My grandfather’s live-in caregiver is a selfish piece of work. She’s dead set on setting me up with her loser son. She spends all day establishing dominance in my own house: “My Earl is a good, honest man. You’d be lucky to land him.” “You city girls are too picky. Keep looking for prince charming and you’ll end up an old maid with nothing but cats.” My parents just nod along like bobbleheads. They want me married off ASAP so they can use the “dowry”—or rather, the money they’ll save by dumping me—to fund my brother’s lifestyle. But what none of them know is that the “girlfriend” my brother brought home for the holidays… is actually a man in a wig. 1 Two weeks before Christmas, I took leave and drove back to my hometown in rural Alabama. Grandpa’s health had taken a nosedive this year, and I wanted to be there to care for him. The town was already decked out in lights and plastic Santas. I stopped by Mrs. Higgins’ deli downstairs to grab some pot roast. Mrs. Higgins grabbed my arm, her face serious. “Chloe, honey, have you met the new caregiver your folks hired for your grandpa?” I nodded. Grandpa had a stroke three years ago. My parents claimed they were too busy with work to help, so I footed the bill for a full-time aide. I even doubled the salary so she’d cook for the household. Mrs. Higgins didn’t say much, just gave me a look. “You just… go on home and see for yourself.” I walked up the steps and found the front door unlocked. A wave of stench hit me instantly—a mix of stale bathroom smells and cheap, overpowering perfume. It made my eyes water. I frowned and looked at the new caregiver, Brenda. She was in her fifties, heavyset, wearing enough makeup for a pageant, and a gold ring on her finger that looked suspiciously familiar. She was currently feeding Grandpa a piece of greasy, fried bacon. “Come on, pops, eat up. This is the good stuff from my farm.” I stepped in, furious. “He has high blood pressure and a history of strokes. He can’t have that much sodium and grease. Are you trying to kill him?” Brenda dropped the fork and glared at me. “Who the hell are you? Busting into people’s houses? I’m calling the cops. You millennials have no manners.” I kicked my suitcase inside and slammed the door. “I don’t care who you think I am. I’m the one signing your paychecks.” Brenda froze. She squinted at me, a fake smile slowly plastering onto her face. “You… you must be Chloe?” I ignored her and checked on Grandpa. He looked frail. “Chloe, you’re back?” Brenda’s voice went syrup-sweet. “Why didn’t you call? I didn’t cook much, just some fruit.” She pointed to a bowl of withered, brown apples. I stared at the fruit, then at the thick gold band on her ring finger. “Brenda, I send you two thousand dollars a month for groceries alone. Why is my grandfather eating grease and rotting apples?” Brenda turned red. “Are you accusing me of stealing? I work my fingers to the bone for this family! I should sue you for slander!” I picked up the fruit bowl and smashed it on the floor. “Your breath smells like a landfill. Show me the receipts. Now.” Grandpa, bless his heart, tugged my sleeve. “Let it be, Chloe. Brenda works hard.” Brenda smirked at me, triumphant. Before I could scream, the door opened. Mom walked in, followed by a man who was about 5’4″, shaped like a pufferfish, and wearing a stained hoodie. Mom beamed. “Chloe! Perfect timing.” “Come meet Brenda’s son, Earl. He’s thirty-five and single.” “You guys have so much in common. Sit down and chat.” Me: “?” 2 Brenda scrambled to the kitchen. Suddenly, the rotting apples were replaced by fresh cherries, and a pot roast appeared on the table. I sat there, picking at my food, listening to Mom and Brenda hype up the pufferfish. “My Earl is a catch,” Brenda bragged. “He’s a foreman at the construction site. Makes good money. He just has high standards, that’s why he’s single.” Mom nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. You two should get to know each other. I worry about you, Chloe. Twenty-eight and no husband? You’re expiring, honey.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Since when is twenty-eight an expiration date? “Mom,” I interrupted. “Statistically, humans live past twenty-eight. I’m not a carton of milk.” Mom kicked me under the table. I ignored them and focused on eating. I figured I’d just survive the holidays and leave. Then, the pufferfish spoke. Earl leaned back, lit a cigarette inside the house, and looked me up and down with greasy eyes. “Not bad,” he puffed. “You got good hips. Look like you’d breed well.” I choked on my water. Was this guy for real? Brenda clapped her hands. “See! Earl likes you! He usually never talks to the girls I introduce him to. He’s serving you!” Serving me? He slid a glass of soda toward me. That was it. I pushed the glass back. “I drank from it. I don’t want to contaminate royalty.” “And frankly,” I looked at Mom, “the air in here is toxic.” Mom frowned. “What smell?” “The smell of trash men,” I said, standing up. That killed the dinner conversation pretty effectively. 3 Earl finally left that evening, carrying three Tupperware containers of food Brenda had packed for him, plus a bag of my dad’s expensive coffee. I stood on the balcony, lighting a cigarette. “Did your son come for a date or a robbery? Should I pack him my garbage too?” Brenda glared at me but retreated to Grandpa’s room. I went to put my suitcase in my bedroom, only to find the door locked. “Mom!” I yelled. “Why is my door locked?” Mom rushed over, shushing me. She dragged my suitcase to the living room sofa. “Quiet down! Your brother Justin is bringing his fiancée home tomorrow. They’re getting married soon.” “You know the tradition. Once the son gets married, the daughter gives up her room. We’re turning your room into the nursery.” “You don’t come back often anyway. Just sleep on the couch.” I paid the down payment for this house. I pay half the mortgage every month. Growing up, Mom always said, “We love you both equally.” But whenever push came to shove, Justin got the gold, and I got the scraps. “So because Justin is getting married, I’m homeless in the house I pay for?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Am I your daughter or your ATM?” Mom didn’t even blink. “Don’t start with that ‘equality’ nonsense. We couldn’t afford a new house for him. You’re the big sister; you should sacrifice.” My heart turned to ice. “I raised you, fed you, sent you to college,” Mom continued, her voice rising. “And look at you now, picky and ungrateful. If Brenda’s son didn’t want you, I wouldn’t even let you in the door. Once you marry him, his bride price can pay for Justin’s wedding.” So that was the plan. Sell me off to the pufferfish to fund the golden child. I laughed, cold and sharp. I walked past her to my bedroom door and kicked it open with a single, violent thrust. “In your dreams.” 4 That night, I lay in bed, fuming. My phone pinged. A friend request. Username: AlphaWolf69 I accepted, thinking it was a client. AlphaWolf69: “You awake, babe?” I grimaced. Me: “Who is this?” AlphaWolf69: “It’s Earl. We had dinner. I was sitting right next to you.” AlphaWolf69: “My mom says you work hard in the city. A little woman like you shouldn’t struggle. You’re too strong.” AlphaWolf69: “But don’t worry. Your Alpha is here to tame you.” I fought the urge to vomit. AlphaWolf69: “Let me lay it out. I’m handsome, 5’5, 180 lbs of muscle. I have a self-built house in the country and a Dodge Neon.” AlphaWolf69: “When we marry, you quit your job. Be a trad-wife.” Me: “Why?” AlphaWolf69: “Because you’re my woman. I’ll give you love. You cook, clean, raise the kids. How many sons do you want?” Me: “I don’t want kids. Especially not with you.” AlphaWolf69: “Stop being shy. Females always play hard to get.” I stared at the screen. This man needed to be studied in a lab. AlphaWolf69: “I want four boys. But you only need to birth three. I already have one from a previous… situation.” I blocked him immediately. I felt like my IQ dropped just reading his texts.

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Everyone knew Gabe was a “wife guy” during the ten years we were together. Back in high school and college, while I buried my head in textbooks, he wrote me a love letter every single week. Rain or shine, he delivered 365 letters before I finally agreed to be his girlfriend. That day, he hugged me and kissed me over and over again. “Sarah, I swear, in this life and the next… actually, in every life, I will only love you. I will give you the best things this world has to offer.” After graduation, he started his own tech company. For three years, he slept four hours a night and drank himself into stomach ulcers at business dinners. In the fourth year, he made it. He became a tech mogul, a multimillionaire, the new king of Silicon Valley. Everyone said our hard work had paid off. Gabe held me tight, trembling with excitement. “Finally! I can keep my promise. I can give you everything.” I cried, shaking my head. “Your love is already the best thing in the world.” That night, we made love everywhere—from the kitchen to the bathroom to the bedroom. I thought we would be happy forever. But two months ago, I saw him pin my half-sister, Zoe, against his desk and kiss her passionately. Zoe’s eyes were glazed over. “Do I taste like your fiancée?” “No,” Gabe growled, his voice husky. “You’re younger. More exciting. You taste better.” He kissed her again, harder this time. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just quietly started preparing for my grad school exams abroad. When Gabe searched the entire city and couldn’t find me, that’s when he finally panicked. 1 “Just wait ten more minutes, okay?” I tugged at the hem of his shirt, tears already streaming down my face. My birthday was tomorrow. It was ten minutes to midnight. He had promised to always be the first person to wish me a happy birthday. “Be good, babe. There’s an emergency at the office. I’ll be back as soon as I handle it. Wait for me!” Usually, if I shed a single tear, he would drop everything to comfort me. But tonight, he didn’t even seem to see it. He pulled his shirt from my grip, put on his shoes, and asked for the car keys. He acted like the sky was falling. At 5:00 AM, the candles had burned out, the cake had melted, and Gabe still wasn’t home. I opened my phone and clicked on my chat with Zoe. Her tone was smug. “Sis, if I remember correctly, today is your birthday, right?” She added a giggling emoji. “What a coincidence. Today is my and Gabe’s two-month-minus-two-days anniversary. Guess who he chose?” Two-month-minus-two-days anniversary. I let out a bitter laugh. When I saw the message, I knew. Gabe wasn’t stupid. He knew Zoe was making up a ridiculous occasion just to hurt me. But he agreed to it anyway. Tears fell like broken beads. Ding! A photo arrived. Under a sky full of fireworks, Gabe had her pinned against a railing, kissing her. It was a beautiful, romantic scene. “Sigh, my brother-in-law is so romantic. He prepared all this for me.” I felt like a clown. While I was excitedly waiting for him to celebrate my birthday, he was planning his escape to romance another woman. I zoomed in on the photo. Around Zoe’s neck hung the “Heart of Africa” ruby necklace, worth $30 million. Rumor had it Gabe hired a top designer to customize it. He said it was for the most important woman in his life. I was such a fool. I thought he bought it to surprise me. My heart felt like it was being eaten by insects. The pain was excruciating. I clutched my chest, unable to stand straight. Good. Let it hurt. Remember this pain and humiliation. Don’t be soft-hearted anymore. Cut out the rot so the rest of you can survive. Gabe, I’m leaving you. I stood up, went back to my room, and lay in bed, calculating my exit. 2 Not long after I lay down, Gabe came home. Seeing my red, swollen eyes, he apologized sincerely. “I’m sorry, wifey. I missed your birthday. I promise I’ll spend it with you next year.” I opened my eyes and met his guilty gaze. “Gabe, there is no next year for us.” Panic flashed in his eyes, but he quickly covered it with a smile, tapping my nose. “Don’t talk nonsense. We promised to be together for every lifetime. How could there not be a next year?” He leaned down to kiss me. I pushed him away and ran to the bathroom to vomit. He smelled like gardenias. That wasn’t my perfume. His lips had just kissed another woman. It was disgusting. “Babe, are you pregnant? We aren’t ready for kids yet,” he said seriously, patting my back gently. I had been pregnant three times before. Each time, he said the timing wasn’t right, that I should wait until he was successful so he could give our child the best life. Why it wasn’t suitable now, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. We would never have children. I cleaned myself up and walked out. I saw a slice of raspberry cake on the table. Gabe looked proud. “I know you love sweets, so I picked this up on the way home.” I forced a smile. Bought at 5 AM? He couldn’t even be bothered to lie properly. Or maybe he just thought I was stupid. This cake was clearly leftover from his “anniversary” with Zoe. He brought it home like a doggie bag for me. He chased me for seven years. We’ve been together for three. He knew better than anyone that I was allergic to raspberries. This just proved he didn’t love me anymore. His heart wasn’t here. I sat down, picked up the fork, and took a bite of the sweet cake. I smiled and asked, “Did you forget to give me the Heart of Africa? I’ve been looking forward to it.” He froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He must be wondering how I knew. Finally, he laughed dryly. “Red is too old-fashioned for you. I bought that for my mom.” “If you like gems, I’ll buy you something more expensive and beautiful, okay?” My skin started to itch. I looked at him. “No need.” I didn’t need anyone’s charity. He suddenly panicked. He grabbed the cake from my hand and threw it on the floor. “Sarah, you’re allergic! We need to go to the hospital.” I didn’t move. He dropped to his knees and started slapping himself in the face. “I’m sorry, baby. I made you suffer. I’ve been so busy with work, my brain isn’t working right. I forgot about your allergy.” “Hit me, scold me, but don’t joke with your health. It hurts me.” “I really know I was wrong!” Before I could speak, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, stood up, and said, “Sarah, go to the hospital yourself. I have something to do at the company.” Watching his back as he left, I felt dazed. When did the boy who loved me so purely become such a good actor? One second loving me like his life depended on it, the next discarding me like trash. 