I’d been a ghostwriter for five years. Five scripts, and I’d taken my struggling actor boyfriend and turned him into a newly crowned Best Actor. Yet, at the awards ceremony, he declared his heartfelt devotion to his innocent junior mentee, whom he’d funded: “Thank you, my inspiration, my muse.” Daisy’s eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill. “Lucas, you shine so brightly. I only dared to hide in the shadows, quietly writing every word for you. I never thought…” The entire internet hailed them as a match made in heaven, while I, the real author, became his “burnt-out writer with no spark.” My agent, Brenda Jenkins, advised me: “Just bear with it. He promised to use your script for his next project.” I smiled. That night, I registered an account and posted on Ins. “Hello everyone, I’m Willow Hayes, the screenwriter for ‘Long Night.’” On the live broadcast of the awards ceremony, Lucas Thorne stood under the spotlight, handsome in his custom-tailored suit, his face displaying a perfectly measured excitement. He clutched the Best Actor trophy, a symbol of the highest honor. I sat in my dimly lit living room, the computer screen before me still showing the document of his acceptance speech. I had written it. Every word carefully chosen, every pause meticulously designed. For the script of his career-defining masterpiece, ‘Long Night,’ I’d pulled seven all-nighters. When I finally turned it in, my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, my breath catching in my throat. The doctor said I had severe myocardial damage, and if I continued like this, I could suffer sudden cardiac arrest at any moment. I hid the diagnostic report. In return, I got his ultimate glory tonight. “…Thank you to the committee, thank you to my team,” his voice came through the speakers, “But today, the person I want to thank most is someone special.” My heart skipped a beat. I instinctively straightened my back. On the sofa was the throw pillow he’d personally signed for me: ‘To my dearest Shadow.’ For five years, I’d stayed hidden behind the scenes, writing five scripts for him, elevating him from a nobody actor, step by step, to where he is today. We’d made a pact: once he won Best Actor, we’d go public. He’d take my hand in front of the world and tell everyone that I, Willow Hayes, was the architect of his success. On the live broadcast, his gaze, full of deep affection, swept across the audience. “She is my entire creative world. She is my muse. Without her, Lucas Thorne wouldn’t be standing here today.” My breath caught. These weren’t the lines we’d agreed on. The camera followed his gaze, finally settling on an inconspicuous corner of the audience. A girl in a white dress stood up, long hair flowing over her shoulders, her face innocent and sweet. It was Daisy Miller, his junior mentee from film school whom he often spoke about funding. Flashbulbs instantly focused on her. Her eyes were red, tears threatening to spill. Lucas extended his hand to her, his voice tender: “Daisy, come up. This honor is yours too, my dearest Shadow.” Gathering her skirt, Daisy stepped onto the stage that should have been mine. She took the microphone Lucas offered her, her voice thick with tears, her eyes glistening. “Lucas, you shine so brightly. I… I only dared to hide in the shadows, quietly writing every thought that crossed my mind for you. I never thought…” Her words were broken and halting, yet they were enough for everyone to imagine a grand romantic drama of a talented artist and his grateful muse, a perfect romantic narrative for the year. So, every word I’d tirelessly written became her quiet, unrecognized contributions, for which she never dared ask for credit. Every plot I’d meticulously crafted through sleepless nights became her and Lucas’s profound soul connection. I, Willow Hayes, on Lucas Thorne’s night of triumph, was completely erased from existence. I became a mere backdrop, not even worthy of a name, in his love story. Instantly, the entire internet exploded. #LucasDaisyPerfectMatch #BestActor’sGratitude #DaisyTheMuse My phone vibrated wildly. It was my agent, Brenda Jenkins, calling. I numbly picked up, her cold voice coming through the receiver: “Willow, you saw the live broadcast, right? For the sake of the bigger picture, don’t say a word right now.” “For the sake of the bigger picture?” My voice was dry. “Brenda, that script was mine!” “We know,” Brenda’s tone was laced with impatience, “But Daisy’s ‘innocent genius’ persona is far more beneficial to Lucas than your image as a ghostwriter holed up indoors. Willow, you need to know your place. To put it bluntly, your spark has long since faded. It’s your good fortune that Lucas even uses you.” My good fortune… So, my five years of exhausting contributions were, in his and his team’s eyes, just a tool that could be replaced at any moment. My fingers, gripping the phone, turned white from the pressure, my knuckles cracking faintly. Brenda seemed to sense my silence, then threw out the final bait: “Just stay quiet, don’t make trouble. Lucas promised. He’ll use your script for his next major project. This is an A-list production, don’t be ungrateful.” With that, she hung up. The living room fell into a deathly silence. I looked at the mountain of script drafts, professional books, and the screenwriting awards on the wall—awards that were mine, yet Lucas had never once mentioned publicly. My heart suddenly stopped hurting. When pain reaches its peak, it turns into numbness. I slowly stood up and walked to the computer. I opened the web browser, and using my ID, I registered an Ins account under my real name. In my bio, I typed out a few lines. “Hello everyone, I’m Willow Hayes, the screenwriter for ‘Long Night.’”

My Ins post caused a brief ripple in the early morning internet, but it was quickly drowned out by a torrent of mockery and abuse. “Who is this crazy woman? Desperate for fame?” “LOL, the biggest attention-seeking stunt of the year! Did she get jealous seeing our Best Actor win?” “Ex-girlfriend? Or a rejected stalker fan? Such a low-class move.” “Sweetie, if you’re trying to trend, please show some proof. Who believes you with just your word?” Lucas’s fans were terrifyingly aggressive. They quickly found my account, and the comment section and DMs were flooded with vile insults. I didn’t respond, just watched it all unfold calmly. Late that night, Daisy went live. She wore no makeup, just a simple white T-shirt, in a humble dorm room background. In the camera, her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale—a sight that would stir pity in anyone. “I don’t know why things turned out this way…” Her voice choked, and she bowed deeply to the camera. “I’m so sorry for taking up everyone’s time and attention. I actually… I’ve always admired Ms. Hayes. I’ve seen her early works; she’s incredibly talented.” She praised me first, then skillfully shifted her narrative, tears flowing perfectly. “But inspiration, it’s something you truly can’t control… When Lucas and I talked about scripts, so many ideas just naturally flowed out. We felt like we’d found kindred spirits. I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen… If my existence has hurt Ms. Hayes, I sincerely apologize.” Her speech was perfectly crafted, portraying her as an innocent, kind soul who adored her senior, a fragile, innocent flower swept away by her talent and love. At the same time, she subtly implied that my well of inspiration had run dry, that I only wrote soulless commercial tropes, and that she was the true creative spirit, sharing a soul connection with Lucas. Just then, Lucas’s call came in. “Willow, stop making a scene, it’s embarrassing.” His voice held a hoarseness from a hangover and obvious impatience. “I’ll have the finance department transfer the screenwriting fee for ‘Long Night’ tomorrow, double the amount. Delete your Ins post, behave yourself, and you’ll get your money for the next project.” He didn’t even bother to question or explain, just used money to command my silence. “What if I don’t?” I asked softly. His cold chuckle came from the other end of the line: “Willow, don’t test my limits. You can’t fight me, and you can’t fight the company. Don’t tear away your last shred of dignity.” With that, he hung up. I gripped the cold phone and laughed. Right, how could I fight him? He was the newly crowned Best Actor, adored by millions, backed by capital and a powerful PR team. And I, I was just a “ghostwriter,” stripped of my value, ready to be discarded at any moment. The next day, I returned to the apartment Lucas and I had shared for five years—which also served as my studio—to pack my things. As I carried a box full of manuscripts to the door, I bumped straight into Daisy. “Willow, thank you for taking care of Lucas these past five years. Now, he’s in my hands.” She smiled, her gaze falling on the box in my arms. “Speaking of which, I should thank you. A writer with no spark, who only knows how to bury herself in work like you, is really only good for ghostwriting, laying the groundwork for Lucas and my love story.” My heart felt a prick, but my face remained expressionless. My silence seemed to provoke her. She picked up a steaming cup of coffee from a nearby table, and pretending to “accidentally” let her hand slip, she splashed the entire cup of scalding liquid all over the box of precious manuscripts in my arms! They were the first drafts of ‘Long Night,’ my life’s work for five years, covered in dense revision notes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Willow, my hand slipped!” she shrieked dramatically. I could no longer maintain my calm. I abruptly grabbed her wrist: “Daisy!” That was the reaction she wanted. The moment I grabbed her, she let out a piercing scream, violently slammed herself against the wall behind her, then slid to the floor. “Ah—! Willow, please don’t hit me! I know you hate me, but you can’t hit people!” She clutched her arm, sobbing hysterically. The apartment door opened just then. Lucas rushed back, looking disheveled and worn. His gaze immediately landed on Daisy crying on the floor, and me, looking furious, gripping her wrist. Without a moment’s hesitation or a single question, he lunged forward, not even glancing at me, and violently shoved me away! Caught off guard, I stumbled back several steps, hitting the cold wall. The box in my arms fell, and the coffee-soaked manuscripts scattered across the floor. Lucas carefully pulled Daisy into his arms, soothing her gently: “Daisy, don’t be scared, I’m here.” Then, he turned, his eyes full of disgust and disappointment as he looked at me. “Willow, I truly misjudged you. I never thought you’d be so vicious and wicked, not just talentless!” Every word he spoke was like a knife, precisely piercing my already battered heart. “A newcomer, and you stoop to such tactics to suppress her? Are you really so resentful of others’ success?” I looked at him, then at Daisy, who was subtly smirking with victory in his arms, feeling only absurdity and ridicule. I opened my mouth, but found I couldn’t say anything. Explain? In this scene, any explanation would only sound more feeble and unconvincing. Seeing my silence, the disgust in Lucas’s eyes deepened. He pulled out his phone, dialed Brenda Jenkins, and put her on speaker. “Brenda, inform the legal department. Terminate Willow’s contract immediately. My team can’t afford to keep such a malicious and idiotic woman.” His voice was as cold as ice. “I never want to see her again. Willow, you’re fired!”

The next day, a termination letter from the company’s legal department arrived at my temporary residence with lightning speed. The termination reason cited ‘leaking company commercial secrets and causing severe negative impact to the artist’s reputation.’ They demanded I return all project fees from the past year and pay a staggering eight-figure breach of contract penalty. Meanwhile, the studio registered under my name, which the company had funded, was forcibly reclaimed. This wasn’t just termination; it was total annihilation. They wanted me to leave with absolutely nothing, burdening me with lifelong debt I might never repay. Before I could recover from the shock of the termination letter, my phone dinged with a SnapChat message. It was from Lucas’s number. I opened it. The photo showed Daisy curled up lazily in his arms like a cat, the background our bedroom, the one we’d shared for five years. Lucas had an arm wrapped around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The scene was intimate, and blindingly painful. A line of text accompanied the photo: “Thank you for clearing your spot, Willow.” My stomach churned, and I felt sick to my core, almost gagging. Immediately after, there was a commotion outside the door. I pulled back a corner of the curtain and saw movers throwing my belongings out of the apartment, piece by piece. The sofa I’d personally chosen, the throw pillow I’d used during sleepless writing nights, even the cushion he’d once signed for me, “To my dearest Shadow Screenwriter,” were all roughly tossed onto the ground, covered in dust. Lucas didn’t even give me time to pack my own things. I drew the curtains, shutting out everything outside. Over the next few days, I experienced what it meant to be kicked while I was down. Lucas’s studio pulled every string they had, putting out word to all production companies and streaming platforms that anyone who dared to work with Willow Hayes would be going against the newly crowned Best Actor, Lucas Thorne. Dozens of resumes I sent out vanished into a black hole, no replies. Producers who used to greet me with smiles and called me ‘friend’ now ignored my calls and SnapChat messages. The blacklist came swiftly and absolutely. Even more terrifying was the online bullying. Daisy’s fans somehow dug up my address. My mailbox was stuffed with razor blades and hateful letters. Every time I opened the door, it required immense courage. I unplugged the internet, turned off my phone, and completely cut myself off from the outside world. I didn’t cry, nor did I wallow in self-pity. I just sat on the floor, amidst the scattered mess, and began calmly and methodically sorting through my ‘legacy’ of the past five years. I carefully wiped clean and smoothed out the coffee-stained manuscripts, page by page. Though the writing was blurred, they were the most original evidence of my creative process. I dug out all my old computers and hard drives. From the very first day I started working with Lucas, I had a habit of recording all important discussions. All script drafts, outlines, revised versions—every single iteration—I saved as digital files with precise timestamps. This was an instinct as a screenwriter, to protect my creative labor. In the past, I thought it was just a backup, just in case. I never imagined that one day, they would become my weapons of counterattack. As I organized an encrypted folder, my hand paused. It was a folder created two years ago, named ‘Daylight.’ I clicked it open. Inside were the complete world-building, detailed character bios, episode outlines for the first three arcs, and… complete scripts for the first three episodes of ‘Daylight.’ My heart began to pound violently. Something suddenly occurred to me. Before starting ‘Long Night,’ Lucas’s team had already urged me to begin conceptualizing the next A-list project, which was ‘Daylight.’ To protect this work, into which I had poured immense ambition, I had registered the complete script outline and core concepts of ‘Daylight’ under my personal name, before handing it over to the company. And in the contract I’d originally signed with the company, the clause regarding ‘Daylight’ was only a vague “adaptation authorization,” and did not involve the transfer of underlying copyright! They thought that by kicking me out, this project would naturally become theirs. They thought that by pushing ‘Daisy Miller’ as their new muse, they could legitimately steal my hard work. They were wrong. My hand, clutching the mouse, trembled slightly with excitement. This was the ultimate checkmate. Just then, my computer, now reconnected to the internet, popped up with a news notification. The headline read: **[Newly Crowned Best Actor Lucas Thorne Teams Up With Genius Screenwriter Daisy Miller, A-List Blockbuster ‘Daylight’ Project Launch Conference to Be Held in One Week!]** The news was accompanied by a close-up photo of Lucas and Daisy, both smiling brightly, looking confident and in high spirits. I stared at the blinding headline, at that photo of them in their moment of triumph, and I laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

One week later, at the ‘Daylight’ project launch conference. The biggest streaming platforms in the country live-streamed the event, and online viewership had already surpassed ten million. I sat in a dressing room backstage, watching the spectacle unfold on the monitor screen. On screen, Lucas Thorne stood confidently at the center of the stage, basking in everyone’s attention. Beside him, Daisy, in a pure white fairy-tale dress, her makeup exquisite, leaned shyly against him, already the industry’s rising star, the ‘Most Talented New Screenwriter of the Year.’ “…The story of ‘Daylight’ was born from countless late-night conversations between Daisy and me,” Lucas said, clutching the microphone, looking at Daisy with deep affection. “She’s like a fairy born for drama, her mind full of wild, unbridled imagination. She’s the one who gave ‘Daylight’ its true soul.” Applause thundered through the hall. “And here, I also want to announce some good news.” He paused, then knelt on one knee, pulling a velvet box from his pocket and opening it. Inside was an enormous diamond ring, sparkling blindingly under the lights. It was the design I’d once seen in a magazine and pointed out to him. I’d said, when we get married, let’s get this one. He’d said yes. “Daisy Miller, marry me. Let’s create our film and television empire together.” “Yes!” Daisy cried with joy, extending her hand to him. Flashbulbs popped wildly, capturing this “fairy-tale romance.” The entire hall erupted. The live chat was flooded with ‘locked it down’ and ‘happily ever after.’ The host stepped forward at the opportune moment, his voice playfully teasing: “It seems today we’re not only witnessing the birth of an epic project but also the beginning of a beautiful union! But Lucas, I heard ‘Daylight’ previously involved another screenwriter?” This was clearly a pre-planned segment, designed to completely nail me to the pillar of shame. Lucas stood up, a perfectly placed look of regret on his face. “Yes. But unfortunately,” he sighed, “when inspiration runs dry, some people resort to tired clichés and shortcuts. And even worse, when they see more talented newcomers emerge, they become jealous, they try to suppress them, and they resort to unsavory tactics…” He didn’t mention my name, but everyone knew who he was talking about. These words irrevocably sealed my fate. I, Willow Hayes, became the industry’s negative example—jealous of talent, suppressing newcomers, and utterly devoid of inspiration. The investor representatives walked onto the stage, beaming, ready for the signing ceremony. Now. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the dressing room. The click of my heels on the polished marble floor was sharp and resolute. As the heavy doors of the venue swung open, all eyes turned to me.

