Leo’s shoulders, his tone stern: “Who told you these things?!” Leo was startled by Adam, and his tears finally streamed down. He sobbed, “Maya-Mommy told me… I miss her. If I want to see her every day, I have to do this.” Adam took a deep breath. He released Leo’s shoulders, speaking in a serious tone: “Leo, listen to me clearly. If you still want to be my son, don’t ever do such a foolish thing again.” “But I just miss Maya-Mommy…” Leo tried to say something else, but Adam cut him off. “Don’t mention her again!” Adam said. “As long as you’re in this house, don’t mention her.” “Okay,” Leo pouted. Adam watched Leo agree, and his tone gradually softened. He said gently, “Leo, I know you like her, but if you listen to Dad, you’ll have two mothers, and you’ll be the most loved child by all three of us.” Leo looked up, his eyes misty with tears, and softly asked, “Really?” “Of course, it’s true,” Adam smiled and nodded. “When has Dad ever lied to you?” “Then I want to see Maya-Mommy, can I?” Leo asked. Adam hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded. And watching this scene of doting father and son, I only felt absurdity. 4. I remembered when Leo first came to the Lannister household, he was already five years old, which was really not an ideal age to be adopted. But Adam liked him. He said they had a special connection. I held his hand, gently telling him, “Leo, this will be your home from now on.” I had the staff prepare the best room in the house for him as his bedroom. The room was filled with all sorts of toys, all carefully chosen by me. In the evenings, I would tell him bedtime stories and lull him to sleep. He was very dependent on me, always wanting to cling to me. Under everyone’s care, Leo gradually grew into a sunny, cheerful, lively, and adorable boy. He loved to cuddle, always hugging my legs and sweetly calling me “Mom.” Every time he did, my heart would melt. Somehow, two years ago, Leo asked me. “Mom, will you love me forever?” I smiled, pulling him into my embrace, gently patting his back as tenderly as if rocking a baby to sleep: “Of course, Mom will always love you.” “What if one day, I do something wrong and make you angry?” he asked, seemingly still unsure. “No matter what happens, will Mom still love me?” “Even if I’m not Mom’s child, will Mom still love me?” My heart tightened then. I thought someone had told him something, making him believe adopted children weren’t truly loved. So I playfully tweaked his small nose, my voice doting: “No matter what happens, Mom will still love you just the same, because you’re Mom’s most precious child.” But later, Leo became more and more distant from me. I would ask him how school was, how his studies were, and if he had encountered any difficulties. He always acted distant, giving only perfunctory answers like “It’s fine,” “Okay,” “No.” I felt very disheartened and sad about this. I even wondered if I had done something wrong to displease him. I told Adam about these things. But he merely said, casually, “Children grow up and have their own little secrets; it’s normal. Don’t overthink it.” Now that I think about it, two years ago was when Maya Thorne returned to the country. They had already reconnected. 5. I lay awake all night, my eyes dry, yet I couldn’t sleep. Adam Lannister and Leo were already dressed and ready to go out, both in casual clothes, seemingly in good spirits. “Jenny, Leo and I are going out. We won’t be back for lunch.” I nodded, saying nothing. “I’ll be going then,” Adam said, taking Leo’s hand and turning to leave. “Wait a moment.” I called out to him. Adam turned back, looking at me with confusion. I walked up to them, crouched down, straightened Leo’s collar, tied his shoelaces, and then discreetly slipped the wiretap I had prepared into his pocket. “Would you… like me to go with you?” I finally ventured. Adam and Leo both paused simultaneously, then shook their heads in unison. “No need, we’ll be fine on our own,” Adam said. “That’s right, Mom, you stay home and rest,” Leo added. I had already become the superfluous one between father and son. Watching their receding backs, I picked up my phone and called the private detective: “Please investigate Maya Thorne’s whereabouts. I need to know where she is now.” In less than ten minutes, the private detective sent Maya Thorne’s location: the city’s largest amusement park. I changed into clothes suitable for movement, put on sunglasses and a mask, and drove straight to the amusement park. Soon, I found Adam Lannister and Leo. Maya Thorne was also with them. Upon seeing Maya Thorne, Leo immediately rushed excitedly into her arms. Maya Thorne affectionately hugged Leo, kissing him on the cheek. “Leo, do you miss Maya-Mommy?” Maya Thorne asked gently. Leo nodded happily, “Yes!” Hidden in the shadows, I listened to the conversation between the three of them through the wiretap, my heart aching. “Leo, tell Mommy, do you like Maya-Mommy, or do you like your current mom?” Maya Thorne asked Leo while Adam went to buy ice cream. I was also very curious about the answer to that question. Leo hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I like Maya-Mommy…” My heart plunged. “Maya-Mommy, I’m going to tell you a secret, don’t tell Dad.” Maya Thorne paused, then nodded, “Okay, I won’t tell her.” Leo leaned in close to Maya Thorne’s ear and whispered, “Actually… I kinda hate my current mom.” “Why?” “Because my current mom is so mean. She always forces me to study, and won’t let me eat candy, or play games… She’s like the old witch in the comics, so annoying, so annoying.” So that’s the image I had in Leo’s mind. Maya Thorne stroked his head, saying softly, “That’s because your current mom doesn’t love you. Only Maya-Mommy loves you the most.” “Really?” Leo looked up and asked. “Of course, it’s true,” Maya Thorne affirmed with a nod. “Maya-Mommy will buy you lots and lots of candy, and play lots and lots of games with you, and won’t force you to learn things you don’t like.” But if she truly loved the child, why would she use the child’s health to gain status? That kind of maternal love was too shallow. 6. Adam returned, and Maya Thorne, smiling sweetly, took two steps closer, reaching out to link her arm through Adam’s, but he subtly dodged her. “Adam, are you still angry with me?” Maya Thorne wasn’t annoyed; instead, she pressed even closer, almost clinging to Adam. Adam subtly retreated, maintaining his distance: “Maya, I hope you understand that Leo is now Jenny’s and my child. I don’t want him to be fed incorrect ideas, nor do I want you to mistakenly believe you can replace Jenny as my wife.” “I know, I know.” Maya Thorne agreed with her mouth, but her hand restlessly caressed Adam’s chest, her voice seductive. “But, he is my child after all…” Adam caught her wandering hand, his eyes cold: “Maya, don’t forget you abandoned him at the orphanage. If my mother hadn’t found him, he’d be suffering somewhere right now.” “Who told you not to acknowledge us back then? Did you expect a twenty-year-old unmarried woman to run around with a child? What would people think of me?” “That was your own doing! If you hadn’t snuck into my room during the chaos, things wouldn’t have turned out this way!” Maya Thorne cooed, “I know I was wrong, Adam, don’t be angry.” As she spoke, she pressed herself against him, her hot lips against his earlobe, her breath like a delicate orchid: “Your old hen at home can’t lay eggs. If it weren’t for me, you might not even have your own biological child now.” “Are you truly willing to give the vast Lannister fortune to an outsider with no blood ties?” “Hmm? And do you really hate me that much? Your body is more honest than you are, Adam…” Adam’s body visibly stiffened, his breathing becoming ragged. “Which hotel are we going to next?” I didn’t want to hear the rest. I stumbled back to the car, my hands trembling as I tossed the wiretap aside. Disgusting, utterly disgusting. I had finally understood. It turned out that in our third year of marriage, Maya Thorne had taken advantage of Adam’s drunken state and climbed into his bed. She had intended to seize the opportunity to move up in status, but even after she became pregnant, Adam refused to acknowledge her, offering her money to terminate the pregnancy. But Maya Thorne, unexpectedly, didn’t. After giving birth to Leo and abandoning him at an orphanage, she went abroad to enjoy herself. Later, when I couldn’t conceive, Adam’s mother, in her anxiety, somehow found Leo. To prevent his biological son from suffering outside, Adam brought Leo home as an adopted child. And two years ago, when Maya Thorne returned to the country, Adam had another family. This was a fact known to everyone in the Lannister family; I was the only one who didn’t know. They truly played me for a fool! Just as I was on the verge of breaking down, I heard the long-absent system voice. “Beep—” A mechanical female voice, cold and devoid of emotion: “Detecting host’s emotions nearing collapse. Does host wish to leave current world?” After the mission was successfully completed, the system asked if I wanted to leave this world, and I refused. I hadn’t expected her to still be here after all these years. I looked up blankly, seeing the familiar light screen, displaying Adam Lannister’s name, and below it, a vivid red “90.” That was Adam Lannister’s favorability rating for me. Even now, his favorability towards me was still so high. It turned out he could truly love me while simultaneously indulging in affairs with other women. I gave a bitter smile, wiping away a tear, my voice hoarse: “Yes, I want to leave here.” 7. “Host, are you sure you want to leave? Upon leaving, the host will lose all memories of this world.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sure.” I no longer wanted to remember these painful memories. I only wanted to return to my own world and start anew. This time, I wouldn’t hesitate. “Alright, Host. Memory erasure sequence initiated. Within two months, your bodily organs will slowly decline, leading to complete death.” Only two months until I die. In that moment, I suddenly wondered what expressions Adam Lannister and Leo would wear if I died. But I quickly dismissed the thought. I found that all the heartbreaking emotions I had previously felt—the urge to confront Adam about why he did this to me, why he let another woman bear his child, why he kept me in the dark for so many years—were completely gone. I asked the system, “Why don’t I feel any pain anymore?” The system’s cold voice echoed in my mind: “The process of bodily decay will be extremely painful. Out of humanitarian consideration, I will suppress your pain sensation as well.” I was very grateful for this system mechanism. Because of it, when I learned that Adam Lannister and Leo had been in a car accident, I didn’t waste any emotion on them. When I arrived at the hospital, Adam Lannister was in emergency surgery. The doctor said that in the final moments, Adam had shielded Leo with his body, suffering severe injuries himself. Leo’s small body was curled in Maya Thorne’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot smearing his face, looking utterly pitiful. Adam’s mother rushed to the emergency room door and saw this very scene. She walked forward with a pang of heartache, gently stroking Leo’s hair, asking with concern, “Is Leo alright?” Maya Thorne shook her head, her voice choked: “Madam, Leo is fine, but the doctor just ran some tests on me, and said…” Adam’s mother’s heart jumped into her throat, and she asked nervously, “Tests? What tests? What did the doctor say?” Maya Thorne bit her lip, as if gathering courage, then slowly said, “The doctor said… I’m pregnant.” Adam’s mother froze, and it took her a while to react, asking incredulously, “You… what did you say?” A shy blush spread across Maya Thorne’s face, and she nodded gently: “It’s true, Madam, I’m pregnant. It’s… it’s Leo’s little brother or sister.” Adam’s mother’s face instantly lit up with joy, and she clasped Maya Thorne’s hand, exclaiming excitedly, “Good, good, good! This is truly wonderful! This is absolutely wonderful!” “Our Lannister family finally has a new addition!” She was giddy with happiness, but her smile froze when she saw my emotionless eyes. I quietly watched them, my heart completely undisturbed, as if they were performing a play that had nothing to do with me. The system was right; I felt no pain now, not even heartache. I just found it laughable, incredibly laughable. When Adam Lannister woke up, it was half a month later. During this time, Maya Thorne had effortlessly moved into the Lannister family home. Including me, everyone in the Lannister family accepted it calmly. A wealthy family, keeping a mistress was quite normal. And I couldn’t have children, so what right did I have to cause a scene? Only Adam Lannister was not calm. I sat by his bed, idly peeling an apple. Adam hesitated for a moment, then cautiously took my hand. After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty, “Jenny, even though Maya is truly pregnant.” “But it’s okay. I’ll make her abort the child.” “Leo’s birth was an accident, but I won’t let accidents happen again. You have to believe me, I’ve always only loved you.” “Leo’s mother will also only be you.” Adam Lannister’s mouth moved, opening and closing. I looked at him, and he just seemed like a stranger. “It’s fine,” I said. Adam Lannister froze.