3 To make it up to me, Gabe took me to a high-end restaurant. “There’s a new movie out. Let’s go see it if you have time,” I said. He didn’t look up from his phone. “Mmhmm.” I smiled and tried another topic. “Someone from my graduating class just got their PhD and became a professor. Pretty amazing.” “Mmhmm.” His indifference extinguished all my enthusiasm. “Let’s break up,” I said. “Mmhmm.” He paused, putting down his phone. “What did you say?” I sighed and smiled. “I said, go help me get some sauce.” He relaxed and picked up his phone again. “You scared me. Go get it yourself, I’m busy.” His impatience finally angered me. I raised my voice. “Did you not hear what I said?” I worked all day too. I was tired of coddling him. Gabe’s face went cold. He was angry now. “Sarah, stop being unreasonable. Every time we eat, you talk about celebrity gossip or obscure math theories.” “It’s boring as hell. I don’t understand it, and I don’t care. It’s exhausting pretending to listen. Can you be a little more understanding?” His complaints left me speechless. Love and indifference are always clear. I pursed my lips and went to the sauce station. When I came back, I saw Zoe. She was squeezed in next to Gabe, hugging his arm, practically sitting in his lap. Seeing my gaze land on their touching bodies, Zoe smiled brightly. “Hello, Mrs. Gabe. I’m Zoe, Gabe’s personal secretary.” She emphasized the word “personal.” She had zero boundaries. I looked down at Gabe. He looked away guiltily. “Zoe just came back from studying abroad. She’s a bit more… open and free. Don’t overthink it.” I looked down, sipped my coffee, and said nothing. Zoe leaned in and kissed Gabe on the cheek. “That’s right. Abroad, even if we sleep together, it doesn’t mean anything. Just sex, no feelings.” Gabe sensed the hidden meaning in her words and quickly stood up. “I’ll go get sauce.” “Bring me some too! You know what I like!” Zoe laughed innocently. But the moment Gabe left, her smile turned cold. She touched the ruby necklace at her throat. “Stolen things really do taste better. Dad was like that, and so is your husband. Sarah, I’m going to steal Gabe from you.” Even though my nails were digging into my palms, I kept my face calm. “If it can be stolen, it wasn’t worth much anyway.” She sneered. “Self-comfort of the weak. Let’s see if you’re really as calm and unbothered as you pretend.” With that, she ripped the necklace off and threw it on the floor. Then she picked up my coffee and splashed it on her own face. Finally, she slapped herself twice, hard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabe running back. She covered her red face and started sobbing. Gabe’s slap landed on my face without hesitation. “Sarah, where is your grace? Where is your kindness?” “It’s my fault. I spoiled you until you became arrogant and lawless. Today is a lesson. Learn what to control and when to turn a blind eye. You live in my house, eat my food, spend my money. Things are different now. You need to learn to compromise.” He was warning me. Even if he cheated, I had to endure it. He was convinced I couldn’t leave him. “Gabe, it hurts. I think I’m burned. Will it scar?” Zoe whimpered. Gabe withdrew his cold glare and tenderly checked Zoe’s face, then scooped her up in his arms. Watching his back, my heart filled with endless bitterness. My boy was just like my father. He had a new love. I was alone again. I stood up and walked aimlessly through the streets, my heart full of misery. 4 The next morning, I woke up to something cool on my face. I opened my eyes to see Gabe’s apologetic face. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Yesterday, anger went to my head. I didn’t consider your feelings. I didn’t give you enough security.” I glanced at the ointment in his hand, turned over, and ignored him. He pressed against my back, hugging my waist. “Wifey, let’s get married.” My tears fell instantly. I waited four years for those words. Now that they were here, I only felt bitterness. I hummed a response, slipped out of his arms, and walked away. I couldn’t stand the overpowering perfume on him or the red hickey on his neck for another second. Gabe, you’re dirty. I don’t want your marriage anymore. That afternoon at the market, I ran into a group of energetic college students. “Girls aren’t necessarily worse at science than boys. Wasn’t that math genius a few years back a girl?” “Yeah, too bad she was love-struck. Imagine what she could have achieved if she stayed in mathematics.” “Nothing to pity. Just different choices. Her husband is really successful now.” I clenched my fists and walked faster, afraid they would realize I was that love-struck fool. The year I graduated, I accepted Gabe’s proposal. For him, I scrapped my grad school plans. I worked as his data analyst and programmer for free. I did the work of three people. My mentor was furious. She said I would regret it. But I was young and reckless. I only wanted to help Gabe build his empire. Life was hard then, but we didn’t have these petty dramas. Gabe truly loved me back then. Later, when his business took off, he wanted me to quit and be a housewife. He said it was for my health, that women shouldn’t work so hard. In reality, he wanted to turn me into a dodder flower that could only live by clinging to him. Looking at the vegetables in front of me, I felt a wave of nausea. I didn’t want this life anymore. I left the market and went to the library. Seeing the familiar formulas, the complex theories… I couldn’t help myself. It felt so good to dive back into my passion. I devoured books like a starving person. The idea of going back to school took root in my heart. When the librarian told me they were closing, I walked out feeling satisfied for the first time in months. But before my smile could fade, I was hit by a familiar car. Just before I passed out, I saw the woman in the driver’s seat smirking. When I woke up, my mind was foggy. Gabe was hugging me. He stroked my face like I was a precious treasure. “You’re finally awake. Do you know how scared I was seeing you covered in blood in the ICU? We promised to be together forever. Without you, I would die.” My heart was still. Only my cheek felt wet. I looked up. Gabe was crying. How much of it was real? How much was fake? I asked flatly, “Gabe, did they catch the person who ran the red light?” He paused. “That doesn’t matter. You’re safe now.” I smiled bitterly and pushed him away. “Give me my phone. I’m calling the police. I remember the car and the plate. The driver can’t escape.” His loving expression vanished, replaced by coldness. “It was me. I didn’t see you clearly. It was dark, and you were looking at your phone. Are you going to sue me?” I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Forget it.” He pushed his luck. “Next time, don’t stay out so late. You worried me.” I suppressed my grief and looked at him coldly. “Liar. Gabe, I saw her. It was Zoe. She hit me on purpose. I know you gave her that car. She stole my dad when we were kids, and now she’s stealing you.” Gabe didn’t look shocked. He knew she was my half-sister. My father’s betrayal was a scar on my heart. Gabe knew that better than anyone because he spent seven years healing it. Now, he was ripping it open again. Gabe frantically wiped my tears. “For my sake, let her go this time. She didn’t mean it. It was too dark.” “If you mind us being close, I can transfer her to another department. Sarah, believe me, I only love you. I promoted her because she’s capable.” “Okay. I believe you.” I looked away, picked up my phone, and started researching grad school applications.

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My husband brought home a little girl, beaming as he told me she would complete our family. “She’s just the right age to be a twin to our son,” he said. “Now you have the daughter you always wanted without the labor pains.” I assumed she was his illegitimate child, a secret he was trying to smuggle into our lives. So, I went behind his back and ran a DNA test. I was wrong. But when my husband found the results, the look on his face wasn’t relief. It was terror. 1 My husband, David, and my mother-in-law, Brenda, came back from their “vacation” with a souvenir: a three-year-old girl named Mia. Brenda didn’t waste time. “Starting today, Mia is your daughter. Raise her alongside Leo like they’re twins. You’re always complaining about work being too busy to have another one, so problem solved.” She looked at me expectantly, as if I should be thanking her. I looked at the little girl standing next to my four-year-old son, Leo. A wave of irritation hit me. This wasn’t a puppy; this was a human being with memories. Brenda had pitched this idea days ago. She claimed Mia was the granddaughter of David’s distant aunt. The parents had died in a car wreck, the grandparents were gone, and no one else wanted her. “I’m too old to raise a toddler,” Brenda had argued. “You only have Leo. They can keep each other company.” I had refused. Raising a child isn’t a hobby. I struggled enough with Leo, and he was my own flesh and blood. David had tried the soft approach. “Sarah, honey, remember when you sponsored that high school student for three years? This is the same thing, just… closer to home. We have the money. It’s charity.” “Charity is writing a check,” I snapped. “Parenting is a lifetime commitment. If she has no one, let’s pay for her care elsewhere.” But now, here she was. Standing in my living room. Mia looked up at me with big, fearful grape-black eyes, and my heart traitorously softened. She was an orphan. It wasn’t her fault. “It’s just for the summer,” Brenda said quickly. “If Leo doesn’t like her, I’ll take her back.” I knew that was a lie. Once she was in, she was staying. And just like that, David pulled some strings, and Mia was legally added to our guardianship. The adjustment period was surprisingly smooth. Leo loved having a playmate. Mia was docile, almost too well-behaved, always letting Leo have the first pick of toys. But something felt off. David treated Mia better than he treated Leo. He bought her endless dresses and toys, things he never bothered doing for our son. He took the kids out for expensive dinners weekly—something he claimed he was “too busy” for before Mia arrived. Was he playing favorites? Or was he compensating for something? 2 “You handle the beauty, I’ll handle the duty,” David announced one night, volunteering to put the kids to bed. Mia was clinging to his leg, looking at him with adoration. Leo cheered, “Yay! Daddy’s reading stories!” I watched David carry Mia down the hall, a strange knot forming in my stomach. He looked less like a charitable uncle and more like a father trying to make up for lost time. I shook my head. I was being paranoid. He was probably just trying to make the poor girl feel welcome. 3 A few weeks later, David went on a three-day business trip. Before leaving, he gave me a lecture on taking extra special care of Mia. That night, Leo looked at me with watery eyes. “Mommy, Daddy always sits by Mia’s bed. Can you sit by mine tonight? It’s only fair.” My heart broke a little. “Of course, baby.” I sat with Leo until he drifted off, feeling a surge of resentment toward David. He was neglecting his own son for this girl. 4 After the kids were asleep, I stood over Mia’s bed. In the soft glow of the nightlight, I stared at her face. There was something familiar about her features. Something around the eyes… she looked like David. I laughed at myself. You’re losing it, Sarah. Around 2:00 AM, Leo burst into my room crying. “Mommy! Mia is shaking!” I sprinted to their room. Mia was convulsing. She was burning up—a febrile seizure. 5 The ER was a war zone. I was carrying Mia, dragging a sleepy Leo, frantic. I literally ran into a tall, handsome doctor. He steadied me, took one look at the situation, and ushered us into an empty exam room. He ordered tests, got Mia admitted, and even kept an eye on Leo while I filled out paperwork. “I have an emergency surgery,” the doctor said after Mia was settled. “But she’ll be fine.” By dawn, Mia’s fever broke. David rushed back from his trip, cutting it short. The moment he walked into the hospital room, he exploded. “I leave for one day and you put her in the hospital?!” David’s face was purple with rage. “Do you have a conscience? If anything happens to her, you’ll regret it!” I stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me? I stayed up all night. I dragged our son here in the middle of the night to save her. Your mother didn’t even pick up her phone!” “You just don’t care because she isn’t yours!” he shouted, dragging me into the stairwell to avoid waking Mia. As we screamed at each other, I saw the handsome doctor from last night walking down the stairs. I was too humiliated to even say thank you. I grabbed Leo and walked away. David’s reaction was extreme. You’ll regret it, he had said. Why would I regret it? Unless… she really was his daughter.

