I always thought my A-list husband’s feelings for me were more about duty than desire. He was the stoic type, a man of few words who never whispered sweet nothings in my ear. Then, late one night, I was scrolling through Reddit and stumbled upon a post in r/relationships that was getting absolutely roasted, hundreds of comments deep, for the husband’s clingy, ridiculous complaints. I clicked on the user’s profile. And my blood ran cold. Wasn’t that our cat in the profile picture? 1 Title: [Help] I think my cat is manipulating my wife and I don’t know what to do. Post: So, my wife is a programmer, and I’m kind of a freelancer. We have a cat. Because my wife is a programmer, she makes a great salary, but she’s always busy and works late. The second she gets home, our cat is all over her, and then she only pets the cat. She doesn’t pet me. The cat sleeps all day while I’m home, but the moment my wife’s key is in the door, he’s wide awake and putting on a show. My wife is a programmer, so she’s incredibly smart and kind, and she can’t see the cat’s manipulative little games. Reading the post, I felt my brain physically unwrinkle. This guy was unhinged. Who gets into a turf war with a housecat? I glanced over at the living room, where Ethan Hayes, my husband, was gently combing the fur of our Maine Coon. See? My Ethan was different. He was cool, reserved. For the day-to-day grind of a marriage, that was perfectly fine. Good, even. I kept scrolling through the comments. As expected, the original poster was getting torn to shreds. And his replies were even more pathetic—and hilarious—than his original post. 2 Comment: Why do you keep repeating “my wife is a programmer”? OP’s Reply: I’m not trying to emphasize it, it’s just that I’m sensitive about it. I grew up going to school overseas, then went to drama school. My wife works in Big Tech and was the valedictorian of her university’s science program. My education isn’t on her level, but I know she loves me more than the cat. It’s just that this kind of dynamic probably makes the cat see me as a rival. This guy’s wife sounded a lot like me. But our husbands? Polar opposites. A wicked little laugh escaped my lips. Comment: Big Tech… programmer…? Dude, unless your wife is a C-suite executive, I don’t understand this superiority complex you’re projecting onto her. OP’s Reply: She’s an algorithm engineer. What’s wrong with being an algorithm engineer? That’s what I am. And I still spend my days debugging code and arguing with project managers. It seems we tech girls are finally moving up in the world. We’ve officially become the subject of our husbands’ insecure Reddit posts. I was cackling. Comment: For the last time, intelligence isn’t sexually transmitted. OP’s Reply: But we’re married. I knew people on Reddit would be jealous when I posted this. It’s just human nature. This dude was unbelievable. My head was spinning from laughter. I was about to lock my phone and go to sleep when, out of habit, I tapped on the user’s profile picture for a closer look. My breath caught in my throat. Why… why did that cat look exactly like our C++? 3 I met Ethan Hayes through a mutual friend. I was a coder. He was an Oscar-winning actor. Our worlds should have never collided. But the story I was told was that his family was putting immense pressure on him to get married, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That’s how it is when there’s a family empire to inherit, you know? After we signed the papers at City Hall, I made it a point to tell Ethan he should never feel obligated to make our marriage public. His career came first. His agent, Maria, had always been wonderfully warm to me because of that. And as for my A-lister husband? He might have been emotionally distant, but I was long past the age of needing fairytale romances. For a woman constantly exhausted by the corporate grind, Ethan was the perfect husband. He had a face that could make angels weep and a body that was pure, sculpted perfection. Just looking at him after a long day at work was enough to make my dinner taste better. On top of that, he was a neat freak who disliked strangers in our space, which meant he handled almost all the housework. My stress-induced bad eating habits from before we were married completely vanished. I was even losing less hair. Aside from his stamina in bed, which often left me completely wrecked, Ethan was flawless. The fact that he was quiet and a little cold? That wasn’t even a real problem. But I refused to believe, not for a second, that he would be the one posting that unhinged, needy screed on Reddit. Was I just mistaken about the cat? 4 I wanted to dig through the user’s profile for more clues, but just then, Ethan slid into bed, fresh from his shower. “Ethan, slow down… my back isn’t made for this. All I do is sit in a chair all day…” When we were like this, I was the vocal one, crying out his name. Ethan was different. He was always silent, save for the occasional, deep tremor of his breath. I used to wonder if, for him, this was just another marital duty he had to perform. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. After all, it wasn’t like I wasn’t enjoying myself. He was at the top of every “Sexiest Actors Alive” list for a reason. By the time he was finished, my consciousness was usually floating somewhere near the ceiling. In that hazy state, I heard him mention that Noah wanted to come over tomorrow. He asked if that was okay with me. Noah was the friend who’d introduced us. “Sure,” I mumbled without thinking. “I shouldn’t have to work late tomorrow.” Ethan’s body went still for a second. Then he just nodded, his face as unreadable as ever. For some reason, that Reddit post drifted back into my mind. Even though I was sure it wasn’t him, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in the warmth of his chest. “I saw this funny video today… a skit about a couple where the husband was jealous of their pet,” I murmured against his skin. “I’m glad you’re not like that.” I paused, then added, “But you know, even though I love C++, it’s… it’s a different kind of love than what I have for you.” “I love you the most.” His hand began to stroke my hair, a slow, steady rhythm. But he said nothing. I let out a breath, but the knot of anxiety in my chest didn’t loosen the way I’d hoped. Of course it wasn’t him. Ethan Hayes wasn’t the type to care about things like that. Love? He’d seen it all in Hollywood. He married me for stability, not for a grand romance. 5 The next day at noon, Ethan’s assistant showed up at my office like clockwork, carrying a thermal lunch container. When we first got married, I’d complained offhandedly that the company cafeteria food was too greasy. Ever since, for three years, rain or shine, his assistant had delivered my lunch, unless Ethan was on location for a film shoot. The professionalism was astounding. I never knew where the assistant bought the food, but it was always light, delicious, and exactly to my taste. I’d asked a few times, but he’d always just mumbled something and changed the subject. My coworker, Sarah, saw me return to my desk with the container and gave me a playful nudge. “Thea, your husband is just the sweetest. Having his assistant bring you lunch every day? Even the newlyweds in our department aren’t this doting.” She winked. “I’d almost believe he cooked it himself.” “Oh, stop,” I said, laughing. “My husband’s way too busy for that. He’d burn water.” While Ethan had scaled back to doing only one film a year, he’d pivoted to working behind the scenes in production and investment. A man like him was career-focused. I was sure I understood him perfectly. Ben, a junior dev who had just joined the team, chimed in. “Seriously, Thea, where does your husband order from? That looks amazing. I’d have so much more energy to argue with the product team if I ate like that.” But as we were laughing, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Thea, don’t tell me you’re being kept by some rich old man.” “You always talk about how wealthy and good to you your husband is, so how come we’ve never even seen a picture of him?” 6 The speaker was Jessica. We’d started at the company around the same time, but her career hadn’t progressed as quickly as mine. She had a habit of taking little jabs at me, but I rarely took the bait. Ben jumped to my defense. “Jessica, that’s a horrible thing to say. Thea’s posted her marriage certificate on Instagram. Maybe her husband just values his privacy.” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. The one where his face was conveniently blurred out. How ugly does he have to be?” I offered a serene smile. “He’s as handsome as the actor on your phone’s lock screen.” “There’s a limit to how much you can lie,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “My lock screen is Ethan Hayes. No one is as handsome as Ethan Hayes.” She leaned back in her chair, triumphant. “You should stop pretending your sugar daddy is some great prize. If you ask me, love is more important in a marriage. There’s no way I could bring myself to kiss some rich old pig.” This was why I never argued with Jessica. She was, of all things, an Ethan Hayes superfan. The irony was so thick it was suffocating. But to be honest, a small part of what she said wasn’t entirely wrong. Ethan had never actually told me he loved me. Our marriage, it seemed, was indeed missing a little bit of love. 7 A sudden wave of melancholy washed over me. To distract myself, I opened Reddit. The first thing I saw in r/relationships was that familiar cat avatar. He’d posted again. The new post was already trending, sitting right at the top of the page. Title: [UPDATE] Misunderstanding cleared up. My wife told me she loves me the most, more than the cat! Post: I didn’t expect my last post to generate so much discussion. At first, I was a little angry, but only at the cat. Last night, after we, you know, did it, my wife held me and told me she loves me the mostest. We’re just that in love in real life. Turns out I was just overthinking things. My wife is super in love with me. Of course, the comment section was a fresh hellscape of people dragging him, intentionally picking at his insecurities. But the OP was completely lost in his own world. Comment: Maybe your technique is bad and she was just trying to soothe your fragile ego, bro. OP’s Reply: Not a chance~ I swim and work out every single day. My wife can’t get enough of my pecs. We’ve been married for three years and we still do it four times a week. Comment: This is all in your head. The reality is your wife is a slobby, straight-girl programmer who can’t be bothered with you. OP’s Reply: I know a lot of people are jealous because they don’t have what I have. The fact is, my wife is smart AND beautiful. She’s an amazing programmer. I had to pull out all the stops to win her over, and I still cook for her every day. I feel incredibly lucky. My face contorted. I felt like I was forgetting how to read. I clicked on his profile and saw that he’d made dozens of posts just like this, each one dripping with a desperate, show-offy neediness. Now that his post had gone viral, people were flooding his entire history to mock him. I was about to close the app when he posted a new update. Post: My wife said the cafeteria at her work is too greasy, so I’ve been making her lunch and having my assistant drop it off. She loves my cooking and keeps asking the assistant where he buys it from. She’s so cute~ A super smart and amazing programmer like my wife needs to eat healthy to stay at the top of her game. My hand trembled, and I scrolled down. The next image was a picture of a thermal lunch container. One that was intimately, terrifyingly familiar. It was the one I was eating out of right now.