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To ensure the heroine’s successful conquest, the System faked my death. I woke up six years later. Penniless, I stood on the street, the hero and heroine already living a blissful life. I’d just escaped a fire, so disheveled I’d lost a shoe. Feeling a bit lost, I messaged Henry Darcy. “…Could you pick me up?” The call came back quickly. But it wasn’t Henry speaking. A child’s voice, after a moment of silence, spoke with forced aloofness: “Oh, another one pretending to be my mom.” 1 He still came though. A kind passerby had told him my location. The breathing on the other end of the line hitched. The soft voice, however, hung up decisively. “Be there soon.” Returning the borrowed phone to the passerby, I silently thanked them. A fever in my youth had damaged my vocal cords, and ever since, I couldn’t speak. Soon enough, a car pulled up in front of me. A little boy jumped out, his legs kicking. When he saw my face, his eyes flickered. He kept a poker face, silently assessing me for a moment. His gaze fell on my shoeless foot. Disheveled, dirty, covered in soot. Because I had just escaped a fire. I’d woken up to find myself six years in the future. My fingers curled, and I belatedly felt a pang of embarrassment. But I pretended not to care, signing: “I didn’t mean to bother you.” “Could I borrow some money? I’ll leave right away.” Six years had passed; the hero and heroine were already living happily ever after. Even my own child now called someone else ‘Mom’. Mid-sentence, I remembered Alan Darcy couldn’t understand sign language. I borrowed the driver’s phone, about to type, but Alan, looking rather unhappy, pulled me into the car. It was rush hour, and I thought he was upset because of the impatient honking from the cars behind us. He turned his head, staring out the window, saying nothing. So I handed him the phone. Alan, his small face serious, asked me: “How much money do you want?” I typed: “One thousand dollars.” Alan stared at the three words for a moment, then, a little unsure, said: “Ten million?” My vision went black. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I quickly waved my hands. Alan pursed his lips, his voice childish: “Not enough?” “I don’t have that much money, I’ll ask Dad to give it to you when we get home.” I tapped furiously on the phone screen. But he pushed the phone away, his tender voice muffled: “Too many words I don’t know, I can’t read it.” How many words could a six-year-old really know? Just moments ago, he understood complex words like “borrow money,” but now he couldn’t distinguish between “thousand” and “million.” I sighed in frustration. Looking down, I noticed Alan’s shoes were on the wrong feet, and his socks were mismatched. Was he too rushed to leave? I bit my lip, feeling a little sad, and pointed, wanting to remind him. But he seemed to misunderstand, tilting his head and asking: “You want to hold hands?” He frowned, looking conflicted, but still extended his hand. “Fine, I guess I can let you hold my hand for a bit.” 2 Henry used to be just like that when he was little. Back then, I lived in his house. At first, everyone looked down on me, the quiet, mute kid. He had been kidnapped as a child, and both his parents died in that incident. Old Man Darcy, worried about his trauma, let him choose playmates from all over the city. And Henry, among a group of chattering peers, chose me – clumsy and slow. With that, my family, the Chen family, rose in status. Later, I found out Henry chose me that day because I was the quietest, not noisy. Years passed, and I lived inconspicuously in the Darcy household. Then, one stormy night, thunder woke me. Then I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, Henry stood there, clutching a blanket, his face serious, saying each word carefully: “You’re afraid of thunder?” I looked bewildered, about to shake my head. But he pressed down on my head, saying awkwardly: “Got it. Then I guess I’ll reluctantly keep you company tonight.” …So silly. Did he really think I couldn’t tell he was scared himself? Those who crave love often struggle to receive it. Just as I, as a child yearning for a mother’s love, never received a single moment of her favoritism. The only time she ever praised me was on the night Henry chose me. So, Henry, who wasn’t truly mine, was destined to be separated from me. Six years ago, before that fire, the heroine, Scarlett Kingston, showed me her future with Henry. It turned out I was just a villainess, an accident—a one-night stand with the hero, secretly giving birth to his child, and then using that to extort a huge fortune. In that future, I died in a fire. After my death, Scarlett redeemed the hero, and they lived happily ever after years later. Even my child recognized someone else as his new mom. After seeing it, I felt a little lost. Was I really that bad in someone else’s story? Later, I actually found myself trapped in a fire. I only managed to pass my child through a narrow gap before the engulfing flames completely blocked me inside. I choked on the smoke, and when I opened my eyes again, I was in the present, six years later. I am mute. I can’t say pleasant words, nor harsh ones. I can’t even win an argument. If I hadn’t been truly desperate, my mind only recalling Henry’s phone number, I think we would never have met again. But now I regret it a little. I hadn’t intended to return to the Darcy house. In my mind, Henry would unhesitatingly give me money and send me away. After all, in his eyes, that chaotic night was a scheme orchestrated by me and the Chen family. But things seemed to have gone awry. I suddenly felt like I was sitting on pins and needles, wanting to say I didn’t want the money, I wanted to get out of the car. But Alan pushed the phone away, saying he couldn’t read, and the driver remained focused on the road ahead. So I could only watch helplessly as the car drove into the Darcy family’s underground garage. 3 To my relief, Henry wasn’t home. The driver explained he’d gone abroad for a business deal that morning and wouldn’t be back until next week. My phone was accidentally smashed in the fire. After swapping the SIM card into a new phone, a torrent of messages flooded in the moment I powered it on. The screen even lagged for a second. I was startled. A carrier message showed my phone account had been topped up with a huge sum. Most of the missed calls and unread messages were from the same familiar number. I bit my lip and opened them. Scrolling from top to bottom. “Arden Chen, you slept with me and then ran off?” “I’m not angry, come out, stop hiding.” This timeline would have been the months after my family, the Chen family, dragged me back and kept me locked in the attic, forcing me to secretly give birth to the child. My phone was confiscated then, and I was cut off from everyone. “…They said you died, I didn’t believe it.” “The Chen family traded the child for those plots of land on the east side of the city. I gave them what they wanted.” “How much do I have to give for you to reappear?” “The child looks a lot like you.” “Today someone impersonated you to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars.” “Idiot, if you don’t show up soon, your son will be scammed.” … The last message was from two years ago. “If you see this, call me.” After that, silence. I thought, perhaps this was when Scarlett successfully “redeemed” Henry. So Henry finally gave up on messaging me. I lowered my gaze, a dull ache in my chest, almost suffocating, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. I actually saw it. Standing on the street, waiting for Alan to arrive, I saw the advertisement on the giant screen at the mall. I stared up blankly then, seeing Scarlett endorsing a brand under Darcy Enterprises. Tears inexplicably fell. No matter how much I wiped, they wouldn’t stop. It turned out that no one truly couldn’t live without another. Now they were happy; my appearance would only be a disruption. Just then, as I was about to leave, Alan happened to appear before me. And by some twist of fate, I ended up in the car, back at the Darcy house. I checked my card balance. I didn’t know if the Chen family simply didn’t care for my meager savings or truly didn’t care about me. After my “death” six years ago, they hadn’t even closed my account. With the reassuring balance in my pocket, I planned to transfer money for the phone and clothes to the Darcy family’s housekeeper to pass on. Then I would leave. …Since everyone was happy, there was no need to disturb them anymore. As I pushed open the door. Alan, standing outside the door, instinctively stepped back, startled by me. He raised his chin, asking in a childish voice, feigning nonchalance: “Where are you going?” I had already downloaded a translation app in the room, typed out my message, and played it aloud. “Thank you, I’m leaving now.” Time is a truly wondrous thing. An infant who was wailing in my arms just a few hours ago could now skip and jump around. His eyes widened slightly, then suddenly reddened. He clutched my hand, panicked and frantic, shouting: “No! You still owe me money, you can’t leave!” All his previous forced coolness was gone. I knelt down, meeting his gaze. Very carefully, very gently, I stroked his soft black hair. I had seen that future. In that future, everyone was happy. Alan had a perfect mother, growing up safe and joyful. He wouldn’t have a manipulative maternal grandfather, nor a mute, unlikable mother. I pressed play, and the calm, robotic voice echoed in the hallway. “I’ll transfer the money for the phone to you.” Alan stared at me, stubbornly clutching my hand, refusing to let go, crying uncontrollably, shaking his head and saying: “Not that.” “You messaged me, asking me to transfer two hundred dollars.” “I secretly ran off after school that day, and waited for you on the bridge for a long time.” “You lied to me, you didn’t come.” His somewhat jumbled words still reminded me of Henry’s text message, mentioning someone impersonating me to scam Alan out of two hundred dollars. My eyes felt a little sore. I wiped away the tears from Alan’s soft cheeks with my hand. It wouldn’t be good if Scarlett came back and saw this. She was Alan’s beloved new mom; I absolutely didn’t want any friction between them because of me. Perhaps later she and Henry would have their own children, and she would have her own favorites, but the first one would always be special. I didn’t want her to see Alan with annoyance or disgust because of me in the future. I wanted to leave before Scarlett returned. As I turned around, Alan sprang forward and wrapped his arms around one of my legs. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, looking down helplessly at Alan, who was clinging to me, but then heard a rustling sound ahead. I looked up, instinctively. And met a pair of dark eyes. In the long corridor, someone stood, travel-worn, at the end of the stairs, his trench coat soaked from the heavy rain, his voice hoarse. Henry said: “…Arden Chen.” “How can you bully a child?” 4 I don’t know when the rain outside the window started to fall. But I hurriedly pried Alan’s hands off me, then anxiously peered behind Henry. I didn’t see anyone else. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief. Alan clung to me again, still hugging my leg, shouting at Henry: “Dad, quickly give Mom ten million dollars.” “If you give it to her, she won’t leave.” Me: “…?” Meeting Henry’s subtle gaze, I pursed my lips, unable to resist raising my hands to argue: “I didn’t.” “I only wanted to borrow a thousand dollars. Alan doesn’t know sign language or how to read, he misunderstood.” I signed quickly, afraid he would misunderstand. Henry clearly understood, but his expression paused, then he let out a vague chuckle, saying cryptically: “Alan doesn’t understand sign language?” I felt the small hands clutching my pant leg suddenly tighten. But Henry quickly brushed over the topic, telling the playfully demanding Alan to go back to his room. Alan glared at him angrily: “Why?” “I’m the one who brought Mom back.” “And Mom even texted and called me, she came back because of me!” He even boasted while arguing. Henry lowered his eyes, watched him for a moment, then sneered: “If you hadn’t secretly swapped my phone’s SIM card again, would it have been your turn to pick her up?” He tried to pull Alan away, but couldn’t. “How about this, you ask her yourself if she wants you to go back to your room.” The next moment, both their gazes landed on me simultaneously. My scalp tingled. I instinctively averted my eyes, hesitating for a moment: “…Maybe I should just leave?” Henry turned his head, plainly lying to Alan: “See, she said it’s late now, and you should go back to your room obediently to sleep.” “You’re lying! Clearly—” Henry interrupted him: “A child who can’t understand sign language shouldn’t guess.” At these words, Alan’s voice ceased. He pouted, looking at me pitifully, but ultimately said nothing. Henry seemed to sense Alan’s reluctance. He pulled me into the study, telling me concisely: “This stubborn kid won’t give up.” “Can you wait for me here for a moment?” Then, he knelt in front of Alan, seemingly whispering something. Alan immediately quieted down, glancing at me hesitantly, then obediently let Henry lead him away. Silence immediately descended. I came back to myself, hearing the patter of rain from the half-open French window in the study. The wind was strong, whipping the sheer curtains outward, and even the papers on the desk rustled loudly. Worried the rain would blow in and dampen the documents in the study, I walked over and closed the window. But as I turned, I knocked a book off the shelf. From its flyleaf fell a ten-dollar bill with a torn corner. 5 Seeing that familiar ten-dollar bill, I froze. I felt as if I were back in that summer. By then, Henry was no longer as distant as he had been when we first met. At some point, he had secretly learned sign language behind my back. I even clearly remembered the first time he clumsily signed “Got it” to me. His expression was still aloof and unhurried. But he still argued: “It takes too much of my time waiting for you to write it down for me to see.” I curved my eyes, just about to answer him “Thank you.” But the door was suddenly flung open. “Why does Henry Darcy always wear that cold expression? Who’s it for?” “A parentless brat, just throwing his weight around because of his family background, otherwise who would bother to flatter him!” “Once Old Man Darcy dies, I’d like to see if he can still be so arrogant!” Henry’s expression remained calm, until he heard “Old Man Darcy,” then his face hardened, his lips tightening. The man seemed completely oblivious to Henry and me, hidden behind layers of boxes in the corner. I remembered that voice; it was the youngest son of the Monroe family, Mason. It was Old Man Darcy’s birthday banquet today, and earlier, Mason Monroe had proposed a toast to Henry, which Henry didn’t drink. Instead, he swapped it for a glass of water, clinked glasses, and took a small sip. Mason’s face looked very unpleasant before he left, so that was the reason. But from my observation, Henry hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, even when toasting Old Man Darcy, it was water. So Henry wasn’t just targeting him alone. He was indiscriminately targeting everyone. Everyone knew Henry, due to his childhood kidnapping, was usually cold-faced and spoke little, so they were used to it. I didn’t know how it became “wearing a cold expression” in his eyes. But after he finished scolding Henry, he started scolding me. “That mute girl from the Chen family, too, can never be pinned down, avoids me like the plague.” “Just a pathetic mute, does she really think she’s climbed up the social ladder by hooking up with the Darcys?” I felt Henry lower his head, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment. I subtly turned my head, feeling strangely nervous, my face tense, lips pressed together. The people around Mason tried to calm him down, giving him ideas. For instance, deliberately spilling wine on me later, bribing the waiters to put mustard in Henry’s water to make him embarrass himself publicly, and so on. After Mason finally vented his anger and left, Henry slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner. Then he turned into the kitchen. He rummaged around, looking rather dissatisfied. It was strange, but I just knew he was looking for mustard. I walked past him and found a bunch of chili peppers in the corner of the prep area. Then I signed, asking him: “No mustard.” “These chili peppers are very spicy. Chili water, would that work?” Henry lowered his eyelids to look at me, took the chili peppers, and lazily uttered a “Hmm.” He summoned two waiters, gave them a few low-voiced instructions, then took me to the railing on the second floor. That was probably the most lively scene of the night. Mason, while toasting with the elders, suddenly spat everything out with a “Pffft,” knocking over a champagne tower beside him and getting drenched in wine. The Monroe elders were embarrassed, apologizing and publicly scolding him, dressing him down mercilessly. In his utter humiliation, Mason instinctively looked up and finally saw us, watching the entire spectacle from the second-floor railing. Henry lightly tilted his head, raised an eyebrow, and held up his glass of water, toasting from afar. He mouthed, word for word: “This is what it means to throw your weight around.” The petty squabbles among the younger generation naturally didn’t escape Old Man Darcy’s notice. Henry could be reckless, but I couldn’t. Perhaps at Old Man Darcy’s instruction, my mother, who had left me to live with the Darcys for years, uncharacteristically asked me to go home with her that night. As the birthday banquet was about to end, I hesitated, then apologized to Henry: “I’m sorry, I might not be able to come to the Darcy house to keep you company anymore.” My mother’s expression had been grim just now, and I thought Old Man Darcy might have sent me home. Henry clearly understood the underlying implications. He said nonchalantly: “If you don’t want to go back, then don’t. No one here is kicking you out.” Seeing me still looking dejected, he pulled me into the surveillance room and showed me the kitchen and corridor footage. Only then did I realize that the surveillance footage of our earlier mischievous acts had already been replaced. He copied the segment of Mason’s cursing and plotting onto a USB drive, then gestured for me to extend my hand. “If he bothers you again, you just throw this footage in his face.” He paused, then said: “Stay with me until ten o’clock.” “Believe it or not, even if the Chen family’s car leaves, no one will dare to kick you out tonight.” Henry stayed with me on the rooftop, letting mosquitoes feast on us until ten o’clock. I saw the Chen family’s car indeed leave, and my mother even gave me a gentle, gratified smile before she left. I was overwhelmed. I was very grateful to Henry. I felt our relationship had somehow changed. Even though helping me was just a side thought, he solved my problems and stayed with me on the rooftop, enduring mosquito bites. Only friends would do such things. So I signed, unable to resist asking: “Are we friends now?” “No.” Was it that hard to be Henry’s friend? I felt a little disappointed but not too sad. After all, Henry was always aloof and hard to please. If it didn’t work this time, I would just try harder next time. But the next moment, I heard Henry slowly say: “It’s a more closely knit, unbreakable relationship of co-conspirators.” My eyes widened slightly. I stared at him blankly, inexplicably feeling that this relationship he spoke of seemed even more important than mere casual friendship. He spoke abruptly, his voice scattering into the wind: “Do you have any money on you?” I rummaged for a long time, finally finding only a crumpled, corner-torn ten-dollar bill on me. Henry calmly accepted it. The shadow cast on the ground by the moonlight tilted towards me. “Now, I owe you ten dollars; you are my creditor.” “So, from now on, if you encounter trouble, or if there’s something you don’t want to do, or someone you don’t want to see, you can come to me to collect your debt, understand?” Seeing me lost in thought, Henry surprisingly didn’t get angry but patiently repeated: “Did you remember?” I nodded eagerly, promising him: “Don’t worry, I’ll never forget it as long as I live.” Perhaps it was after a few more similar exhortations like that night. From being cautious at first, I gradually began to “collect debt” from Henry over small matters. When encountering difficulties, I no longer silently bore them alone. Instead, he had trained me to instinctively reach out to him. So much so that when I was engulfed in the fire, and then opened my eyes to find myself six years in the future— I stood on a bustling street, looking at the unfamiliar world, my mind a blank, filled only with panic. Yet, even then, I never thought of contacting my mother or returning to the Chen family. Instead, I instinctively borrowed a stranger’s phone. Then I sent Henry a message: “This is Arden Chen.” I immediately typed the second half, sending it without hesitation. “…Can you come pick me up?”