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My husband and I spent five years trying to conceive. In the end, we chose IVF. A year of hormone injections and failed attempts didn’t just fail to give us a baby; it turned me into a haggard, exhausted shadow of my former self. Then came the day my husband’s personal assistant showed up at our house to pick up his dry cleaning. She looked at me with pure disdain and ordered me around like I was the help. “Can you move a little faster? For a maid, you really have zero awareness. While you’re at it, polish the shoes I’m wearing. If you don’t, I’ll have your boss dock your pay!” I froze, suppressing my rage as I asked her what the hell she meant. Instead of answering, she dialed my husband, Ethan, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. She sobbed into the phone, claiming some “crazy old woman” was bullying her. Ethan rushed home in a fury. He didn’t ask for my side of the story; he just started screaming. “Sarah, she was obviously joking! Do you have to be so sensitive?” “Besides, is she wrong? Look at you. You look no different than a homeless woman begging on the street corner.” With that, he grabbed his assistant’s hand and stormed out, leaving me standing there. Moments later, a notification popped up on my phone. He had posted a photo of me—looking my absolute worst, swollen from medication and crying—to his Instagram Story. The caption read: “Official Statement: This ugly woman is no longer my wife! She can’t even give me a child. As a woman, she’s a total failure. It’s embarrassing. She’s on a three-day timeout. If she doesn’t apologize to Chloe by then, I’m filing for divorce!” Chloe, the assistant, was the first to like the post. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Ethan was absolutely certain I would come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. But he was wrong. This time, I didn’t want the baby. And I definitely didn’t want this dirty man anymore. 1 I was about to like that Instagram story out of spite, but Ethan deleted it seconds later. I didn’t care. I picked up the phone and called the fertility clinic. I told the doctor I was terminating the IVF process. The doctor was shocked. “Mrs. Miller, are you sure? We’re at the final stage. The embryo implantation is the last step. Last time you were here, Mr. Miller seemed very eager to have a child…” I rubbed my temples, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “He’s cheating on me. I don’t want the child anymore.” There was a pause. “I… I’m so sorry to hear that. However, termination requires signatures from both parties to be effective.” “No problem,” I said. “Send me the forms. I’ll make him sign.” Just as the email with the PDF landed in my inbox, the front door banged open. Ethan walked in, looking a bit awkward, holding a large shopping bag. “I thought about it, and maybe I was a little harsh earlier. Don’t take it to heart. Just apologize to Chloe, and we’ll let this whole thing go.” I gave him a cold look, ignored the bag, and turned to head to the bedroom to pack. Ethan’s temper flared. He rushed forward and blocked my path. “What is this attitude? I apologized for my tone! It was clearly your fault, why can’t you just lower your head and admit it? With a temper like yours, I worry our kid is going to inherit it!” I smiled bitterly. So, he deleted the post because he remembered I still had “breeding value.” I thought back to when we graduated college. We started his business from nothing. One winter, to secure a crucial client who lived in a lakeside villa cut off by a blizzard, I swam across that freezing lake because the roads were blocked. I watched the despair in Ethan’s eyes turn to hope as I jumped in. Ice shards cut my stomach. I secured the deal, but I passed out and woke up in the hospital with permanent uterine damage. Back then, Ethan covered my ears, eyes red with tears, and promised me: “It’s okay, Sarah. If we can’t have kids, we won’t. You suffered so much. Your health is all that matters to me.” But I knew how much he wanted a family. Every time we went shopping, he’d linger in the baby aisle, touching the tiny shoes, dreaming of a family of three. That’s why I volunteered for IVF. Even though it was agonizing. Even though the hormones made my hair fall out in clumps and aged me ten years. I endured it all gladly. And his repayment? Letting another woman mock me, scold me, and then demanding I apologize. I snapped back to reality and glared at him through gritted teeth. “Absolutely not.” Ethan’s face turned dark instantly. “I’m warning you, Sarah! Don’t push your luck!” He took the shopping bag and smashed it into my face. The sharp corner of the packaging cut my forehead. I crouched down in pain, watching the contents spill out. It was chocolate. I picked up the receipt that fell out. It was dated yesterday. I shook my head, looking at the pile of candy I didn’t even like. He was just giving me the leftovers someone else didn’t want. Ethan’s eyes flashed with a moment of guilt. He bent down to help me up, but then Chloe waltzed in, hips swaying, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh my god, what happened here?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Ethan, isn’t that the chocolate you bought with me yesterday? I told you to save me two bars! I know I’m on a diet, but I was craving a little bite!” She turned to me, smiling. “Sarah, aren’t you worried about getting fat eating all that?” Then she playfully slapped her own mouth. “Oops! Silly me. Sarah is already upset about being… well, ugly. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I deserve to die!” Ethan’s heart melted immediately. He grabbed her hands. “Little dummy, don’t hurt yourself. You didn’t say anything wrong. Why should we cater to her fragile ego?” He kissed her hands, blowing on them as if they were hurt. A wave of nausea hit me. I remembered my last egg retrieval. The pain was so bad I couldn’t walk. Ethan had stood there, arms crossed, sneering. “You’re a grown woman, stop acting. It’s just a needle. How much can it hurt?” He hadn’t cared about my pale face then. He just drove off, leaving me at the clinic because he “didn’t have the patience for my drama.” Now, he scooped Chloe up into his arms and walked out without a backward glance at his bleeding wife. “I’m taking Chloe to the doctor to check her hands. You stay home and reflect on your behavior!” 2 I sighed, cleaned up the scattered chocolates, and texted a lawyer about divorce proceedings. I printed two copies of the agreement. Knowing Ethan’s stubbornness, I wasn’t sure how to get him to sign. I packed up and went to sleep in the guest room. The next morning, I was woken up by Ethan’s phone call. “Get ready. I’m coming to pick you up.” I was confused. “Go where?” “Where do you think? I remembered today is the final IVF appointment! Do you want this kid or not?” I opened my mouth to tell him I definitely didn’t, but he hung up. “Garage. Five minutes. Hurry up.” I sighed. I didn’t even change out of my pajamas. Maybe it was better to do this at the hospital. I got in the car. Ethan frowned at my appearance. “You’re going to the hospital dressed like that? People will think you’re the cleaning lady, not the patient!” His naked disgust shattered whatever self-esteem I had left. I quit my job to focus on this pregnancy. I took hormones that wrecked my body. I managed his entire life. I didn’t have the energy to dress up. Instead of gratitude, I got shame. He tossed a Chanel jacket from the backseat at me. “Put this on.” It obviously wasn’t my size, nor my style. It smelled like Chloe—that overpowering rose perfume. Nauseous, I put it on. As I did, a sheer lace thong fell out of the pocket. It was damp. Ethan glanced at it, panicked, and snatched it away. “Stop rummaging! Chloe changed in my car after the water park last week and forgot her things.” I opened my mouth but said nothing. His acting was pathetic. He never allowed me to leave anything in his precious car. He detailed it daily. Without his permission, Chloe wouldn’t dare leave something so intimate behind. We arrived at the clinic. The doctor looked relieved to see us. “Great, you’re both here. Just sign the papers and we can proceed.” Ethan looked confused. “Proceed? I thought we already agreed on the implantation?” The doctor paused and looked at me. I looked down, trying to find the words. Ethan looked suspicious and grabbed the clipboard. My heart hammered in my chest. Just as he was reading the header—Termination of Treatment—his phone rang with a special, cutesy ringtone. He threw the clipboard down and answered immediately. “What’s wrong, princess?” The doctor took the opportunity to whisper to me, “Mrs. Miller, since you’re terminating, there’s a test result you need to see…” But before she could finish, Ethan grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “This is all your fault! If anything happens to Chloe, I’m holding you responsible!” 3 I was dragged out of the hospital before I could process what was happening. He drove like a maniac back to our house. As soon as we pulled up, I smelled thick, acrid smoke. Ethan was sweating, panic written all over his face. He threw his shoulder against the front door. “Chloe! Don’t be scared! I’m here!” I had a severe phobia of fire from a traumatic incident in my past. My legs turned to jelly. But it was an emergency, so I tried to help him with the door. Ethan shoved me away. “Get the hell out of my way! If she hadn’t been trying to make soup for you to help your health, this fire wouldn’t have happened! You jinx!” I laughed in disbelief. She burned my kitchen down, and it was my fault? Ethan kicked the door open and charged into the smoke. The house was ruined. In the kitchen, he found Chloe coughing on the floor. He scooped her up like she was made of glass. “Boohoo, Ethan, I really didn’t mean to! Sarah won’t be mad at me, will she?” Chloe whimpered, playing the victim perfectly. “Of course not,” Ethan soothed her. “It was an accident. I’m here. No one will touch you.” The flames were spreading fast. I wanted to tell him we needed to leave now. But Ethan turned to me, eyes red with rage. He grabbed my hair. “Look at what you made her do! Apologize to her! Now!” I choked on the smoke, struggling. “Let… let go! We need to get out!” He didn’t listen. “Stop making excuses! You jealous, vicious woman. You deserve to be punished!” I was dizzy from the fumes. Suddenly, a heavy wall cabinet, weakened by the fire, crashed down from above. “Chloe, watch out!” Ethan dove, shielding Chloe with his body. The burning cabinet crashed onto me. A red-hot metal rod pierced my thigh. I screamed in agony. “Ethan! Help me! I’m pinned!” Ethan looked back. His eyes were cold. He picked up Chloe and turned toward the door. “You deserve this,” he spat. “Even God can’t stand your jealousy.” I watched his back disappear into the smoke. My hope died with him. The fire roared around me. I closed my eyes, accepting my fate. If there is a next life, I thought, I never want to meet Ethan Miller again. Just as consciousness slipped away, I heard a voice. Rough, urgent. “Hey! Stay with me! I’m going to get you out!” When I opened my eyes again, I was in a white hospital room. A nurse was adjusting my IV, and a tall man with soot-stained clothes was frowning by the window. “You’re finally awake!” the nurse said. “Where is your family? No one has come.” My throat felt like sandpaper. “I… I don’t know.” The tall man stepped forward. “When I went in to get you, your husband was running out with another woman. Did you know that?” I let out a dry laugh. “You saved me? Thank you.” “As for him… he only saves the people he cares about. My life means nothing to him.” I learned the man was Will, a retired firefighter who lived nearby and saw the smoke. “Take care of yourself,” Will said, his expression unreadable, pouring me a glass of water. My heart warmed. A stranger would risk his life for me, but my husband left me to burn. It was time to let go completely. Just as I was asking Will how I could repay him, the door slammed open. Ethan stormed in, face thunderous. “Sarah! Are you playing games with me?” “I went back to save you and you were gone! Do you know how long I looked? And here you are, flirting with some strange man?” I sighed. Before I could speak, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me up. The IV needle ripped out of my hand. I cried out in pain. Will stepped between us, shoving Ethan back. “She’s a patient! Be careful! Are you even a man?” 4 Ethan’s face turned purple. He swung at Will. “Who the hell are you? This is my wife! Mind your own business!” I saw Will ready to fight back and quickly signaled him to stop. I didn’t want him getting hurt or in legal trouble for me. Will backed off, reluctantly. “I’ll deal with you later,” Ethan sneered at him. He dragged me down the hall to another VIP room. Chloe was there, lying in bed. As soon as she saw me, she shrank into Ethan’s arms, trembling. “Ethan, I’m scared! Sarah is going to yell at me! She’s going to ask why I didn’t die in the fire!” I was baffled. I was the one with a hole in my leg. Why was she acting like the victim? Ethan threw a report in my face. It was the fire investigation. The cause: an old, faulty gas valve. “You refused to get it fixed! You tried to kill Chloe!” I laughed. It was a hollow, broken sound. When we got married, Ethan promised he’d do all the cooking. Six months in, he got “busy” and dumped it all on me. Because of the IVF side effects, my back pain was severe. I couldn’t stand long enough to cook, so I mostly ordered takeout. I rarely used the kitchen. I had no idea about the valve. But in his mind, everything was my fault. “Ethan,” I looked him dead in the eye. “Are you really a man? Blaming your wife for your own negligence?” “It’s your job to manage the house!” he shouted. How pathetic. Before marriage, I was his princess. Now, I was his scapegoat. I was done. “You want an apology?” I asked. I pulled a stack of papers from my hospital gown pocket—the divorce papers I had prepared. “Sign this, and I’ll apologize.” Ethan glanced at the top page, saw ‘Consent Form’ (it was the IVF termination he hadn’t read properly earlier, stapled to the divorce papers underneath), and signed it without looking, thinking it was hospital paperwork. He smirked. “You really commit to the drama, don’t you? Stop playing the victim.” “Kneel and apologize to Chloe! If you do, we move on. If you give her a hard time again, we’re getting a divorce!” Hearing the word “divorce,” Chloe hid a smirk behind Ethan’s shoulder. I gritted my teeth. I bent my knees. The wound on my thigh tore open. Blood soaked through the bandages instantly. I nearly fainted from the pain. Ethan saw the blood and flinched, reaching out instinctively. “Sarah… you’re hurt?” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” I finished the “apology,” stood up, and limped out. Ethan tried to follow, but Chloe grabbed his arm, wailing, “Ouch! My chest hurts! Ethan, help!” He hesitated for a second, then turned back to her. Back in my room, Will called a nurse to re-dress my wound. After that, Ethan disappeared. I saw on Instagram that he took Chloe to Paris and Iceland. Places he promised to take me for our honeymoon but never did. I moved out. Will helped me pack. I looked at the house where I wasted five years of my life. It felt like a tomb. I sent a photo of the signed divorce papers and the medical report to Ethan. Seconds later, my phone exploded. “Sarah! What is this? When did we get divorced?” “And… what does this medical report mean? I have… low sperm motility? I’m the one who can’t have kids? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

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Four years into our marriage, I discovered that my husband, Dr. Elias Vance, had a “white moonlight”—a first love he could never forget. Every year, Elias would leave a bouquet of platycodon flowers on her grave. In the language of flowers, platycodon means eternal love. When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain with a single sentence: “Why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” Even when drunk, Elias would call out her name. For Seraphina, he smashed up our home and tore my dresses to shreds… But later, when the usually composed medical examiner Elias Vance saw me lying on his autopsy table, he broke down completely, unable to even hold his scalpel. 1 I unfolded the test results in my hand, then folded them again. After several hesitations, I finally dialed Elias’s number. Elias always said he was busy, and I was always afraid to disturb him. But this time was different. I was sick. After a long, agonizing ring, Elias’s voice came through, tinged with exhaustion. “What is it?” I nervously picked at the hem of my shirt. “I’m sick…” He cut me off before I could finish. “If you’re sick, see a doctor.” “I have important matters to handle. I’m hanging up.” His tone was thick with impatience. I didn’t miss the sound of a woman’s playful laughter in the background before the line went dead. I sat there, dazed, gripping the phone. The screen went dark, then lit up again. A notification from Maya. She had just posted a moment on social media. The background was a cemetery. Elias was in the photo, showing only his profile. He was staring intently at the portrait on the tombstone, his eyes rimmed with red. But the most striking thing was the bouquet of platycodon flowers. Eternal love. As Elias’s wife, I had never received flowers from him. Not once. Yet Seraphina, who had been dead for five years, received platycodon flowers regularly, rain or shine. Maya’s caption read: Five years since my sister left us. I hope my brother-in-law can finally find peace. I stared at that sentence, my head spinning. Suddenly, a warm rush filled my nose. Blood began to pour out, staining my clothes crimson. I wiped it away, again and again, my hands covered in red, but the flow wouldn’t stop. That’s when the System’s voice echoed in my mind, filled with pity: [Are you really not going to tell Elias?] I shook my head, letting the blood flow. I have leukemia. I don’t have much time left. For four years of marriage, I reported every detail of my life to Elias, even though he never cared. But this time, I suddenly didn’t want to tell him anymore. It wasn’t until midnight that Elias came home. I was sitting in the living room with the lights on, drifting in and out of sleep. In my haze, I felt Elias pick me up. After a brief, bumpy journey, he placed me gently on the bed. “Luna, why were you sleeping on the sofa again?” “Didn’t you say you were sick?” “You don’t look sick at all.” “Next time you miss me, just say so. You don’t have to beat around the bush.” He gently rubbed my ear, his words soft and slow, like the murmurs of a lover. Hearing his voice, I snapped awake. “Did you give Seraphina platycodon flowers today?” I stared straight into his eyes. Under the dim yellow lamp, the softness in his eyes vanished instantly. “Seraphina just liked platycodon flowers, that’s all,” he explained, his tone stiff. I pressed him. “Do you know what platycodon means?” Elias stood up abruptly. The tenderness in the room shattered, replaced by anger. “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina over everything?” “I just want to make it up to her.” “When did you become so petty?” “I’m so disappointed in you.” He slammed the door and left. The room fell silent. I sat there, dazed, looking down at the bloodstains I hadn’t fully washed out of my collar. Was it really that hard to notice? Elias. Dizziness hit me again, and blood dripped onto the sheets, blooming like dark red flowers. My whole body ached. I grabbed a wad of tissues and pressed it hard against my nose. Outside, the moon was bright, but inside, it was dark. My phone was playing a cheerful cartoon. [Host, do you want to choose to leave now?] I paused, turning off the phone. Memories flashed through my mind. Elias’s trembling hands when he confessed his love. Elias clumsily making soup for me. … After a long time, I whispered, “Let’s wait a little longer.” 2 Since that day, Elias seemed to restrain himself. He apologized sincerely, promising to visit Seraphina less often. He hugged me, smiling, and whispered in my ear, “Luna, you know…” “I just feel guilty about her.” “You are the one I love most.” Seraphina was the most vibrant chapter of Elias’s youth. Everyone told me about their epic romance. Skipping class to go to the arcade, bold confessions on the school stage, secret kisses during power outages… Whenever these stories came up, the corners of Elias’s mouth would lift in nostalgia. But Seraphina died in a car accident. Since then, she became the white moonlight he could never reach. I curled into Elias’s arms and nodded silently. After that, it seemed like we returned to normal. He came home early for me, watched movies with me. Sometimes, he even braided my hair. Until one day, Elias came home drunk. Instead of the usual faint scent of antiseptic, he reeked of alcohol. He hugged me tight, as if trying to merge me into his body. His voice, aggressive and desperate, fell from above. “Seraphina…” He called her name over and over, and my face drained of color. “Where… are you?” “Why did you leave me?” Hot tears fell onto my neck, burning their way into my heart. I couldn’t break free, so I let him carry me to the bed. He stroked my hair gently, his eyes unfocused, looking through me to see someone else. As his hot kiss was about to land, nausea surged in my chest. I turned my head away. Elias kissed the air. “Elias, I am Luna.” After a long silence, I reminded him. The man pressing down on me froze. “Sorry… Luna.” “I’m just too tired today.” He pulled back, avoiding my eyes. I lowered my gaze and silently adjusted my clothes. My thoughts were a mess. “You mistook me for Seraphina again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t the first time. Elias rubbed his temples, his eyes clearing but filled with annoyance. “It won’t happen again,” he said, patience wearing thin. I deliberately provoked him. “But Seraphina is already dead.” Why should I be the only one in pain? I wanted Elias to hurt too. The moment the words left my mouth, he turned into a raging lion, pinning me down again. He gripped my wrists hard, glaring at me. “Isn’t this what you want? For me to take you?” “Then I’ll give you what you want.” He tore my clothes open, his kisses falling aggressively. No matter how much I cried or struggled, Elias acted like he couldn’t hear me, venting his anger on my body. “Do you have to be jealous of Seraphina?” he demanded, eyes red. But I was in too much pain to speak. The illness caused enough agony. Elias didn’t want to spare me either. I don’t know how much time passed before he pulled away. I was left alone in the large bedroom. Cold moonlight spilled across the floor. The System, silent for so long, finally spoke: [Why didn’t you choose to leave?] I curled up slowly, smiling bitterly. “I can’t let him off that easily.” Four years ago, I was a “Strategy Agent.” My mission was done, and I was supposed to leave. But Elias begged me to stay. I gave up everything for him. Was it just to witness his betrayal more clearly? He didn’t know yet. The System had given me one chance to regret my choice. Elias… those who betray hearts don’t get happy endings. 3 Elias didn’t come home for days. He seemed to be giving me the silent treatment. In the past, I would have been the one to apologize and smooth things over. But now, I felt nothing. My doctor called me, urging me again and again to check into the hospital for treatment. But I just wanted to go home. To my real home. On the sixth day of the cold war, Elias returned. But he brought Maya with him. I had seen Seraphina’s photo in Elias’s wallet. Maya was her biological sister; they looked alike. Especially the eyes. As soon as she walked in, Maya smiled. “Hi, Luna.” Elias stared at Maya’s smile, lost in a trance. I knew Maya’s smile looked exactly like Seraphina’s. I responded coldly. After dinner, Maya suddenly suggested looking at my room. “I heard Luna is a designer. Can I see your work?” Maya was only twenty, her almond eyes blinking playfully. Elias softened first. He patted my head with a smile. “Show her around.” Maya cheered and hugged Elias’s arm. “Thanks, brother-in-law!” For a second, Elias’s eyes filled with longing. In my room, Maya touched everything, acting curious. Elias held my hand tight, whispering in my ear, “I was wrong last time.” “I even brought help today.” “Wifey, will you forgive me?” He looked at me expectantly. I wanted to laugh. Just as I was about to make a sarcastic remark… A scream pierced the air. Maya was pointing at my closet, her face pale with terror. “Bro… brother-in-law!” she cried. Elias let go of me and walked to the closet. Inside lay a cloth doll, covered in needles. Elias picked it up and saw the name written on the back—Seraphina. 4 Thud. The doll hit the floor. The room was dead silent. Slowly, Elias turned around. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving. He reached into the closet and ripped down all my dresses, screaming at me. “Why would you hurt Seraphina?!” “She’s dead, and you still won’t let her rest!” Maya was trembling, tears streaming down her face. “My sister was so kind…” “To be cursed like this after death…” She sobbed, gasping for air. She cried just like Seraphina. Hearing this, Elias’s rage exploded. He reached out and grabbed my throat, squeezing slowly. My vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Tears fell uncontrollably. Even through the haze, I could see his twisted face. Memories flashed before my eyes. “Is your name Luna? It’s a beautiful name.” “Luna, will you be with me?” “Luna, will you stay for me?” “Luna, why do you have to compete with Seraphina?” “When did you become so petty?” The face in my memories became stranger and stranger, yet more real. I realized I would never mean as much to him as Seraphina. But it didn’t matter. I stopped caring a long time ago. My neck burned with pain. My limbs started to shake. Finally, Maya stopped him. Elias threw me aside. I hit the hard floor, pain shooting through my arm like needles. Before I could recover, Elias spoke, his voice icy. “Maya always told me to watch out for you.” “I didn’t believe her.” “Now I see. You really are a viper.” His words were frozen daggers. Elias smashed everything in my room. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt Seraphina,” he raged. He didn’t even spare the ceramic cats on the corner of my desk. Shattered porcelain littered the floor. Elias seemed to forget that he made those cats for me. When I was younger, I raised stray cats, but they all passed away one by one. When Elias found out, he took me to a pottery studio. He clumsily made those ceramic “Cat Gods” for me, getting covered in mud but not caring. That day, he held them up, smiling tenderly. “Luna, they are just keeping you company in a different way.” By the time I snapped back to reality, my face was covered in cold tears.