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I have a thing for villains. A serious thing. I’m basically a villain-groupie. So when he wanted to die after the finale, I was the only one who wouldn’t leave his side. “Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Leo said, his voice flat. “My mind’s made up.” Then he tipped a bottle of sleeping pills into his mouth, swallowed, and lay down on the bed, perfectly straight. Not three seconds later, he shot bolt upright, shoving me away as I was enthusiastically making out with his face. “What the hell are you doing?” I felt a little wounded. “You’re not going to be using it anymore. What’s the big deal if I get some use out of it?” 1 The villain had fallen. When the mighty tree falls, the monkeys scatter. All the people who had once clung to him, flattered him, were gone. In the hollowed-out mansion, he hung his head, his expression a perfect blank. “They all left. Why are you still here?” Because I haven’t gotten what I came for, obviously. And if I told him what that was, I was pretty sure he’d drop dead from sheer indignation on the spot. So I just stood there in silence. Not that Leo Hayes expected an answer from me. He pushed himself to his feet, a thick wave of self-loathing rolling off him. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing left for you to get from me.” He broke into a deep cough, his whole chest rattling with it. The blow he’d taken was devastating, extinguishing the fire that had always burned in him. He looked like a mushroom growing in a dark corner—damp and sullen. Somehow, this didn’t diminish his beauty one bit. In fact, it made him look even more delicious. My fingers twitched, desperate for a touch. Unlike everyone else who followed Leo, I never wanted his money. I wanted him. 2 I’ve been a connoisseur of beauty my whole life. A pretty face could stop me in my tracks. It only got worse as I grew up; my standards climbed higher and higher. The average handsome guy couldn’t even make my heart flutter anymore. Just when I thought I was destined to be alone forever, Leo Hayes appeared. One look was all it took. I knew he was the man I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. It was simple, really. Leo was breathtakingly, outrageously beautiful. You could search the whole world and never find another man like him. To have him, to be able to run my hands over those abs while he slept? I’d do anything. But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. This stunning creature, blessed with wealth and a face sculpted by angels, was the villain. Doomed to a miserable end. The golden boy who, just as the script demanded, lost everything to the hero. Utterly ruined. In the end, everyone around him fled. Except me. I wasn’t after his fortune. I was after him. Even knowing he was the villain, that his ending was tragic, I threw my lot in with him without a second thought. While my mind was wandering, Leo had already reached the top of the grand staircase, disappearing from view. Terrified he was about to do something stupid, I sprinted after him. The door was locked. He’d locked me out. I felt zero embarrassment about being so obviously unwanted. I pressed my face to the door, trying to peek through the crack. “Boss? Why’d you lock the door? I’m not in yet!” Silence. A terrifying, heavy silence from inside. I rubbed my nose, still not feeling awkward, and started digging through my purse. Finally, my fingers closed around a key. I slid it into the lock. Click. The door opened. Inside, Leo was leaning against the window, holding something. He saw me, then his eyes dropped to the key in my hand. A flicker of something—scrutiny—finally broke through his numb expression. “You copied my key?” I was a natural liar. “Arthur gave it to me,” I said smoothly. “So I could take better care of you.” This was, of course, a complete fabrication. I’d secretly copied it for those nights when my craving became unbearable, so I could sneak in for a little fix. Arthur’s original key was probably lost in a landfill by now. But with Arthur long gone, there was no one to contradict me. I could say whatever I wanted, and he’d never find the lie. 3 Not that Leo had the energy to investigate my claims. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. “I don’t need you to take care of me. You can go.” He was clearly annoyed, issuing a direct order for me to leave. But I hadn’t gotten what I wanted yet. I pretended I hadn’t heard a word, sidling up to him with a sycophantic grin. “Boss, are you hungry? How about some ramen? I’ll make it for you.” As I moved closer, I subtly kicked a fruit knife on the floor under the curtain. Nice try, I thought. He wasn’t dying until I got what I came for. My blatant refusal to follow the script was clearly getting to him. A flash of irritation crossed his perfect features, and his next words were sharp, cutting. “They all left. You’re the only one still here. Are you hoping for my big comeback?” He let out a bitter laugh. “A washed-up loser. A fool. You’re delusional.” I just… blinked. He could insult himself all he wanted, but why drag me into it? I may have gotten my job at his company through connections, but I had made significant contributions during my time with him. For instance, I “forgot” to tell him he hadn’t brought a change of clothes to the shower, just so I could be the one to bring them. I “accidentally” brushed his hand when I brought him coffee. My fingers “happened” to graze his chest and abs when I fixed his tie. They were small things, sure, but it was hard work! A labor of love! How could he be so cruel? I shot him a tiny, furious glare and stomped on his shadow. Just you wait, I vowed silently. Once I’ve had my way with you, we’ll see who the real fool is. I would endure. For now. 4 Leo had probably never met anyone as shameless as me. He wanted to die, but he just couldn’t manage it. He’d lock himself in a room, and a second later, I’d be there, key in hand, letting myself in. I’d just stand next to him, a silent, stubborn presence. Eventually, he stopped hiding. He glared at me, his face a mask of fury, and shoved a handful of sleeping pills into his mouth. I was ready. I pinched his jaw and dug them out with my fingers. He ended up gagging, spitting everything back out. After that, Leo fell silent. When he finally spoke again, his voice was laced with a calm sort of madness. “What is it you really want?” he asked, his voice strained. “Money? There’s fifty million in the safe. It’s all yours. Will you take it?” He was on the verge of breaking. “Take the money and go. Please?” “Just disappear from my sight. Please?” “How much longer are you going to stand there and laugh at me?” I watched him, my own silence unwavering. I realized then that his earlier calmness had been the last shred of dignity he was clinging to. And thanks to my interruptions, he couldn’t maintain it any longer. As Leo’s frantic gaze bore into me, I placed the key on the table and quietly backed out of the room. The mansion finally fell completely silent. Leo Hayes’s turbulent, brilliant life was about to end with the sloppy footnote of suicide. After I left, Leo remained frozen in place for a long time, until the last ray of sunlight sank below the horizon, plunging the room into darkness. Like a weary old man, he moved slowly, deliberately, to finish what he should have finished days ago. He pulled open a drawer. Inside was a bottle of sleeping pills—the one I’d been searching for for days. So that’s where he hid them. My eyes went wide with disbelief. I shrank further into the shadows where I was hiding, making myself smaller. “Don’t bother trying to stop me,” Leo said, not looking at me, but somehow knowing I was there. “My mind is made up.” I held my breath, hoping he was bluffing. I stayed curled up in my corner like a frightened quail. He didn’t say anything else. He just tipped the pills into his mouth like they were candy. In that same instant, I launched myself across the room, ready to repeat my earlier intervention. But this time, he caught my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. His eyes were clear and serious. “This is my choice. Don’t stop me. Please?” Stared at like that, my resolve wavered for a second, and my hand went limp. “Go do something you love,” he murmured, his voice softening. “Stop wasting your time on me.” Those were his last words. He fell back onto the bed, perfectly still. I wiped a tear from the corner of my mouth. “Okay.” 5 Leo lay there with his eyes closed, serene, like Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale. I stared at his face for a solid two seconds. Then, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I leaned down. Mwah. Mwah. Mwah. I’d barely gotten in a few good kisses when the body beneath me suddenly reanimated. He shoved me away with a violent push, his ears turning a shade of crimson so deep you could see it in the dim light. “What the hell are you doing?” He was so strong. I lost my balance and landed hard on my butt. I felt genuinely wronged. He was the one who told me to go do what I love. “You’re not going to be using it anymore!” I whined. “What’s the big deal if I get some use out of it?” Leo was practically trembling with rage. “Shameless,” he hissed. Even for a villain, he’d clearly never encountered a degenerate of my caliber. He glared at me, looking like he wanted nothing more than to strangle me. His chest was heaving. I was a little worried he might just keel over from pure fury. I wiped my mouth. “So… are you still planning on dying?” I asked tentatively. He didn’t answer, just stared at me with the kind of look you’d give something you found stuck to the bottom of your shoe. I was getting anxious. Was he dying or not? I needed a straight answer. Any longer and rigor mortis would set in. Ultimately, lust conquered all. I reached for the waistband of his pants. Just as my fingers were about to make contact, he grabbed my hand, his grip like iron. He spoke through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl of fury. “Get. Out.” I tried to wiggle my fingers free, batting my eyelashes at him. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like before you go?” He squeezed his eyes shut, his rage intensifying. “GET OUT!” It must have been a post-mortem surge of adrenaline. After a whole bottle of pills, not only was Leo not weak, he was freakishly strong. He lifted me like I was a sack of potatoes, tossed me out of the room, and confiscated every last key I had on me. He looked at me with pure disgust, then slammed the door in my face. Tsk. What kind of person did he take me for? Did he really think I was that desperate for him? I turned on my heel and— 6 —climbed in through the window. There was a slight complication. All the food Leo had skipped over the past few days had ended up in my stomach. The catering, it seemed, had been a little too good. I was stuck. I flailed like a beached fish, wriggling uselessly, unable to move an inch forward or backward. Well, this was awkward. The commotion drew Leo’s attention. He stared at me, his face a stony mask, but I could see a flicker of utter speechlessness in his dead eyes. It was clear he was officially out of ideas on how to handle me. I tried my best to ignore his gaze, affecting a casual air. “Ah, what a beautiful day!” I chirped. “The air is so fresh!” Leo’s voice was flat. “What do you want now?” I scrambled for an excuse. A brilliant idea struck me. “Those keys are my personal property! Do you know how much it costs to have a good key made? Give them back.