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Severe weather was rolling in, heavy rain. I was stuck in the classroom, waiting for Caleb to pick me up. After half an hour, I couldn’t wait any longer and walked downstairs myself. But as I turned the corner, I overheard Caleb on the phone: “I get it, I’ll bring her back! It’s not like I asked her dad to save me, I don’t owe her anything!” “Why is she trying to emotionally manipulate me?!” My heart clenched painfully. If I could, I’d wish my dad had never saved him. Then I wouldn’t be stuck living under their roof. That night, I submitted an application to teach in a remote area, putting as much distance between Caleb and me as possible. It was an hour later when Caleb’s car finally pulled into the driveway. He stomped upstairs, fuming. “Harper, why didn’t you wait for me tonight?!” Caleb’s voice boomed from outside the door. I quickly put away my dad’s photo and replied calmly, “I waited for half an hour.” Caleb stood in the doorway, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “It was raining, traffic was backed up – couldn’t you have waited a little longer?” “What’s so great about interning at that rundown school? You can work for our company instead!” I didn’t agree. “Got it.” I wasn’t ready to tell him about the teaching application yet. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. If there’s nothing else, you can go back to your room.” I stood up and pushed him out of the room. Caleb’s face darkened, and he braced himself against the doorframe. “Harper, there’s a high school reunion the day after tomorrow. Come with me!” A high school reunion. Just thinking about that crowd sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. Before I could reply, he typed my name into his phone. “I signed you up.” “I’m not going.” For the first time, I refused, snatching his phone and deleting my name. “Caleb, I won’t go. Those are your buddies, your friends. They have nothing to do with me!” “I don’t need you telling me how to live my life!” Caleb froze at my words, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine! I guess I’m just wasting my breath on you!” “I don’t need it!” I took a deep breath. “I don’t need you to look after me, not anymore. I’m not a burden to you, and I’m not your responsibility!” His slamming door was my only answer. Looking at my dad’s photo on the table, my heart was a mix of emotions. When I was six, Caleb fell into the water. There was a flash flood at the time, and his family was camping by the river, with no time to escape. Caleb was swept away. My dad happened to be passing by and jumped in without hesitation to save him. But my dad ran out of strength and was carried off by the flood. By the time they found him, his body was so swollen and disfigured from the water. I lost my father that day. Caleb’s family heard I was an orphan and took me in. Caleb always looked out for me. We grew up together, inseparable. Even his friends used to call me his little girlfriend! Now, he was saying I was emotionally manipulating him. If I could, I’d wish he had died in that flood. Then, I wouldn’t have to go to sleep every night looking at my dad’s photo. As for the reunion he mentioned, I’d already seen the buzz in the group chat. Those people, back in school, they spread rumors that my dad knew we were poor and sacrificed himself so I could latch onto Caleb’s family. I’d rushed up and beaten one of them until they were bleeding and crying hysterically that day, ready to be disciplined rather than apologize. Caleb was the one who got the surveillance footage to prove the truth, and the rumor-monger apologized to me in the end, but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. Because he was one of Caleb’s good friends. When they were saying those things, Caleb must have agreed with them deep down, right? I left the group chat, reread my application materials, and clicked send. Soon after, Megan called me. “Harper, you agreed? And Caleb agreed too?” Megan had met Caleb before. Hearing her words, I smiled. “Megan, he’s not my guardian or anything. I make my own decisions; it’s fine.” Megan sighed silently on the other end of the line, then finally said, “Okay, everything goes well, see you the day after tomorrow.” “Mm, thanks, Megan.” I hung up, scanned the room, and packed my luggage. Since I was going to teach in a remote area, I hadn’t planned on coming back. Some things, if I couldn’t take them, I’d just throw them away. That night, I slept poorly. One moment, I dreamt of my dad staring at me from the water; the next, Caleb was stepping on my dad. I woke up crying. When I woke up, it was almost dawn. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and went downstairs. Vivian was already downstairs.

“Morning, Harper. You’re up early. Any plans for today?” “Yes, I’m going to school. My internship is almost over.” Vivian brought over a bowl of oatmeal, her face gentle. “Any plans after graduation?” “You and Caleb are the same age. After spending so long in that academic bubble, once you enter society, you should make more friends, so you’re not alone.” I understood Vivian’s words: she wanted me to stop clinging to Caleb. Richard had said more than once that he hoped Caleb and I would marry someday, but Vivian disagreed. Richard got angry, saying that would be ungrateful. That day, I was standing outside the study, eavesdropping on their argument. I understood Vivian’s point. At the time, I felt a pang of sadness. Any girl’s feelings are easy to see, and I had a crush on Caleb. Not just because my dad saved him, but also because Caleb had genuinely been good to me back then. Alone in the unfamiliar Caleb’s house, Caleb was the one who helped me through that dark period, walking to and from school with me. When my grades were initially poor, Caleb patiently taught me. Later, hearing Vivian’s words, I understood. In her eyes, Caleb’s family had raised me all these years, and all the kindness they’d shown me had been repaid. There was no need to treat me the way they used to. But I wanted to say that I didn’t need them at all. What “kindness” was there to repay? I just wanted my dad back. If they hadn’t ignored warnings and insisted on camping there, Caleb wouldn’t have been swept away. Now, with Vivian saying this, I smiled. “Vivian, actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Caleb’s family has raised me all these years, and I’m already an adult. I want to move out.” Vivian froze. “Harper, you…” “My dad always said, ‘rely on yourself. Mountains crumble, rivers run dry. Your own strength is all you truly have.’” “Caleb’s family has taken me in for so long; you’ve all given a lot these past ten years. I can’t repay your kindness with ill will, so I’ve decided it’s time to live independently.” “Last night, I also wanted to tell Caleb, but I figured he was too upset. I’m only telling you, Vivian. Please keep it a secret for me. I have to leave the day after tomorrow.” Vivian looked surprised. “So soon!” She didn’t use any grand-sounding excuses, just “so soon,” which told me she wanted me to leave too. Perhaps sensing her attitude, Vivian quickly added, “I mean, isn’t it a bit too rushed? You haven’t even packed everything.” “Caleb might make a fuss if he finds out.” “Then I’ll trouble you to explain it to him, Vivian, after I’ve left.” Vivian’s expression softened. “Okay, Harper, you’ve always been a sensible girl. Have you found a job? And a place to live?” “Yes, I’ve found a job as a teacher. I report for duty the day after tomorrow. I haven’t found a place to live yet.” “That’s wonderful, truly wonderful.” Vivian’s mood perked up immediately. She quickly went upstairs and came back down with a property deed. “This apartment is right in the city center, with a subway station right outside. It’s convenient for everything.” “Here, Harper. Even when you live alone, you need to be careful. Don’t go for a shared apartment.” I accepted it. My dad’s life was worth all their years of care, and this apartment. I wasn’t stupid. Teaching in a remote area would be tough and would require money. With this apartment, I’d at least have a place to stay if I ever came back. I accepted.

After breakfast, Vivian took me to complete the transfer of ownership. Seeing my name on the property deed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I put the deed into my bag, finished packing my luggage, and then glanced at the ornaments on the bookshelf. They were all gifts from Caleb. I collected them one by one, put them in a box, sealed it, and prepared to take them to the storage room. As I came out, I ran into Caleb. Seeing the box in my hands, he frowned. “What’s that?” “Just some unused things I’m taking to the storage room!” “I’ll help you.” Without a word, he snatched it and walked towards the storage room. I had no choice but to follow. “Harper, why aren’t you going to the reunion? Are you still holding onto those old grudges? That’s all in the past!” “Chloe’s back. Let’s all get together!” At that, I stopped. So, Chloe was back. No wonder Caleb was so insistent on me coming. “I told you, I’m not going. Caleb, if you like her, that’s your business. Don’t use me as a shield!” “I’m not just *anyone* to you, and I certainly won’t emotionally manipulate you!” “Come to think of it, you don’t owe me anything either!” Caleb’s face instantly turned ashen. “You!” I snatched the box from his hands, put it inside, and turned to leave. Caleb, fuming, kicked the box violently, then stormed away. For two days straight, I was decluttering. Caleb didn’t come back, and Richard was away on a business trip. Vivian saw I was serious about leaving and packed me several bags, which I mailed off. On the day I left, Vivian was reluctant. She looked upstairs. “What’s that boy always so busy with?” “It’s fine, Vivian. He’s busy with work, don’t disturb him. I can manage on my own. Please take care!” I dragged my luggage away. Before I left, I sent Caleb a SnapChat message: “Caleb, goodbye.” He didn’t reply, and I didn’t think much of it. I left Caleb’s house and headed straight to the station, embarking on a long journey. That night, as I sat on a sleeper train, he added me to a group chat. The moment I joined, Chloe and the others posted many photos. She and Caleb were sitting together, fingers intertwined. “Going in circles and meeting again! Everyone’s still so great!” The classmates in the group chat congratulated them. “Are they together? Congrats!” “You two are the perfect couple! When’s the wedding? Let us know!” “Harper didn’t come today, is she mad? If you two are together, what about Harper?” Someone tagged Caleb. After a long pause, Caleb replied, “Whatever. She means nothing to me anyway!” Reading that, I could almost see Caleb’s cynical, impatient face. I thought back to high school, when he’d fought for me, chased away those bullies, and gently ruffled my hair. “Harper, you’re mine. I’ll protect you for life!” “Harper, you’ve lived in my house for so long, you’ll stay here forever!” I’d been so naive then. “How can I live here forever? I’ll have my own little family someday.” But Caleb had clutched my wrist possessively. “No way. Everyone says a life-saving kindness must be repaid in marriage. I’m yours. You can only marry me and have our own little family!” Caleb’s words back then had made me blush furiously. I thought it was a promise. Now, I realize it was just a whimsical joke. Only I took it seriously. The group chat was still lining up to congratulate them. When someone brought me up, Caleb only bad-mouthed me. “Don’t mention her. I don’t owe her anything. She’s lived and eaten in my house for so many years; any debt of kindness has been repaid in full!” Chloe even posted an emoji. “Yeah, Caleb has his own life. You can’t emotionally manipulate him, can you?” I let out a cold laugh and typed out a message: “I wouldn’t have had to live dependent on others in the first place. It was you, Caleb, who made me lose my family.” “If I could turn back time, go back to the past, I’d definitely pull my dad back and tell him not to save you!” I sent it, then left the group and blocked all of them. Caleb, goodbye forever! The group chat fell silent at my message. “Harper’s words are so nasty. She’s cursing you!” Chloe said, ready to argue in the group, but Caleb stopped her. “Forget her. Let’s drink!”

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My husband had this one cherished possession: an old, beat-up mug he’d used for twenty years. Coffee, tea, water – it was always in his hand, rain or shine. For two decades of our marriage, that mug was a constant… until last week. I found it tossed in the trash. It was at my dad’s seventieth birthday dinner that I dropped the bombshell: I wanted a divorce, right in front of all our relatives. Everyone froze. My mom grabbed my arm, her voice laced with disbelief. “Evelyn, are you out of your mind? You want a divorce just because Daniel replaced a mug?” My husband, Daniel Brooks, was livid, his face a mix of anger and wounded innocence. “Evelyn Hayes, I haven’t cheated, I haven’t been abusive. I just threw away that old mug you hated so much!” “You used to complain about it every single day, telling me to get a new one!” I scoffed, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “Exactly. That’s *precisely* why I’m divorcing you.” “Evelyn, are you feeling alright today? Did you take the wrong pills?” Daniel snatched the divorce papers from my hand, his face turning beet red with fury. The entire banquet hall fell into a stunned silence. My parents, my younger brother Kevin and his wife Ashley, all his relatives – every pair of eyes was glued to me. My mom pointed a trembling finger at me, her lips quivering. “Evelyn, what on earth are you doing?” “Today is your dad’s seventieth birthday! Don’t you dare make a scene!” My father-in-law, Daniel’s dad, Mr. Brooks Sr., slammed his wine glass onto the table, his face ashen with rage. “Nonsense!” I took a deep breath, my voice cutting through the tension, cold and clear. “I’m not crazy. I’m perfectly sane.” “Daniel, we’re getting a divorce.” “Why?” He took a step closer, almost a roar. “Because I f\*cking threw away an old mug?!” His veins bulged in his neck, his face contorted in anger. The guests immediately erupted into whispers and gasps. “What?” “Divorcing over a mug?” “What’s gotten into Mrs. Brooks?” “That’s the most ridiculous reason I’ve ever heard.” “Seriously, that old mug was an eyesore. It’s a good thing he threw it out, isn’t it?” “Daniel’s doing so well now, he got a new mug, and *she* wants to leave him?” My mother-in-law clutched her chest, looking ready to faint, and started crying at me. “Evelyn, what have we, the Brooks family, ever done to wrong you?” “Daniel has treated you like a queen for twenty years! Is this how you repay him?” “For twenty years, you put up with that mug, didn’t you?” “Now he finally decided to throw it out himself, and you’re making a fuss? What do you actually want?” Seeing his mother cry, Daniel became even more enraged. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn, you better explain yourself!” “If you don’t give me a reasonable explanation today, this isn’t over!” He yanked me, making me stumble, a sharp pain shooting up my wrist. I raised my other hand and slapped him hard across the face. *Smack!* The sharp sound echoed through the silent hall. Everyone was stunned speechless. Daniel froze, clutching his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You hit me?” “Wake up.” I shook off his hand, rubbing my reddened wrist. “The divorce papers are right here. You have three days to sign them.” “Three days from now, I’ll see you at the lawyer’s office.” With that, I didn’t spare him another glance and turned to leave. The entire banquet hall remained in a state of shock. “Evelyn Hayes, you stop right there!” Daniel’s furious roar came from behind me. My sister-in-law, Ashley, who always looked down on me, rushed forward, blocking my path, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sister-in-law, don’t be so impulsive!” “My brother has been so good to you, our whole family has seen it! You can’t break his heart like this!” “Yeah, Evelyn,” A friend from my card group, who I usually got along with, also tried to persuade me. “All couples have their arguments, you make up after a spat. Don’t let a small fight turn into something so ugly.” “Exactly! It’s your dad’s birthday today, you’re just ruining his big day!” Each “well-meaning” piece of advice only made me seem more heartless, more unreasonable. I stopped, but didn’t turn back. “My affairs are none of your business.” “Evelyn!” My mom’s shrill voice pierced the air. “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” I let out a cold laugh and walked out the door without looking back.

Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. I wasn’t crazy, and I wasn’t being unreasonable. That old mug Daniel had used for twenty years was his most cherished possession. It was an old-fashioned olive green enamel mug, chipped in several places, revealing the dark metal beneath the enamel, with one spot even showing rust. I’d tried countless times to get him to replace it – with a delicate porcelain cup, a sleek ceramic one, even just a simple glass. He’d stubbornly refused every single time. He used to say it was the only valuable thing he owned back when he was dirt poor, a testament to his struggle, a reminder of his humble beginnings and ambitions. Whenever he caressed that chipped old mug, his eyes held a tenderness and nostalgia I could never quite understand. I always thought it was a tribute to his difficult past. I had no choice but to tolerate it. But last week, he just threw it away. Without any warning, the mug he called his “humble beginnings” was tossed into the kitchen trash can. When I asked him about it, he just said, indifferently: “Didn’t you always complain about it being old and broken?” “Now that I’ve thrown it out, why are you still making such a fuss?” My heart sank at that moment. Something was definitely off. How could he just throw away something he’d guarded for twenty years, something he called his “humble beginnings,” just like that? This change was too sudden to be innocent. That night, while he was showering, I secretly searched his briefcase. His phone, which he used to let me browse freely, now had a complex password. My small seed of suspicion instantly multiplied a thousandfold. Over the next few days, I paid close attention to everything. I noticed he started smiling at his phone a lot, a kind of smile I’d only seen twenty years ago when he was trying to win me over. He also spent more time talking on the phone on the balcony, always sneaking around. At that moment, I was almost certain: he was hiding something. Then, three days ago, I followed him. I watched him walk into an upscale coffee shop. Through the glass window, I saw the woman sitting opposite him. I knew her. Chloe Miller. Daniel’s college classmate, the one that got away, the unrequited love of his youth. I’d heard she married a wealthy businessman right after graduation and moved abroad. Now, she was back. And what made my blood run cold was the brand-new enamel mug sitting next to Chloe’s hand. It was identical to the one in our trash can. Daniel was looking at her with eyes full of doting affection, just like he used to look at that old, chipped mug. It wasn’t his “humble beginnings” he was guarding all these years. He was clearly guarding his unattainable old flame. *Ding-dong—* The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I peeked through the peephole: it was my mom, along with a furious Daniel. I didn’t open the door. “Evelyn, open the door!” “I know you’re in there!” “You better explain yourself!” Daniel pounded loudly on the door. “Evelyn, please open the door. Let’s sit down and talk this through, alright?” My mom’s voice was tearful. I leaned against the door, saying nothing. “Evelyn, don’t push your luck!” Daniel’s patience ran out. “What do you think you are?” “You’re nothing but my pet!” “Think you can fly now that your wings are strong?” Listening to his cruel insults, I felt nothing but disgust. I pulled out my phone and sent Daniel a text. “Want to talk?” “Fine.” “Send your mom away first.” Soon, the noise outside the door subsided. About ten minutes later, Daniel called, his voice barely concealing his rage. “She’s gone. Open the door.” I opened the door, and he stormed in like an enraged lion. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing? Are you losing your mind?” He shoved me against the wall, placing his hands on either side of me, trapping me between his chest and the cold surface. “Have I been too good to you all these years, made you forget who you are?” I looked at his face, so close to mine – the face I had loved for twenty years, but which now looked utterly alien and menacing. I smiled, a bitter laugh that threatened to bring tears to my eyes. “Daniel, aren’t you tired?” He froze, not understanding what I meant. “Aren’t you tired, pretending to be loving with a woman you don’t care for, day in and day out?” I raised my hand and gently touched his cheek. His face instantly changed.

Daniel’s pupils constricted violently, his eyes flashing with panic, but it was quickly replaced by explosive anger. “What the hell are you talking about?!” He grabbed my hand and violently threw it away. “Evelyn, I think you really *are* crazy!” “Whether I’m crazy or not, you know best.” I looked at him coldly. “Daniel, stop acting. It’s disgusting.” He stared at me intently, his chest heaving. After a long moment, he suddenly laughed, a cruel, mocking edge in his voice. “Fine. So what if I still think about Chloe? What are you going to do about it?” He spread his hands, a defiant, ‘what can you do to me?’ look on his face. “Evelyn, we’ve been married for twenty years. Do you have any proof?” “Without proof, you can scream it to the high heavens, it won’t matter.” “As for money, you won’t get a single penny.” “And Leo? He’s certainly not going with a crazy woman like you.” This was the man I had shared my bed with for twenty years. I looked at him, my heart growing colder with each passing second. “Proof?” I let out a soft laugh. “You’ll have it soon enough.” My phone rang just then. It was an unknown number. I answered it in front of Daniel, putting it on speaker. A soft, somewhat delicate female voice came from the other end. “Is this Evelyn? Evelyn, dear?” Daniel’s face turned ashen the moment he heard the voice. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him. He avoided my gaze, unable to meet my eyes. “This is Evelyn. Who is this?” I asked, feigning calmness. “It’s Chloe Miller.” The woman on the phone giggled. “Daniel hasn’t mentioned me to you?” “Oh?” I drew out the word, asking with feigned interest. “How should he mention you to me?” “Are you his white moonlight, or the one that left an indelible mark on his soul?” Chloe seemed surprised by my directness, paused for a second, then laughed even harder. “Evelyn, you’re so funny.” “I’m not calling for any particular reason, just wanted to give you some advice.” “Daniel is a sentimental man, he’s been through a lot.” “If my family hadn’t had problems back then, we would have been married years ago. You wouldn’t have even been in the picture.” “Honestly, you were just… a substitute.” “Now that I’m back, it’s time for him to get back on the right track, back to me.” “Evelyn, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you know what to do, right?” “Holding onto something that doesn’t belong to you can be quite difficult.” “Oh, and by the way,” She said, as if suddenly remembering, her voice dripping with triumph. “That old mug Daniel threw away? It was the first gift I ever gave him.” “He said that looking at that mug was like looking at me.” “Now that I’m back, of course, he had to throw out the old one and replace it with the new one I bought him.” “He said it’s ‘out with the old, in with the new’.” I could clearly see the vein throbbing in Daniel’s forehead. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. “Chloe! What the hell are you talking about?!” Daniel finally couldn’t hold back and roared into the phone. “Daniel, don’t be mean to me.” Chloe’s voice turned wounded and resentful. “I’m just helping you say what you’re too afraid to say.” “Aren’t you tired of this old and boring wife?” “You told me she was dull and uninteresting, like plain tap water, and that I was the fiery liquor that made you feel alive.” “Daniel, will you choose the plain water or the fiery liquor?” With that, she hung up. I folded my arms, watching Daniel, composed and at ease. “Now, do I need to find evidence?” His face cycled through red, then white, a truly spectacular display. He suddenly lunged forward, snatching my phone and slamming it to the ground. The screen instantly shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. “Crazy!” “You’re both crazy!” He paced the room like a caged animal, agitated, before stopping in front of me, his eyes bloodshot. “Evelyn, that woman is insane!” “She just wants to destroy our family!” “You can’t believe her!” “Oh really?” I countered. “So ‘out with the old, in with the new’ and ‘plain tap water versus fiery liquor’ – she made all that up too?” Daniel’s body froze. “That was… that was just her trying to get a rise out of you…” Daniel’s gaze darted around, concocting a lie that wouldn’t convince even himself.

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While waiting for Blake to order, I scrolled through a post. The poster asked: “My boyfriend loves me in stockings, but his girlfriend isn’t a fan. How can I subtly get my stockings into his place?” She also posted a picture of her long, slender, pale legs, which had netizens drooling. I secretly scoffed, *Poor girl, what a scumbag she’s dealing with.* But then I saw the tattoo on the poster’s right leg, and I froze. It was identical to my boyfriend’s. And I, well, I definitely don’t like wearing stockings. I zoomed in on the picture, and my breath hitched. That tattoo… how could I not recognize it? Blake has an identical one on his right ankle. He told me it was his lucky charm, with the letter ‘B’ for ‘Blake’. I was with him last year on his birthday when he got it. He was grimacing in pain, squeezing my hand tight. *How could it be… such a coincidence?* I abruptly looked up at Blake, who was sitting across from me. He had just finished ordering and flashed me a tender smile: “Babe, I ordered your favorite cod. Make sure you eat up later.” His smile was as warm and gentle as ever. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady, and turned my phone screen towards him: “Blake, check out this post. Pretty funny, right? This person’s tattoo looks just like yours.” His smile instantly froze. It was only for a split second, but I clearly caught the flicker of panic in his eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, barely even looking at the screen, his voice stiff: “Huh? What tattoo? There are tons of similar ones online. Must be a coincidence.” He reached out to push my phone away, his movement carrying a hint of barely perceptible urgency. My heart sank. Normally, if he saw a similar tattoo, he’d be excited to discuss it, maybe even brag about the special meaning his tattoo held. Not avoid it like the plague. “Really?” I pulled my phone back. “But it really looks so similar, even the little ‘B’ is in almost the same spot. Do you think it’s from the same parlor? Or… maybe it’s the exact same person?” I added, half-joking, half-testing him. “Chloe…” Blake’s voice suddenly rose, making a nearby table of customers glance over. He seemed to realize his outburst, lowering his voice, his brows furrowed, “What are you implying? You’re accusing me? A random post, some random picture from the internet, and you’re suddenly so suspicious?” His tone was full of accusation: “I knew something was off with you today. So this is what you’ve been obsessing over? Can’t you stop being so sensitive? Just trust me for once, okay?” Sensitive? Suspicious? If it weren’t for that tattoo, I might actually have doubted myself, wondered if I was overthinking things. But now, his reaction, his gaslighting, only solidified my suspicions. I didn’t say anything, just quietly watched him. My silence seemed to provoke him, or rather, made him even guiltier. “Forget it. Looks like dinner’s ruined. You can just sit here and stew in your suspicions.” His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment, his eyes darting, unwilling to meet my gaze. “I can’t stand you like this. Every single day, I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours.” With that, he turned and walked out. Blake, what are you so guilty about?

I tried to go to the poster’s profile, but the post had vanished. My heart sank. Undeterred, I exited and re-entered the app, even trying the search function. I found the username, but clicking it led to that suffocating blankness. Not only was the profile inaccessible, but the scandalous post itself now showed “[This post has been deleted]”. That was fast. Only a mere ten minutes or so had passed since Blake left. Did he contact her immediately after walking out? Or was “she,” the one who posted, keeping an eye on the comments, saw my questioning, and, knowing she was guilty, quickly hid everything? Either way, it pointed to the same undeniable fact. Blake is hiding something. I dialed my best friend, Skylar. “Skylar, I need a favor. Urgent.” Skylar heard the urgency in my voice and immediately dropped her usual banter: “Tell me, what’s wrong, Chloe? Your voice sounds off. Did you argue with Blake?” That’s my best friend. We grew up together. Her intuition is spot on. I briefly told her what happened. I heard Skylar’s furious gasp from the other end of the line: “Blake, that bastard, how dare he?” “Don’t curse yet, I need your help.” I quickly cut her off. “Skylar, you have connections. Help me find all the reputable tattoo parlors in the city that can do complex designs like this. The key is to check if, in the last year, there’s been a female client with a sun totem tattoo on her ankle, with the letter ‘B’ in the center. Anonymous forum info is too vague; we need solid leads.” “Got it.” Skylar immediately agreed. “Leave it to me. I’ll dig through hell and high water to get you those clues. That scumbag, he’s got a death wish.” Just as I hung up, my screen lit up again. I frowned and answered. “Hello? Is that Chloe? It’s Dustin.” Loud music blared from the other end. It was Dustin, Blake’s so-called ‘best friend’ who was really just a party buddy, his voice urgent: “Oh, Chloe, you gotta come quickly. Blake’s totally drunk. He’s really upset because of you and he’s making a scene here. None of us can stop him.” Because of me? Making a scene? I scoffed inwardly. How long had it been since he left the restaurant? And he’s already drowning his sorrows? He’s really putting on a show. “Address.” My voice was cold. Dustin rattled off the name of a KTV and a room number – one of the most expensive places in the city. Before hanging up, he ‘kindly’ added: “Chloe, when you get here, maybe say a few soft words to Blake? He’s really upset today, keeps talking about you, saying you don’t trust him enough. We can’t talk any sense into him.” Every word was a veiled accusation that I was being unreasonable, forcing my boyfriend to drink himself senseless. I said nothing, just hung up. My rational side told me not to go, but a gut feeling drove me to see it for myself. I wanted to see how they planned to play out this drama.

I pushed the door open to find about seven or eight people, a mix of men and women, lounging on the sofas. Blake was sprawled in the middle, mumbling incoherently, definitely playing the part of a drunk. Empty liquor bottles were scattered everywhere, on the table and on the floor – a complete mess. Dustin saw me and immediately came over, his eyes darting: “Chloe, you finally made it! Come see Blake.” I ignored him and walked straight to Blake. He seemed to sense someone, struggled to open his eyes, and seeing it was me, instantly put on a pained, wronged expression, reaching out to pull me: “Chloe… you came… you don’t know how upset I am… why don’t you trust me…” Over-the-top acting, reeking of alcohol. I avoided his hand and asked coldly, “How much did you drink?” A girl nearby cut in, her tone flirtatious: “Oh, come on, Blake’s heartbroken today, he’s in a bad mood, so he drank a bit more. Don’t be mad, Chloe. It’s normal for guys to let loose once in a while.” Dustin quickly chimed in, rubbing his hands together, looking awkward: “Yeah, Chloe, Blake was hosting today, he ordered all the good stuff, and everyone was having such a great time that… well, we drank a bit much. See here…” He gestured to the table full of empty bottles, his intention crystal clear. Sure enough, another guy piped up: “Chloe’s here, perfect! Blake just said he’d cover the whole bill today. Why don’t you settle up, Chloe? So Blake can rest easy?” “Yeah, yeah, pay the bill!” A few others chimed in, their eyes glinting with calculation and eager anticipation for the show. My gaze swept over the empty red wine bottles on the table. I noticed fake empty bottles mixed with real ones. Probably scrounged from some recycling bin to make it look like a bigger party, right? Did they really think I’d never been to a place like this? My eyes finally landed on the bill, which had a shocking total. *Huh.* I let out a mirthless laugh. So, this is what they were waiting for. They wanted to treat me like a sucker, call me here to pay this exorbitant bill? Using my money to boost his ego, soothe his ‘wounded’ heart, and let his ‘friends’ enjoy a free night out? What a clever scheme. I looked at Dustin, who was eagerly waiting for me to pull out my card, and then at Blake, who was seemingly passed out but whose eyelids subtly twitched as he peeked at me. I scoffed: “Whoever ordered the drinks, whoever promised to pay, should be the one to settle the bill.” “Do I look like a sucker to you?” The words had barely left my mouth when Blake, who was supposedly ‘dead drunk’ on the sofa, suddenly sat bolt upright. 3 Blake sat bolt upright, with no trace of drunkenness on his face. “Chloe!” He roared, his face mottled red and white, whether from holding his breath or genuine anger, I couldn’t tell. “What are you doing? My friends are here! You’re going to embarrass me like this?”