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A year after we broke up, I saw Ian again. He was laughing, his arm draped possessively around the heiress of the Lu family. Mia Lu offered me twenty thousand dollars to be a bridesmaid at their wedding. She said I could have the money once the ceremony was over. I agreed. Ian looked at me with pure disdain. “Is it true that if I give you money, you’ll do anything?” I nodded, not bothering to hide it. I really needed the money. He extended his foot. There was a splash of red wine on his leather shoe. “Lick it clean,” he said, his voice cold. “And I’ll give you a million.” I slowly crouched down, lowering my face toward his shoe. 1 The hospital gave me the final diagnosis. “Ms. Song, we can’t delay this any longer. You need to be hospitalized immediately for treatment, or your condition will deteriorate rapidly.” The doctor sounded anxious, but I, who usually cherish my life above all else, stopped right at the hospital entrance. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to treat it.” “You have to think this through. Your illness has reached the late stages. Without treatment, your life is in immediate danger…” “I know,” I replied softly. I hung up the phone and looked down at the legal notice in my hand. The name “Ian Ze” was printed clearly at the top. My boyfriend of seven years was now suing me. He wanted me to return every cent he had spent on me during our relationship. Since I was the one who left without a word back then, it was only right that I pay him back. I arrived at his villa. The door was opened by a girl with perfectly styled waves in her hair, wearing a haute couture dress. It was Mia Lu, Ian’s fiancée. The star of the upcoming “wedding of the century.” “Oh, you actually came?” Mia looked at me with amusement, then turned her head and called out, “Honey, come see who’s here!” Seeing Ian again felt like a lifetime had passed. He leaned against the doorframe, making no move to let me in. His eyes were cold, distant. I started to hand him the bank card, but Mia slapped my hand away. She looked at me with scorn. “This little bit of change isn’t even enough to buy a cat bed for Fluffy! But Ms. Song, if you can fulfill a tiny request of mine, I might convince Ian to drop the lawsuit and let you keep the money.” I looked up at her, startled. Her red lips curled into a mocking smile. “Be my bridesmaid at the wedding!” Ian wrapped his arm around Mia’s waist, nuzzling her cheek affectionately. “Having her as your bridesmaid? Isn’t that lowering your standards? Look at her—there isn’t a single clean spot on her. Just let her pay the money.” Then he looked at Mia. “Twenty thousand is a bit cheap for Fluffy’s bed. I’ll transfer you two million later. Buy Fluffy some decent clothes.” Fluffy was their ragdoll cat. Suddenly, the cat seemed to go berserk, lunging straight at me. I stumbled back in fright. Mia bent down to stroke the cat’s head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so sorry. My cat isn’t used to seeing poor people. Ms. Song, next time you visit, maybe change into something decent so my cat doesn’t try to bite you.” They looked me up and down, taking in my cheap clothes, the sweatpants bleached from too many washes, and the sneakers that had lost their original color. Watching their intimate display, I clenched my fists. Mia, seemingly pleased by his words, pouted at Ian. “I’m short a bridesmaid. If I find someone else now, people will say I’m a homewrecker. Just let Ms. Song do it, okay?” I looked at Ian. He didn’t refuse. The way he wouldn’t even look at me made my heart ache. But… if I didn’t have to pay back the money, I would have funds for my treatment. Compared to living, being Mia’s bridesmaid was nothing. “If I’m your bridesmaid, I don’t have to pay the money back?” Mia paused, then laughed. “Of course. I’m not a gold digger; I don’t care about money.” She glanced at my clothes again. “Unlike some people.” “Okay. I agree.” 2 Ian looked surprised. He hadn’t expected me to agree, nor did he expect me to have no bottom line when it came to money. Mia handed me an exquisite paper bag. “Here’s the bridesmaid dress. Don’t be late the day after tomorrow. I don’t like waiting.” Her tone was dismissive, as if the dress were an act of charity. I didn’t take it. “I have a dress. I won’t embarrass you, Ms. Lu.” I turned and left, feeling pathetic. I returned to my tiny rental, barely ten square meters. It only had a bed and a toilet. The neighborhood was desolate, and the roof leaked, but it gave me a strange sense of security. I thought I would never see Ian again, yet here we were. I dug out a light blue evening gown from the bottom of my trunk. The satin-like fabric felt cool to the touch. Hot tears rolled down my face. Ian gave me this dress when we graduated. He said he had a matching suit. He promised that after we met our parents, we would wear these outfits for our wedding photos. Now, the dress had been sealed away, and Ian had a fiancée. But it wasn’t me. He was now a young entrepreneur with wealth rivaling nations, the CEO of the Ze Group, and soon to be Mia Lu’s husband. We were worlds apart. Next to the dress was a heart-shaped box filled with 1,001 paper stars. He gave it to me for my birthday two years ago. He told me that 1,001 stars represented 1,001 wishes. Whatever I wished for, he would make come true. I was so moved back then. I cried in his arms and told him I didn’t have that many wishes. My only wish was to walk down the aisle with him. My heart ached. I stroked the heart-shaped box, wondering if being Mia’s bridesmaid counted as walking down the aisle with him. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and closed the box. Mia’s words were meant to hurt, but all I cared about was that they wouldn’t ask for the twenty thousand back. Right now, I just wanted to live. On the wedding day, I arrived early, wearing the only decent thing I owned—the dress Ian gave me. Mia glanced at me and rolled her eyes. “Cindy Song, that dress is seasons old. Are you trying to embarrass me by wearing that?” Hearing her voice, Ian walked into the dressing room. The moment he saw me, the coldness in his eyes cracked. He recognized it. It was the dress he gave me. But he hid it well, turning to Mia with a doting smile. “Someone like her would make even designer clothes look cheap. If you don’t like it, don’t let her be a bridesmaid.” My heart tightened. I knew being a bridesmaid would break my heart, but I hoped she wouldn’t send me away. This was my only chance to walk down the red carpet with Ian. Hearing Ian belittle me, a look of satisfaction crossed Mia’s face. She huffed. “Forget it. I can’t find anyone else on short notice. Cindy, just follow behind me and don’t cause any trouble, understand?” I nodded quickly, hiding my excitement. Ian looked handsome today. His hair was styled back, revealing his sharp brows. In his white suit, he looked like a prince from a fairy tale. As the wedding march began, I followed closely behind Mia, trying to match my steps with Ian’s. Watching him walk ahead with Mia on his arm, I tasted iron in my throat and swallowed the bitterness. It was fine. My wish had technically come true. 3 The wedding was grand, attended by business tycoons and many of Ian’s friends. After the toasts, I followed Mia to the table where Ian’s friends were seated. They congratulated the couple and then started pushing drinks on them. “It’s your big day! You have to drink up!” Someone handed a bottle of red wine to Ian and Mia. Mia’s face flushed. She demurred. “I’ve already had so much. I’ll get drunk if I have more.” She leaned on Ian’s shoulder. “Honey, drink it for me?” Ian looked at her lovingly, but then handed the glass to me. “You have a bridesmaid. The bridesmaid should drink for you.” Caught off guard, I fumbled and didn’t catch the glass. Or maybe he dropped it on purpose, wanting to see me embarrass myself. Cold wine splashed down my chest, staining the light blue dress a jarring red. I shivered, soaked. The crowd laughed, some asking why they picked such a clumsy bridesmaid. Ian looked at me sideways, his eyes cold and unyielding. “You drink it.” My heart seized. I looked at him in disbelief. Ian pulled a card from his suit pocket and tossed it on the ground. “Drink until we’re happy, and I’ll give you fifty thousand.” I stared blankly at the card on the floor, a bitter smile forming on my lips. We were together for seven years. How could he not know I was allergic to alcohol? He raised an eyebrow, staring at me intently. “If you don’t want to drink, you can do something else to liven things up.” A flicker of hope ignited in my chest, only to be extinguished by his next words. “Strip for us. Since you have no bottom line when it comes to money, I assume this isn’t your first time doing something like this.” Tears welled in my eyes. Every word felt like a knife, stabbing me over and over until I was raw. Drinking would cause an allergic reaction, but if I stripped, he would see the ugly scars left by my foster parents. I didn’t want him to see my miserable past. I didn’t want to expose my scars to him. After a long silence, I picked up the card. “If I drink it all, will you really give me the money?” In that moment, my desire to live outweighed everything else. I was only twenty-six. I really didn’t want to die. Ian frowned, his gaze complicated. I didn’t hesitate. I picked up a glass of red wine and downed it in one gulp. Bitter. Three glasses in, dizziness hit me. I swayed, my skin burning, throat itching. Breathing became difficult. Ian’s friends were the notorious rich kids of Shanghai. They knew about our history. Two years ago, the Ze family business faced bankruptcy due to a broken capital chain. Ian was deep in debt and nearly beaten to death by loan sharks. That was when I left him. He searched for me like a madman and fell into a deep depression. Now that the Ze family had risen again, these people wouldn’t let me off easily. They whistled and jeered, taking videos with their phones. Ian’s frown deepened. “What a money-grubbing woman.” He grabbed my arm, revealing the small “Ian” tattoo on my wrist. Seeing it, he froze. Then he scoffed, shaking my hand off as if it were filthy. While wiping his hands with a napkin, he picked up the entire bottle of wine. “If you finish this bottle and lick the wine off my shoe, you can take the money and get out.” The surrounding mockery was unbearable. I felt like a clown, looking at their sneering faces. Fighting the suffocating pain, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll drink.” As I raised the bottle to my lips, Ian finally snapped. He snatched the bottle and poured it over my head. Wine streamed down my hair, soaking me to the bone. I shivered uncontrollably. Finally, I couldn’t hold it back. I coughed violently, spitting up bright red blood. A figure rushed to my side, catching me as I collapsed. It was my only friend, Vivi. “Cindy!” She helped me up, seeing the wine soaking me and smelling the alcohol on my breath. She slammed her fist on the table. “Ian! Are you even human? Cindy sacrificed so much for you, and you make her drink? Don’t you know she’s allergic to alcohol?” “Don’t you know she has late-stage lung cancer? Contact with allergens could kill her! Are you trying to murder her?” 4 Ian froze. He frowned at Vivi, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But soon, a cold smile returned. “Cindy Song, you’re really something. You even tricked your best friend? Is there anything you won’t do?” “Do you think I’d believe that?” Vivi didn’t bother arguing. Seeing I was barely conscious, she dragged me to the hospital. I had gone into shock but survived. Lying in the hospital bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling. Vivi looked relieved when I woke up. “Cindy, you’re finally awake!” She burst into tears. “You scared me to death!” Her eyes were red as she looked at me with pity. “Why are you so stupid? Is Ian really worth all this?” I stared at the ceiling. Was it worth it? I asked myself the same thing. I remembered when I met Ian in our senior year of high school. The class needed to buy study materials, and I was the only one who hadn’t paid. Facing the teacher’s questions and my classmates’ disdain, I wanted to disappear. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pay; I didn’t have the money. I was an orphan, adopted from a welfare home. I thought I finally had a family. But two years later, they had their own biological daughter. They stopped treating me well. Letting me finish high school was already a mercy in their eyes. Even though I had good grades and a chance at a top university, my foster mother refused to support me. She said raising me was already more than enough. If she knew I’d cost so much, she would have sent me back. Their money was for my sister. I told Ian about my situation, just wanting to vent. I never expected him to help. He paid for my materials and encouraged me not to give up. We promised to apply to Shanghai University together. With his encouragement, I worked harder than ever and got in. But my foster mother wouldn’t let me go. She tried to tear up my acceptance letter, trying to ruin my future. I fought back, refusing to let go. She beat me with a feather duster. “I’ll pay Cindy Song’s tuition.” Ian appeared at my door, frowning, his face serious. From then on, I cut ties with my family. Ian supported me through college. Not long after we started school, Ian confessed his feelings. Fireworks lit up the sky over Shanghai University all night. I became the envy of every girl on campus. Many came to see the girl who had captured the heart of the aloof Ian Ze. He felt like a gift from the heavens. Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t say a word. Vivi tried to comfort me. “There’s a misunderstanding between you two. You had a reason for leaving back then. Why don’t you tell him?” I let out a long sigh. “It’s meaningless. From the moment I decided to leave Ian, I wasn’t part of his future anymore.” “Besides, he’s married now. My appearance was a mistake to begin with.” Vivi cried harder. “But why do you have to bear all this pain alone?” I gave a bitter smile. For Ian, this wasn’t pain. Just then, Vivi’s phone rang.