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped him. “So you admit you copied them.” I… was speechless. Genuinely speechless. Leo just scoffed. “Hmph.” Then he turned and walked away, as if he’d made some final, irreversible decision. My pride is basically nonexistent, so I kept at it. “Boss, are you really mad?” “It was a joke! Come on, for old times’ sake? For all the hard work I did for you? Can you give me a hand?” “Help me.” “Help me!” “Go, team! Rah rah!” Leo didn’t even turn around. He just sat down at his computer. My heart ached. How could he just leave me here to die? Didn’t our time together mean anything? A wave of sorrow washed over me, and I couldn’t help but break into song. “It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now…” My tragic ballad had no effect on him. He was so unmoved, he even started watching a video. I immediately shut up and craned my neck to see what he was looking at. With my 20/20 vision, I realized he was pulling up security footage. Wait a second. Was he checking to see if I’d used my copied keys to sneak in and… do things to him? The nerve! I was deeply offended. What could I possibly have done? A sweet, innocent girl like me? All I did was maybe hold his hand… and touch his abs… and his other muscles… What else was there to do? I was heartbroken, sobbing uncontrollably. “Boss, how could you suspect me!” Leo fast-forwarded the footage to a clip of me standing outside his bedroom door with a positively lecherous grin on my face. I tried to salvage the situation. “Can’t we have a little more trust between us? Tell you what, I’ll give you fifty bucks to delete the video.” The video continued to play. There was Leo, drinking the glass of milk I’d prepared for him, falling into a deep, unsuspecting sleep. And there I was, closing his door and standing over his bed, giggling like a maniac. A bead of sweat trickled down my back. “I really didn’t do anything! There’s nothing to see here, trust me.” “Okay, fine! I admit I held your hand! Secretly!” “Please, I’m begging you, just stop watching.” Leo ignored me completely. He even turned up the volume. And so, my own, completely unfiltered voice echoed through the room.

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After I Forced Myself on My Stepbrother with Amnesia For three years, I savored the taste and slept with him again and again. To keep him from ever remembering, I secretly spiked his water every night. Until the day my hand slipped and I dumped in half a packet. Suddenly, text started scrolling in front of my eyes: 【WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BIG DUMMY! ISN’T FIVE ROUNDS A NIGHT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!】 【THE LAST TWO NIGHTS NEARLY SENT YOUR BROTHER TO THE AFTERLIFE!】 【I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE HOW UTTERLY WRECKED THIS GREEDY GIRL GETS TONIGHT LMAO!】 I stared at the powder in my hand, my mind reeling. Didn’t I buy Serenity Dust? The stuff that’s supposed to turn a man into a puppy? 1 The floating text left my head spinning. Just then, my stepbrother, Ethan, appeared. He picked up the glass of water beside me and drained it in one gulp. Before I could stop him, all that was left was an empty glass. He frowned, his voice a little raspy. “Tonight’s honey water…” Oh, god. Why is the powder clumping like that? My heart leaped into my throat. Three years ago, Ethan hit his head in an accident. My parents and I concocted a story about a world-renowned brain specialist we knew overseas. The night we got him there, I made my move. I forced myself on him. I told him we’d been secretly carrying on a twisted, forbidden affair right under our parents’ noses. I told him he was so madly in love with me that when our parents forbid it, he’d tried to end his own life, but only ended up damaging his memory. I sold the story with a straight face, weaving a tale so detailed and plausible that he, in his daze, eventually believed me and gave in. That first night. It was exquisite. An acquired taste I couldn’t get enough of. I got so greedy that I kept him in that state, in my bed, for three whole years. It was precisely because it was so damn good that I lived in constant fear of his memory returning. What if he remembered and I could never have him like this again? So, I hit up my best friend—a girl who can get her hands on anything—and bought something special. Serenity Dust, it was called. Supposedly, it could turn a man into a harmless puppy, a puppy into a puddle. Of course, it was guaranteed to be harmless to his health. It would just… gently lower his IQ. And if he was just a little bit dumber, he wouldn’t be able to remember the past, right? Since Ethan always had trouble sleeping, I made a habit of mixing the powder into his calming honey water every night. But now this floating text was telling me the stuff I’d been secretly feeding him for six months was… that? My heart clenched. I quickly asked, “What’s wrong with the honey water tonight? Does it taste bad?” Ethan slowly shook his head, licking a stray grain of powder from the corner of his lip. “It just seems… exceptionally sweet. Maya, did you put too much honey in it?” I… The ghostly text scrolled by again. 【’HONEY’? DUDE, JUST LOOK AT WHAT’S IN HER HAND! SINCE WHEN IS YOUR HONEY A POWDER?!】 【OMG I CAN’T. BRO, WIPE THE POWDER OFF YOUR MOUTH BEFORE YOU TALK.】 【THIS GUY IS NEXT LEVEL. WILLFULLY BLIND.】 【THEY DESERVE EACH OTHER. ONE BRAIN CELL BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM AND IT’S ONLY THINKING ABOUT SEX. I’M OUT.】 【I’M NOT LEAVING. WORD IS HE GETS HIS MEMORY BACK TONIGHT MID-SESSION. IT’S GONNA BE A FIVE-ALARM DRAMA FIRE. I’M LITERALLY VPN’D IN FOR THIS.】 【MY APARTMENT JUST FLOODED SO I HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO BE. I’M STAYING TOO.】 2 What the hell? Ethan is going to get his memory back tonight? My mind went blank, a buzzing static rooting me to the spot. If he remembers… If he remembers all the shameful things I’ve coached him to do. All the twisted, possessive names I’ve made him call me. The time I got a little too into it and made him kneel on the floor, told him to be a good dog and lick my feet. He would kill me. He would literally kill me on the spot. Just the thought of him remembering sent a wave of goosebumps across my skin. My vision swam, and I stumbled. A strong hand wrapped around my waist, steadying me. Ethan leaned in, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. “Baby, are you not feeling well?” …Oh, you have got to be kidding me. A moment ago, “baby” was a prelude to pleasure. Now, it sounded like a death sentence. The skin where he touched me burned. Not feeling well. The thought of his memory returning tonight made my whole body feel sick. I nodded quickly, seizing the excuse. “Yeah, I actually feel awful. I think we should sleep separately tonight—” “Okay.” My jaw dropped. Ethan took my hand and pressed it flat against his firm, sculpted chest. His eyes darkened. “Feel better now?” My brain short-circuited. I managed to shake my head, a pathetic attempt at sanity. I tried to pull my hand back, but he guided it lower. He looked at me, his expression a mask of pure innocence, as if he were simply solving a problem for me. “Still not feeling well? How about now?” The last thread of my reason snapped. I fell into his arms. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Maya’s reaction tells me she’s feeling much better now.” Damn it. He was a miracle worker. A true healer. 3 By the time I remembered what that spectral peanut gallery had said, it was too late. Lost to lust, I’d already dragged Ethan into oblivion with me. The stuff in the water glass must have been potent. I was completely satisfied, drifting in that post-coital calm, but Ethan, his eyes still red-rimmed and hazy, was dragging my ankle back, begging for one more round. “Baby, I helped you feel better. Now can you help me? Please?” “Please, I’m begging you.” I hesitated. After all, the dose in his water was more than triple the usual amount. And today I’d learned it wasn’t Serenity Dust at all. If I left him like this, he’d be in agony. But what if his memory came back in the middle of it? I wouldn’t even have time to run. But right now… I looked at him, his body arched in discomfort, yet he wouldn’t make a move without my permission. Fine. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Just one more.” As we lost ourselves again, the text reappeared. 【I CAN’T WITH HER. I’VE NEVER SEEN A MAIN CHARACTER THIS HORNY.】 【SHE’S GONNA GET HERS IN A MINUTE. ETHAN’S ABOUT TO REMEMBER EVERYTHING.】 【SAY WHAT YOU WILL, BUT SHE’S CREATIVE. LOOK AT ALL THE… PROPS. TSK TSK.】 【BUT HE’S CLEARLY ENJOYING IT TOO? WHY DOES HE GET SO COLD TO HER AFTER HE REMEMBERS?】 【BECAUSE HE’S A STUBBORN ASS. SHE’S A DRAMA QUEEN AND HE’S AN EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED FOOL. THEY ONLY HAVE THEMSELVES TO BLAME. I’M TELLING YOU…】 Drama queen? Me? What were they saying? Before I could read the rest, my ankle was pulled, and I tumbled into the sheets, the world spinning. I tried to push myself up. But my wrists were pinned. The Ethan above me had changed. The haze of desire was gone, replaced by a profound confusion in his foggy eyes. He looked like he was struggling to process his surroundings, his voice hesitant. “Maya? What are we… doing?” …Seriously, dude? Those things under your eyebrows are called eyes. Open them. The text popped up again. 【DOING IT.】 【DOING WHAT?】 【IT!】 【YEAH, I’M ASKING WHAT ‘IT’ IS? AND YOUR ATTITUDE SUCKS, CAN’T YOU JUST USE YOUR WORDS?】 【EVERYONE ELSE IS ON THE HIGHWAY AND THIS DUDE IS STILL IN THE PARKING LOT. I’M DYING.】 【SHUT UP EVERYONE! IT’S HAPPENING! THE BIG REVEAL! PREPARE FOR THE ANGST ARC!】 【UGH. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN A SWEET ROM-COM BUT NO, WE HAVE TO HAVE THE ‘CHASE THE WIFE TO THE CREMATORIUM’ TROPE. AND I MEAN A LITERAL CREMATORIUM. SHE GETS BURNED TO ASHES.】 【AND THEN HE KILLS HIMSELF. DOUBLE DEATH EQUALS A HAPPY ENDING, APPARENTLY. CAN SOMEONE TELL ME HOW I GOT SUCKERED INTO THIS? I THOUGHT THE TAGS SAID ‘FLUFF’! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!】 【IT’S OVER! HE’S FULLY AWAKE!】 My head snapped up. I met Ethan’s eyes, which were now perfectly, terrifyingly clear. His lips parted, about to speak. I raised my hand, my palm stopping a mere inch from his face. And then— I drew back, wound up, and swung with all my might. SLAP. Crematoriums? Burned to ashes? Some twisted double-suicide pact? All that bullshit because he gets his memory back? To hell with that. Then you can just stay asleep.