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Three years later, my husband taught me to be a mean girl. He always said, “True love doesn’t involve money; it’s about pure feelings.” I believed him. Until the [Absolute Fairness AA System] bound to me. He promised his “platonic friend,” Chloe, a fifty-thousand dollar designer bag? [Ding! Account balanced: $25,000!] He bought my mom two hundred bucks worth of fruit? [Deducted $100!] He secretly used my streaming subscription to watch a movie? [Double compensation: $20!] Every single double standard, the system ripped his facade to shreds. Our marriage became a laughingstock across the entire internet. Liam screamed during a livestream: “What else can you do besides scheme for money, Jade!” [Ultimate Mission: Divorce. Reward: Stripping Liam Carter of marital assets worth $120 million. Compensating Host for three years of domestic labor, emotional labor, and reproductive value.] “Jade, let’s not talk about money, just feelings.” On our wedding anniversary, Liam handed me a prenuptial agreement for shared expenses. I looked at his handsome face and agreed. Three days later, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Absolute Fairness AA System successfully bound.] I thought it was an illusion. Until his “platonic friend,” Chloe Davis, called, crying. “Liam, that fifty-thousand dollar limited edition bag… I can’t afford it.” The speakerphone was on. Chloe’s voice was syrupy sweet. Liam gently cooed, “Why are you crying? Forget fifty thousand, I’d buy you a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bag, sis!” He was using the phone I bought him, wearing the white shirt I’d ironed. Chloe’s tears turned to laughter: “Liam, you’re so good to me!” Liam hung up the phone and smiled at me: “Chloe’s family isn’t well off. As her ‘big brother,’ I should take care of her a little more.” I scoffed inwardly. In three years of marriage, he’d never given me a gift worth more than a hundred dollars. For me, it was always AA: “You pay the HOA fees.” “Let’s split the dinner bill.” “Jade, you need to be independent!” Now, he was ready to splurge a fortune on another woman. I didn’t even have the right to question him. My phone screen lit up: [Your account has received $25,000.00.] The system’s voice simultaneously chimed: [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter promising to spend $50,000 on a third party, Chloe Davis. This expense constitutes a non-essential emotional investment and should be jointly borne by both parties. The system has automatically balanced the account, transferring $25,000 from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] I looked at the bank message, then at Liam. He was still engrossed in texting Chloe, a wide smile on his face. Completely oblivious that his account had just been drained. This was absolute fairness. I put down my fork and stood up: “I’m full.” Liam didn’t even lift his head: “Hmm, remember to do the dishes.” I walked out of the dining room. Soon, I heard a furious “Damn it!” from behind me. He probably thought it was a scam? No. Every penny of his money should be his to control. Mine too. Wait, sometimes my money was supposed to be his. He’d drink my water but never buy me any. Now, the system was here. It would calculate everything. I went back to the bedroom and closed the door. A notification popped up from Chloe’s SnapChat story: [Best big brother ever. So much love!] The picture showed the fifty-thousand dollar bag. Liam was the first to like it. My phone screen glowed faintly, a silent judge. This marriage, finally, was going to be precisely measured.

The next day was Saturday. Liam offered to drive me to my mom’s place. He even bought two hundred bucks worth of fruit downstairs. He handed them to me with a flourish, playing the perfect son-in-law. “Jade, tell our mom I said hi.” For three years, he’d called my mom “Ma’am.” Now he was playing Mr. Perfect Son-in-Law. Just as I was about to go upstairs, my phone rang. [Ding! Detected Host and partner jointly spending $200 to honor Host’s mother. According to the principle of absolute fairness, this expense should be jointly borne by both parties. $100 has been automatically debited from your account and transferred to Liam Carter’s account.] I looked at the debit message, silent. Liam hadn’t driven off yet. He rolled down his window and waved: “Jade, come back early to make dinner.” I nodded and turned to go upstairs. Absolute fairness. Fair to the point of absurdity. That evening, I got home to find Liam lying on the sofa, on the phone. “Mom, Dad, I’ve transferred ten thousand dollars for your living expenses.” “If you need more, just tell me. Don’t be shy about spending it.” “Work’s going smoothly, and Jade’s doing great.” He hung up and glanced at me. I waited for a moment. The system was silent. I asked in my mind: “He transferred ten thousand to his parents, why no reaction?” [The system replied: Supporting a partner’s parents is considered a unilateral legal obligation and falls outside the scope of shared marital expenses. Therefore, it is not factored into the AA System.] I understood. The system only cared about *us*. And the money he spent on anyone *other* than me. As for his own family, that was his obligation. Nothing to do with me. That was fair. I went into the kitchen to make dinner. Liam followed me, hugging me from behind. “Jade, you worked hard today. Let’s watch a movie tonight and relax.” I felt a bit uncomfortable. After the AA system, we hadn’t been intimate in a long time. After dinner, he smoothly logged into my streaming subscription account. It was an annual subscription I’d bought during the Black Friday sale. He never asked for the password; he must have just tried my birthday. He picked the latest pay-per-view movie, ten dollars. He clicked play without hesitation, paying with my account. I watched the screen, expressionless. The movie had just begun when my phone rang. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter misappropriating Host’s personal asset (streaming subscription) and incurring a $10 expense. This act of misappropriation constitutes malicious infringement. He has been forced to pay double compensation, totaling $20. $20 has been transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] Almost simultaneously, Liam’s phone received a debit message. His face instantly changed. He turned sharply to look at me. “Did you mess with my money again?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was full of accusation. I looked at him calmly: “I didn’t.” “Bullshit!” He slammed his phone onto the coffee table. “How did twenty bucks just disappear from my account?!” “Yesterday it was twenty-five thousand, today it’s twenty! Jade, what are you trying to do?” He stood up, towering over me: “We agreed to split everything, no interfering with each other’s finances. What are you doing now?” “Secretly scheming against me? Is that fun for you?” Every word was a jab, sharp as a knife. I didn’t say anything, just quietly opened my phone and showed him the system’s transaction log. Every single entry, crystal clear. [September 15th: Spent $50,000 on Chloe Davis, balanced $25,000.] [September 16th: Spent $200 to honor mother-in-law, balanced $100.] [September 16th: Misappropriated membership and incurred $10 expense, compensated $20.] Liam’s breath hitched. He stared fixedly at the screen, his expression shifting from anger to shock, then to utter incomprehension. “What is this thing?” “The Absolute Fairness System.” I took back my phone. “It automatically calculates all our financial interactions and forces a balance.” “Didn’t you want pure feelings? The system is helping you.” Liam was speechless. The muscles in his face twitched, looking utterly ridiculous. His beloved AA system, the one he was so proud of, was now being executed with ruthless precision by the system. Every double standard and selfish act was quantified into numbers. He couldn’t argue. “Fairness” was *his* idea. After a long silence, he ran an agitated hand through his hair: “What the hell is this damn system? I bet you’re behind this whole twisted thing!” He turned and stormed into his study, slamming the door shut. I was left alone in the living room. The TV was still playing the movie, with the main characters making a romantic confession. Liam and my marriage had become a farce under data surveillance. He was the one orchestrating this entire spectacle. I picked up his phone, which he’d thrown onto the coffee table. The screen was on, displaying his chat with Chloe. The last message was from him: “Jade’s throwing another one of her tantrums today, it’s so annoying.” Below it, Chloe’s reply had just popped up: “Is Sister Jade misunderstanding something? Maybe I should explain it to her?”

The Livestream Incident. Liam was a moderately famous finance influencer. He had millions of followers, cultivating a persona of being “woke, independent, and a strong advocate for women.” Three days after the initial incident, he started a livestream. He called it a discussion about “modern, independent relationships.” Chloe Davis was there as a special guest, sitting beside him. Today, she looked especially innocent, in a white dress with her long hair flowing over her shoulders. On her wrist, she wore a watch. It was the limited-edition couple’s watch from a certain brand that I’d given Liam for Valentine’s Day last year. My matching watch was still in my jewelry box. In the livestream, Liam spoke eloquently: “A good marriage is one where both partners are independent and not reliant on each other.” “Especially financially, the AA system is the best way.” “It filters out material impurities, allowing feelings to return to their purest form.” Chloe nodded vigorously, her eyes full of adoration. “Brother Liam is so right.” “Like Brother Liam and I, we’re the best of friends, with the purest brother-sister bond.” As she spoke, she casually brushed her hair back, revealing the watch on her wrist. “Just like this watch, Brother gave it to me, representing our indestructible friendship.” The comments section instantly exploded: [Wow, couple’s watch?!] [Liam is so sweet to his ‘sister’!] [Isn’t that Liam’s wife’s watch?] [Don’t talk nonsense, up there! It’s a brother-sister bond! Liam said so!] [Where’s the wife? Why isn’t she doing anything?] [She probably can’t control her man, otherwise why would Liam be with her?] [Exactly, independent women understand boundaries. Only women who nitpick drive their men away.] I sat in front of my computer, my fingers icy cold. Liam glanced at the comments. Instead of explaining, he draped his arm over Chloe’s chair, a gesture of intimate familiarity. “Chloe and my relationship doesn’t need to be explained to anyone.” “Those who understand, understand.” Chloe shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t help the slight smirk playing on her lips. It was an open provocation and humiliation. They were using the token of our love to stage a show of “deep platonic friendship.” Then they stood on their moral high ground, implying I was “too nitpicky” and “didn’t understand.” At that moment, my phone suddenly emitted a loud alert. The sound was so loud that it passed through my computer microphone and clearly entered the livestream. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter unilaterally gifting a marital asset (couple’s watch, purchased for $32,000) to a third party, Chloe Davis. This action constitutes an infringement on Host’s property. Account automatically balanced: $16,000 transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] The mechanical, emotionless electronic voice echoed in the livestream watched by tens of thousands of people. Liam and Chloe’s smiles froze. The comments section, silent for three seconds, then absolutely erupted! [Holy cow! A system voice?!] [Marital asset? Sixteen thousand? The wife bought the watch?!] [Hahahahahahaha, epic public humiliation! One second it’s pure sibling love, the next it’s slammed by a system!] [What is this system? So smart! “Absolute Fairness System”?! I’m dying!] [So Liam’s persona was all fake? Using his wife’s money to buy things for a ‘tea-girl,’ then calling his wife nitpicky?!] [Chloe’s face just went green, hahahaha, is that stolen watch comfortable to wear?] [“Millionaire Mr. AA,” Liam Carter! I’ve seen it all now!] Liam’s face flushed from red to white. He frantically tried to end the livestream but couldn’t tap the button. Chloe fidgeted, the watch on her wrist now burning like a branding iron. Eventually, the livestream was forcibly terminated by the platform. On the black screen, the last few comments still lingered. [Wife is awesome! Share the system link!] [This is what a truly independent modern woman looks like! No shouting, just transferring money!] [Liam, apologize now!] I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair. On my phone screen, the bank deposit message and the system notification lay side by side. Outside the window, night deepened. I knew that the war between Liam and me had just begun. He wouldn’t let this go. Sure enough, not long after, my phone rang. It was Liam. I didn’t answer. He called again and again. Finally, a text message popped up: “Jade, you’re going to pay for this.”

The livestream incident turned Liam and Chloe into a nationwide laughingstock. “The Millionaire Mr. AA” and “The Watch Girl” trended on social media for a whole day. Chloe was barraged by online hate. Her social media was flooded with ridicule and curses. She called Liam, crying, saying she’d been fired by her company and her career was ruined. Liam was devastated. He believed it was my fault. It was my “damn system” that had ruined his image and dragged down his “most important” platonic friend. He swore he would teach me a lesson. A lesson I’d never forget. He used all his knowledge and connections as a finance influencer. I ran a small online store selling handmade jewelry. It was my passion project from college, my only emotional outlet and source of self-worth. The shop was on a niche e-commerce platform. Liam teamed up with several investment firms to maliciously short-sell the platform. Three days later, the platform’s servers, under a surprise attack, crashed completely. All data, completely wiped. My online store, overnight, vanished into thin air. All my design drafts, customer information, order history, years of hard work… gone. I stared at the 404 page on my computer, feeling utterly hollow. It wasn’t just a store. It was my only escape from this suffocating marriage. My only way to prove my worth. Now, it had been personally destroyed by the man I was closest to, my husband. Liam came home, his face alight with vindictive satisfaction. He threw a news article about the platform’s bankruptcy liquidation in front of me. “Jade, do you see this?” “This is what happens when you cross me.” “I told you long ago, don’t test my limits.” “That pathetic little shop of yours means nothing to me.” He expected me to cry, to become hysterical. But I didn’t. I looked at him calmly, eerily so. My heart, at that moment, utterly died. My phone rang at that inopportune moment. [Ding! Detected partner Liam Carter maliciously destroying Host’s personal business, causing direct economic loss and emotional distress to Host. Loss assessment in progress… Assessment complete. Comprehensive evaluation of store revenue, brand value, future earnings, and emotional damages totals $200,000. Forced account balance executed: $200,000 transferred from Liam Carter’s account to yours.] A bank deposit message followed immediately. [Your savings account ending in 6688 received $200,000.00 on September 20th at 21:05. Current balance: $231,265.00.] Liam also received a debit notification. He glanced at his phone, his triumphant expression instantly vanishing, replaced by furious rage. “It’s that damn thing again! Jade! You freaking…” His curses abruptly stopped. He saw my expression. I looked at the $200,000 deposit information, my heart felt utterly calm, eerily still. What could money possibly compensate? It couldn’t compensate for the countless nights I’d toiled. It couldn’t compensate for my shattered dreams. It couldn’t compensate for the dead silence in my heart right now. Liam seemed to sense something was off with me. My calmness disturbed him more than any violent reaction would have. “You… what’s with that expression?” I didn’t answer him. My only emotional outlet had been crushed by his own hands. The last thread connecting us had completely snapped. Just then, that cold mechanical voice in my mind rang out again. Unlike any time before, this electronic voice seemed to carry a hint of… excitement? [Detected Host’s emotional link to partner is completely severed.] [Hate value has accumulated to peak.] [Resilience has reset to zero, initial expectation value has turned negative.] [Ultimate Mission: Trigger Conditions Met.] [Generating Ultimate Mission…] The mechanical voice in my mind carried an unprecedented solemnity. [Ultimate Mission: Divorce.]