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No one knew I tested my young uncle three times. The first time, he politely rejected me. The second time, he didn’t take my feelings seriously. “You’re still young. You can’t tell the difference between love and dependency. Let’s talk about this when you grow up.” The third time, he couldn’t control his love anymore and pinned me against the wall. My young uncle, who raised me for ten years, and I started a secret relationship. Guilt-ridden over my late mother, he acted as my guardian in public, overseeing my studies and interfering in my social life. In private, we spent every night entangled in passion. I was convinced he loved me. Full of joy, I planned to ask him for a commitment at my birthday party. I even slipped a huge diamond ring into his suit pocket beforehand, waiting for him to put it on my finger. That day, I waited and waited, but he never showed up. Instead, I saw a video of him proposing on one knee. He looked deeply in love, sliding that very same diamond ring onto another woman’s ring finger. Julian’s friends cheered and screamed, whispering to him: “Nice going, Jules! You snagged the beautiful CEO. But what about the princess at home? She can’t live nameless in your house forever, right?” Julian took a deep swig of his drink, eyes glazed over: “She’s impatient. We’ll take it slow. I’ll find her a good family, marry her off. That way, my big sister can rest in peace.” I smiled bitterly through my tears and called my aunt, who was on a business trip overseas: “Auntie, I agree to the arranged marriage you mentioned.” But when Julian discovered my wedding photos, the man who should have been relieved cried and begged me not to leave… 1 Afraid my aunt would sense something wrong, I hung up immediately after agreeing to the marriage. I rushed home to pack. Looking at the rare treasures Julian had collected for me over the years, I decided not to take a single one. Let all the beautiful memories be buried here! Just as the movers took my luggage, Julian returned, his clothes disheveled. “Where are these things going? Why aren’t you staying home? Where are you going to fool around?” Staring at the glaring lipstick mark on his neck, I pretended not to care: “My best friend is home alone and wants me to stay with her for a few days.” Julian nodded, taking off his coat, and thoughtfully negotiated with me: “Why don’t you stay there a bit longer? A business partner is coming over, and I have some matters to handle.” For the first time, I didn’t object and nodded. A loving couple’s life—I, the outsider, would indeed be an eyesore. His eyes gleamed with secret joy. He lowered his head to kiss me, but I subtly dodged. A sickly sweet rose scent mixed with alcohol fumes hit my brain. Before, fearing he saw me as a little girl, I tried wearing sexy lingerie and heavy rose perfume to tease him. But he was furious, dragging me into the shower and yelling: “Look at yourself! What kind of ghost are you pretending to be? You’re young and already learning bad habits! Trying to seduce men? Are you worthy of your mother?” I thought he liked purity, so I threw away all the perfumes and appeared clean and fresh before him. Now I understand. Julian doesn’t dislike sexy and mature women; he just likes other sexy, hot women. From the beginning, he never saw me as his future wife. I struggled to push him away, but he thought I was just throwing a tantrum. Grabbing my wrist, he coaxed patiently: “Is the little princess angry? Blame me for missing your birthday party. I brought you a gift.” But after fumbling in his pockets for a long time, he found nothing. Julian looked embarrassed: “I might have dropped it somewhere. I’ll buy another one tomorrow to make it up to you.” I smiled bitterly. For so many years, he had never forgotten my birthday. But this time, he not only missed my birthday party but also lost my gift. He wanted to say more, but his phone rang urgently. It wasn’t the ringtone I recorded for him; it was a seductive female voice. He answered immediately: “I’m home. What’s wrong, babe?” Suddenly, he pushed me away. I fell hard to the ground, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard: “Don’t panic. I’m coming to pick you up right now.” “Uncle Julian, I…” Watching the man rush away, my heart turned completely cold. Clutching my swollen, bleeding ankle, I slowly looked for medicine. In the past, if I got even a small injury, Julian would rush to apply medicine for me. I realized it was time to be independent! Before long, the door was kicked open. Julian carried a drunk Chloe in, gently placing her on the sofa. Julian ordered me: “Gigi, heat up a bowl of hangover soup.” I didn’t speak, limping to do as told. When I brought it to her lips, she slapped it away. She frowned and cursed: “What is this crap? It’s so hot!” The soup spilled all over me, instantly raising dense red blisters on my arm. 2 Tears welled up in my eyes, but Julian scolded me coldly: “Can’t even do a small thing right? What use are you? Go to your room and stay there!” I wiped away my tears and left without looking back. Julian noticed my stumbling steps and spoke with a hint of concern: “Gigi, what’s wrong?” He started to get up to check my injury, but Chloe grabbed him tightly and wouldn’t let go. “Julian, don’t you want me anymore?” Julian immediately turned back and hugged her: “How could that be possible? I love you the most. How could I not want you?” Then came the rapid breathing of a man and a woman. What they were doing was self-evident. I slammed the bedroom door shut, squatting on the floor, biting my wrist to stifle my sobs. Once upon a time, Julian coaxed me like this, saying the person he loved most in the world was me. Exhausted from crying, I fell into a deep sleep, only to have the door flung open. A sobered-up Chloe looked around my room: “You must be the little girl Julian said is staying at his place, right? He asked me to borrow a set of pajamas.” She rummaged through my closet on her own, mocking: “All these childish cartoons. No wonder Julian said he doesn’t like you. He likes curves like mine!” I remembered how, in the heat of passion, Julian would coax me, saying he liked my innocence. It was all excuses! Then, she casually pulled open my drawer. Alarm bells rang in my head, and I ran to stop her. But she was faster, pulling out that diary and reading aloud: “I like my Uncle Julian the most… He is the person who treats me best in the world… I will definitely marry him and be his bride to repay his kindness…” Chloe laughed clutching her stomach: “So that’s why you’re hostile towards me. You like your uncle! He said you were just an ignorant child and told me not to stoop to your level!” My girlish crush was ruthlessly exposed, and by my rival no less. I blushed furiously, snatching it back recklessly. She lost her balance and fell hard to the floor. “Ouch!” Hearing the noise, Julian ran over. Chloe burst into loud sobs: “Boohoo, sorry Gigi, I was just curious what was in the drawer. I won’t look again next time. I was wrong, I apologize!” Julian’s eyes were full of distress as he anxiously checked her injury. Then he turned to glare at me furiously, slapping me hard across the face! “It’s just looking at your broken notebook! Do you have to be so vicious?” He snatched the notebook and tore it to shreds, as if tearing apart my heart. “If you won’t let Chloe see it, then don’t have it at all!” With a cold snort, he threw the paper scraps in my face and carried Chloe to the hospital. 3 I finally couldn’t hold back and wailed aloud, squatting down to piece together the fragments. Julian knew perfectly well how important this was to me. When I was small, my mother, widowed early, fought her way through business wars alone and accidentally offended a gang. She was tortured for seven days and nights. Julian, as my mom’s youngest brother and the next generation she favored most, bet everything he had to negotiate with the gang. But contrary to his wishes, he only brought back my mother’s ashes. I, understanding nothing then, cried incessantly, rushing at him, demanding my mother back. “You bad man! Give me back my mom!” “Gigi, I’m sorry. As long as you can be happy, hit me however you want.” I cried with red eyes for a long, long time, finally fainting in his arms. When I opened my eyes again, he was bustling around me, driving alone to buy me clothes and cakes, piling them all in front of me. He pinched my cheek, eyes full of heartache, handing me a notebook, telling me to write down all my grievances. “I asked experts. They say writing down emotions can release sadness. Gigi, don’t be afraid. From now on, I’ll protect you.” Julian comforted me awkwardly, but purely and directly. In that moment, helpless me fell completely for him. From that day until today, I loved Julian for ten whole years. Whenever I was unhappy, I would write my love for him in that notebook. I still remember his vows, but he, the one who made them, has long forgotten. I held the pile of fragments, took one last look, and threw them into the trash can. Since it’s come to this, I don’t want the vows or Julian anymore. Never again. Julian didn’t return until daybreak. I mailed my luggage home, left the key on the table in the hall, and bid farewell to the place I had lived for ten years. On the road, Julian sent a message. Sorry, I reflected on myself. I was too harsh. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Sitting in the car moving away, I didn’t reply, just exited the chat and unpinned him. Julian sent a few more voice messages. I played them—it was a seductive female voice. Don’t disturb Julian and me tonight. Anyone who bothers me will pay. Julian said he’ll accompany me properly today! Followed by a few suggestive emojis. A moment later, Chloe recalled the message. Ahhh, sorry Miss Bai, who knew I sent it to you using Julian’s WeChat… You didn’t see anything, right? My heart ached. Too tired to play along, I still opened Julian’s social media with my alt account. It was densely packed with photos and videos I hadn’t seen. So Chloe had been back for a long time. In this past month, Julian took her everywhere whenever he could. These sceneries were all beautiful check-in spots I saw in videos, forwarded to Julian, pestering him to go with me. I waited for years, never finding a time when he wasn’t busy. Chloe had been back for only a month, and suddenly he wasn’t busy anymore. Everywhere they went, Julian posed for many photos with Chloe. In all the years Julian and I were together, I was never allowed to point my camera at him. “You don’t know how many rumors are out there, all talking about our relationship.” “I know you love me very much, but I don’t want others to misunderstand, nor do I want them to look at you strangely, and even more… make your mom angry in heaven.” But when you truly love someone, how can you hide it? I was too slow. Julian kept our relationship secret for eight years. I should have understood long ago—he didn’t love me at all! I wanted to exit the interface but saw Julian’s latest post. The two of them cuddling by the sea, chasing each other joyfully, like a couple in love for years. Clicking on it, a familiar “Chloe” drilled into my ears. These affectionate voices were once whispered by Julian into my ear countless times. “Chloe,” “Gigi.” It turned out, the one he was calling was never me. Tears finally flowed uncontrollably, dripping onto Julian’s caption. Turns out only when you are with the right person do you know that every moment in life is meaningful. I wiped away my tears and casually liked the post. Arriving at the hotel and unpacking, my childhood friend Jess sent a message asking why I wasn’t home. I straightforwardly said I was going back to get married soon. Because Julian made me keep our relationship secret all these years, whenever Jess talked about relationships, I would deliberately change the subject. Now that I’m leaving, I should tell her properly and say goodbye. Jess exclaimed in disbelief: “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ll throw you a celebration party!” Saying this, she dragged me away. “Gigi, before you always said you were busy with work, and we best friends couldn’t even see your face. Now that you’re leaving, you absolutely cannot flake on me!” I could only let her drag me along, laughing off her questions about me. Before, my life revolved around Julian alone, racking my brains to manage everything for him. I had no time to attend such gatherings, let alone bring him along to have fun. Julian always said, wait for the right opportunity to give me an open identity. Now that I’m leaving, why not enjoy myself thoroughly? 