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1. The day I found out Clark was cheating, I was using his phone to identify a song. He and a friend were in a permanent shared listening session. The account name was TessaTheSunflower. In that single, sickening moment, I knew exactly who it was. They had listened to one song, “Flicker in the Dark,” for 700 hours. But Tessa had only been in our home for a month. She was our new housekeeper. Bright and bubbly, a little ball of sunshine. And a walking disaster. The day I tried to fire her, she pouted, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “So what if I break a few dishes? Or I’m a terrible cook, or completely useless at housework?” “I make Clark happy,” she challenged, her voice dripping with smug certainty. “Can you?” And my husband, Clark, just stood there, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips. In the end, Clark settled it with a dismissive, “Leave it. We can hire people who know how to work.” I backed down, defeated. Tessa stayed. Now, I clutched Clark’s phone, my thumb hovering over his message history, unable to bring myself to tap it open. When he walked out of the bathroom, I held the phone out to him. My voice came out as a rasp. “Clark, I need an explanation.” I was desperate for him to explain it away. Even a lie. I just like the music. Anything. Clark just chuckled, a careless, easy sound. He swiped the screen, ending the shared session without a second thought. “Tessa’s… just a bit of fun.” His dark, bottomless eyes locked onto mine. “The problem, Chloe, is that you’ve gotten so bland.” 2. So, the next time he called me bland, I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed the container of leftover chicken blood from the kitchen and dumped it over his head. “Fresh from the source,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Need any seasoning?” Clark wiped at the crimson mess on his face with a paper towel, his expression more annoyed than shocked. He frowned at me. “What’s with the drama today?” “You’re cheating on me, Clark,” I stated, the words flat and cold. A laugh rumbled in his chest. “And?” And… I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the words tumbled out anyway. “And I want a divorce.” I choked back the acidic wave of nausea rising in my throat. “I’m going home.” “Fine,” Clark said, leaning forward slightly and holding out a hand. “Where are the papers?” He agreed so easily, so quickly. As I stared, stunned into silence, a slow, condescending smile spread across his face. “Oh, Chloe, stop this nonsense. You couldn’t leave me if you tried.” “You’re an orphan. What ‘home’ are you going to?” He stood and headed for the bathroom. “And don’t start with that ‘Redemption System’ and ‘other world’ crap again.” “You’re not a kid anymore, Chloe. I don’t have the patience to play these little games with you.” The sound of the shower started, a steady hiss of water. I sat frozen on the sofa. I remembered my first year in this world. I had no ID, no money. My degree, my entire work history from my old life—it was all worthless here. I sold trinkets on the street, set up makeshift stalls, took any cash-in-hand job that would keep me from starving. Then I found Clark on a rooftop, ready to jump. The System appeared for the first time. It gave me a mission: [Save Clark Hawthorne.] I threw all my strength into it, grabbing him by the waist, dragging his leg back over the ledge. Then, I handed him a cup of hot stew from my cart. He ate it with a frown, his handsome eyes sizing me up. “You must own a lot of Hawthorne Industries stock.” I had no idea what he meant. He smirked. “I’m about to die, and you feed me this garbage. What did I ever do to you?” I tried to explain that it was what I sold to make a living. Clark paused. “So, you’re taking your revenge on society?” He complained about the taste, but he drank every last drop of the broth. After that day, Clark moved into my tiny rooftop apartment. I took the bed; he slept on the floor. We’d wake up before dawn to prep ingredients. We’d argue about whose seasoning for the broth was better. He liked it savory and salty. I preferred it tangy and spicy. On evenings so cold our breath turned to frost, we’d stand by the school gates, rubbing our hands together for warmth, selling our stew. After a few months of that, the System finally kicked in. Clark made a fortune on a single stock. Within a year, he had rebuilt Hawthorne Industries from the ashes. In the city of Port Sterling, he was a legend. The day Hawthorne Industries went public, as Clark rang the opening bell at the stock exchange, the Redemption System announced my mission was complete. I had enough points to return to my original world. The night before I was set to leave, I sat alone in our rooftop apartment. The wind howled, and a relentless rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof, the noise so deafening I didn’t hear him come in. Not until a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around me from behind. “Chloe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I missed you.” That was the night. The night Clark moved from the floor to the bed. We clung to each other, desperately mapping every inch of each other’s bodies, starved for warmth, for connection. In the end, I used my points to buy ten more years in this world. Ten years with him. Through bitter winters and blazing summers. In a world full of noise and people, it felt like we were the only two who mattered. I knew hearts could change, especially in love. I just never thought Clark’s would be one of them. 3. “Chloe, I don’t want things to get ugly.” He stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbed clean of the blood. A towel was slung low on his hips. I could see a few faint, fresh scratch marks just above it. I quickly looked away. “I’ll make it up to you.” He sat down next to me. I turned to look at him. I’d been looking at that face for a decade. From the very first moment it took my breath away until now. Time had been exceptionally kind to him. For a fleeting moment, I remembered our wedding day, the way he looked at me as he said his vows in the old chapel. The words escaped my throat before I could stop them. “‘I, Clark, take you, Chloe, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.’” The silence in the room was absolute. After a long moment, Clark let out a soft, low chuckle. “Chloe, don’t be so naive.” He leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting against my cheek. “‘Till death do us part’?” He flicked a piece of lint from his shirt, his voice utterly nonchalant. “That was just possession, darling. A fleeting impulse.” I said nothing. Clark stood up, his shadow falling over me in the fading light. “Alright, let’s just say I was wrong.” “You can have whatever you want as compensation.” “The villa? The jewelry? Shares in the company?” He paused, a self-deprecating smile touching his lips. “Or maybe you want to go find some young boy toy to keep you entertained?” “Chloe, as long as you don’t take it too far, I’ll let you have your fun.” I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself, to find my voice. “You like her that much? Enough to…” He cut me off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to divorce you.” “You’ve been with me for ten years. It hasn’t been easy. I know that.” He turned his back to me, but his voice seemed to drift down from a great height. “You know, she’s a lot like you used to be.” The last sliver of sunlight vanished from the sky, and the vast room was plunged into darkness. Clark’s figure was gone from the floor-to-ceiling window. I curled into a ball on the sofa. I wanted to wipe away my tears. But I found I couldn’t cry. 4. Clark didn’t come home that night. Apparently, Tessa had thrown a fit and run off. The girl had high standards. She’d left a note in the apartment Clark bought for her saying, “I will never be the other woman,” and disappeared. Clark spent all night looking for her. Just as the sky began to lighten to a bruised purple, he carried a shivering Tessa through the front door. “Have you completely lost your mind? Don’t you care about your own body?” “Towels! And clothes, now!” he roared, and the household staff scrambled into action. “Chloe,” he ordered, turning to me. “Get her a bowl of ginger soup. Lots of brown sugar, she can’t handle anything spicy.” In the kitchen, our cook, Maria, was already tossing the ingredients into a pot. I stared at the slices of ginger bobbing in the water, a wave of bitter nostalgia washing over me. That first winter, when we were selling stew from our cart, the rooftop apartment was freezing. I had a cold that lingered for days. Clark brewed a huge pot of ginger soup for me. He used five pounds of ginger, concentrating it all into a single, fiery bowl. It made me sweat, but it also scorched my throat, leaving me hoarse for a week. Afterward, I showed him how to make it properly. And just like that, brown sugar ginger soup became a new item on our menu. In the living room, Tessa was nestled in Clark’s arms, pouting. “I only came back with you because I was worried about you, not to be your mistress.” Her eyes darted toward me as I approached with the soup, a triumphant glint in them. “Oh, Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m the housekeeper. You shouldn’t be making things for me.” Clark chuckled, stroking her hair. “It’s fine. She used to sell food from a street cart. She’s not that delicate.” Tessa giggled. “Oh, a street vendor? That explains it. I always thought Mrs. Hawthorne’s taste was a little…” She tilted her head, pretending to think, then smiled with childish innocence. “A little bit country, you know?” The corner of Clark’s mouth twitched upward. As he reached for the bowl, I tilted my wrist and poured the entire contents of boiling hot soup over both of them. Tessa’s shriek ripped through the morning calm. That night, a private jet circled over Port Sterling, and Clark had the city’s top medical specialists “escorted” to the hospital. The commotion he caused became the talk of the town. Hordes of reporters, smelling blood, camped outside the exclusive Hawthorne Private Hospital on the mountain peak. The headlines rolled in, one after another. #HawthorneCEOMarriageOnTheRocks #MistressIdentityExposed #IsItTrueLoveOrATransaction When Clark’s call finally came, I was scrolling through a detailed timeline of his affair with Tessa. The reporters were better than private investigators. They’d dug up all sorts of “romantic” moments between them. With the power of Hawthorne Industries’ PR team, none of this would have seen the light of day unless Clark wanted it to. The stories were trending, and I knew he had given the green light. That explained the threatening call I’d received earlier from his legal department. “Mrs. Hawthorne, the CEO says that if you go to the hospital right now, get on your knees, and