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My father-in-law, Rick, woke from his afternoon nap. I brought him a freshly brewed tonic broth. “Dad, give this a try. I made it especially for you.” I was about to turn back to the kitchen when Rick suddenly slammed the bowl onto the table with a crash. The scalding hot broth splashed all over my hand, but he just pointed at the bowl and spat, “The number of berries in here is odd! Odd numbers bring bad luck, you wicked woman! Are you trying to curse me to an early grave?” “I watched you put them in! Don’t even try to deny it!” “Son, listen to your dad. Divorce her! Our family has no room for such a vicious woman!” I looked at my husband, Brandon. Not only did he not stand up for me, but he frowned in disgust. “Then let’s get divorced. Marrying you was the worst luck imaginable.” Suddenly, a system notification popped up before my eyes: [Filial Duty Audit System detected divorce intent. Calculating in-marriage filial duty contributions…] My hand was bright red and throbbing with a fiery pain. Brandon’s words, though, burned even hotter than the scalding broth. Three years of marriage, and I’d spun around this family like a top, waiting on my in-laws, supporting my husband. And all I got in return was “the worst luck imaginable.” My father-in-law, Rick, was still stirring the pot. “See? She’s not even apologizing! This kind of woman should just get lost!” I was trembling with rage, a knot of fury tightening in my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Just then, those cold, blue lines of text slowly unfolded before my eyes. [Contributions being calculated…] [During your marriage, you provided Filial Duty Contributions to your father-in-law, Rick, a total of 2,358 times, equivalent to $1,179,000 USD.] [During your marriage, you provided Filial Duty Contributions to your mother-in-law, Carol, a total of 3,102 times, equivalent to $1,551,000 USD.] [Your support and contributions to your husband, Brandon, are not included in Filial Duty Contributions and have been automatically converted to marital assets, to be divided separately upon divorce.] [Total Filial Duty Debt: $2,730,000 USD.] [Please select settlement mode: A. Private Settlement B. Public Settlement (requires a $100,000 activation fee)] I froze. What was this? A hallucination? I blinked, but the lines of text remained clearly suspended in mid-air, visible only to me. Two million seven hundred thirty thousand dollars. Had my three years of effort truly been worth so much? Brandon saw me standing there, speechless, and grew even more impatient. “Eleanor, are you mute? Tomorrow, we’re going to the lawyer’s office to file. The house and cars were bought by my parents, so you won’t get a single cent. Now get out!” Rick crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. “Hear that? Our family isn’t a charity.” I looked at their tag-teaming faces, and the last shred of warmth in my heart flickered out. I took a deep breath and lightly tapped a finger in the air. I chose A. Private Settlement. I wanted to see the expressions on their faces when this bill landed squarely in front of them. Almost simultaneously, Brandon’s and Rick’s phones rang sharply. They impatiently pulled out their phones. The next second, their expressions froze. Brandon’s eyes widened, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg. “W-what is this thing?” He shoved his phone screen in my face. It was an official text message from a Bank Notary Office. [To Mr. Brandon Chen and Mr. Richard Chen: Pursuant to the In-Marriage Filial Duty Audit Agreement, you collectively owe Ms. Eleanor Lin $2,730,000 USD. Please settle this amount within 72 hours, or forced enforcement procedures will be initiated.] Rick snatched the phone, squinting to read, his presbyopic eyes repeatedly confirming the long string of zeroes. “Two million seven hundred thirty thousand? Is she crazy? This must be a scam text!” Brandon also snapped out of it, glaring at me fiercely. “Eleanor, is this your doing? Did you hire someone to fake this to extort money? I’m telling you, no way!” As he spoke, he lunged to grab my phone. I stepped back, watching him coldly. “Whether it’s a scam or not, you both know deep down.” “How many times did I cook tonic broth for your dad, how many times did I rush him to the ER in the middle of the night, how many times did I act as your mom’s personal shopper and ATM on her shopping sprees? You may deny these, but the system won’t.” Rick’s face flushed crimson with anger. He pointed a finger at my nose and yelled, “You ungrateful wretch! We’ve wasted three years feeding you! Every cent you spent came from our family!” Just then, the door opened. My mother-in-law, Carol, walked in, laden with shopping bags. “What’s all the shouting about? I could hear you all the way downstairs.” The moment she entered, she saw our tense standoff and immediately pointed her accusations at me. “It’s you again, you jinx! Always making my old man angry?” Brandon looked like he’d found a savior and quickly handed her his phone. “Mom, look! Eleanor’s gone crazy. She hired someone to send scam texts, claiming we owe her over two million dollars!” Carol took the phone, glanced at it, and scoffed. “Two point seven million? Why doesn’t she just rob a bank?” She tossed the phone onto the coffee table and walked up to me, her eyes filled with scorn and calculation. “Eleanor, I know you don’t want a divorce, and you’re trying to use these cheap tricks to cling on.” “Let me tell you something straight: a divorce is happening. I’ll be generous and give you fifty thousand dollars as compensation for your three years of hard work.” She paused, her tone dripping with condescension. “Take the money and leave gracefully. Don’t play these ridiculous games that make everyone laugh at you.”

Fifty thousand dollars. To dismiss a housekeeper who had served their entire family for three years. I looked at Carol’s mouth, painted with exquisite lipstick, and felt nothing but profound irony. “What if I don’t?” I asked. Carol’s face instantly darkened. “Ungrateful.” She turned to Brandon: “Son, don’t waste your breath on her. She just wants more money. I’ve seen plenty of women like her. Ignore her for a few days, and she’ll cave.” Rick chimed in, “Exactly! Don’t bother with her! Let’s see what tricks she can pull!” The three of them reached a consensus, completely ignoring me and the audit text, and began watching TV as if I were invisible. The noisy chatter of the TV show mingled with the burning pain on the back of my hand. Oppression, rage, humiliation. I clenched my fists, turned, and went back to my room, slamming the door shut. I stared at the system panel before me. The line “Total Filial Duty Debt: $2,730,000 USD” was my only leverage. I couldn’t just let this go. I clicked on the system and found that besides the settlement modes, there was also an “Information Inquiry” function, which required a $1,000 system credit fee. I didn’t hesitate to pay. [Information Inquiry function activated. Please enter the content you wish to inquire about.] I tentatively typed in “Mother-in-law Carol, health supplements.” I remembered last month, I had spent twenty thousand dollars to get premium quality health supplements for Rick’s health. But he only took them once, claiming they tasted weird, and Carol packed the rest away. The next second, a string of information popped up on the system interface. [Query Results:] [Date: Xth of X month. Event: You purchased premium health supplements valued at $20,000 USD.] [Fund Flow Tracking:] [X+1th of X month, Carol contacted second-hand supplement resale dealer “Mike’s Resale” via SnapChat, selling the supplements for $8,000 USD.] Attached were clear screenshots of their SnapChat conversation. Carol: “Mike, got another batch of good stuff. Premium grade, and that idiot daughter-in-law bought it.” Mike’s Resale: “Carol, you’re amazing! Same price as before?” Carol: “Yep, just transfer the money directly to my card.” My heart sank a little further. Following this was the bank transfer record. $8,000, not a cent missing. But that wasn’t all. The system continued to display. [X+1th of X month, 3:30 PM, Carol transferred $8,000 USD to bank account ending in XXXX. Recipient: Tiffany Chen.] [Memo: Tiffany, a little spending money from your aunt. Buy whatever you like.] Tiffany Chen. Brandon’s cousin, Carol’s niece. The princess who was doted on by the entire family, who would order me around every time she visited, while my in-laws and Brandon would only tell me to “be more accommodating” to my “sister.” My $20,000 act of filial devotion was sold by my mother-in-law for $8,000, which then became her niece’s spending money. I felt a chill run from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head. I continued to enter keywords. “Mother-in-law Carol, high-end organic supplements.” “Father-in-law Rick, massage chair.” “Brandon, startup fund.” One by one, shocking query results appeared. The $8,000 high-end organic supplements I bought were exchanged by her for $3,000 worth of cheap alternatives, with the difference going into Tiffany’s pocket. The $30,000 full-feature massage chair I bought for Rick was deemed too space-consuming by him and sold to a neighbor for $10,000. That money went to Brandon for “business expenses.” The most ridiculous part was that I had given Brandon my emergency savings that my parents had given me, $200,000, to support his “startup.” The system showed that the money was transferred to a gambling website account that very day and lost completely. But Brandon had told me it was an investment failure, a total loss. He had even held me, swearing, “Don’t worry, darling. When I get back on my feet, I’ll make sure you live a good life.” A good life? My efforts, my sacrifices, my heartfelt devotion – in their eyes, I was nothing more than an ATM to be freely used, a recycling station for resources. And all the value harvested flowed to the people they truly cared about. Me, I was nothing. I leaned against the cold wall and laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Eleanor, Eleanor, you’re truly the biggest fool.

The next morning, I calmly packed my suitcase. As I wheeled my luggage out of the room, the Chen family was sitting at the dining table, eating the bagels and drinking the coffee I’d prepared last night. They didn’t even glance at me. Carol spoke in a passive-aggressive tone, “Oh, so you’ve come to your senses? Ready to get lost?” Brandon took a sip of his coffee and snorted, “Good, she knows her place.” I ignored them and walked straight to the door to change my shoes. Seeing my silence, Carol assumed I’d caved, and a hint of smugness entered her voice. “Eleanor, that fifty thousand dollars? You’ll get it after you sign the divorce papers. Don’t try any tricks, or you won’t get a single cent.” My back to them, I quietly hummed in acknowledgment. This response completely put them at ease. Carol even feigned concern, “After you leave, find a decent job. Don’t always think about shady ways to make money.” I finished changing my shoes, opened the door, and looked back at them one last time. The three of them were sitting together, seemingly happy, as if they were about to get rid of a huge problem. Their faces held undisguised relief and pleasure. I smiled, then closed the door. Goodbye, my foolish three years of youth. I didn’t go back to my parents’ house. Instead, I used the last bit of money in my account to rent a small studio apartment near my company. After settling in, the first thing I did was send Brandon a message. “A divorce is fine. I’ll leave with nothing. But I have one condition.” Brandon replied almost instantly, his tone wary. “What condition? I’m telling you, no money!” “Don’t worry, it’s not about money.” I typed, “Tomorrow is your company’s Family Day, right? I want to come and see it, since I won’t have another chance. Think of it as a final farewell.” Brandon’s company held an annual Family Day event, inviting employees’ families. It was an important occasion to showcase the company’s humanistic care and employees’ family happiness. He was always concerned about appearances. In previous years, he would force me to dress up and play the loving wife in front of his colleagues. Sure enough, he hesitated. If I caused a scene today, and he showed up alone tomorrow, his colleagues would question him, and he’d lose face. If I cooperated with him for this last act and we parted ways amicably, it would be the best outcome for him. A few minutes later, he replied. “Fine. But remember this: don’t try anything funny, or I’ll make you regret it!” “Don’t worry.” I put away my phone and looked out the window. The calm before the storm. Brandon, Carol, Rick, and Tiffany. What you owe me, I will collect, every single cent, with interest. And this Family Day is the first stage I’ve meticulously prepared for all of you. I opened the system panel, looking at the “B. Public Settlement (requires a $100,000 activation fee)” option. The money in my account wasn’t enough. But I knew it would be soon. I clicked on “Information Inquiry” and typed “Brandon, secret stash.” The system quickly provided results. A bank account I’d never heard of, with $153,000 quietly sitting in it. His secret savings. The system even thoughtfully added a small line of text. [These funds in this account are marital assets.] I smiled. Perfect. The activation fee for the public settlement. I had it. Brandon’s company’s Family Day was held on a massive lawn. The sun was shining, and balloons, streamers, and laughter filled the air.

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Three years into our strict “split costs” marriage, my husband used emotional manipulation to mold me into a penny-pincher. He always said that relationships free from money worries were the purest. I believed him. Until I was bound by the [Perfectly Fair Expense Splitter System]. He promised a female friend a designer bag worth fifty thousand dollars? [Ding! Account balance adjusted: $25,000!] He bought my mom two hundred dollars worth of fruit? [Deducted $100!] He secretly used my paid streaming account to watch a movie? [Double compensation: $20!] Every single one of his double standards was mercilessly exposed by the System. Our marriage became the laughingstock of the entire internet. Leo Sterling screamed in a live stream, losing control: “What else can you do besides nitpick over every single penny?!” But then, the System issued its ultimate mission: [Divorce. Reward: $120,000,000.] “Aurora, let’s not let money spoil our feelings for each other.” On our wedding anniversary, Leo handed me a split-cost agreement. I looked at his handsome face and agreed. Three days later, a mechanical voice echoed in my head: [Perfectly Fair Expense Splitter System successfully bound.] I thought it was a hallucination. Until my husband’s female friend, Tiffany Vance, called, crying. “Leo, I can’t afford that limited edition fifty-thousand-dollar bag.” The speaker was on, and Tiffany’s voice was syrupy sweet. Leo cooed softly, “Why are you crying? Forget fifty thousand, I’d buy you a five-hundred-thousand-dollar one if you wanted, sis!” He was using the phone I bought, wearing the crisp white shirt I ironed, yet he was promising to buy a bag for someone else. Tiffany’s tears turned to a giggle: “Oh, Leo, you’re so good to me!” Leo hung up and smiled at me: “Tiffany’s family isn’t wealthy; she can’t afford expensive things like that. As her brother, it’s only right I look after her a little more.” A cold laugh formed in my chest. Three years of marriage, and he’d never given me a gift worth over a thousand dollars. For me, it was always about splitting costs: “You pay the HOA fees.” “Let’s split the dinner bill.” “Aurora, be independent!” Now, he was splashing cash on another woman. I didn’t even have the right to question him. My phone screen lit up: [Your account received $25,000.00.] The System’s voice simultaneously rang out: [Ding! Detected partner Leo Sterling promised to spend $50,000 on third party Tiffany Vance. This expenditure is deemed a non-essential emotional investment and should be jointly borne by both parties. The System has automatically balanced the account for you, transferring $25,000 from Leo Sterling’s account.] I stared at the bank text message, then at Leo. He was still hunched over his phone, smiling, messaging Tiffany. Completely oblivious that his account was now lighter. This was, truly, perfectly fair. I put down my forks and stood up. “I’m full.” Leo didn’t even lift his head. “Okay, remember to do the dishes.” I walked out of the dining room. Soon, a furious curse exploded behind me. Every penny, he believed, should be under his command. Sometimes, even my money should be his. He drank my water, never buying his own. Now, the System was here. It would calculate everything. I returned to the bedroom and closed the door. Tiffany’s Ins story popped up: [Best brother ever, heart emoji.] The picture showed the fifty-thousand-dollar bag. Leo was the first to like it. My phone screen glowed ominously, like a silent judge. This marriage, finally, was going to be precisely measured.

The next day was Saturday. Leo voluntarily drove me to my mom’s house. He even bought two hundred dollars worth of fruit downstairs. He handed it to me, striking a pose. “Aurora, say hello to our mom for me.” Three years of marriage, and he’d always called my mom “Ma’am.” Today, he was playing the doting son-in-law. Just as I was about to go upstairs, my phone rang. [Ding! Detected host and partner jointly spent $200 to show filial piety to host’s mother. According to the Principle of Absolute Fairness, this expense should be jointly borne by both parties. $100 has been automatically deducted from your account and transferred to Leo Sterling’s account.] I looked at the deduction message and fell silent. Leo hadn’t driven off yet, rolling down his window to wave. “Aurora, come back early to make dinner.” I nodded, turned, and went upstairs. Absolute fairness. So fair, it was sarcastic. When I got home that evening, Leo was lying on the couch, on a call. “Mom, Dad, I transferred you ten thousand for living expenses.” “Let me know if you need more, don’t hold back.” “Company’s doing well, and Aurora’s great too.” He hung up and glanced at me. I waited a moment. The System remained silent. I asked mentally: “He transferred ten thousand to his parents, why no reaction?” [Responding to host: Supporting a partner’s parents is a unilateral legal obligation and does not fall under joint consumption. Therefore, it is not factored into the AA System.] I understood. The System only cared about the money he spent on people other than me. As for supporting his own parents, that was our joint marital duty. How fair. I went into the kitchen to make dinner. Leo followed, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Aurora, you worked hard today. Let’s watch a movie tonight and relax.” I felt a little uncomfortable. After the AA system started, intimacy had become rare. After dinner, he skillfully logged into my paid streaming account. I’d bought the annual membership during a sale. He hadn’t asked for the password, but he’d definitely tried my birthday. He picked the latest pay-per-view movie, ten dollars. He clicked play without hesitation, paying with my account. I watched the screen, expressionless. Just as the movie started, my phone rang. [Ding! Detected partner Leo Sterling misappropriated host’s personal asset (video streaming membership) and incurred a $10 expense. This act of misappropriation constitutes malicious encroachment. Double compensation has been enforced, totaling $20. $20 has been transferred from Leo Sterling’s account to your account.] Almost simultaneously, Leo’s phone received a deduction message. His face instantly changed. He sharply turned to me. “Did you mess with my money again?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was full of accusation. I looked at him calmly. “I didn’t.” “Bullshit!” He slammed his phone onto the coffee table. “Why would my money mysteriously drop by twenty bucks?!” “Yesterday it was twenty-five thousand, today it’s twenty! Aurora, what’s your game?” He stood up, looking down at me. “We agreed on AA, no interfering with each other’s money. What are you trying to do now?” “Secretly trying to screw me over? Is this fun for you?” Every word was like a needle. I didn’t speak. I silently opened my phone and showed him the System’s transaction log. Every single transaction, clear as day. [September 15th: Spent $50,000 on Tiffany Vance, account balanced $25,000.] [September 16th: Showed filial piety to mother-in-law, spent $200, account balanced $100.] [September 16th: Misappropriated membership and spent $10, compensation $20.] Leo’s breathing hitched. He stared intently at the screen, his expression shifting from anger to shock, then to utter disbelief. “What is this thing?” “The Perfectly Fair Expense Splitter System,” I replied, taking back my phone. “It automatically calculates all our financial transactions and enforces account balancing.” “You wanted pure emotion, didn’t you? The System is helping you achieve that.” Leo was speechless. His facial muscles twitched, making him look utterly ridiculous. His proud AA system was being perfectly executed by the System. All his double standards and selfishness were quantified into numbers. He couldn’t argue. “Fairness” was his idea. After a long moment, he irritably ran his fingers through his hair. “What fake system? I bet it’s some trick you cooked up!” He turned and stormed into his study, slamming the door shut. In the living room, only I remained. The movie was still playing on the TV. And my marriage to Leo had become a farce under data surveillance. The director? Leo himself. I picked up the phone he’d thrown on the coffee table. The screen was lit, showing his SnapChat chat with Tiffany. The last message was from him: “Aurora’s throwing another tantrum today, it’s so annoying.” Below it, Tiffany’s reply had just popped up: “Is Aurora misunderstanding something, big bro? Maybe I should explain it to her?”