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1 The blood pact I signed seven years ago finally expired today. Wilson Wilder and I would soon become complete strangers. She was probably still recalling my past fits of rage when I caught her cheating—smashing things, screaming, raising hell. But she didn’t know, everything was different now. When I suddenly came home, I walked in on Wilson Wilder having sex with another man in my car. This time, she made no attempt to hide it. Instead, she rolled down the window, leaned out, and gently covered the man behind her with a wool blanket. From the back seat, I heard the rustle of clothes. She shielded the man even more carefully, then turned back to whisper, “Don’t be scared.” Then she looked at me, a flicker of unease in her eyes, and asked, “Weren’t you supposed to be at your MBA class today? Why the sudden return?” … I yanked open the car door. The back seat was a mess: ripped black stockings, used condoms. A wave of nausea hit me. I gagged uncontrollably. “Why bring someone into this car?” Wilson Wilder calmly buttoned her shirt. She glanced at my car. “It was the most convenient place. Didn’t think much of it.” “Couldn’t exactly bring him home, could I, darling?” The man in the car scrambled out, stumbling pitifully in front of me. “Mr. Wilder, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control myself…” I stood there, arms crossed, unmoving. “Get out.” I wouldn’t lift a finger for her anymore. But that didn’t mean I’d be kind to the man who’d slept with my wife. Even if she wouldn’t be for much longer. As he ran off, I gave him a dismissive glance. Early twenties, clean-cut college kid. Her type. Clean background, simple life, high achiever. Everything I wasn’t. Which one was this? I stopped counting years ago. I called my butler: “To the garage. Smash the car.” Old Thomas smashed it with restraint. His hammer, wrapped in suede, landed with a dull thud, like bone breaking within flesh. Then came the sharp crack of shattering glass. Wilson Wilder got out of the car, pulled me into her embrace, and gently ruffled my hair. Like soothing an agitated cat. I pulled away, leaned against the wall, and lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. In the flickering light of the cigarette, the obsidian Bentley became a heap of scrap. She followed me inside. Her hand circled my waist. “Julian, don’t be mad. I’ll get you a new car?” “My husband didn’t hit anyone. That’s progress.” She pinched my cheek, a hint of surprise in her tone. “Just play nice, and no one can threaten your position.” “It’s your birthday today. Seven years you’ve been with me in Kingsport.” She magically produced a gift box. Hermès, rare leather. I wasn’t surprised. Inside the bag, however, lay a “Python” revolver. Out of instinct, I released the cylinder, pulled back the hammer, and checked the chamber. Empty. I paused, bringing the gun to my nose. No gun oil smell, just an industrial scent. Fake. I tossed the gun back into the bag, my eyes hardening completely. She lay back on the sofa, hands behind her head. “It’s just a toy, a memento of your past. Be good from now on, no more playing with weapons.” Her tone was light. The glory my past had brought her, dismissed in a single breath. Seven years. My heart had long turned to ash. I pulled out the drafted divorce papers. “Wilson Wilder, sign it.” “From now on, we go our separate ways.” A fleeting, almost imperceptible panic crossed her eyes. Then she smiled, more relaxed. “Julian, we can’t be separated in this life. Have you forgotten?” “I shouldn’t have done it in your car. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She hugged me from behind, her cheek rubbing my forehead. “I’ve got a birthday surprise for you. Let’s go out.” She tried to take my hand. I sidestepped, avoiding her touch. She seemed to have forgotten. Back then, she was just a small-time dealer. Wanting to start her own business, she refused my money, then turned around and stole goods from my sister’s rival. “Mad Dog” Hayes put out the word. One of her hands, and the debt would be clear. Or, the Wilder family could sign a blood pact. My sister refused. I bit my finger, pressing my blood print onto that pact. By gang rules, she and I could never be separated in this life. A pact that compromised the Wilder family’s reputation and dignity, binding her and me together. Until this morning, when Mad Dog Hayes dropped dead in a brothel. As I changed, I sent that text. “Sis, pick me up in Avalon in two days.” 2 To avoid complications, my sister and I agreed to keep everything as usual before I left. In the living room, Wilson Wilder took off the shirt still carrying the scent of another man. On her pale, slender body, the dark scar of a gunshot wound on her right shoulder. Like a cigarette burn on snow. My first year in Kingsport, my enemies from Avalon came seeking revenge. She took that bullet for me. When did the woman who’d risked her life for me begin to change? I couldn’t fathom it, and I no longer cared to try. Silently, I got into her car. My thoughts drifted back seven years. Hayes’s stronghold. Mad Dog Hayes put away the pact. “Gutsy. This matter is forgotten.” He smiled at my sister, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. “Your brother is bound to that lowlife who stole my goods for life. He’s not allowed back in Avalon, not allowed to touch a single cent of your Wilder family money.” “The streets are watching, see what kind of trash Eleanor Wilder’s only kin ended up with!” That year, the woman I loved to my core wept before me. She trembled all over, yet clutched my hand tightly. She swore I would never regret this decision. But now… “Darling, we’re here.” The car stopped at Kingsport Maternity Hospital. Outside the patient room, she whispered, “Be gracious in a moment.” I had already guessed nine tenths of it. But seeing the tiny pink bundle in the man’s arms, my heart still skipped a beat. Adam Schwarz. Her personal assistant. Long-term lover. “Julian, I didn’t want to have a child with another man either.” Her voice was very low. “You can’t have children. I don’t blame you. But I need an heir.” “The child will call you Dad too. When you’re old, he’ll be someone to rely on.” Adam Schwarz nodded, full of agreement. “Brother, Wilson has always wanted a child. You should let her have this.” Mr. Schwarz, Adam’s father, walked in to check on the baby. He was a renowned obstetrician. He held up a miniature Hermès horse toy, teasing the infant in a falsetto voice. Wilson Wilder and Adam Schwarz leaned in, heads together, laughing around their son. I laughed out loud. “Poor folks sure know how to make every penny count, treating designer accessories like treasure.” Adam Schwarz caught sight of the rare leather bag in my hand, and his face darkened. Mr. Schwarz, however, remained calm and composed. “Mr. Wilder, I know you were a gangster in Avalon. But this is Kingsport; please show some class.” I couldn’t be bothered with him. He thought I was tacitly accepting his paternalistic tone. “It’s understandable you’re ill-mannered, with both your parents gone.” Parents gone. A damp, rainy day. Wilson Wilder deliberately avoided my gaze, playing with her son’s chubby little hands. I raised my hand and slapped Mr. Schwarz across the face. As he shrieked, I displayed the diamond ring on my ring finger: “As long as I’m still married, your son is still the side piece. Your grandson will always be a bastard.” “You, the side piece’s dad, are not fit to speak of my parents.” Adam Schwarz wailed, clutching his father. Wilson Wilder symbolically pulled me towards the door. Words she had spoken six years ago surfaced. “Julian, you have no mother, no father; you only have me.” Barely a year into our marriage, she began cheating. I was inherently proud; I couldn’t swallow the humiliation. I was hysterical. But I had nowhere to go. With that sentence, she made me face reality. Now, it was uttered again from my “father-in-law’s” mouth. A gust of wind from behind. My scalp prickled with pain. Adam Schwarz rushed forward, grabbing my hair and yanking it back forcefully. He held me, shoving me violently towards the corner of the table. “Bang!” My hip slammed against the table’s edge, clenching my insides with pain. Wilson Wilder instinctively leaned forward, wanting to help me. But Adam Schwarz grabbed her arm, fiercely blocking her. “Don’t you dare go!” Wilson Wilder didn’t step forward. Good. I smiled to myself. Anyway, we were ending this. 3 I had a dream of falling endlessly. I dreamt of being nineteen. I told her that when I was fifteen, I took a knife for my sister from some enemies, the blade piercing my back. I lay in the hospital for half a year. When I got out, my studies were completely ruined, so I dropped out. She trembled as she kissed the snake-like scars on my body. She saved her meal money, running all over the city’s bookstores to pick out textbooks for me. In the dim yellow light of our rented room, she held me, teaching me word by word from books I no longer understood. She said I was hers. Inside and out, for life. I dreamt of being twenty-one, on her birthday. I learned from the elders back home, and personally made her a nourishing chicken and fish maw soup. Her office door wasn’t fully closed. Soft moans drifted out. I kicked the door open. Wilson Wilder was naked, her long hair swaying. Adam Schwarz was behind her. The chicken soup splattered over both of them. Wilson Wilder was unfazed, helping him wipe off the traces. “Work stress, darling. You understand.” I smashed the office to pieces. She didn’t even blink. But when I picked up a glass shard and walked towards Adam Schwarz. She shielded him. “Anything, come at me. Adam and those other men are different.” Young and hot-headed, I severely beat Adam Schwarz with my bare hands. The Schwarz family threatened to sue me; she used every means, soft and hard, to suppress it. The cost was her not coming home for a year. “Julian, you disappoint me so much.” Her betrayal had been foreshadowed. She said I didn’t understand her as those other men did. She stopped teaching me long ago, pulling strings to enroll me in an MBA program. I didn’t understand those coding algorithms, those capital models. But I once believed so deeply. I understood the weight of two hearts relying on each other. I understood how to bet on a woman before she made her fortune. My biological father died at a card table. Turns out I was just another gambler with poor luck. … “Sir.” Thomas’s voice pulled me back. He was covered in wounds. My phone was handed to me. 【WilderTech to be renamed SchwarzTech tomorrow】 【Wilson Wilder convenes board meeting to transfer 10% shares to Adam Schwarz】 I had trusted her, only holding 8%. She ensured Adam Schwarz always outranked me. Thomas pulled out a crumpled invitation. Tonight’s gala, official announcement of the change. I quickly bandaged his wounds. Some matters needed to be settled before I left. “Thomas, the Wilder family has a saying.” Old Thomas smiled at me. “Today she eats the bitter fish and endures the thirst. Tomorrow, someone else will settle the score with her.” 4 I drove straight to the banquet hall. No one dared to stop me. Wilson Wilder looked surprised: “Julian, aren’t you supposed to be home recovering?” “Wilson Wilder, you’ve forgotten where you came from. Forgotten who you relied on to make your fortune.” Adam Schwarz linked arms with her, beaming. “What’s wrong with Wilson thinking about her child?” His eyes scanned me with a lewd gaze. “My dad says you’ve taken too many hits, can’t have kids?” Wilson Wilder’s brow furrowed: “Enough!” He’d hit a nerve, and it only emboldened him. “Julian, everyone says you’re the eldest son raised by the Avalon syndicates.” “There’s no deal you can’t close, no woman you can’t conquer.” “Why cling to Wilson?” “Cling to her?” I looked at him. “What was she, starting her business relying on me? What are you, her side piece?” He paused, then beckoned to the media. “Shoot him! He’s a wreck; does he deserve to stand next to Wilson?” A journalist cautiously asked: “He’s Ms. Wilder of Avalon’s only kin.” Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “Who’s the Wilder family? A bunch of nobodies crushed by the Hayes syndicate!” That journalist bowed slightly to me and left. Others didn’t want to offend Adam Schwarz. All the cameras and mics pointed at me. I calmly looked at Wilson Wilder: “I’m selling off my 8% stake.” Her face changed: “Do you know SchwarzTech’s current valuation?” “One hundred and fifty million. B-round funding closed last week.” They exchanged glances. Adam Schwarz waved his hand: “I’ll take it all. Mr. Wilder, you’ll be all alone after this, don’t regret it.” The nanny brought the baby, whose tiny hand waved at the cameras. I instantly saw the strand of sandalwood beads around her neck. My father’s keepsake. Lost when I fled at fifteen. My sister turned Avalon upside down after she made her fortune, but never found it. “Met at a private auction last month,” Wilson Wilder said airily. “Adam liked it, so he wears it for fun.” My father’s only memento to me. In their mouths, it was “for fun.” “Give it back to me.” Every word was gritted through my teeth. “You will pay for this.” Adam Schwarz laughed. He unclasped the beads, dangling them in front of me. Like teasing a dog. “You wore them,” he said, his eyes curving into a sneer. “Not fit for my child to wear.” He let go. Clatter. The beads hit the ground, scattering everywhere. My mind went blank. My hand was already in my bag, pulling out the revolver, pressing it against his forehead. The moment the cold metal touched his skin, he froze. Then tears and snot flowed together, his face crumpling. “You’re crazy!” Wilson Wilder rushed over. “The gun’s fake!” Fake. But his legs were trembling. A yellowish-white liquid streamed down his pants, soaking a small puddle on the ground. The pungent, stale smell hit my nose. I couldn’t hold it in and threw up on him. He screamed. Wilson Wilder pressed a remote. The lights in the entire hall went out. Sudden darkness. I started to tremble. I feared the dark. She knew that. When I was little, my father used to lock me in the closet when he had clients. I’d huddle inside, listening to the laughter and moans from outside. I cried, I screamed, but no one heard. On our wedding night, I told her. She said, “With me, you’ll never be alone in the dark.” Now she’d turned off the lights. Someone gripped my shoulder. Smack. A slap, my right cheek stung. Smack. Another, my left cheek. Adam Schwarz had hit me. I couldn’t see him, but I felt the whoosh of his hand, smelled that stale, pungent scent mixed with perfume. I swallowed the metallic taste in my mouth. “Get out.” Adam Schwarz sneered: “Weren’t you so tough just now?” Wilson Wilder wiped sweat from my brow. She leaned into my ear, her voice very soft. “About what happened back then, I told myself you did it for me. But every time I think of it, I feel sick.” She paused. “In this life, let’s just make each other sick.” I was trembling more and more violently. Not out of fear. It was cold. A cold that seeped from my bones. I wanted to scream. Wanted to fill the entire hall with my screams. But I couldn’t. I started to fall. Back into that closet. The laughter, the moans, surged from all directions. I covered my ears, but the sounds still burrowed in. The person I thought would save me had now personally turned off the lights. She used the thing I feared most to hurt me. The stories I told her had become her knives against me. In the dark, I picked up the scattered beads, one by one. I don’t know how much time passed, then a beam of light cut through the darkness. “Julian.”