beg for forgiveness, he’ll let this go,” the lawyer had said, his voice oozing with arrogance and contempt. Just before I hung up, he added, “Mrs. Hawthorne, the CEO said he doesn’t want to have to use certain… methods on you.” A memory surfaced, sharp and painful. The time we were running our food cart. It was a cold winter night. A group of drunks started causing trouble at our stall. “Hey, pretty girl… you look nice and warm. Spend an hour with each of us, and I’ll give you… this…” Before the crumpled bills even left his hand, Clark, who had just returned, threw a punch. It was him against seven of them. He never stood a chance. The fight only ended when one of them smashed a bottle over his head, and the sight of blood sent the cowards running. As he collapsed, he covered my eyes with his blood-soaked hands. “It’s okay,” he’d whispered. “Don’t be scared.” I stared at my phone screen, where the online discussion was getting more frenzied. A new rumor was trending: Tessa was supposedly pregnant. I laughed bitterly. That one, at least, had to be fake. Clark didn’t like kids. 5. In the end, I was “escorted” to the hospital by Clark’s men. The moment I appeared in the doorway of her room, Tessa shrieked and scrambled behind Clark. “She’s here again! Clark, I’m scared!” So fragile. So pitiful, a delicate flower in need of protection. Clark’s face was grim. “You went too far this time, Chloe.” “Let her hit you back, and we’ll call it even.” The once-empty hallway was now crammed with reporters. Everyone held their breath, cameras raised, ready to capture the shot of the century—the official mistress slapping the original wife. “And if I don’t?” A laugh bubbled up from my chest. “Clark, where in the world is that fair?” “She’s the one who’s a homewrecker, and I’m supposed to be grateful? Welcome her with open arms for destroying my marriage?” “Clark, maybe you two have been acting like animals for so long you’ve forgotten how human society works. Cheating husbands and mistresses are meant to be punished!” Tessa poked her head out from behind him. “How dare you call me a mistress!” she shrieked. “Clark and I are soulmates! He stopped loving you a long time ago! That’s why he wouldn’t even have a child with you!” My mind went blank. Instinct took over. I lunged forward and ripped the surgical mask from Tessa’s face, revealing the blotchy, red-raw skin from the burns. SLAP! The sound echoed in the hallway. My hand moved so fast that my fingernails raked across Clark’s cheek as well, leaving a thin trail of blood. Tessa screamed. The camera flashes were blinding. The headlines shifted again that day. From True Love Affair to Wife Slaps Mistress. I was reading the latest exposé on Tessa and Clark when he came home. He looked exhausted, sinking into the armchair next to me. “Chloe, there’s no point in dragging this out.” I kept scrolling on my phone. “Oh, I think it’s plenty interesting.” I smiled, reading the article aloud. “‘Sources say the Hawthorne CEO orchestrated ‘chance’ encounters with his wife for years. How else could a man going from the corporate headquarters to a downtown market—two completely opposite directions—call it a coincidence every time?’” “If I were a novelist, I’d write you as the secretly devoted second male lead. It’s quite touching.” “Enough!” Clark snapped, his eyes burning with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. As I started to get up, his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist. “She’s pregnant.”

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We were halfway through signing the marriage license when Bob Boyle’s first love sent him a photo of herself, supposedly having crashed her car into a ditch in a suicide attempt. Without a second thought, he left me standing there, went and married her instead, and jetted off on a honeymoon. That same night, her social media was updated with a picture of a floor littered with used condoms. Bob’s text came right after. “Even though Lily and I are married, she’s still willing to let you be my mistress. You should learn to be as generous as she is. Don’t be so ungrateful.” “I know you can’t live without me. Once your father’s assets are all transferred to my name, I’ll make time to see you one day a week.” “Lily’s delicate. Any children you have will be given to her. After all, she’s the wife, and you’re the side piece. If you want to keep me, you need to know your place.” I laughed. As the sole heiress to the Thorne family, the most powerful of Kingsbridge’s four founding families, whoever I married would inherit my family’s entire empire. What Bob didn’t know was that the moment he walked out on me, I had already changed the groom on the license. 1 A month later, I saw Bob again at a private charity auction. He had his arm wrapped around Lily Hayes, letting her sit on his lap while they kissed, completely oblivious to the world around them. The catcalls and cheers from the crowd twisted into jeers the moment I walked in. “Well, well, Bob. Your little lapdog finally got lonely and came looking for you.” “Miss Thorne, you really broke your record this time. A whole month! You must have been going crazy without him.” Bob pulled away from Lily’s neck as if nothing was wrong, his eyebrow arched in a mocking sneer. “Aurora, have I been too good to you? Do you have any idea what a pathetic creature you are? Playing hard to get with me? You? If you had any guts, you’d have stayed away. You can’t even be a proper doormat. It’s disgusting.” In the five years I’d been with Bob, I’d seen that look, heard those words, countless times. Before, when my world revolved around him, being publicly shamed like that would have made my eyes burn with tears I wouldn’t dare let fall. Later, I’d suffocate my sobs in my pillow, replaying my supposed mistakes, terrified he would grow to hate me. But now, I just calmly replied, “I’m not here for you.” Bob, clearly not expecting this, assumed I was still putting on an act. He kicked the chair in front of me aside. “Addicted to the drama, are we? You can stand. Later, whatever Lily likes, you’re going to bid on and win for her. If she’s happy, I might consider forgiving you.” “Oh, Bob,” Lily cooed, shrinking into his arms and pouting. “I don’t want anything bought with her dirty money. A spoiled princess like her only knows how to show off with her parents’ cash. Who knows if that money is even clean? I want to buy my own things with my own hard work.” Bob pinched her pouty cheek, his eyes full of doting affection. “That’s right. My Lily is strong and independent, nothing like this useless, spoiled brat who only knows how to live off her family.” “But she’s desperate to buy me things,” he continued, his voice loud enough for me to hear. “You know how cheap she is. It pains her not to grovel and spend money on me. Just think of it as a charity case. A cure for her pathetic obsession.” Lily giggled and reluctantly nodded. Then she looked up at me, her eyes filled with disdain. “Miss Thorne, with all due respect, you’re supposed to be a lady. Why do you cling to him like a leech? You should try being independent, like me. A woman can’t rely on a man for everything. Otherwise, what’s the difference between you and trash?” I glanced down at the custom-made, million-dollar gown she was wearing and smiled faintly. The daughter of a housekeeper, lecturing me—the sole heiress to the richest man in Kingsbridge—on self-reliance? I walked to a quiet corner and took a seat. Bob frowned, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He seemed to sense that something about me was different. Before he could process it, his friends started laughing again. “Tsk, tsk, here we go again. Hiding in the corner to cry. Miss Thorne just can’t live without our Bob.” “Hey, don’t be so harsh. The Thornes are the richest family in Kingsbridge, and Aurora is their only daughter. I heard Mr. Thorne plans to announce her marriage to one of the other three families at her twenty-fifth birthday banquet. They say whoever marries her gets the entire Thorne empire.” “The Thorne assets are worth hundreds of billions, at least. I wonder who’s going to get that lucky?” Someone nudged Bob, winking. “Is there any question? It’s obviously our Bob. Everyone in Kingsbridge knows Aurora Thorne is head over heels for him. If he told her to die, she’d race to do it. Look, he ignores her for one month, and she comes crawling right back.” “Hahaha, she’s the ultimate doormat. Once Bob gets the Thorne fortune, the Boyle family will rule this city. Our boy really knows how to handle women. You gotta teach us your ways, man.” Bob pretended to be unfazed, but the slight upward tilt of his lips betrayed his smug satisfaction. He raised his voice deliberately. “A woman who throws herself at you like this isn’t worth one of Lily’s toes. If she wasn’t a fun toy to play with, I wouldn’t even bother looking at her.” “She’s so desperate for me to marry her, I can’t even shake her off. It’s getting annoying.” He finished, then waited for me to break down and cry. Usually, that would have been my cue. My eyes would have welled up, my shoulders would have started to shake. But this time, I didn’t even spare him a glance, let alone a tear. Bob’s face instantly darkened. He was about to storm over to me when Lily grabbed his arm. “Bob, the auction is starting. Stay with me.” He relented, pulling her back into his lap. 2 Throughout the auction, Lily seemed to adore every single item. She’d mutter about how she couldn’t afford it, then bravely declare she’d work hard to buy it herself one day. Bob, watching her pained expression, was overcome with sympathy. With a wave of his hand, he outbid everyone for every item she glanced at, driving the prices sky-high. She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and covering him with kisses. I, on the other hand, only bid once. On the very last item: a men’s wristwatch. It was a deep sapphire blue, with a design that was understated yet elegant. It perfectly matched the man I had in mind. A perfect gift to celebrate our marriage. He would love it. After securing my gift, I was about to leave when Bob called out to me. He was standing with the event organizer, who was holding a long list of transactions. “Is there a problem?” I asked. Bob took the list and held it out to me, his tone one of magnanimous charity. “Don’t say I never give you a chance. Pay for all of this, and I’ll grace you with my presence for dinner tonight.” I glanced at the list. Fifteen items. Because of Lily’s constant exclamations and Bob’s relentless bidding, what should have cost less than a hundred million had been driven up to a staggering 2.5 billion. Seeing my hesitation, Lily righteously pointed a finger at me. “Miss Thorne, a relationship should be equal. As Bob’s girlfriend, you let him pay for everything you eat and wear without spending a dime of your own. Now he asks you to spend a little