Leo was a moderately famous finance influencer. With millions of followers, his public persona was “woke, independent, and respectful of women.” He started a live stream, the theme being “Discussing independent partnerships in the new era.” Tiffany Vance, as a special guest, sat beside him. Today, she looked especially innocent, in a white dress, long hair flowing over her shoulders. On her wrist, she wore a watch. It was a limited edition couple’s watch from a certain brand, a gift I’d given Leo last Valentine’s Day. My matching one was still in my jewelry box. In the live stream, Leo spoke eloquently: “A good marriage must be about mutual independence, not reliance.” “Especially financially, the AA system is the best way.” “It filters out material impurities and allows feelings to return to their purest form.” Tiffany nodded vigorously, her eyes full of admiration. “Brother Leo is absolutely right.” “Like Brother Leo and me, we’re the best of friends, with the purest sibling bond.” As she spoke, she casually brushed her hair back, revealing the watch on her wrist. “Just like this watch, Brother gave it to me, representing our indestructible friendship.” Comments instantly flooded in: [Wow, is that a couple’s watch?] [He spoils his ‘sister’ too much!] [Is that the same watch as the streamer’s wife?] [Don’t talk nonsense, up there! It’s a sibling bond! The streamer said so!] [Where’s the original wife? Why isn’t she doing anything?] [She probably can’t control her man, otherwise why would the streamer be looking for other women.] [Exactly, independent women understand boundaries, only nitpicky women push their men away.] I sat in front of my computer, my fingers icy cold. Leo glanced at the comments. Instead of explaining, he draped his arm over Tiffany’s chair back, a gesture of intimate closeness. “Tiffany and my relationship doesn’t need to be explained to anyone.” “Those who understand, understand.” Tiffany shyly lowered her head, but the corners of her mouth couldn’t help but turn up. Open provocation and humiliation. They were using the token of our love to stage a show of “deep kinship.” Then they stood on moral high ground, implying I was “too petty” and “didn’t understand.” At that moment, my phone suddenly emitted a loud alert. The sound was so loud that it passed through my computer microphone and clearly echoed into the live stream. [Ding! Detected partner Leo Sterling unilaterally gifted marital property (couple’s watch, purchase price $32,000) to third party Tiffany Vance. This action constitutes an infringement of host’s property. Account has been automatically balanced for you, transferring $16,000 from Leo Sterling’s account to your account.] A mechanical, emotionless electronic voice reverberated through the live stream, heard by tens of thousands. Leo and Tiffany’s smiles froze. The live chat, silent for three seconds, absolutely exploded! [Marital property? Sixteen thousand? The wife bought the watch?!] [An epic public humiliation! One second pure sibling love, the next their true colors are instantly exposed!] [What is this System? It’s too smart! “Perfectly Fair System”?! LOL!] [So Leo’s persona was all fake? Using his wife’s money to buy things for a female friend, then calling his wife stingy?!] [Tiffany’s face just changed, hahahaha, is that stolen watch comfortable to wear?] Leo’s face flushed from red to white. He fumbled to shut down the live stream but couldn’t hit the button. Tiffany shifted uneasily, the watch on her wrist now burning like a hot iron. Eventually, the live stream was forcibly interrupted by the platform. On the black screen, the last few comments still lingered. [Original wife is a legend! Link to the System!] [This is a true independent woman of the new era! No arguing, just money transfers!] [Leo, apologize!] I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair. On my phone screen, the bank deposit message and System notification lay side by side. Outside the window, night deepened. I knew Leo wouldn’t let this go. His war with me had just begun. Sure enough, not long after, my phone rang. It was Leo. I didn’t answer. He called again and again. Finally, a text message popped up: “Aurora Blackwood, you just wait.”

The live stream incident turned Leo and Tiffany into internet laughingstocks. “The Multi-Million Dollar AA Man” and “Watch Girl” trended for a day. Tiffany was relentlessly trolled online. Her social media was flooded with mockery and curses. She called Leo, crying, saying her company had terminated her contract, and her career was ruined. Leo was heartbroken. He believed it was my fault. That “damn System” of mine had ruined his persona and dragged his “most important” sister down. He wanted to teach me a lesson. An unforgettable lesson. I ran a small online store selling handmade accessories. It was my passion project from college, my only emotional outlet and source of self-worth. The store was on a niche online marketplace. Leo teamed up with several venture capitalists to maliciously short the platform. Three days later, the platform’s servers, under an unprovoked attack, completely crashed. All data was wiped clean. My online store, overnight, vanished into thin air. All my design drafts, customer data, order records, and years of hard work… all gone. I stared at the 404 page on my computer, feeling utterly empty. It wasn’t just a store. It was my only escape from a suffocating marriage. My only way to prove my worth. Now, it was destroyed by the very person I was closest to. Leo came home, a look of vengeful pleasure on his face. He tossed a news report about the platform’s bankruptcy liquidation in front of me. “Aurora, see that?” “This is what happens when you cross me.” “I told you long ago, don’t challenge my bottom line.” “Your pathetic little store means nothing to me.” He expected me to cry, to become hysterical. But I didn’t. I looked at him calmly, terrifyingly calmly. My heart, in that moment, died completely. My phone chimed, ill-timed. [Ding! Detected partner Leo Sterling maliciously destroyed host’s personal business, causing direct economic loss and emotional distress to host. Loss assessment in progress… Assessment complete. Totaling $200,000, factoring in store revenue, brand value, future earnings, and emotional damages. Account has been forcibly balanced, transferring $200,000 from Leo Sterling’s account to your account.] A bank deposit message followed immediately. [Your bank account (ending in 6688) received a transfer of $200,000.00 on September 20th at 9:05 PM. Your current checking account balance is $231,265.00.] Leo also received a deduction notification. He glanced at his phone, his smug expression instantly vanishing, replaced by furious rage. “This damn thing again! Aurora! You freaking—” His curses cut short. He saw my expression. I looked at the $200,000 deposit notification, my heart utterly devoid of ripples. What could money fix? It couldn’t fix the countless sleepless nights I poured into it. It couldn’t fix my shattered dreams. It couldn’t fix the dead stillness in my heart at this very moment. Leo seemed to sense something was off. My calmness unnerved him more than any violent reaction could. “You… what’s with that expression?” I didn’t answer him. My sole emotional anchor had been crushed by his own hand. The last thread connecting me to him had completely snapped. Just then, that cold mechanical voice in my mind rang out again. Unlike any time before, this electronic voice seemed to carry a hint of… excitement? [Detected complete severance of host’s emotional link to partner.] [Hatred value accumulated to peak.] [Resilience reset to zero, initial expectation value turned negative.] [Ultimate mission trigger conditions met.] [Generating ultimate mission…]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299157”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic

We were four foster girls, raised by the Albright family. Mrs. Albright had one goal: to train the most exceptional one among us to marry her son, Brandon. The other three girls—Clara, Lena, and Isabella—learned flower arrangement, mastered etiquette, and practiced how to charm Brandon. But me? I studied finance, management, and how to drain Albright Industries from the inside. Brandon found me intriguing, a new kind of game. He cornered me against the wall, a condescending, knowing smirk on his face. “Playing hard to get, trying to make me think highly of you?” “Cut the act. I don’t like ambitious women.” He thought I wanted him. He had no idea I’d seen too many women who relied on men, only to end up as withered roses. What I wanted was never his love. It was the power to finally break free from his grasp. Later, he truly became infatuated with me. The moment he realized I was slipping from his control… He embraced me, his eyes bloodshot. “I admit I’m completely lost. I just want you.” “Don’t work so hard, be my Mrs. Albright.” I smiled, slapping my resignation letter against his chest. “Mr. Albright, you think I was after the title of your wife?” “No, I’m after your position.”

Mrs. Albright summoned the four of us to the main estate for afternoon tea, claiming she had an important announcement. In the vast living room, crystal chandeliers sparkled, and the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of expensive incense. I sat on the plush velvet sofa alongside the other three girls—Clara, Lena, and Isabella—like merchandise waiting to be appraised. Our postures were the result of a thousand rehearsals: spines straight, smiles practiced to perfection. Mrs. Albright’s perfectly maintained face held a warm smile, though it never quite reached her eyes. “Children, you’ve all been with the Albright family for over ten years now. Each of you has grown into such slender and graceful young women. I’m very pleased.” Her gaze swept slowly across our faces, as if inspecting her prized collection. “Brandon is also of marrying age now, and I’ve watched all of you grow up, so I know you well.” “I’ve decided to choose one of you four to be his wife.” The moment her words fell, the three girls beside me gasped, their breathing quickening. Clara was never one to hide her feelings. Her cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes practically overflowing with anticipation, her hands clutching her dress. Lena kept her head down, nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. She seemed calm, but her knuckles were white. Isabella, however, straightened her back subtly, adopting the most poised and flawless demeanor, as if the title of Mrs. Albright was already hers for the taking. They all wanted to be Mrs. Albright. Only I picked up the bone china teacup in front of me and gently blew on the rising steam. The tea reflected my utterly calm face. I just wanted to leave this golden cage.

After dinner, we returned to the separate guesthouse prepared specifically for us. The moment we stepped inside, the suppressed tension exploded. Clara was the first to break the silence, spinning in a circle, her face alight with the blush of a girl in love. “I’m going to marry Brandon! Did you hear that? Mrs. Albright said it herself!” Lena, mixing paints at her easel, merely poured cold water on Clara’s excitement. “We all want to marry him, don’t we? But the Albrights will only choose the best one.” Clara puffed out her chest defiantly and ran over to Lena. “Brandon has feelings for me! He’s the most special to me!” She pulled a small silver whistle from her neck, showing it off like a treasured possession. “Last year, for my birthday, Brandon took me to the stables. This was his gift to me. He said he crafted it himself, and it’s one of a kind.” Her voice was full of sweet memories. “He also said that if I ever blew the whistle, no matter where he was, he’d come to me immediately. He even said my smile was like the first rose of spring.” We all looked at the whistle, which shimmered with a cheap, false gleam under the light. Brandon had said similar things to every one of us girls. Those sweet nothings were just cheap tools for his game, plucked from thin air without a second thought—low effort, high return. Just last month, he’d told Lena that her paintings held stars like the sea, a unique artistic soul no one could truly grasp. Then he’d turned around and told Isabella that her tea had a calming magic, an extension of her serene nature. But Clara believed him. She saw the whistle as irrefutable proof, convinced she was the one special person in Brandon’s heart. Isabella scoffed, turning to disappear into the bathroom, her back radiating disdain. I looked at Clara’s face, steeped in fantasy, and didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Some people just have to hit rock bottom before they see the truth. No words would have changed her mind.

Brandon’s official fiancée, Victoria Sterling, suddenly returned from abroad. She was the sole heiress of Sterling Corporation, a family of comparable wealth to the Albrights. This marriage had been arranged by their grandfathers long ago. Mrs. Albright had us pick her up from the airport, under the pretense of bonding with our future sister-in-law. In plain terms, it was to make us her background dancers, to show her how many women orbited Brandon, hoping to spark a sense of urgency in her. Victoria wore a high-fashion designer suit, her makeup flawless. Her eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, swept over us, as if looking at a few pathetic pets begging for her attention. Her gaze finally settled on Clara. Clara had specifically worn the limited-edition dress Brandon had given her that day, and her delicate, flirty makeup did nothing to hide that little flutter of excitement; it was completely transparent to Victoria. At the evening gala, Victoria, holding a wine glass, moved with casual elegance towards Clara, a smile playing on her lips. “Clara, right? Brandon mentioned you’re quite the equestrian. I just got back and I’m itching to ride. How about we go to the stables tomorrow for a friendly competition?” Clara was thrilled by the unexpected recognition; Brandon had never praised her like this in front of others. She accepted without a second thought, believing it was Brandon’s approval. The next day, nearly all the city’s elites received invitations to witness this ‘friendly competition’ that was clearly a public display of dominance. Victoria personally picked the most spirited chestnut mare for Clara, claiming it was noble and suited her. Clara was scared, but to impress Brandon, she gritted her teeth and mounted the horse. The race began, with Victoria’s horse taking an immediate lead. Clara chased closely behind. At a bend, Clara’s horse suddenly spooked, rearing on its hind legs with a neigh, throwing her violently to the ground. Everyone gasped in alarm. Brandon was the first to rush forward, but not towards Clara. Instead, he caught Victoria, who had somehow also slipped from her horse and merely twisted her ankle. He held Victoria, his face etched with heartache, anxiously checking her ankle, as if his cherished treasure had shattered. Meanwhile, Clara lay not far off, her lower leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was chalk-white with pain, cold sweat beaded on her forehead, yet no one seemed to notice her. She watched Brandon and Victoria, intimately intertwined, and the light in her eyes extinguished, bit by bit.

Clara was sent back to her real home, a remote town. The Albright family paid her parents a substantial sum, on the condition that they never return to the city, and never speak of their connection to the Albright name. It was a ‘dignified’ expulsion, and a gag order. When I was permitted to visit her in the hospital to say goodbye, she lay in bed, her leg encased in a thick cast, like a flower utterly ravaged by a storm. She handed me the silver whistle, her palm cold. “It was all a lie…” She rasped, her eyes holding a dead, ashen calm. “Victoria hid needles under my saddle. The stablehand who prepped my horse worked for her. She deliberately spooked the horse, then faked her own fall in front of Brandon, all to humiliate me and make him completely despise me.” “Brandon knew everything. He even… silently approved.” “He thought I was an eyesore, so he played along with Victoria, putting on this show to toss me aside like garbage.” Clara grabbed my hand, her frail fingers trembling with the force. “Scarlett, you’re so smart, you have to be careful.” “Don’t trust Brandon. Don’t trust anyone here. Survive, and then… destroy them.” I clutched the whistle in my hand, the cold metal digging into my palm, a sharp sting. “Okay,” I nodded.