4 Jess invited many people. When we arrived at the hotel, everyone was there. Everyone chattered, asking why I was suddenly getting married and who the lucky guy was. I responded with a smile, but saw Chloe in a stunning gown in the adjacent hall. Standing next to her was Julian in formal wear. Mr. and Mrs. Song sat nearby as celebrities from all walks of life came forward to congratulate them on their engagement. So, this luxurious party was held to announce their engagement. Julian really couldn’t wait to tell the whole world he was marrying Chloe. I instinctively wanted to dodge, but Mrs. Song had already spotted me. “Oh my, isn’t this Gigi? Long time no see, little girl! I just asked Julian why you didn’t come!” “He said you were busy. Look, you came after all!” Mrs. Song’s face lit up with joy as soon as she saw me. Julian froze, slightly loosening his hold on Chloe. Mrs. Song had taken care of me a lot before, often scolding Julian for not taking good care of me. “Gigi has grown into a great beauty, graceful and elegant. I think it’s time for you to get married too.” With that, she pulled me into the middle of the banquet hall, introducing me to other boys. “I know the backgrounds of all these boys. They are all handsome and talented. See who you like?” Before I could refuse, Julian sneered: “She doesn’t need it.” Yes, I don’t need it anymore, after all, I’m going back for an arranged marriage soon. Jess pulled me back: “Auntie, Gigi really doesn’t need this. She’s getting married soon. It’s not appropriate to say these things, right?” Hearing this, Julian’s smug expression froze, and his stare at me became meaningful. I ignored him, apologized to Mrs. Song, and left with Jess. But Julian grabbed me at a corner, pulling me into his arms. His eyes were full of anger, his voice restrained in my ear. “Don’t make up stories about marrying someone else in the future. I get jealous hearing it.” Looking at him, I inexplicably found it funny: “But aren’t you also getting married to another woman soon?” Julian frowned, “Stop it. You know it’s just a business alliance.” After a moment, he softened his attitude to coax me: “Alright, after the banquet, I’ll take you to that newly opened French restaurant. Haven’t you been clamoring to go?” “I’ll find you an apartment in the next few days. You move there. Since Chloe is officially engaged to me, it’s not appropriate for you to live at home anymore.” Because I was sensible, I obediently followed Julian, acting as his bed warmer. Now, does he plan to keep me as a mistress who can never see the light of day for a lifetime? I was about to say “no need,” when Chloe’s crying came from the banquet hall. Julian immediately let go of me and ran over. “What’s wrong, Chloe?” Chloe pointed at her empty neck with red eyes, sobbing uncontrollably. “Julian, the heirloom jade necklace you gave me is gone… That’s passed down through generations of the Song family. It was there when I washed my hands just now…” Seeing me, Chloe cried and pulled at me: “Miss Bai, only you and I were in the restroom just now… I know you’re hostile towards me… but that necklace is really important to Julian and me. If you took it, please, I beg you, give it back!”

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Today, I was filming a scene with the notoriously icy, A-list actor, Julian Mercer. When it came time to hold hands, I felt something unexpected. He was… reacting. Physically. I froze. Pulling my hand away felt wrong, but letting him keep holding it felt even worse. Because sitting right behind the monitor, watching every frame like a hawk, was my ex-husband, the famous director Wyatt Hale. His face was currently a shade darker than death, while the surrounding crew members were trying very hard to hide their expressions of pure, unadulterated gossip. 1 Even though Wyatt had directed three movies back-to-back for Summer Rose, taken her to fashion shows in Paris, and bought a luxury love nest, no one thought I would actually divorce him. After all, I had been with him when he was a nobody. Now that he was a “Gold Medal Director,” everyone assumed I, the woman who loved him to death, would never let go of the fruits of my labor. But I was the one who proposed the divorce. He refused, dragging it out for two years. At a high-end jewelry gala, I ran into Summer. She brushed past me with her chin held high, unable to resist a jab. “Lexi Shaw, did you know? He says I’m better than you in every way. On screen, and in bed.” As the cameras panned toward us, she flashed a sweet, innocent smile, looking every bit the junior admiring her senior. I beamed back, radiant. “In that case, Miss Rose, your acting skills are truly top-tier. After all, Wyatt is painfully mediocre in bed. You’ve had it rough.” Summer’s face cracked. I reached out and scratched her chin gently, like I was petting a kitten. With the flashbulbs blinding us, I leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Why don’t you convince him to sign the divorce papers? It would save you from being called a homewrecker every day.” Summer turned pale. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and posed for a gracious photo. That night, Wyatt came back to our Beverly Hills villa, holding the photo of me and Summer. “Summer is just a kid. You’re a triple-crown winning actress; why bully her? Where’s your dignity?” I slammed the divorce papers in front of him again and uncapped a pen. Wyatt sighed and took the pen. “It was my infidelity. I can leave you the money and the assets. But you… you can’t find anyone else.” “Wyatt, whether I find someone else is none of your business.” He put one hand in his pocket, looked me over with arrogant confidence, and scoffed. “Forget it. You’re practically frigid anyway. In this world, besides me, no man would put up with you. Lexi, just wait a few years. When I’m bored of her, I’ll come back.” With that, he scribbled his signature on the papers. 2 A month later, I joined the cast of Wyatt’s new film. This contract had been signed years ago. It was supposed to be my movie. But Wyatt had slashed the script to pieces, elevating Summer to the lead and using me as a stepping stone to boost her career. Before filming started, my agent and the producers fought tooth and nail. Summer marched onto my trailer, flashing an eight-carat engagement ring. It was a ring I had seen with Wyatt years ago. Back then, he was broke. I had chosen a one-carat ring instead, telling him, “One carat is beautiful. It means you’re the one.” “Lexi,” Summer gloated, “Wyatt said money was tight, but he borrowed from friends because he refused to let me suffer. Think about it. What do you have?” I took a calm sip of my coffee. “Not much. Just several villas under his name, ten million in cash, and a chunk of his company stocks.” Summer’s mouth twitched, but she suppressed her rage. The trailer smelled of rich, freshly brewed coffee. I looked at her. “Want a cup, Miss Rose? These beans are Colombian. Quite good.” Summer smiled tightly. “Lexi, don’t think just because you have an Oscar you can be a diva. The whole crew is waiting for you. Do you know how much money is lost for every day of delay?” The production assistant stepped onto the trailer. He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Ms. Shaw, Wyatt was wrong… I apologize on his behalf… but please, give him some face. The producer said the next project will be a good one for you…” I had expected this. I’ve been in this industry a long time; I’ve swallowed my pride before. Emotions are a luxury I quit long ago. Besides, giving Summer more screen time wouldn’t help if she couldn’t carry the emotional weight of the role. Bad acting is embarrassing no matter how many lines you have. “Just this once,” I said. The PA looked like he’d been granted amnesty. Just then, my agent stepped onto the trailer. She took a deep breath, looking like she’d just won the lottery. “The male lead has been replaced. It’s Julian Mercer.” Julian Mercer. He won Best Actor at Venice at twenty-two. He had swept every major award globally and was notoriously reclusive. My agent looked at me. “Julian said he liked the original script. The investors agreed. We are shooting the original script.” 3 Outside the cast hotel, a crowd of Summer’s rabid fans had gathered. Every day, when Summer left for set, they would scream and snap photos. Summer would wave with that sugary smile. “Ahhh! My daughter! She waved at me!” “Summer and Wyatt standing together… it’s giving Mafia boss and his baby girl. I’m obsessed.” “Wyatt lost interest in Lexi ages ago. Who wants a damaged woman?” “Yeah, I heard women with Lupus can’t have kids. Useless.” “I heard Wyatt loved Lexi so much he donated a kidney to her back in the day. What a devoted man.” I met Wyatt the year I recovered from Lupus, right after my kidney transplant. The line that moved me most was when he said, “Lexi, I’m grateful I met you when you were fragile. Otherwise, a guy like me would never have had a chance.” Later, when he was caught leaving Summer’s apartment, he spent a fortune buying the photos. He thought I leaked them. So, he “accidentally” revealed my medical history. He planted the fake story about donating his kidney to gain sympathy, then announced the divorce, implying he wanted kids and I couldn’t provide them. Perhaps fearing backlash against Summer, he hadn’t officially announced their relationship. But their “CP” fans were already shipping them hard. Wyatt looked at Summer with doting eyes amidst the screams. Then he looked at me with feigned innocence, as if he wanted no part of the drama. Nausea rose in my throat. I tossed my coffee cup toward a trash can. I missed. The entire contents splashed onto a tall man in a white coat. 4 The brown liquid soaked into the pristine fabric. The wind rustled through the trees. He smelled of cold cedar and winter air. “Oh my god! Julian Mercer!” “He’s even more handsome in person!” “I can’t wait to see him act with Lexi!” “There’s some weird chemistry there already.” I had a tissue in my hand, but I didn’t reach out to wipe him down. I put it away. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the coat.” When Wyatt shot his first indie film, Julian had already won his second Silver Bear in Berlin. We had watched the livestream together. My eyes hadn’t left Julian’s face. Wyatt had been jealous then. “I knew you liked that type.” Now, Wyatt watched helplessly as Julian extended a hand to me. “It’s just a coat. No worries. Ms. Shaw, a pleasure.” I shook his hand lightly. “Mr. Mercer, the pleasure is mine.” His assistant rushed over to take the coat for cleaning. As Julian took it off, a worn leather passport holder fell out of the pocket. It flipped open. Inside was a passport photo of a girl in a British high school uniform. Me. Young, bright, and unscarred. Sharp-eyed crew members saw it, but no one dared to speak. Julian calmly picked it up and closed it. “Just got off the plane. Forgot to pack it away.” 5 I was in the studio taking promotional stills. When it came time to select the photos, Wyatt cleared the room. His eyes were glued to my face. “Happy now? You get to work with Julian Mercer.” I stared at the monitor, ignoring him. “Don’t get any ideas. So what if you’re an award winner? You’re a divorcée. A family like the Mercers only marries into old money. Give it up.” To avoid scratching his face, I took off my ring. Then I slapped him. My hand stung. Two years ago, when he first started sleeping with Summer, I screamed and fought. Wyatt enjoyed it. It made him feel important. Later, my heart went cold, and I stopped reacting. “Wyatt, I took this job to repay a favor to the producer. I have no obligation to listen to your barking.” Wyatt looked stunned, then almost aroused by the violence. “Lexi, are you jealous? Do you… do you regret divorcing me? If you say the word, I won’t marry anyone else.” I replayed the producer’s begging in my head and held back my vomit. Outside, Summer was peeking anxiously. I calmly put my ring back on. Summer walked in, eyeing Wyatt’s red cheek. She assumed we were fighting about her engagement ring. “Lexi, are you throwing a tantrum because Wyatt bought me a diamond? You’re divorced. He left you the assets. Is this necessary?” Wyatt put on his impatient, arrogant mask. “Summer, Lexi is your senior. Learn your place.” Summer looked at him with puppy-dog eyes and shut up. Wyatt smirked, satisfied. The dynamic was suffocating.