money on some gifts for him, and you refuse? You say you love him, but you’re just a hypocrite.” Bob, who had seemed slightly hesitant, was apparently swayed by this logic. His expression became one of entitlement. He lowered his voice. “Lily is my wife now. I’m giving you a chance to get on her good side. If you make her unhappy, I might not even let you be my mistress. Now, pay for it.” Looking at the smug, self-assured face of the man before me, I almost laughed. The food and clothes he supposedly paid for were the leftover cake Lily didn’t want, the extra porridge she was too full to drink. And I was living in the villa my father bought for me, a villa I was kicked out of after I caught them together, only to be accused of having a dirty mind. For five years, I had been utterly captivated by that face. But when he abandoned me at the marriage registry, that burning infatuation turned to ice. Looking at him now, all I felt was disgust. I felt like a blind, foolish idiot. It had taken me far too long to see the truth. To think I wasted five years on this scum. Seeing my silence, Bob impatiently snatched the watch box from my hand. Before I could stop him, he had torn open the packaging and strapped it onto his wrist. “See? I’m even wearing the piece of junk you bought. Satisfied now? Go pay. If you keep playing games, I’ll really ignore you. Then you could come crawling back with fifty billion, and I wouldn’t say a single word to you.” Bob’s friends chimed in. “Aurora, Bob’s already giving you an out. Don’t push it. A little coyness is cute in a woman, but this is just getting nauseating.” “Exactly. It’s only 2.5 billion. That’s pocket change for you. Don’t be so stingy. You should learn from Lily. The gift she gave Bob was something she saved up for with her part-time job money. It came from the heart.” I looked at the cheap, out-of-place cartoon character keychain hanging from Bob’s phone. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, very heartfelt. Looks like it came out of a gumball machine.” Lily looked as if she’d been mortally wounded. Her eyes reddened instantly, and she bit her lip, the very picture of a brave, wronged maiden. “I may not be as rich as you, but everything I have, I earned with my own two hands. I’m cleaner than you. What right do you have to humiliate me?” Bob wrapped his arms around her protectively, his face cold as he snapped at me, “Apologize to Lily!” I smiled, then shoved the entire list of receipts into her hands. “You’re right. You’re clean, and I’m dirty. So why don’t you use your clean money to buy these gifts for your dear Bob?” Lily’s face went deathly pale. She swayed in Bob’s arms as if she were about to faint. Bob, incandescent with rage, slapped me hard across the face. “Aurora, I’ve given you enough chances, haven’t I? How dare you bully Lily like this! At your birthday banquet, you can get on your knees and beg, and I still won’t agree to this marriage!” He shot me one last glare, then swept Lily up into his arms and strode away. 3 Before, those words would have sent me into a panic. I would have knelt, cried, and begged him not to leave me. But now, I felt nothing. I considered that slap payment in full for the time, five years ago, when he supposedly saved me from kidnappers. A few days later, the jewelry store called to inform me that the custom wedding ring the Blackwood family had ordered for me was ready. When I arrived, I saw Bob with his arm around Lily’s waist, trying on rings. They were pressed close together, the picture of intimacy. When he saw me, Bob scoffed and deliberately nibbled on Lily’s ear, making her blush and playfully swat his chest. As if that wasn’t enough, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a deep, theatrical kiss. When it was over, Lily shot me a triumphant look and murmured, “Stop it, people are watching.” The professionally trained staff stood with their heads bowed, eyes averted. Only my lips tightened in a grimace of pure, physical disgust. Bob, misinterpreting my expression, smirked. “Finally realize you were wrong? Then get over here and apologize to Lily on your knees.” His words were cut short by a gasp from Lily. “Bob, that ring is gorgeous! I love it!” “Quick, let me try it on.” The clerk shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, madam. This ring belongs to Miss Thorne. It’s a one-of-a-kind custom design. It cannot be tried on by anyone else.” The clerk took the ring from the velvet tray and carefully slid it onto my finger. Lily stared at my hand, her eyes flashing with greed and resentment. Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “Miss Thorne, you know Bob and I are getting married in a week. Are you trying to humiliate me with this ring?” A wedding in a week? But Bob knew that in a week, it was my birthday banquet, where my father was going to announce my marriage and host the ceremony. The wedding of the Thorne heiress was set to be the event of the year in Kingsbridge. I looked at Bob. He avoided my gaze, explaining uncomfortably, “You’ll just have to hide somewhere. I’ll tell the wedding planner we’re changing it to a different theme and that Lily is the bride. After the wedding is over, I’ll spend a couple of extra days with you. You should be grateful.” The way he acted like he was making some grand sacrifice made me want to laugh in his face. I had never met anyone so utterly shameless. A housekeeper’s daughter was going to steal my identity to marry in a lavish ceremony, and I, the actual bride, was supposed to hide in a corner like a rat? Thank God I had cut my losses and already switched the groom. Seeing my silence, Bob assumed he had me under his thumb again. “You won’t be needing this ring anyway,” he commanded. “Take it off and give it to Lily.” “No!” I sneered. “Bob, where do you get the confidence that I would ever marry you?” He blinked, then laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “Do you hear yourself? Besides me, who would want a shameless, groveling doormat like you?” Before I could react, he violently ripped the ring from my finger and tried to force it onto Lily’s. But it was a size too small. After struggling for a moment, Lily started crying. “Miss Thorne, if you didn’t want to give it to me, you should have just said so! Why would you hurt me like this on purpose?” Furious, Bob snatched the ring, stormed over to the restroom, and flushed it down the toilet five times. He came out, wrapped an arm around the sobbing Lily, and shot me a look of utter disappointment as they left. “If Lily can’t wear it, then a venomous woman like you doesn’t deserve to either.” 4 The ring was gone. I was wondering how to explain it to Julian when he called me first. He told me not to worry, that he had already commissioned a new one from overseas and that it would arrive in time for my birthday. Relieved, I went to my design studio on the way home, intending to pick up the wedding dress my mother had designed for me before she died. But as soon as I walked in, the receptionist told me, “Miss Aurora, Mr. Boyle is upstairs.” For the past five years, no one around me knew the depth of my obsession with Bob. It was so consuming that even my most sacred professional space was a place he could enter without question. At that thought, a heavy sense of dread washed over me. I raced upstairs, and the sight that greeted me sent a wave of hot fury to my head. Lily was standing in front of a mirror, preening in the wedding dress my mother had made for me with her own hands. “Bob, do I look beautiful in this dress?” “Of course. My Lily is the most beautiful bride in the world.” My mother had been an internationally renowned fashion designer. In her final days, ravaged by illness, she had poured all her remaining strength into creating one last, perfect dress for me, sketching the design and sewing every stitch herself. After her death, that dress became my most treasured possession. In the first two years we were together, Bob had held me many times, whispering praise. “My Aurora, when you wear this dress, you will be the most beautiful bride in the world.” I felt as if I’d been slapped, my head ringing. “Who gave you permission to touch my things? Take that dress off!” Bob’s face hardened. “Aurora, you bullied Lily and you stole her ring. Consider this dress an apology.” My expression was ice. “I said, take it off!” Humiliated by my defiance, Bob roared, “Enough, Aurora! If you keep this up, you can kneel at my feet until you die, and I still won’t show up at your birthday banquet! You’ll be the one who’s shamed!” “I’m warning you, know your limits, or I’ll make you regret it.” “It’s okay, Bob,” Lily said, stepping in. “If Miss Thorne doesn’t want me to have it, I’ll take it off.” She disappeared into the changing room, but when she emerged, she was holding a pile of torn fabric. “Oh, Miss Thorne, I’m so sorry! I had no idea the quality was so poor. It just ripped to pieces when I barely pulled at it. It’s a good thing I didn’t take it. Wearing such garbage to a wedding would be so degrading.” I stared at the shredded silk on the floor, my heart twisting in agony. Bob, seeing my devastation, said magnanimously, “Since it’s ruined, just forget it. It wasn’t worth much anyway. In a week, you be ready. Transfer all of your father’s assets to me, not a single cent left behind. After Lily and I have our wedding, you can be my official mistress. I’ll give you a three-hundred-dollar monthly allowance. Consider it compensation.” I watched them walk away, laughing and chatting. My gaze turned cold. In one week, we’ll see who’s still laughing. My father threw a lavish birthday banquet for me. Besides the other three great families of Kingsbridge, many of our business partners were in attendance. The moment Bob walked in, he was swarmed with well-wishers. “Mr. Boyle, you were clearly born for greatness. You and Miss Thorne are a match made in heaven.” “After today, you’ll be the most powerful man in Kingsbridge! When you’re feasting, we hope you’ll leave some scraps for us little guys.” Bob, high on the praise, was puffed up with arrogance. When I appeared in an exquisite gown, he immediately scowled and hissed, “Why are you dressed so conspicuously? It’ll be harder for you to hide later. Go find a maid’s uniform and hide in a bathroom. Don’t come out all day.” I didn’t even look at him. Bob’s face turned black with rage. “Aurora, if you dare ruin my wedding with Lily, don’t ever expect me to look at you again.” Just then, my father emerged from his study with his lawyer. He smiled at me. “Darling daughter, since you’ve chosen your husband yourself, why don’t you make the announcement?” Bob saw me walking toward him and a triumphant smirk spread across his face. In the next second, I walked right past him and linked my arm with the man standing behind him. “Dad,” I announced, my voice clear and steady. “The man I choose to marry is Julian Blackwood.”