After Clara left, the annex grew much quieter, and heavier with a suffocating silence. Lena became even more withdrawn, spending her days locked in the art studio, her canvases filled with dark, somber tones. She had a secret, one we all knew. She was secretly dating a struggling art student named Leo Hayes, a world she carefully guarded as her own. But that secret was soon uncovered by Victoria. That day was the annual Albright family charity gala. Lena’s painting, “Starry Night,” was chosen as the centerpiece auction item. The bidding started at a hundred thousand dollars, and a mystery buyer eventually snatched it for a staggering three million. Everyone assumed the Albrights were just building Lena’s reputation. Brandon even publicly put his arm around her, declaring her the family’s pride. Mrs. Albright was also very pleased, praising Lena in front of everyone, hinting she was one step closer to becoming Mrs. Albright. Lena, however, went pale. She spent the entire evening fidgeting, unable to relax. After the gala, the man who bought the painting found Lena at the end of the hallway. It was her boyfriend, Leo Hayes. He wore a cheap, ill-fitting suit, his hair meticulously plastered down with gel, which only made him look more out of place and nervous. He excitedly grabbed Lena’s hand. “Lena, I did it! I sold my family’s house, borrowed money from every relative and friend, and scraped together three million. I wanted to prove to the Albrights that I can make you happy!” Lena stared at him, tears streaming down her face, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Victoria arrived with a group of reporters she’d hidden in ambush. Flashbulbs flashed wildly, capturing the two of them in their distressed state. “Well, well, isn’t this our future Mrs. Albright? Getting cozy with a penniless artist?” Victoria’s tone was laced with poisoned mockery. “I hear he blew his entire family fortune just to buy your painting? Truly heartwarming. Brandon, you certainly have a way with your foster sisters, don’t you?” Behind her, Brandon’s face was thunderous. The next day, the news exploded everywhere. “Albright Foster Daughter Caught with Penniless Artist, Elite Dreams Shattered.” “Madly in Love or Calculated Scheme? Art Prodigy Accused of Social Climbing and Shameless Stunt.” Leo was expelled from the academy for “conduct unbecoming and bringing disrepute,” and all his gallery contracts were terminated. His life was ruined overnight.

Lena locked herself in her room, refusing to eat or drink. A few days later, Mrs. Albright sent her away too, to some obscure relatives in the countryside no one knew. Before she left, Lena stopped me in the hallway. She was gaunt, her eyes hollow. She said it was Isabella. It was Isabella who had told Victoria everything about her and Leo, including Leo’s home address and contact information. In exchange, Victoria had promised to put in a good word for Isabella with Mrs. Albright, helping her become the ultimate winner. I looked at Isabella, who was not far off, learning flower arrangement with Mrs. Albright. Her face held a gentle, elegant smile, as if she knew nothing. A chill ran down my spine. To climb the ladder, she would gladly trample over her sisters. Only one thought remained in my mind: Escape. I had to leave, now. I used all the money I’d secretly saved, applied through an agency to a top university abroad for a finance degree, and even secured a full scholarship. The day my visa came through, I thought I could finally breathe the air of freedom. I went to Mrs. Albright to say my goodbyes. She was still the picture of gentle affection, holding my hand, rambling on, her eyes even welling up. “Scarlett, there’s no place like home. You’re a young woman, going to a new place where you know no one. How could I not worry?” I smiled. “Madam, I’ll take care of myself. I’ll write to you often.” The next day, as I was dragging my suitcase to the airport, I received a call from the embassy. My visa had been revoked, “due to suspected fraudulent documentation.” I’d also been blacklisted, prohibited from applying for any country’s visa for five years. I stood rooted to the spot, my blood running cold, my hands and feet icy. It was Mrs. Albright. She had cut off all my escape routes, determined to keep me trapped in this gilded cage. That evening, she called me to her study. She dropped her facade, a victorious smile on her face. “Scarlett, don’t blame me. You’re the one I had the highest hopes for among all four girls. I couldn’t bear to let you leave.” She handed me a document. “Brandon needs a capable assistant. You’ll work for him. The closer you are to him, the more opportunities you’ll have. Don’t disappoint me.” It was an employment contract, for the position of Executive Assistant to the CEO of Albright Industries. I stared at her hypocritical smile, my heart a dead space. I took the contract and calmly signed my name. Scarlett. If I couldn’t escape, then I’d turn this place into my hunting ground.

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Just back from studying abroad, my parents were beyond thrilled at my welcome party, ready to gift me a stunning ocean-view villa. But before I could even say a word, my brother’s fiancée quickly interjected. “Why would you give her, a girl, such an expensive villa?” Her gaze, light and dismissive, swept over me. “The baby I’m carrying, it’s already confirmed to be a boy!” “If you dare give her that villa, I won’t have this child. Your family can just forget about having an heir.” I listened to her words, utterly perplexed. Didn’t she know Caleb was just an adopted child in our family? “Mom, Dad, I missed you both so much!” Stepping out of the luxury car, I practically flew into my parents’ arms. My mother, tears welling in her eyes, gently stroked my cheek. “Chloe, our empire is vast, and you just had to go study abroad. Look at you, you’ve gotten so thin!” I knew Mom was worried about me, so I just smiled and snuggled deeper into her shoulder. She playfully squeezed my nose and led me to the dining room. “I’ve prepared a whole table of your favorites, just for my little foodie.” My father, seeing me glued to my mother, sounded a little jealous as he raised his voice. “Chloe, since you’re back, your mother and I are planning to get you a villa.” “Pick any villa you like, Dad’s footing the bill for everything.” I immediately hugged his arm. “You’re the best, Dad!” Father beamed, a proud grin on his face. “How about an ocean-view villa at Ocean Crest Estates?” “You could even be neighbors with your brother.” I was about to excitedly throw myself into his arms. But then, Brittany, Caleb’s fiancée, violently shoved her chair back. “I object!” “Why would you give *her*, a girl, such an expensive villa?” “When she gets married, that house will just become someone else’s property.” She rolled her eyes at me, then glanced at my parents before crossing her arms and turning her head away. I’d heard about Caleb’s fiancée even while I was studying abroad. Brittany and Caleb had been dating for three years, and she was already intimately familiar with everything about our family. Once, when I was video calling Caleb, he’d even introduced her to me, sitting on our living room sofa with his arm around her. We’d exchanged a few words ourselves. Lately, with Brittany and Caleb discussing marriage, she’d really started acting like she owned the place. But even so, my parents giving me a villa didn’t need her permission, did it? Still, remembering how sweet and approachable she’d seemed during our past conversations, I swallowed my annoyance and asked. “What’s wrong, Brittany? Pre-wedding jitters? “Where’s Caleb?” Brittany shot me another disdainful look, but then, seeing my parents’ expressions darken, she quickly put on her familiar gentle façade. “Oh, Dad, Mom!” “Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m saying all this for the Sterling family’s good.” “Caleb and I are getting married soon, and the company is on an upward trend under Caleb’s leadership. There are so many places where we need money.” “But a villa at Ocean Crest Estates costs tens of millions. I’m just worried that the family’s funds might get tight, and then what would we do?” Mom walked over to Brittany, gently coaxing her to sit down. “You don’t need to worry about this. The money for Chloe’s villa was set aside a long time ago.” “It won’t affect your wedding with Caleb or the company’s cash flow.” Father, still comforting me, cast a cold glance at Brittany. But she wouldn’t let it go. “That may be true, but Caleb told me he wants to expand into some overseas markets, and the company needs a lot of capital during the initial phase.” “Even if we don’t use those tens of millions, it would be much better to just keep it in the bank.” “Who gives their daughter such an expensive house?” “When Chloe gets married, that house will just take on someone else’s name!” “Dad, Mom, how can you be so clueless?” “Besides, Chloe has read so many books; she’s full of sly schemes. She’s definitely not going to treat you well in the future.” Listening to Brittany’s increasingly outrageous comments, I couldn’t help but frown. Mom, too, looked at Dad and me, speechless. Seeing no one refute her, Brittany grew bolder. “Dad, you’re retired and enjoying life now; you truly don’t know how hard it is to earn money these days.” “If it weren’t for Caleb bustling and toiling for the company, how could you be living such a comfortable life?” “To be blunt, buying Chloe a villa is essentially taking Caleb’s money to buy a villa for Chloe.”

Brittany’s words left me utterly speechless. I couldn’t imagine what part of her brain she was using to come up with such nonsense. Our family business had expanded overseas years ago. My reason for going abroad was twofold: to study and to manage the overseas company. Caleb was merely placed in the company by my father for experience. On the surface, it seemed Caleb was in charge of everything, but the real decision-making power remained with my parents. I saw my father’s face darken. Just as I was about to retort, Brittany spoke again. “Chloe, since you’re back, I’ll have Caleb arrange a position for you to get some experience.” “You’ve been free and easy abroad for so many years. Now that you’re back, it’s time to settle down.” “Otherwise, when you marry someone, they might think our Sterling girls are all lazy socialites who only know how to enjoy themselves.” That last remark hit a raw nerve with my father. After holding back for so long, he finally spoke. “Who the hell do you think you are?” “You’re not even married into the Sterling family yet, and you’re talking about my daughter like that?” “Brittany, listen to me. In this family, I can turn a blind eye to your tantrums and capriciousness, but you’re not even fit to criticize Chloe!” Brittany was startled into silence by my father’s outburst. In all the time she’d known him, it was the first time she’d seen him so furious. Brittany’s tears came instantly, welling up in her eyes, as she whimpered indignantly. “Chloe is just like this because you’ve spoiled her rotten, making her completely out of control.” “I know you’re biased against me, a girl from a humble background…” … I didn’t want to hear Brittany go on, so I quickly cut her off. “Alright, alright.” “Let’s discuss whatever it is after Caleb gets back.” “Dad, don’t be angry. It’s fine.” I had been so happy to see my parents again after coming home, but Brittany had ruined the beautiful atmosphere. Her words had been truly awful, but out of consideration for her upcoming marriage to my brother, I hadn’t argued back. I didn’t want to cause trouble with Caleb’s fiancée before I’d even seen him. Besides, Caleb had always been very caring towards me since we were kids. I was sure he’d support me once he knew what happened. No sooner had I finished speaking than a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. “Chloe’s finally back?” I looked up, eyes filled with anticipation, just as Brittany threw herself into Caleb’s arms. Caleb, feeling Brittany’s distress, asked with concern. “Brittany, what’s wrong?”

Hearing him, Brittany shed her arrogant demeanor. She sobbed loudly in Caleb’s embrace, occasionally looking up with feigned weakness, tears in her eyes. “Caleb, you’re finally back.” “Just now, your mom and dad said they were going to give your sister a villa at Ocean Crest Estates.” “How can that be right? Who spends so much money on a villa for a girl?” “Chloe will eventually take another man’s name. There are so many better things to do with tens of millions, but when I kindly tried to advise them, they just yelled at me.” Brittany finished, crying even more aggrievedly, but despite all the dramatics, hardly a single tear fell. My brother, Caleb Sterling, looked embarrassed upon hearing this, glancing between me and our parents. “Brittany, you can’t say that. Chloe, no matter what, will always be an integral part of the Sterling family.” “I think Mom and Dad were just a little impulsive, seeing Chloe back. As her sister-in-law, you shouldn’t fuss about it.” Caleb tried to comfort her, all while shooting me meaningful glances. I found Brittany’s pitiful act repulsive. I just grabbed my parents, ready to go out for dinner. It was a rare family reunion, and I didn’t want Brittany to spoil our evening. As the three of us got into the car, we could still hear Brittany shouting from the villa’s doorway. “Caleb, stop them! They might be going to buy that burden a villa under the pretense of dinner!” My father’s previously gentle gaze towards me suddenly hardened. He turned to the driver. “To Ocean Crest Estates.” “Dad, what about Caleb and Brittany?” Father ignored me. I looked at Brittany through the car window, feeling utterly speechless. Originally, the three of us were just going out for dinner, and I’d planned to persuade Mom and Dad to hold off on the villa. But Brittany, once again, had done us a “big favor.” At the villa sales office, after a presentation from the sales representative, Father casually pulled out a black card and handed it to them. “Chloe, what do you think of this one with the mountains and water?” “This one looks excellent to me, the feng shui and location are superb.” “If Chloe has no objections, this is the one.” “Take the card, process the payment, and then send it to the Sterling family estate.” Watching my parents’ doting eyes, my own eyes welled up. Sure enough, no matter what, the ones who loved me most were always Mom and Dad. After settling on the villa, the three of us headed straight for the city’s six-star oceanfront restaurant. No sooner had we settled into a private room than Father received a call confirming the full payment for the Ocean Crest Estates villa. Immediately after, Caleb called me. “Chloe, are Dad and Mom with you?” “Tell them to come back quickly, something terrible has happened.” The three of us exchanged confused glances, but Caleb wouldn’t say what was wrong. Overwhelmed with worry, we rushed back. But as we pushed open the door, we saw Brittany and Caleb sitting on the sofa, intimately giggling. Brittany, seeing us, instantly put on a look of distress and difficulty. “Dad, Mom, I called you back urgently because there’s something I need to tell you.” “I’m actually pregnant with Caleb’s child, a blood relative of the Sterling family.” “And it’s a boy.” Father was the first to speak, unable to contain himself. “What?” His voice was laced with excitement. I knew he had long yearned for a male heir for the Sterling family, and he had hinted at it countless times before. Brittany, seeing Father’s reaction, triumphantly placed an ultrasound report on the coffee table. “But just now, Caleb received a notification about a large sum of money being transferred from the bank.” “I’m making it clear today: either you cancel the property you just bought, or I won’t have this child!” “I refuse to believe that the Sterling family heir I’m carrying is less important than some useless girl!” My parents exchanged grave glances, looking at me, then at Caleb. I also looked at Caleb, hoping he would put his crazy fiancée in her place. But he just sat there nonchalantly, sipping tea and leisurely eating cake. Just as I was about to confront Caleb, my father spoke first. “Caleb, is what Brittany said also your opinion?” Seeing Father speak, Caleb didn’t dare to delay. He put down his teacup and said. “Dad, Brittany is pregnant now, and the doctor said we have to listen to her about everything, or it might affect the baby.” “Besides, Brittany is actually doing this for the good of our Sterling family.” “What if Chloe truly gets tricked by someone in the future? Those tens of millions for the villa would all go to someone else’s family.” “How about this, you give me the money, and I’ll rent Chloe my villa at Ocean Crest Estates for a while.” Just as my father was about to lunge at him, my mother grabbed his arm and said. “Caleb, your father, your sister, and I are going upstairs to discuss something.” Fearing my parents would be put in a difficult position, I spoke as soon as we closed the door to the upstairs drawing room. “Mom, the villa is a small matter. No matter what, we need Brittany to have this child.” “Let’s contact the sales representative and cancel the villa.” Father looked at me with complex emotions, then turned and punched the chair, cursing. “That bastard, Caleb!” Mother looked at Father, then turned her gaze to me, firm and resolute. She took my hand and spoke. “Caleb is not your biological brother, Chloe.” “Chloe, your father and I don’t want you to keep suffering and sacrificing yourself like this.” This news utterly shocked me. My brother, who had been with me since childhood, wasn’t my biological brother? Mother saw my expression and smiled slightly. Father then spoke. “Caleb was adopted by your mother and me when he was very young. Over the years, we’ve come to see him as our own child.” “We even had the division of the Sterling family fortune planned out, ensuring that you and your brother would receive absolutely fair shares.” “But his behavior these past two days has truly disappointed your mother and me. He’s deluded himself into thinking he holds power over the Sterling Group, and his ambition has grown increasingly brazen.” I looked at my father’s pained expression and comforted him. “Dad, Caleb might just be temporarily blinded by power. Don’t be too sad.” Tears welled in Father’s eyes as he pulled me into a hug. “My silly child, do you think I’m sad for Caleb?” “I’m heartbroken that for all these years, my concern for Caleb led me to neglect you, my own daughter!” I numbly comforted Father, still not fully processing everything. Could all those years of living together, Caleb’s constant care and affection for me, his obedience to Mom and Dad, have all been a lie? I was even still thinking of trying to explain things for Caleb and Brittany, but the growing sounds of wailing from downstairs pierced my ears. “Caleb, I’m so wronged!” “If the Sterling family doesn’t care about this child, I might as well just get rid of him!”