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Ever since I got bitten by a stray dog with a weirdly large tail, I’ve been… changing. Fluffy ears. A fluffy tail. I was still struggling to process this new reality when my ex-boyfriend, whom I had just gotten back together with, caught me in the act. He was shocked. Then he was terrified. Then… delighted? To my utter disbelief, he popped out his own tail and shyly asked me to pet it. Excuse me? What is even happening right now? 1 I woke up in the middle of the night crying. I couldn’t help but run to the mirror. There they were again—fuzzy ears sticking out of my head and a fiery red tail tipped with white sprouting from my lower back. Based on years of watching National Geographic, I’m pretty sure I’m turning into a fox. I couldn’t accept it. I just kept crying. Although, I have to admit, the tail felt incredibly soft… Okay, maybe I can accept it a little bit. How did this happen? A few days ago, I got bitten by a dog. It came out of nowhere. Chomp. And now I’m turning into a freak show. The only silver lining is that the ears and tail only pop out late at night. I live alone, so no one sees me. Wait. I suddenly remembered my ex-boyfriend, William, whom I just reconciled with. I can’t… live alone forever, right? 2 The next morning, I got a call from William. “Today is day seven. Time for your third rabies shot. I’m waiting downstairs. Don’t rush, take your time.” I met William at the hospital where he works. One day, I wasn’t watching where I was going, tripped, and busted my head open. He was the one who stitched me up. He’s handsome—hazel eyes that look like they hold the stars. And he was so gentle when he treated me. I fell for him instantly. So, I staked out the hospital entrance until his shift ended and asked for his number. After chatting (mostly me) for six months, I asked him out. And just like that, we were together. Looking back on our year together, I suspect he only said yes because he was too polite to say no. I initiated everything—holding hands, hugs, kisses, dates. When I suggested breaking up, I was hoping he’d fight for me. Instead, he didn’t even reply. We just defaulted to “broken up.” Then came the dog bite. I went to the ER, and there he was again, treating my wound. One thing led to another, and we rekindled things. Part of it was because he suddenly seemed like a different person—so proactive. But mostly, it was because I still liked him. I wasn’t ready to let go. I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs. He was standing in the sunlight, looking radiant. The sun was bright. I squinted, and for a split second, I swear I saw a white tail behind him. It was huge—two or three times the size of mine. A tail that big must be amazing to pet, right? Probably great for cuddling, too. “What’s wrong? Why are you spacing out? Look at you, you rushed so much you still have toothpaste on your lip.” Suddenly he was right in front of me, smiling, his thumb gently wiping the corner of my mouth. “I think I’m hallucinating…” I mumbled, pulling a tissue from my bag to wipe the toothpaste off his finger. He pouted slightly, looking exasperated. “Did you stay up late watching dramas after saying goodnight?” “Ugh, no, no…” If I told him I was turning into a half-fox creature, would he freak out? 3 I don’t know if being half-fox heightened my pain sensitivity or if getting back together with him made me soft, but this third shot hurt like hell. It hurt so bad I thought my ears and tail were going to pop out right there in the clinic. Thankfully, William rubbed the back of my clenched fist with his finger, distracting me. After the shot, he naturally took my hand. “Come with me to grab my meal card from the office. We’ll eat in the cafeteria.” “Huh? You haven’t eaten breakfast? You usually…” He’s not like me. He’s disciplined. He never eats breakfast past 8 AM or sleeps in. It was almost 9 now. He tapped my forehead with his other hand. “That was then. From now on, I’m eating breakfast with you.” I must be dreaming. Did those words just come out of his mouth? I pressed the back of my hand to my burning cheeks. It was my first time in the staff cafeteria. It was cheap and had tons of options. While I was deciding what to eat, a colleague walked by. “William? Aren’t you off today? What are you doing here?” “My girlfriend needed her third rabies shot, so I came in.” It was another young doctor. I smiled politely at him. The doctor gave a very deliberate “Oh~,” patted William’s shoulder, and dropped a bomb: “Dr. Yu is going to be heartbroken.” Who is Dr. Yu? Do I have a rival already? William squeezed my hand. “Ignore him, he talks nonsense. Let’s sit here. I’ll get the food. Don’t tell me what you want—you have dietary restrictions right now. No spicy, no greasy. Trust me.” He rattled off the orders so fast I just nodded dumbly. 4 After eating, he walked me around to help digest, but I was incredibly sleepy. I could barely keep my eyes open. My head throbbed, and my spine ached in waves. After a few steps, I was clinging to his arm, whining. He put a hand on my forehead. “A fever already?” Fever? Do rabies shots cause fevers? I guess so… My consciousness started to blur. I vaguely saw two ears pop out of the top of William’s head. I reached out to grab them, but my hand grasped nothing but air. Maybe seeing those phantom ears triggered a weird dream. I dreamt that William turned into a half-fox like me. He wrapped me in his giant white tail, the tip tickling my forehead. He whispered, “Qing, I’m sorry you had to suffer…” I hugged his tail, burying my face in the fur. “William… so you turned into a fox too…” He kissed my forehead gently. “I always was.” He always was?! I bolted upright in bed, waking with a start. In my hand, I was clutching a small tuft of white fur.

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During my livestream today, a little girl connected with me to get an antique appraised. Staring at the battered vase in her hands, I knew instantly it was junk, not even worth fifty bucks. But when I clicked on her profile, I saw a wall covered in academic awards and a medical report for a serious heart condition. I kept a straight face. “This vase is from the Qianlong period. I’ll buy it for $15,000.” I thought I was doing a good deed. I never expected a woman claiming to be her mother to jump on the mic: “Streamer, that’s not right. A Qianlong vase is worth at least $150,000! You’re a big-shot influencer; you can’t bully poor people just because we don’t have power or money!” 1 Faced with this mother’s aggressive tone, I didn’t have the heart to tell her the vase was obviously fake. Because her daughter had heart disease, this money could be a lifesaver. I’ve done this before—pretending a client’s item is real to give them financial support. So I smiled. “Ma’am, the market price for this vase is exactly what I offered. I can’t go higher.” Unexpectedly, the woman, whose voice had been gentle a moment ago, suddenly turned harsh. “Impossible! A Qianlong vase is worth at least $150,000!” “If I had known, I wouldn’t have let my daughter connect with you. You’re just bullying her because she’s young!” “I’m telling you, I won’t take a penny less than $150,000. You need to send the remaining $135,000 right now!” “We’re already struggling enough. Why do you have to kick us while we’re down?” A fan checked her profile and immediately commented: [Oh my god, her daughter has such good grades. How did she get heart disease?] [If she can really sell it for $150k, the little girl can definitely get treatment and maybe even go to a good college. Streamer, don’t take this black money, okay?] [You need a conscience in this business. What kind of person bullies the desperate?] I kept my patience. “Ma’am, not all Qianlong pieces are that valuable. Who told you it’s worth a hundred fifty grand? Can I see proof?” The next second, she slapped a certificate of authenticity onto the screen. “Don’t try to trick me! The seller gave me this certificate when I bought it! See for yourself!” On the certificate, the minimum valuation was written in bold: $150,000! 2 My assistant whispered, “That looks like a fake certificate from a knock-off shop.” I sighed. She was right. Antiques can be forged, and so can certificates. She probably got scammed at a flea market. “Ma’am, this certificate… it’s fake.” “I’m not saying the vase is fake, of course, but this certificate greatly overestimates its value!” “The normal price is around a few thousand. But since your daughter needs the money, I’ll add another $7,000. How about $22,000?” The woman suddenly burst into tears. “I knew it! You big influencers with millions of fans, you just suck the blood of poor people like us to get where you are!” “You make so much money, you don’t need this little bit. You don’t scam the rich, why do you have to scam us?” “I’m telling you, I won’t agree. If you don’t give me $150,000, I’ll report you to the platform! I’ll report you to the Better Business Bureau!” The comments started to turn against me. [Honestly, the rich get richer by exploiting the poor. Big influencers are just capitalists. You can’t expect them to do good.] [No, streamer! I’ve followed you for so long. Don’t do something shady!] [Can you be honest? You forgot how sincere you were when you were a small streamer? Now that you have capital, you’re floating away?] The comment section was spiraling out of control. I frowned. “Ma’am, I’ve been appraising treasures for five or six years. I know better than anyone how much things are worth. I haven’t scammed a single person in all these years!” “Your vase is worth $15,000 tops! The extra $7,000 is because I pity your daughter!” “I’m not going to ruin the reputation I’ve built over years just for this. I’ll add another $3,000. I’ll take the vase for $25,000. Deal?” The woman cried harder. “You buy it for $25,000 and turn around to sell it for over $150,000. How can you be so black-hearted?” “What did my family ever do to you? Why do you have to cheat us? My baby is counting on this to save her life! How can you steal life-saving money?” I was getting angry. “I’m not stealing from you! I don’t need to steal from you! I…” “Then send the money!” Amidst the woman’s heart-wrenching sobs, the chat went crazy. [Does your conscience not hurt doing this?] [Unsubscribing and reporting. This kind of person doesn’t deserve to make money.] [Refund all the gifts I sent you!] My DMs instantly hit 99+ with insults. The platform sent a warning notification—people were reporting the stream. The woman cried even louder. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! We can’t let this streamer keep harming people!” “Enough!” I roared. “I’m not doing this deal! Okay?!” 3 The woman stopped crying. I pointed at the camera. “I’ll return the vase to you, and you return the money to me. You say this vase is worth $150,000? Fine. Take it to someone who knows their stuff. Good goods sell themselves, right?” The woman choked back a sob. “Can’t you just send the remaining $130,000?” “No!” I said firmly. “I don’t deserve this vase, okay?” Silence on the other end. Then, she spoke. “Fine. Send it back. But it must be my original one. Don’t try to swap it with a fake.” “Don’t worry! I have unboxing videos for every item I receive! There’s surveillance in the shop! I’ll video the packing process too, okay?” She finally agreed. I immediately cut the connection. After going offline, I carefully packed the vase, recorded a video, and shipped it back to the original address. Not long after, my phone showed it had been signed for. But three days passed, and she hadn’t returned the money. When I called, I found I was blocked. 4 I immediately posted about this online. Since the livestream, fans had been following the story. When they learned I was blocked after returning the vase, suspicion arose. [Could that vase actually be fake?] [I was too emotional then, but thinking about it now, what certificate has crooked text?] [Even if the streamer wanted to flip it for profit, since the vase was returned, the money should be refunded.] The incident continued to ferment. Finally, during another broadcast, she connected with me again. “Streamer, how can you be like this? It’s one thing that I didn’t ask for compensation, but how dare you slander me online?” She pointed the camera at the base of the vase. There was a faint crack. I frowned. “Ma’am, I have video of the packing. Your vase already had that crack.” “Impossible! It was perfectly fine when it was in my house!” Her tone was agitated. I sighed. “Ma’am, that crack has been there for years. I have no reason to lie to you. Like you said, I wouldn’t ruin my reputation for a few thousand dollars.” “What do you mean a few thousand?! You obviously didn’t want my vase to sell for a high price, so you deliberately sabotaged me!” She started crying again. “My daughter needs surgery right now. We need money! Just because I exposed you for trying to flip it for profit! Hit me, scold me, but why damage my vase? You’re killing us!” “I was going to treat that $15,000 as compensation and not pursue it, but you’re smearing my name…” Her cries were incredibly aggrieved. The chat buzzed with discussion. [Is she humiliated and lashing out after being exposed? But devaluing the vase is too malicious!] [Exactly, how is this different from murder?] [Streamer, you’re a big shot. Is $15k worth it to you? That’s a human life!] “Okay, Ma’am, you’re sure I did it, right?” I asked. She was emotional. “Who else could it be! Why would I break my own vase and delay my daughter’s surgery!” I nodded. “Okay, then let’s call the police.”

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