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1 After the real heiress returned, my parents sent me to the Isle of Innocence. Once you set foot on that island, you become prey for the wealthy. They ignored my pleas, leaving me to be passed around and tormented by the billionaires who frequented its shores. Within days, lewd photos of me on the island landed in the hands of my fiancé, Liam Sterling, the scion of Kingsbridge’s most powerful family. He didn’t defend me. Instead, he announced his engagement to the real heiress. In an interview, when a reporter asked about me, he trembled with rage. “Her? She couldn’t even keep her legs closed while she was ‘abroad.’ She’s nothing but a slut.” My parents feigned heartbreak. “We sent her overseas for a better education, and this is how she behaves! So shameless! As of today, the Thorne family no longer has this daughter!” After I was tortured to death on the island, my ex-fiancé and the real heiress held a multi-million dollar wedding, broadcast live for the whole world to see. It was an unprecedented spectacle. But even more sensational than their wedding was my wedding gift. … When the wedding officiant held up the gift, a wave of murmurs swept through the guests. “Isn’t she supposed to be in another country? What kind of stunt is she pulling now?” “She has no shame. How dare she show up and disgust everyone at Miss Thorne’s wedding!” My spirit floated in the air, my gaze fixed on that gift box. I was already dead. How could I have sent a gift? Liam’s eyes were downcast; I couldn’t read his expression. I expected him to defend Clara, just as he had done countless times before. But this time, he simply said, “Let’s see what it is.” Whispers started again. “Stella Thorne was Liam’s ex-fiancée, and she cheated on him so shamelessly. It’s only natural he’d want to see what game she’s playing.” Clara tried to stop him, but in the next second, Liam opened the box. Inside was an old phone. I recognized it. It was mine. The screen lit up, showing seven unread video files. The guests exchanged glances, their whispers growing louder. “You don’t think it’s… nudes of her from overseas, do you? Hahaha…” “Maybe she’s trying to blackmail him with her own nudes to win him back?” “Wouldn’t surprise me. Wasn’t she some kind of internet influencer before? The trashy kind. She’s capable of anything.” More than anger, I felt a strange curiosity. How did my phone get here? My mother rushed forward and snatched the phone. “This is outrageous! What is Stella trying to do? Today is Clara’s wedding! Is she deliberately trying to cause trouble?!” “She’s an ungrateful snake we raised! Even her gifts are cursed!” My father was even more direct, grabbing the phone to smash it on the ground. “Get rid of it! Don’t let it taint Clara’s wedding!” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. They didn’t seem to know I was dead. Then again, the day they abandoned me on that island, they had already considered me dead. Just as the phone was about to hit the floor, Liam’s hand shot out, catching it securely. His brow was furrowed as he looked at my parents. “I said, let’s watch.” My parents froze. The guests fell silent. Without another word, he unlocked the phone and played the first video. On the screen, the scene was from Clara’s first day back at the Thorne mansion. She stood timidly in the doorway, her eyes red, looking like a frightened rabbit. The moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees, crying, “Sister! I know you don’t want me here! I’m begging you! Please don’t send people to beat me up again!” My mother heard this and slapped me across the face. “You hired people to hurt Clara?! How could you be so vicious?!” The phone was knocked from my hand. I stumbled back. “Mom, I didn’t!” But she wouldn’t listen. She pointed a finger in my face. “Remember this: you are just the adopted daughter of this family. Know your place, and don’t you dare covet what belongs to Clara!” Before the video even finished, my parents were panicking. “We already had it investigated!” my father shouted. “It was Stella who hired thugs to attack Clara! She threatened her to stop her from coming home! We weren’t being unfair!” The video continued. In the frame, my trembling hands picked up the phone from the floor. Tears dripped onto the screen. “I really didn’t,” I whispered. The camera panned over my pale face, then down to my arm, where several large, ugly purple bruises stood out against my skin. The guests noticed. “What happened to Stella’s arm?” someone asked. My mother quickly explained, her voice strained, “She did that to herself! She’s always been an expert at playing the victim to get sympathy! She just wants attention!” A flood of comments appeared on the live stream, a tidal wave of abuse directed at me. “What a manipulative bitch! She’s a total fake!” “She looks so innocent, but she’s pure evil underneath! She deserved to be kicked out of the Thorne family!” Clara smiled smugly, then chose her moment to interrupt. “Darling! It’s our wedding day. Let’s not watch this anymore!” “Even though my sister hired people to hurt me, she’s been punished for it now. I don’t blame her anymore!” I sneered. Punished? Clara, does your conscience feel no pain at all? Liam ignored her pleading. His gaze was cold, fixed on the screen. “Is that so? I’d like to see for myself exactly how she staged all of this.” He tapped the second video. On screen, I was adjusting myself in front of the camera, preparing to record a self-tape for an upcoming audition. Though I wasn’t formally trained, I had acted in several popular web series over the years and had a small following. A director had seen my work and wanted me to audition for a role. I had thought that since I wasn’t the real heiress, I had to become exceptional in my own right to be worthy of Liam. Suddenly, the door opened and Clara walked in, an apologetic look on her face. “Sister, I know Mom and Dad moved you to the maid’s room as soon as I got back. You’re not angry, are you?” Before I could answer, her expression twisted into a manic grin. “You’re such an idiot!” “Can’t you see they only have eyes for me? Why are you still clinging to this family?” “All I did was mention that you might have sent people to hurt me, and they wanted to remove you from the family registry immediately! Isn’t that hilarious?” I didn’t want to fight with her. “It’s not funny, Clara,” I said coldly. “I don’t want anything that’s yours. Please stop coming to me with this nonsense.” My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her even more. She lunged forward, grabbing a handful of my hair, her face a mask of rage. “Stella Thorne! What right do you have to say you don’t want what’s mine?!” “Liam is mine! If you hadn’t stolen my identity as the Thorne heiress, would you have ever had the chance to marry him?!” “I’m warning you, break off the engagement! Or the bruises on your arm will be the least of your worries!” The video ended abruptly. The hall was silent for a few seconds before someone shouted, “What the hell?! So the one being bullied wasn’t Clara, it was Stella?!” “So Stella never hired anyone to hurt Clara? It was all a lie?!” “The one who staged everything… was Clara!” My parents’ faces turned white as they looked at their daughter. Clara’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “You’ve misunderstood!” she cried pitifully. “My sister and I were just rehearsing a scene!” “She was busy with her audition back then, and she gave me these lines to help her practice!” A flicker of understanding crossed my father’s face, and he chimed in, “I can’t believe how calculating Stella is! This was obviously a trap she set up in advance!” My mother nodded vigorously. “And our kind-hearted Clara was just helping her! For Stella to use this video to slander her sister… it’s despicable!” “I bet she knows she’s filth now. She can’t be Mrs. Sterling, so she doesn’t want Clara to be either! She’s pure venom!” A few guests began to murmur their agreement. “She is filthy. I saw every one of those photos of her. She didn’t look like she was being forced.” “Exactly. To throw away a man like Liam Sterling… what was she thinking?” “So that’s how it was… No wonder the Thornes have no feelings for her! She brought it all on herself!” Floating in the air, I shivered and instinctively looked at Liam. Don’t believe them… But Liam just smiled. “I’d also like to know what she was thinking. Let’s keep watching.” He played the third video. On screen, I was beaming, speaking to the camera. “Liam! I got the part! I passed the audition! Aren’t I amazing?” “Hmph! I’m going to buy you a present, just to show you that I’m a successful woman in my own right!” “What should I get you, though?” “You already have everything…” “I’ve got it! I’ll buy a beautiful new dress and wear it when I see you! Hehe, I’m such a genius.” In the video, I rested my chin in my hands, my eyes sparkling like stars. A few comments popped up on the live stream: “Stella looks so adorable here…” “Is this really the ‘vicious’ heiress? Am I seeing things?” Liam’s hand trembled slightly, his expression unreadable. Clara grabbed his arm. “Liam! Stella is in your past! I’m the one you’re marrying now! Let’s stop, please?” When he didn’t answer, she burst into tears. “There are so many people here… you’re humiliating me…” My mother chimed in, “That’s right. Stella is overseas now, living who knows how wild a life. She’s long forgotten you. There’s no point in watching this.” No… My spirit hovered near him, wanting to scream that I had never forgotten. To my surprise, Liam just chuckled softly. He brushed Clara’s hand away and continued the video. On screen, I was still happily planning my future. The next second, Clara walked in. “Sister, what are you so happy about?