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The third year after I returned home, my family went bankrupt, and my parents were murdered. I fell from being a pampered heiress to working odd jobs just to survive. To uncover the truth behind my parents’ deaths, I married my ex-boyfriend’s father. In public, Julian Thorne was aloof and dangerously elegant, his eyes filled with endless sarcasm and mockery. “What? Couldn’t reel me in, so you decided to hook my dad instead? Planning to be my stepmom now?” But behind closed doors, his eyes would turn bloodshot as he gripped my waist, punishing me again and again. “Stepmom… scream for me… a million bucks for every gasp…” Three years after returning to the country, my family’s company unexpectedly went bankrupt, and both my parents died. I went from being the darling of our circle to a laughingstock. Burdened with debt, I had no choice but to work and simultaneously investigate the truth behind my parents’ murder. One evening, while serving drinks at a high-end club, a few luxury cars pulled up outside, and several rich young men stepped out. Among them, I instantly spotted him: Julian Thorne, my ex-boyfriend. He was wearing a black suit, his figure lean and tall. Rimless designer glasses framed his face, making him look exceptionally sophisticated and distant. My heart was in turmoil. Just then, Mr. Davis, the club manager, assigned me to deliver drinks to their room, and I absently accepted. The room number was 816. I knocked on the door, then pushed it open, carrying the tray of drinks inside. But the next second, I regretted it. The private room was thick with smoke, and neon lights flashed erratically. Julian sat in the main seat. Beneath his suit jacket, his white shirt was unbuttoned, creating an aura of forbidden allure. My body stiffened instantly. I lowered my head, praying he wouldn’t recognize me. “Well, well, isn’t that Miss Skylar? What are you doing in a place like this?” As soon as I set the drinks down, one of the men beside Julian called out to me, his tone laced with amusement. “Julian, you’ve just returned from abroad, so you might not know,” “This, right here, is our infamous Miss Skylar.” Another man grabbed Julian’s arm and began rattling off my entire family history, complete with all the juicy details. Julian lit a cigarette, glanced at me, and smirked. “Oh, really? That famous, huh?” I couldn’t bear to listen to their insulting words anymore. After placing the drinks, I turned to leave. But then, one of the rich guys abruptly shut the door. “Didn’t Miss Skylar used to love singing? How about a song for us?” I felt a surge of humiliation. I set the microphone aside, picked up a fresh one, and was about to sing. Suddenly, a low, sarcastic chuckle sounded in my ear. “Having a club girl sing? Don’t you worry about tainting the air with such vulgarity?”

I looked up. Julian was swirling his red wine, looking down on me, his eyes filled with searing sarcasm. He had a point. I’d dumped him without a second thought back then, so there was no reason for Julian not to hate me. As soon as he spoke, the others, sensing his displeasure, let me go. Stepping out of the room, my breathing was ragged. I gulped down several deep breaths. After that, whenever I worked, I refused any assignments for room 816. The night wore on, and finally, my shift ended. My rented apartment was nearby, so I walked to and from work every day. It was ten o’clock at night now, and the deserted streets were mostly empty. But strangely, a few honks suddenly blared from behind me. The next moment, a black Porsche Cayenne screeched to a halt right in front of me. Julian stepped out, effortlessly elegant, lit a cigarette, and leaned casually against the car. “After leaving me, you’ve become so pathetic?” “Why are you working in a club now?” His face held a teasing smirk, his words sharp as daggers, his tone aggressive. I ignored him, trying to walk around him. Julian took a deep drag from his cigarette, then grabbed my arm, slamming me against the car. His lips crushed mine. The taste of smoke exploded in my mouth. I fought back fiercely, biting into his lip until I tasted blood. Julian licked his lips, his smile a little wild. “What, you’ve turned into a club girl, and you can’t even handle a kiss?” I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught it, scooped me up with one arm, and shoved me into the car. Julian’s body pressed down on me, his presence overwhelming, angrily tearing at my clothes. “You’d rather be a club girl than stay with me, wouldn’t you?” I was terrified, struggling wildly and screaming. “You’re insane! Let me go!” Julian’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with pure possessiveness. “Save your energy. Later, each scream will be worth a million bucks.” He started to strip off his clothes, but then a police siren blared outside, stopping him cold.

I had called the police while he wasn’t paying attention. The officer asked for a resolution, and I smiled, saying we could settle it privately. But he had to pay me. Julian frowned, furious. Without a word, he threw a bank card at my face. He left with a parting shot: “You really are pathetic,” then walked away. Julian and I met abroad. We were both studying overseas as teenagers, and coincidentally, we were neighbors. At that time, we were in the prime of our youth, a handsome boy and a beautiful girl, and there was an instant spark between us. Once we were together, we became inseparable. Julian’s words weren’t so harsh back then; he was a gentle, attentive younger man. I remember once, some guy from my class abroad joked about me. Julian’s face turned menacing when he heard it. He lunged at the guy and beat him senseless. I couldn’t stop him. We ended up at the police station that day, too, but his gaze never left me. His brow furrowed slightly as he held my hand, murmuring cautiously, “Skylar, I’m sorry. I won’t be so reckless again, okay?” He loved me so much back then. He was like a completely different person from the mocking, arrogant man he was now. But I couldn’t blame him. My family had arranged a strategic alliance for me through marriage, forcing me to break up with him. So, for his sake and mine, I said cruel things to break up with him and then immediately blocked him on every social media platform. The very next day, I flew back home. But I truly didn’t know he was the heir to the Thorne empire then. Otherwise, if I had to marry for alliance anyway, why would I have looked elsewhere? Now, it was too late to say anything. I took the bank card to the bank; it held exactly a million dollars. After paying off my debts, there was still a portion left for my expenses. Now, I no longer wanted any connection with Julian. At best, he was an ex. So, I quit my job at the club. In the following days, I dedicated myself to investigating the truth behind my parents’ deaths. Finally, by piecing together scattered clues, I found a lead. The clues pointed to one company that had financial dealings with ours before the bankruptcy… Only Thorne Industries. Thorne Industries? I stared at the documents on my computer, lost in thought.

The next day, I packed my bags and attended a gala. Julian was also present at the event. But he wasn’t my target; his father was. During a lull in the party, I deliberately slipped into Mr. Thorne’s private lounge. Then, I hacked into his computer, hoping to unearth more clues. But just then, Mr. Thorne’s voice grew closer; he seemed to be returning. I panicked, frantically searching for a solution. Unexpectedly, the sounds from outside the door gradually faded away. I breathed a sigh of relief and copied the files onto a USB drive. I pushed the door open to leave, but suddenly, a hand gripped my waist, spun me around, and pulled me into an adjoining private room. Julian pinned my hands above my head with one hand and gripped my chin with the other. He slammed me against the wall, leaning close, a mocking smile on his face. “What? Couldn’t become my woman, so you’re trying to seduce my dad instead?” I gritted my teeth, retorting, seething with anger, “What, you said I was pathetic, didn’t you? So what if I am!” Julian’s smile was sharp and cruel, and his grip on my jaw tightened, as if he wanted to crush me. “Then I’ll show you what *more* pathetic things truly are.” He finished speaking and lunged at me, leaving me no chance to escape. I struggled desperately but was still overpowered. Just as things escalated, his phone rang. Julian ignored it, pressing the call, then continued. I was on the verge of tears. I thought Julian was a psycho. Didn’t *he* call me pathetic? So why was he trying to harass me now? But then, a rapid knocking suddenly echoed from the room door.

Julian’s fun was interrupted again. He opened the door, his face a mask of fury, clearly annoyed. The person opposite him was extremely anxious, speaking without preamble. “I just called you, but you didn’t answer. Mr. Thorne said there was trouble at the company.” “What kind of trouble?” “Corporate secrets were stolen. Mr. Thorne is furious.” I lay stunned on the bed, my heart leaping to my throat. Had they found out about my hacking? Would Julian still let me leave? I secretly pondered my options. Julian, I realized, had quietly walked over to my side. To escape and avoid detection, I deliberately tried to seduce him. I peeled back the sheets, exposing my leg: “What, weren’t you going to teach me how to be pathetic?” Julian frowned deeply. He yanked the blanket back over me. He pulled his discarded suit pants back on, then narrowed his eyes, giving me a chilling warning. “Skylar, I’m warning you, don’t do pathetic things like that, and don’t provoke me.” ??? Excuse me? Who was provoking whom? After Julian finished speaking, he pushed open the door and walked out. It seemed he hadn’t discovered anything. I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Back home, I copied the contents of the USB drive onto my computer. Sure enough, I found a significant clue. It turned out that while Thorne Industries was cooperating with us, they were also secretly colluding with other corporations. This was likely the fundamental reason for my company’s bankruptcy. And the direct catalyst for my parents’ deaths. I would uncover the truth step by step, and take my revenge step by step. But to uncover it, I needed an entry point. Since it involved Thorne Industries… That entry point could only be *that* person.

Thorne Industries held a charity auction every year. Counting the days, this year’s charity auction was fast approaching. I found someone to get me a ticket to the auction and entered. The auction was filled with powerful figures, a world where reputation meant nothing, only profit. I seized the opportunity to find the event organizer and asked him to convey a message to Mr. Thorne. “Mr. Thorne, I’ve heard about Thorne Industries’ charity auction even in Thailand.” After that, I quietly sat in a secluded corner. Soon, someone came looking for me. Thorne Industries’ charity was merely a façade; in reality, it was deeply involved in illicit dealings in Thailand. Bodyguards escorted me into a private room. Pushing the door open, I found Mr. Thorne seated on the sofa, reading a newspaper. He looked up when he saw me. “Miss Skylar, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I replied casually: “No particular reason, I just want to make a deal with you.” He rustled his newspaper, sounding mildly interested: “I’m all ears.” Smart people don’t need many words. Especially a cunning old fox like him, who was about my father’s age. The scene shifted. I appeared in the auction hall, linked arms with Mr. Thorne. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Mr. Thorne led me to the center, took the microphone, and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, besides today’s charity auction, I also have some wonderful news to share with you all.” “That is, Miss Skylar and I are preparing to get married.” He finished speaking, looked at me, and patted my hand. I returned his smile. Everyone applauded, but the glances they cast my way were filled with disdain. Standing on stage, my eyes still found Julian. His face was composed, but a mask of ice, a vein throbbing wildly in his neck. Of course, any man would struggle when his ex-girlfriend was about to become his stepmother. I’m sorry, Julian, but your dad simply has more power than you. To uncover the truth, that entry point could only be your father. That evening, Mr. Thorne’s car dropped me off. As soon as I reached the stairwell, I sensed someone behind me. Before I could even scream for help, a hand clapped over my mouth, and I was dragged into the shadowy corner beneath the stairs.

In the dim light, I still saw the pure fury blazing in Julian’s eyes. This time, he was truly enraged. Julian slammed me against the wall, lunging at me with primal force. He didn’t say a word, roughly tearing at me. It hurt. I fought him like a maniac, but his hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my screams. Julian was a beast, leaving his marks all over me. I bit down on his tongue until I tasted blood. At a critical moment, I used my remaining strength to grab the stun gun from my bag and pressed it down hard. “Woo-wee! Woo-wee!” The stun gun blared, drawing the attention of nearby neighbors. I seized the chance to shove him away and scrambled away, terrified. Julian was truly insane. I hadn’t provoked *him*. Couldn’t I provoke his *father* instead? Lost in thought, I suddenly noticed the painting hanging in the living room. Julian had given it to me when we were young. I looked at the artwork, and memories flooded my mind. “Julian, would you paint something for me too, please?” Julian looked helpless, pulling my hand, a troubled expression on his face: “I’m terrible at painting.” Yet, in the end, the Julian who was “terrible at painting” stayed up for nights on end to paint that picture for me. I had always cherished it. Did I truly not love him? The answer no longer mattered. I wiped away my tears. Let the past stay in the past. The most important thing now was to uncover the truth. The next day, the Thorne family car came to pick me up. I was moving into the Thorne mansion. I glanced at the painting, hesitated, but ultimately didn’t take it with me. By the time I arrived at the Thorne mansion, it was already evening. A line of household staff greeted me at the entrance. I sighed, remembering how glorious my own family had once been. To think I was now becoming someone else’s stepmom—it truly was unimaginable. Mr. Thorne and I had a contractual marriage; we wouldn’t be living together. So, I asked a maid to show me to my bedroom. As soon as I entered the room, a woody scent drifted into my nostrils. The smell was strangely familiar. It smelled like Julian. Just then, the doorknob to the ensuite bathroom turned. I jumped, startled. When I saw who emerged, I instantly turned to open the door, wanting to escape. But the door was locked.

Julian stood there, wrapped in just a towel, his sculpted body clearly visible, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders. My back pressed against the door, my heart pounding, I immediately spoke. “Julian, this is your home. I’m your stepmom. You can’t do anything reckless!” Julian sat on the sofa, his eyes cold and filled with scorn. “Be reckless with *you*? What makes you so confident?” ??? He’d tried several times and failed, and now he was asking me what gave me confidence? I composed myself. “Good. As long as you don’t have that intention.” Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Julian’s next words nearly scared me to death. “But what if *you*, Stepmom, actively seduce me? Would that still be me acting reckless?” No sooner had he spoken than Julian stood up and walked towards me, his towel barely clinging on. He infuriated me. Words tumbled out, sharp and cruel. “You were dumped by me, and you’re still so desperate? Have some dignity!” His heart seemed to be pricked. Julian stopped approaching me. His face returned to its usual cold indifference, an almost bone-chilling coldness. He took a step forward, unlocked the door, and his voice dropped low. “Get out. Don’t let me see you.” My heart twisted with a strange ache, but I quickly scurried out. If I hadn’t found out about Thorne Industries, Julian and I would never have crossed paths again. And now, I was someone else’s stepmom. According to our agreement, I handed the evidence of the illicit dealings in Thailand to Mr. Thorne. And we had obtained a fake marriage certificate. The wedding day was lively. Besides being lively, it was also incredibly awkward. Because not only were Mr. Thorne and I getting married, but his son, Julian, also decided to join in the festivities. Julian introduced the woman in his arms to everyone, then stared at me and said, “Chloe, this is our stepmom. Say hello, Stepmom.” The woman nestled in Julian’s arms, her smile saccharine. “Hello, Stepmom.” I was so angry my teeth nearly shattered, so I retorted: “Hello, son and daughter-in-law, you both look lovely.” Julian used the wedding as an opportunity to announce his relationship with Chloe and get married himself. A knot of emotion tightened in my chest, but I had no right to say anything. On the wedding night, to avoid suspicion, I purposely went to Mr. Thorne’s bedroom. Fortunately, he had company matters to attend to that night, so I was comfortable alone in the room. Before I went to sleep, the doorknob suddenly rattled. I tensed, calling out loudly: “Mr. Thorne? Is that you?”

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