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1 Five years ago, when I was an Ivy League scholarship recipient with a bright future, my life utterly collapsed at the age of eighteen. My adoptive sister, Jenny, suddenly developed a bizarre illness: merely touching me – Anna Grey – would trigger terrifying symptoms like festering eyes, bleeding eardrums, and even suffocation. My parents and brother, convinced I carried a unique pathogen causing Jenny’s suffering, sent me to a sterile training camp nestled deep in the mountains. That dark, sunless place became my supposed “atonement.” Meanwhile, Jenny, who scored a mere 200 on her SATs, used my acceptance letter, transforming herself into a popular freshman sensation on campus. Family visits, initially once a month, gradually dwindled to once a year, until I was completely forgotten in the depths of the mountains. It wasn’t until five years later, when Jenny finally announced her allergy was gone, that they remembered I even existed. The day they came to pick me up, my brother subconsciously frowned, and I, like a startled rabbit, knelt down, my face contorted in terror. Tears streamed down uncontrollably. I choked out a trembling plea: “Master, your puppy is clean now, not dirty. Please, Master, take your puppy.” … My brother recoiled a step, inspecting me with a look of disgust: “Alright, enough of the act.” “What, do I need to beg you to come home?” I flinched, not daring to look up. The camp warden immediately sidled over. One hand supported my arm, the other fiercely pinched me behind my back. I trembled with pain but dared not cry out. The warden helped me, dressed in an ill-fitting gown, up from the ground, saying obsequiously to my brother: “Miss Grey is just overwhelmed with joy! Five years without seeing her family, she’s a bit over-excited!” “Mr. Grey, please don’t be offended!” “Miss Grey, please go home with your family.” She leaned close to me, her voice hushed so only I could hear: “Don’t forget all those photos and videos are still in my possession. Remember what you can and cannot say!” My blood ran cold. The nauseating smells, the clammy hands… Filthy memories washed over me like a tide. I leaned on the warden’s strength to stand, not daring to look at anyone. My father impatiently glanced at me: “Five years, and not an ounce of improvement!” “So uncouth, not a patch on Jenny!” My mother walked over and took my hand. I greedily savored that touch of warmth, my eyes stinging. The next second, my mother froze. She gasped, clutching my withered, stick-like wrist: “I send you five hundred dollars a month for food, how can you be so thin?” “Anna, you’re not deliberately starving yourself to gain sympathy, are you?” I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. To tell her that less than fifty dollars a month was spent on me, that the camp food was all rotten. And I only got four hours of sleep a day, the rest of the time spent in training. Training how to be obedient, how to kneel, how to live like a dog. But as I opened my mouth, my father began to rush us: “Alright, alright, let’s go.” “Jenny’s still waiting alone at home.” I dragged my stiff legs, following them. At the door, I couldn’t resist looking back at the place that had imprisoned me for five years. Then I turned back, gazing greedily at the world outside the car window. People were laughing, birds were flying freely. My eyes welled up. My brother scoffed, glancing at me: “Worthless.” I shrank my neck, not daring to look again. The car stopped outside the house I remembered. My mother pushed open the door, her voice laced with laughter: “Jenny, look who’s back!” I stood at the doorway, my heart pounding. My sister, the sister I hadn’t seen in five years. I pursed my lips, trying hard to force a smile. But just as my lips curved upward, a bucket of water poured over my head. The icy water streamed into my nose and mouth. I choked, coughing violently, soaked to the bone, my hair clinging to my face in wet strands. The stinging smell of disinfectant made me want to vomit. I stood frozen, water dripping from my chin. 2 Jenny hid behind Mom and Dad and my brother, her voice soft and full of grievance: “I was just worried Anna might have germs. What if I get an allergic reaction again?” “Anna wouldn’t be mad, would she?” Mom tenderly pulled her into a hug, patting her back soothingly: “Don’t worry, sweetie, Anna would never blame you.” My brother sighed, his voice full of aching concern: “Jenny, we know how much you’ve suffered, we all understand.” I stood there, drenched, a blank stare on my face. Not daring to move, not even daring to breathe loudly. I just kept mumbling, my lips trembling, “I’m sorry! Don’t hit me! I’m sorry! Don’t hit me!” My brother froze for a second, then leaned closer to listen. The next moment, he was stunned. Shock and heartache flashed across his face. Jenny bit her lip fiercely, but quickly reverted to a wronged expression. She peeked out from Mom’s embrace: “Is Anna mad? Is she upset I didn’t come to pick her up earlier?” “Don’t be mad at me, okay? I prepared a surprise for you!” She pointed to the living room, where the dining table was laden with an abundant spread. Mom lovingly stroked her head: “Jenny is so thoughtful, Anna. You should thank your sister.” Dad disgustedly glanced at me: “Alright, stop putting on a show.” “Who in the camp doesn’t know you’re the second Miss Grey? With your status, who’d dare bully you?” He walked into the room, throwing a last remark: “Get up already, stop making a spectacle of yourself at the door.” Mom, holding Jenny, also turned and left. My brother stood there, looked at me, but said nothing. I curled up on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. They would never know what kind of life I lived in that training camp. Live rats were placed on a plate and brought before me. They squeaked and scurried around the plate, their gray-black tails tangled together. At the warden’s command, I had to stuff them into my mouth. Various insects crawled in my bowl. I threw up, then had to continue eating. Any disobedience resulted in a brutal beating. Electric prods sizzled against my body, causing excruciating pain that made my organs bleed. I was thrown into a water cell, immersed for three days and three nights. My wounds turned white and festered, making me forget who I was. I used to be an Ivy League scholarship recipient. At sixteen, my paper won first prize nationally. My teacher patted my shoulder and said: “Anna, you’re a genius; you’ll surely achieve great things someday.” And now I had been trained into a good dog that obeyed commands. I slowly got up, wiping my face hard. I shuffled my feet, walking towards a home where there was no longer a place for me. 3 By the time I came to my senses, I was already sitting at the dining table. Plates of food, exquisitely presented, were laid before me. Jenny sat beside me, smiling sweetly. She extended her hand towards me, wiggling her fingers: “Anna, look, I specially made all these dishes for you.” “My hands are all hurt, it’s so painful.” With that, she giggled and leaned into Mom’s embrace. Mom tenderly cradled her hand, gently blowing on the almost invisible scratches: “Poor baby, you worked so hard. Mom knows you care about Anna the most.” I looked at the table laden with an elaborate seafood boil. I was allergic to every single item. I remembered when I was little, I accidentally ate shrimp once. My throat swelled up, making it hard to breathe, and I nearly didn’t make it through resuscitation. After that, the family never bought seafood again. My brother looked at my dazed face and spoke: “What are you staring at? Eat up, the food will get cold.” Seeing no reaction from me, my brother frowned again and impatiently shouted: “Anna Grey!” I jumped, instantly reflexively standing up: “Yes, sir!” Then, I frantically grabbed a shrimp and stuffed it into my mouth. The shell wasn’t peeled, hard and scratching my throat, but I couldn’t care less. I grabbed another piece of calamari, stuffing it in. Then another crab leg, shoving the whole thing into my mouth. The shell cut the corner of my mouth; blood flowed out, mixing with the food as I swallowed. My brother stood frozen. My mother’s voice also trembled slightly: “Anna, please don’t…” But I couldn’t hear. I only knew I had to eat it all, had to be obedient. Couldn’t leave anything. Couldn’t make them angry. Soon, my throat began to itch, and my skin started to burn. Red rashes broke out all over my body and face. I continued to stuff food into my mouth with one hand, while scratching myself with the other. My fingernails scraped across my skin, leaving trails of blood. My brother’s face was grim; he reached out, wanting to stop me. But when I saw his hand, I was so frightened I immediately knelt on the floor. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” “I’ll be good! I’ll eat it all! I’ll eat every bit!” I didn’t know what I was saying, only that I had to apologize, had to admit fault. I crawled towards my brother on my knees, my trembling hands reaching to undo my buttons. Exposing my skeletal chest. I grabbed his hand, trying to press it against my chest: “Master, it’s all yours, please don’t hit me anymore!” My brother froze, his face ashen. He tried to pull his hand away, but I gripped it tightly: “Anna Grey, are you crazy? What are you doing!” The next second, a resounding slap struck my face. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. Jenny’s eyes were red-rimmed, large tears streaming down: “Anna Grey, have you put on enough of a show?” “Do you just have to act pitiful? Have to make everyone feel sorry for you?” “I was the one who got hurt, I was almost killed by you! Don’t you know that?!” She cried, gasping for breath, pointing her finger at me: “I finally recovered, and you come back and pretend to be crazy to gain sympathy! Are you trying to drive me to my death?” Mom rushed over and hugged her, crying tears of pain: “Don’t cry, Jenny, Mom’s here, no one can bully you.” Dad coldly glanced at me: “You’ve been acting up since you walked in. Are you not content until you’ve turned this house upside down?” “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you back!” I knelt on the floor, my clothes open, my face covered in blood. Just then, the front door was pushed open. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the light in the doorway, holding a large bouquet of white lilies. His voice was laced with a gentle laugh, as soft as a spring breeze: “Anna, I heard you were back. I wanted to come see…” His smile froze. I looked up, meeting his eyes. In that instant, all color drained from my face. 4 My former fiancé, Arthur Miller, stood gravely at the door. The bouquet dropped to the floor, and he took a few steps forward, reaching out to help me up. “Anna, what happened to you…” Jenny, like a butterfly, flung herself into his arms, intimately looping her arm through Arthur Miller’s: “Arthur, you’re here!” She looked back at me, her eyes hiding daggers: “Anna, you might not remember, but this is Arthur, you’ve met him before.” I forced a bitter smile. How could I forget a love so deeply ingrained in my bones? She held onto Arthur Miller, a beaming smile on her face: “Auntie said I’m an Ivy League graduate, and I’m the perfect match for Arthur. They’re arranging our engagement this year!” “You absolutely have to come, Anna!” Arthur Miller frowned, trying to pull her hand away: “What are you talking about? Engagement? I haven’t…” Jenny, seizing the moment, released his hand and feigned helping me up. I kept my head down, not daring to look at him. My brother’s contemptuous gaze swept over me, a cold sneer playing on his lips: “No wonder she’s acting crazy. It’s for this.” “How shameless.” I kept my head bowed, my fingernails digging into my palms. Jenny whispered softly in my ear: “Anna Grey, do you think your used-up body is worthy of Arthur?” “I’ve been by his side for these five years. You want to fight me for him? Do you even have the right?” “I have high-definition backups of all your videos, every frame crystal clear.” “I advise you to be sensible, and just be your useless self.” She patted my arm, her tone light: “Otherwise, I guarantee everyone will get to enjoy your pathetic show!” My tears finally fell. I thought I had finally escaped the hellish life of the past five years. But the devil still clung to me! Jenny let go of me, turning with a triumphant smile: “Arthur, Anna’s too tired. Let her go rest in her room for a bit!” I stood there, watching her joyful retreat. I suddenly raised my hand and ripped open my clothes. Buttons popped, fabric parted. On my emaciated chest, a dense scattering of scars. Cigarette burns, knife slashes, and charred marks left by electric prods. Patch after patch, horrifying to behold. I finally couldn’t hold back a wail: “Why are you doing this to me?” Everyone was stunned. I stared at Jenny, tears streaming down: “Jenny, do you hate me?” “You must hate me, right? Otherwise, why would you let others torture me like this?” I turned to Mom and Dad: “Am I not your child? Why do you only love Jenny and not me?” Mom’s lips trembled. “Brother, what did I do wrong to make you hate me so much?” My brother’s face changed; he took a step forward: “Anna, listen to me…” Dad slammed his hand on the table, pointing at me and yelling: “Look at you! What a spectacle!” “Are you blaming us? What have we ever done to you?” Tears still streaked my face, but I smiled. I retreated step by step, backing towards the window. The window was wide open, blowing my hair. Arthur Miller’s face was ashen: “Anna! Don’t move!” Mom’s legs gave out; she fell to her knees, crying and shouting: “Anna, Mom’s begging you, come down!” “Mom was wrong! Don’t be impulsive, let’s talk this through!” Dad stood still, sneering: “Nobody stop her! Let’s see how far she’ll take this act?” “She won’t jump! If she dared, she wouldn’t have waited until today!” Before his words finished, I leaped. The wind violently rushed upwards, my ears filled with its roar.

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My life was never short of admirers, but none persisted like Nick Singer, who stayed by my side for ten years. This childhood friend, from the first day he brought me flowers that I promptly tossed in the trash, slowly became the only guy consistently in my orbit. Everyone said that presence was the deepest confession, that I’d never find another like Nick Singer. Just as I finally decided to accept him, I saw an identical bouquet of white lilies—the same kind he’d given me—on my sister Maya’s bedside table. In that moment, I froze. 1 The next day at Northwood High, Nick Singer brought me a red rose. I frowned, not even glancing at it, and tossed it straight into the trash. Nick flinched, but didn’t get upset, just smiled and leaned in: “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” From age seven to seventeen, no matter how much I lashed out at Nick, he always indulged me like this. The worst time was when I accidentally shattered his late mother’s treasured locket. My eyes red, I wanted to apologize. But Nick simply asked if my hand was hurt. Even though later, he’d hide and cry alone. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. I turned my head, muttering, “The white lilies you gave me yesterday, why does my sister have the same ones?” Nick chuckled, “Nothing to do with me. I know you can’t stand her, so I’ve never interacted with her.” Right. Nick and Maya Zinberg barely exchanged a few words; how could he possibly have given her flowers? I breathed a sigh of relief, about to swallow my pride and apologize to Nick. The class bell rang. I wrote a note and tucked it into his desk. But then I noticed a pink envelope in Nick’s desk, adorned with a small heart. I recognized the handwriting. It was my sister’s, Maya Zinberg. 2 My fingers hooked the pink envelope, and without a second thought, I pulled it out. The letter unfolded, revealing Maya Zinberg’s familiar, elegant script. In it, she wrote about being smitten with Nick the first time she saw him, her envy watching him bring me flowers, and her hesitation to approach him. I patiently flipped through, until the very last line: “If you agree, please send me a white lily.” My gaze halted. So it wasn’t a coincidence; that white lily on her bedside table came from him. The teacher at the front of the class was lecturing animatedly. I fought down my anger, slammed the letter onto Nick’s desk, and glared at him. The screech of my chair against the floor was too harsh. The teacher frowned and called my name: “Chloe Zinberg, what are you doing distracting yourself in class? You answer this question.” I stared at the formula on the blackboard, my mind blank, filled only with the contents of that letter. Nick whispered the answer beside me, his tone urgent and soothing. But I didn’t want to say a word. The teacher waited for a long time with no response, her face darkening completely: “Chloe Zinberg, what do you have besides a pretty face? Your grades aren’t as good as your sister’s, your personality is spoiled and bossy, you constantly make boys fawn over you, throwing the class into chaos!” I lowered my head, biting my lip, saying nothing. I didn’t care what people said about my personality. But I hated it most when people compared me to my sister. I didn’t look at the teacher, nor at Nick, and walked straight out of the classroom, my face cold. I had just washed my face in the girls’ restroom when I heard Nick’s footsteps behind me. His face was full of urgency, completely unlike his usual calm, accommodating self: “Chloe, don’t be mad.” “You know perfectly well I hate it when people compare me to her!” I looked up, glaring at Nick. “Nick Singer, don’t play dumb. You know that’s not what I’m angriest about.” He pursed his lips, a hint of grievance in his eyes, and explained softly: “The white lily was specifically for you. I didn’t know she wanted one too, and I certainly never intended to give her one.” I asked, “Then what about the white lily on her bedside table?” “She must have bought it herself, wanting you to misunderstand,” Nick sighed, his tone helpless. “Lots of guys in class like you, saying they’ll ask you out after graduation. I was afraid of losing you, so I wanted to make you a little jealous, to let you know I care.” His gaze was pleading: “I’ve already explained to the teacher; don’t take it to heart. I can wait, until you’re ready to accept me, after graduation, however long it takes.” Seeing the persistence in his eyes, remembering his unwavering presence for ten years. The fire in my heart died down a bit. I said, my face still cold, “Fine, after graduation.” Nick’s eyes immediately lit up, and his gentle smile returned. On the way home from school, he took a call, frowning, and said, “Something urgent came up. You go home first; I’ll find you when I’m done.” I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I remembered my water bottle was in the classroom and turned back. Reaching the classroom door, I was about to push it open when I heard Maya Zinberg’s voice, with a hint of petulance: “Nick, are you really going to wait until after graduation?” I froze. 3 The classroom door was ajar, and Maya Zinberg’s voice drifted out, soft and docile. “Nick, the way Chloe walked out of class today, the teacher must be really upset. And you’re still going to explain for her, it’s too much work.” “Sometimes I wonder, you’ve waited for her all these years, offered her all your best, but she seems to… never really care.” “Chloe probably doesn’t understand how rare it is for someone to wait wholeheartedly, just like I’m waiting for you.” She looked at Nick with feigned concern: “I’m just worried you’re too tired. If Chloe keeps acting like this, won’t you be too wronged?” No tears, no playing the victim, no blatant insults. It made my chest tighten with disgust, yet I couldn’t pinpoint any direct malice. I shoved the classroom door open. The door slammed lightly against the wall with a muffled thud. Maya Zinberg turned around, showing no alarm, only a perfectly placed expression of surprise. Then she lowered her eyes, docile as a harmless kitten, completely devoid of the unease from just moments ago. My gaze landed on her. I raised an eyebrow: “Maya Zinberg, when you talk behind people’s backs, you’re much more agreeable than in front of Mom and Dad.” “Worried about him? It’s not your place to be. How I treat him is between us, and it’s not up to someone who’s barely spoken a few words to him to defend him.” Maya Zinberg’s eyes reddened, but she merely whispered in defense: “Chloe, I didn’t mean to. I’m just worried about Nick. I didn’t mean anything else. Please don’t overthink it.” Nick, standing nearby, frowned slightly, stepping forward. His tone carried a hint of exasperation towards me, and a gentle protection towards Maya Zinberg: “Chloe, don’t say that. Maya is just being kind, no ill intent. Why are you so aggressive?” That single sentence made my heart ache. The year I was born, Maya followed, premature and frail. The entire family’s focus instantly shifted. She lacked a “wood” element in her Chinese astrology, so they named her Maya, like an evergreen redwood, wishing her a life of joy, cherished in everyone’s palms. And I was named Chloe. To be cautious in words and deeds, always yielding. From childhood, if she wanted something of mine, I had to give it up. My only friend was also snatched away by her casual remark: “Chloe’s just like that; you’ll always feel wronged playing with her.” Everyone told me, “You’re the older sister; she’s delicate, you have to let her have her way.” I was forced into being sharp, moody, and difficult. Only then could I hold onto a tiny bit of what was mine. Everyone favored her, except Nick Singer. Since age seven, he ignored everyone’s criticisms, ignored me throwing his flowers in the trash, ignored my cold remarks, and always unconditionally stood by me. Seven-year-old Nick stubbornly told me: “I love how you protect yourself! We’re friends, and I’ll always stand by you!” “People who live by stealing from others like her aren’t worth your anger!” But just now, for Maya Zinberg, he frowned and offered a dismissive word of protection. No favoritism, no over-the-top defense, just a common plea for calm. Yet he knew exactly how desperate I had been forced to become. But he still chose to protect her. I took a deep breath, refusing to feel wronged. The next second, I raised my hand and slapped Nick. Nick’s head snapped to the side from the blow. He turned back, startled, his eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of hurt. I didn’t look at him, nor at the bewildered Maya Zinberg. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to let them fall. The way to protect myself from feeling wronged wasn’t to cry. I turned and stormed out of the classroom without looking back. Leaving ten years of companionship, ten years of favoritism, all behind me. 4 I rushed back to the dorm. Having been estranged from my family for so long, I chose to live on campus. A moment later, my roommate cautiously approached, her voice tentative: “Chloe, there’s a guy waiting for you downstairs, it’s Nick Singer.” I was listening to music. Hearing her, I replied, “Got it, thanks.” I picked up my phone and immediately texted Nick: [Get lost, don’t be an eyesore here.] Message sent, I flipped my phone face down on the desk. My roommate stood there, hesitating for a long while, as if gathering great courage, then whispered: “Chloe, my brother… he’s liked you for a long time, since freshman year. You’re so pretty; isn’t it better not to focus on just one person, to look at others?” Her brother, Julian Evans. The only one in the whole school who dared to openly defy me, whom I’d verbally sparred with countless times, and who still wouldn’t back down—he liked me? This was even more ridiculous than Nick’s excuses. I didn’t respond. Outside the window, the sky slowly darkened. Evening study hall ended at nine; it was now eleven-fifty, a full three hours later. My phone vibrated countless times on the desk. Nick’s messages popped up one after another, but I didn’t glance at a single one. Ten minutes left until the dorm gates closed. If Nick didn’t leave soon, he’d be sleeping on the streets tonight. The screen suddenly lit up. The caller ID was Mr. Singer. Nick’s father, who lost his wife early and raised him alone, had always doted on me like his own daughter. Every time I went to his house, he’d find ways to make my favorite dishes, always saying it was his blessing that Nick stood by me. I sighed, finally answering, my voice softening slightly: “Mr. Singer.” “Chloe,” Mr. Singer’s voice was anxious, “Nick’s been standing downstairs for almost three hours. It’s so cold; could you please go down and see him? Please, as a favor to me.” “…I understand.” I grabbed my jacket and went downstairs. Nick stood under the streetlight, his voice terribly hoarse, filled with deep-seated hurt: “Chloe, you finally agreed to see me.” “This afternoon, I really just wanted to talk to Maya, to make it clear to her to stop overthinking things, to stop meddling in our business.” “I was protecting her not out of favoritism, but because I was afraid she’d be malicious, turn around and spread rumors in class or at home, ruin your reputation, and make things harder for you.” “I know you hit me because you felt wronged, because for so many years only I stood by you, and I disappointed you. I don’t blame you, not at all. I only feel for you…” As he spoke, his voice caught, and the tears in his eyes finally fell. The boy’s raw vulnerability was laid bare before me. He reached out, gently tugging my sleeve: “Chloe, could we, just hug? Just once. I’ll go straight home; I won’t bother you.” The figure who shielded me at seven, the white lily handed to me at seventeen, that question of “Are you hurt?” when the locket shattered… All my sharpness, in that moment, softened for an instant. I didn’t push him away. Nick immediately stepped forward, gently embracing me, holding me tightly, choking back sobs: “Don’t leave me… please.” After only a few seconds, I gently pushed him away: “Go back. The gates are closing.” Nick reluctantly let go of me, his eyes red, nodding, and ran towards the school gate, looking back three times. I turned to go back to the dorm. A tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadows nearby, blocking my path. It was Julian Evans. I raised an eyebrow, “Good dogs don’t block the road.” Julian sneered, retorting, “Nor do your dog-eyes recognize people.” He didn’t say anything else, just directly handed his phone to me. The screen was lit. A clear photo, taken just moments ago. Right at the corner downstairs of this dorm building, a blind spot I couldn’t see. Nick Singer was tightly embracing Maya Zinberg, bending down to kiss her deeply and wildly. Maya raised her hand, hooking his neck, tilting her head slightly, docile and dependent, showing no trace of the embarrassment of being rejected. 5 Back in my dorm, I blocked and deleted all of Nick Singer’s contact information. Graduation was only six months away. Even if I, Chloe Zinberg, was a scoundrel, or spoiled, I wouldn wouldn’t waste my remaining time on someone who was full of lies and played both sides. The moment dawn broke, I got ready and walked into the academic building as usual. But today, it felt like I was back a few years ago. In the hallway, many eyes were on me, whispering: “That’s her, Chloe Zinberg. I heard she strung Nick Singer along for ten years, treating him like a toy, and now she still wants to hold onto him, even trying to steal her own sister’s boyfriend.” “Not just that, someone saw her hugging Nick Singer downstairs the dorm yesterday, clinging to him.” “I always disliked her; she uses her looks to mess with guys. I heard she used to always steal her sister’s things. So disgusting, how is someone like her not expelled yet…” And rumors about my promiscuous private life, claiming I’d slept with countless people. Every word was too vile to hear. Just like before. My freshman year, Maya Zinberg developed a crush on a boy in class. The boy casually complimented me, saying, “You’re so pretty.” She immediately turned around and cried to our family and classmates, claiming I deliberately flirted, that I used my looks to intentionally steal her things. My family, without questioning, pointed fingers at me, calling me thoughtless, selfish, and malicious. I fought with the people who spread rumors about me, hitting one until he passed out, my eyes red with fury. The school threatened to suspend me, and my family, swayed by Maya, didn’t care. I was pushed to the rooftop, wanting nothing more than to jump and end it all. It was Nick Singer who rushed up like a madman, tightly hugging my waist, pulling me back. He knelt on the ground, trembling all over, his eyes red, screaming: “Chloe Zinberg, don’t you dare die! I believe you, I’ll always believe you! Everyone else can doubt you, but I believe! Anyone who dares to say a bad word about you, I’ll fight them to the death!” He literally took a suspension for me, and he tried to explain to my classmates and repair my relationships. But what about now? Nick Singer stood at the classroom door, for the first time openly standing beside Maya Zinberg. Julian Evans walked past, slowly remarking: “Are you waiting for Nick Singer to stand up like before and say, ‘She’s not like that’?” I said nothing, just walked up to Nick Singer, my gaze calm: “Nick Singer, I’m just going to ask you one question.” “Were you clinging to me while you already had a girlfriend, or not?” A flicker of struggle crossed Nick Singer’s eyes. The girl he had once gambled his entire youth believing in stood before him, tears in her eyes. But in the end, he only said: “No.” “You were clinging to me. Maya has nothing to do with it.” The entire class erupted in gasps.

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In the macabre tales of the living dead, I was a fake heiress. To bring me back to life, my parents mortgaged their health, my brother sacrificed his lifespan, and even my fiancé pawned off his entire fortune. This time, I learned my lesson. I wouldn’t be like before. When my parents favored the true heiress, I chose understanding. When my brother, swayed by her slander, wrongly accused me, I simply bowed my head and admitted fault. I even walked in on her and my fiancé in a drunken embrace, and I calmly handed over my wedding dress and engagement. After all, in my past life, they hated nothing more than my constant arguing and fighting over these things. But when I truly stopped fighting, they grew restless, anxious. “Rina, don’t be like this to us. You can have anything you want.” “Just please, come back to how you used to be…” They pleaded over and over. I didn’t ask for much, considering their current predicament. I only requested a hundred million dollars. 1. The biting scent of disinfectant shot straight to my brain. A cacophony of voices buzzed around me, making my head throb. I opened my eyes to a blinding white. Instantly, several magnified faces swam into view. My father clutched his chest, coughing violently, as if trying to tear his lungs out. My mother’s cheeks were flushed crimson, her forehead slick with cold sweat, her palms scorching hot to the touch. My once vibrant brother sported a shock of disheveled white hair. He was barely in his twenties, yet his hair was completely white, his face shadowed by enormous dark circles, making him look like he’d just escaped a refugee camp. The most bizarre was Henry. The former prince of the city’s elite, who wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than bespoke tailoring, now wore a pilled white shirt that looked like a bargain bin special from a discount store. “Rina! You’re finally awake!” My mother cried, snot and tears streaming down her face, her scalding tears splattering onto my hand. “The psychic was right! As long as we were willing to pay the price, we could call your soul back!” They babbled on, tripping over each other’s words. To resurrect me, my parents had fallen gravely ill, their health permanently damaged. My brother had shaved sixty years off his life, his hair turning white overnight. Henry had squandered his family fortune, left penniless. It sounded truly touching. As if bringing me back to life was their lifelong pursuit. I looked at their overjoyed faces, my heart utterly still. If they loved me so much, why did they drive me to my death in my previous life? The ocean in my dying moments last time had been too cold; it had frozen my heart solid. I tried to twist my parched lips into a smile, but my facial muscles felt stiff, unresponsive. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. Trusting them would be like believing pigs could fly. … For the first month after I was discharged and returned home, my family acted as if they’d rip out their own hearts and present them to me on a platter. At dinner, my mother piled every piece of meat onto my plate. While watching TV, my brother shoved the remote into my hand, letting me watch whatever I wanted. Even Fiona, the true heiress who was always doted on, became invisible in this house. The other day, Fiona merely glanced my way, and my mother immediately bristled. “What are you looking at! If it weren’t for you, Rina wouldn’t have suffered so much! Get back to your room!” Fiona flinched, tears welling in her eyes, but she dared not let them fall. This scene was truly ironic. In my past life, ever since Fiona came back, I was always the one being yelled at like that. Her masterful acting had everyone dancing to her tune. She threw herself into the ocean, then claimed I pushed her. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. My parents pointed fingers, calling me ungrateful, threatening to kick me out. My brother, to avenge Fiona, hired thugs to break my legs. Henry was the cruelest. He said he wanted me to experience Fiona’s despair, then had me thrown into that very ocean. “Rina can swim; she won’t drown. It’ll just teach her a lesson.” He watched coldly from the shore. But he forgot, how could someone with broken legs swim? The icy seawater flooded my nasal passages, my lungs felt like they would burst. I struggled desperately, but could only watch myself sink. Until the moment I lost consciousness, no hand ever reached for me. Now, this show of deep affection—who was it for? … The false peace couldn’t last. Human nature’s inertia is immense; the slightest relaxation and it snaps back to its original state. At the dinner table, six dishes, two soups. The last piece of sweet and sour pork remained on the platter. It was my father’s signature dish, and my favorite. Fiona kept her head down, picking at her white rice, like a wronged daughter-in-law. Suddenly, a single tear plinked into her bowl. The sound was soft, but piercing in the quiet dining room. She said nothing, just quietly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and continued to stuff rice into her mouth. That look of enduring humiliation, it was truly heartbreaking to witness. My father’s eating slowed. He looked at Fiona’s pitiful display, his brows furrowed. Almost an unconscious movement, he picked up the piece of pork that was meant for me, twisted his wrist, and placed it in Fiona’s bowl. “Why are you crying? Have some meat.” The action was fluid, as natural as breathing. Only after he finished did he suddenly snap back to reality. His chopsticks froze mid-air, and the expression on his face solidified. My mother and brother also froze, their gazes darting between me and that piece of pork. Fiona bit her lip, the piece of pork glaringly obvious against the white rice. She timidly glanced at me, whispering, “Rina, you have it. I’m not hungry…” Dead silence descended on the dining table. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to react. If this were my past life, I would have already smashed my bowl. I would have hysterically demanded to know why my father was so biased, why he always picked for her, never for me. I would have pointed at Fiona and called her out for her fakery. Then everyone would storm off, and I would once again be branded “immature” and “narrow-minded.” But now, I just found it amusing. See? This was their so-called “change of heart.” All it took was two crocodile tears from Fiona, and their scales would immediately tip. I put down my chopsticks, pulled out a napkin, and dabbed my mouth. A perfectly composed smile spread across my face. “Fiona really is too thin. She should eat more to nourish herself.” My tone was even, devoid of any sarcasm. After saying this, I even picked up a stalk of greens and put it in my mouth, chewing with evident enjoyment. My parents visibly relaxed, but then, a hint of awkwardness and guilt crept onto their faces. It was a complex expression. Relieved I hadn’t made a scene, yet also finding my reaction unsettling. Too agreeable. Too agreeable to be the spoiled Rina they knew. “Rina, darling, your father didn’t mean it like that…” My father tried to explain, his wrinkles deepening. I cut him off. “Dad, please eat. The food will get cold.” I lowered my head and continued eating, blocking out their scrutinizing stares. After dinner, I went back to my room and picked up a book. The door slammed open. My brother burst in, seething, with a meek-looking Fiona trailing behind him. Fiona had her sleeves rolled up, revealing a purplish bruise on her wrist. “Rina! Have you been bullying Fiona again?!” My brother’s roar made my eardrums throb. “Did you do that to Fiona’s arm? I knew you wouldn’t settle down so easily! You pretend to be magnanimous, but you’re secretly underhanded. When did you become so vicious?!” Familiar recipe, familiar flavor. No evidence needed, no investigation required. If Fiona was hurt, the culprit was always me. Fiona hid behind my brother, stammering, “Bro, don’t blame Rina. I just bumped myself accidentally… it’s not Rina’s fault…” This tactic of feigned humility, she had mastered it perfectly. My brother grew even angrier. “Don’t cover for her! Besides her, who else in this family would target you?” After his tirade, he seemed to suddenly remember something. Remembered whose sake his white hair was for, remembered that I was someone who had “died once.” The anger on his face froze, and he forcefully suppressed his rage, switching to a more serious, advising tone: “Rina, darling, I’m not trying to yell at you. You and Fiona are sisters, you should stick together. Mom and Dad and I have already talked to her, had a heart-to-heart. She won’t target you anymore, so you don’t need to be defensive.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I felt nothing but revulsion. Before he could finish, I stood up. Facing him and Fiona, I bowed deeply. A ninety-degree bow. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have appeared before Fiona, shouldn’t have breathed the same air. I promise, I’ll stay ten feet away from her from now on, so she never feels uncomfortable.” My tone was flat, like an emotionless robot. Admitting every baseless accusation, my sincerity was impeccable. My brother, prepared with a belly full of lectures, found them choked in his throat, his face turning beet-red. He opened his mouth, about to say I didn’t need to be so submissive. I had already straightened up, expressionlessly closing my bedroom door. The door clicked shut right in front of his nose, completely cutting off his bewildered face. … Soon, it was Henry’s birthday, though this year his birthday celebration was comically meager. To resurrect me, the once lavish Henry, now couldn’t even afford a decent private room. The cheap disco ball in the main hall made my eyes spin, and on the tables were a few bottles of watered-down liquor. His sycophantic friends were still forced to praise him, calling him “devoted” and a “reformed rake.” I found the noise grating, so I excused myself to touch up my makeup and headed towards the lounge at the end of the hallway. My hand had just touched the doorknob when strange sounds drifted out. The rustling of fabric, and gasps stifled with great effort. The door wasn’t locked. I gently pushed, and the heavy, solid wood door cracked open. The scene through the gap was even more blinding than the lights in the main hall. Fiona was sitting on Henry’s lap. Her already short cocktail dress was bunched up to her waist, her two dazzlingly white legs tightly wrapped around Henry’s waist. Henry’s hand was buried beneath her dress. Both their faces were flushed, sweat trickling down Henry’s temples. The air was thick with a cloyingly nauseating sweetness. Fiona arched her head back, her neck forming a delicate curve, a seductive moan escaping her lips: “Henry, darling…” Her voice was a winding, melodious whisper. I stood at the doorway, watching this tableau, feeling utterly nothing. I even had the leisure to evaluate Fiona’s figure. She certainly had more curves than my recently resurrected, sickly self. No wonder Henry couldn’t resist. My past self, if I had witnessed this, would probably have felt the sky collapsing. I would have stormed in, splashed champagne in their faces, dragged Fiona out by her hair to expose her. I would have cried, screamed, demanded to know why Henry betrayed me. But now, I just found the scene repulsive. So repulsive that I had no desire to even step inside. Perhaps it was the draft from the doorway. Henry jolted, his hazy eyes snapping into focus. The moment he saw me, all the color drained from his face. The expression was as if he’d seen a ghost. “Wil… Rina?!” He fumbled to push Fiona off him. The force was surprising; he sent Fiona tumbling off the sofa, her forehead hitting the coffee table corner with a thud. Fiona shrieked, clutching her forehead, looking at Henry in disbelief. But Henry paid her no mind. He scrambled towards me, practically crawling, trying to grab my hand. “Rina! Let me explain!” “It’s not what you think! I was drunk… it was her! She seduced me!” He babbled incoherently, trembling all over. The cheap shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his body, making him look utterly pathetic. I stepped back half a pace, avoiding his outstretched hand. As if avoiding a bag of wet garbage just pulled from a bin. Henry’s hand froze mid-air. He stared intently at my face, trying to find even a hint of anger, jealousy, or sorrow. Alas, he was destined to be disappointed. I was calm. This calmness terrified him. More than if I had a knife in my hand. “Rina, yell at me.” His voice trembled, his eyes bloodshot. “Hit me, slap me! Just don’t look at me like this… please, don’t look at me like this!” I ignored his outburst. I lowered my head, opened my purse, and slowly pulled out a red velvet box from a hidden compartment. Click. The box opened. Inside lay the diamond engagement ring. Then, I took out a pre-written letter of disengagement, placing it neatly on the nearby coffee table, along with the ring. Right where Fiona had just cut her head. The fresh crimson bloodstain, reflecting the cold gleam of the diamond, had a morbid beauty. “Happy birthday, Henry.” I looked at him, my tone as gentle as if catching up with an old friend. “I was wondering what gift would be appropriate. Since you’re so fond of Fiona, then I’ll grant your wish. Consider this letter of disengagement my present to you both.” Henry was stunned. He stared at the letter as if it were some monstrous beast. “No… I don’t want it…” He shook his head desperately, tears and snot blurring his face. “I squandered my family fortune for you! I put my life on the line for you! Rina, how could you do this to me?!” “Just because of this one time? Just because of this one accident?!” He roared, the veins in his neck bulging. “I told you I was drunk! Can’t you be understanding?!” How laughable. This was the man who claimed to love me to his bones. One moment entangled with his prospective sister-in-law, the next resorting to emotional blackmail. His so-called deep affection, in the face of desire, was less than a used tissue. Seeing my silence, Henry suddenly lunged at me, embracing me like a madman. His strength was immense, squeezing my bones painfully. The stench of alcohol, perfume, and sweat churned my stomach. “Rina, please just make a scene! Please?!” His eyes were bloodshot, roaring in my ear: “You used to be so jealous! You used to throw a fit if I just spoke to another woman! Hit me, yell at me, anything! Just don’t be so calm, I’m scared!” “Like this… it makes me feel like you don’t care about me at all!” I let him hold me, my hands hanging at my sides, offering no response. When he finally tired himself out, panting, I raised my hand and gently patted his back. My movements were soft, like comforting a rabid stray dog. “Henry, you’re overthinking it.” My voice was gentle, carrying a hint of “understanding” consideration. “Men will be men, playing the field is normal. Fiona is young and beautiful, and she’s my sister. Keeping things in the family is fine, why would I be angry?” “I respect your choices, and I understand your needs.” Every word was like a blunt knife, carving into him. Henry’s body stiffened. He let go, stumbling back two steps, his eyes hollow as he stared at me. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I don’t mind.” I smiled, even helping him straighten his disheveled collar. “As long as you’re happy.” Henry utterly collapsed. He crouched on the floor, clutching his head, letting out animalistic whimpers. The despair was a hundred times more intense than when he went bankrupt. Because he realized, no matter what he did, the Rina who used to cry and laugh, whose eyes were solely for him, was never coming back. All he had bought back with his entire fortune was a soulless shell. Fiona huddled in the corner, trembling. She had originally wanted to see me make a fool of myself, to watch me become hysterical. But now, she only felt cold. A bone-deep chill that shot from her soles to the crown of her head. I didn’t spare them another glance. I turned and walked towards the door. My hand paused on the doorknob. I looked back, giving that pathetic pair a perfectly poised smile. “Oh, right. The guests outside are still waiting for cake.” “You two carry on. Just keep it down. Don’t disturb everyone.” With that, I thoughtfully closed the door behind me. Following the soft click of the lock. Henry’s heartbroken roar echoed from inside, along with the loud crash of something being smashed.

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