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you actually thought Director Evans gave you the part?” I froze. “What do you mean?” Clara pulled out her phone and put it on speaker. “Director Evans? How was Stella Thorne’s acting?” A greasy, lecherous laugh came from the other end. “Her? She was just a fun little toy.” “You should have seen her. I asked her to unbutton her shirt, and she played coy for a bit, but she did it in the end.” “A girl with no shame, dreaming of becoming a big star. What a joke.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. My face flushed with shame. I pointed a trembling finger at Clara. “Why would you do this to me?” Clara crossed her arms, looking down at me. “Just a little lesson. You’d best not touch what’s mine.” Hearing the argument, my parents burst in. Seeing my state, my mother immediately rushed to protect Clara. “Stella, are you bullying your sister again?!” My father’s eyes were blazing. “You have no manners at all!” I bit my lip, refusing to explain as I had in the past. I knew it was useless. But then Clara started crying. “Mom, just now, sister said that in this house, it’s either her or me. Is that true?” “You!” My mother was shaking with rage. She slapped me, again and again. “I’m sending you away! I’m sending you away right now!” Clara sobbed, “Why not send her to the Isle of Innocence? That will teach her a lesson.” The Isle of Innocence… I’d heard of that place. An island where the rich and powerful traded and toyed with people like commodities. “No!” I dropped to my knees, clinging to my mother’s leg. “Mom, I don’t want to go there! Please don’t send me!” She kicked me away in disgust. “You don’t want to go? You’re leaving tomorrow morning!” I suddenly thought of Liam. “I’m Liam Sterling’s fiancée!” I screamed. “You can’t send me there!” My answer was another sharp slap. My father sneered. “Once you’re on that island, a plaything for billionaires, do you think the Sterling family will still want you?” “When that happens, the only one worthy of marrying into their family will be Clara!” Even as a ghost, I could feel the sting on my cheek. The parents who had raised me for twenty-two years had never loved me, not even for a second. When the video ended, someone in the crowd asked, “Weren’t we told Stella went abroad? Why was she sent to the Isle of Innocence?!” “Can anyone come back from that place… intact?!” Clara panicked, lunging for the phone. “The videos are fake! My sister faked them! She has no self-respect! She went there on her own!” But before her hand could even touch the phone, she was pinned to the floor by the Sterlings’ security guards. My parents moved to intervene but were frozen in place by a single glare. Liam’s eyes were red. He choked out the words, “What exactly did Stella endure on that island? Let’s watch… bit… by bit.”

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It was our 99th wedding, and Sebastian was late again. As I calmed our guests, his mentee Nina texted: “Vivi, don’t wait—he’s not coming. Do you know why he proposed? I got a boyfriend; he was mad, and you were just his tantrum. He regretted it right away, hence the excuses and 98 standups. Isn’t it time to quit?” I said nothing—no screams, no breakdown. I just watched Sebastian rush in, still in his white lab coat. “Data fluctuation,” he said flatly. “I’m late.” I’d heard that too many times. He didn’t apologize, just grabbed candy from the favor bowls. “All good now—I’m leaving. Nina’s waiting for our tutoring session.” He never missed a session with her. I glanced at my parents, hunched over apologizing to guests. Exhaustion and disgust flooded me. Then it hit me: the groom didn’t have to be him. 1 Sebastian didn’t care about anything that wasn’t physics. Sometimes, he’d even mistake me for someone else. I used to think he was just lost in his own world, that he was like that with everyone. But just now, the candies he’d grabbed were all the strawberry ones. The ones with the pretty wrappers. Nina’s favorite. Meanwhile, he had never once remembered I was allergic to flowers. A dense rash of red bumps was already blooming across my arms. I stared blankly at the yellow roses Sebastian had brought as a half-hearted apology. I remembered all the times I had lost my temper over his thoughtlessness. He never explained, just watched me, his brow furrowing into those fine, handsome lines, waiting for my storm to pass. Then he’d act as if nothing had happened. “Vivian!” My mother’s gasp cut through my thoughts as she saw the angry red welts covering my skin. She and Dad rushed me to the hospital. As my consciousness began to fade, the sound of my mother’s suppressed sobs echoed in my ears. “It’s all your fault, John! You were the one who insisted on introducing Sebastian to her!” My dad had been Sebastian’s professor in college. He’d seen Sebastian’s brilliance and had been determined to set us up. I, on the other hand, had been captivated by Sebastian’s cool, distant aura and had chased him relentlessly. He had sighed back then, a single plume of frosted air in the winter chill. “Vivian, I don’t do relationships.” I’d just blinked, my voice bright and fearless. “That’s okay. I can teach you!” He had smiled then. Only now did I understand the exhaustion and annoyance laced into that smile. My father couldn’t reach Sebastian. Seething, he called the university lab, but they couldn’t find him either. “Sebastian isn’t here. I think he had something important to take care of.” “What could possibly be more important than his fiancée being hospitalized?” my dad roared into the phone. Just as he finished, I looked up and saw him. Sebastian. He was carefully supporting a pale-faced girl. The same Sebastian who always maintained a physical distance from everyone was pressed right up against her, their bodies leaving no space in between. The man of few words was murmuring an endless stream of instructions. “Nina, the doctor said you have to take the fever medication every day, you can’t…” His voice trailed off as his eyes met mine across the bustling emergency room. So, a minor fever for Nina was a crisis of epic proportions. An event so monumental it could pull him away from his precious experiments. I remembered the time I was harassed by a group of thugs on a dark street. I’d frantically called him, my voice shaking with terror. His voice had been chillingly calm, like the clinking of glass beakers. “Calling me won’t help, Vivian. The person you need to call right now is the police.” In his eyes, I was no different from any other nameless face in a crowd. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, walking over, his voice laced with a sliver of detached concern. Nina was still clinging to his arm, looking frail and guilty. “Vivi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a bother on your wedding day.” A smile stretched across my lips. “Oh, don’t worry. You can bother him all you want from now on.” “Because I’m done marrying him.” 2 For the first time, the stern line of Sebastian’s mouth slackened. My parents, on the other hand, looked at me with a mixture of shock and relief. They knew I was stubborn as a mule; once I made up my mind, I never backed down. And once I let something go, I never looked back. Sebastian, clearly, hadn’t grasped that yet. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a weary gesture, assuming I was just throwing another jealous tantrum. “Vivian, you’d better mean that.” He said it because every time I’d broken up with him before, I’d come crawling back within two days, begging to get back together. He thought this time would be no different. But when he finally returned home after another long, complicated experiment, he was greeted not by a warm meal and a waiting fiancée, but by a cold, silent apartment. Sebastian’s exhausted mind ground to a halt. He frowned, puzzled for a moment, then pulled out his phone to call me. “Vivian, I’m hungry.” I froze on the other end of the line, stunned that this was the first thing he would say to me after days of cold silence. Then, a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. Sebastian was hailed as a genius in the world of physics. He could solve the most complex equations, conduct the most intricate experiments. But when it came to basic life skills, he was a complete zero. I was young then, my world revolving entirely around him. I willingly moved in, became his caretaker, his maid, his chef, believing my warmth could eventually melt his icy exterior. But just moments ago, Nina had unblocked me from her private social media stories. [Day 100 of bringing lunch for my mentor. Today is eggplant with ground pork!] The photo showed a vibrant, delicious-looking meal. My eyes immediately locked onto the long, elegant hand in the frame. Sebastian’s hand. [He said it was amazing! He ate every last bite!] Reading that, my eyes stung with unshed tears. Because the one food Sebastian absolutely despised was eggplant. My thumb pressed hard against the screen, zooming in on the photo. And there, in the corner of the shot, I saw it. The meticulously prepared, nutritionally balanced lunch I’d woken up at 6 AM to make for him… sitting in the trash. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Sebastian,” I said, each word a carefully chipped piece of ice, “do you just think I’m that easy to walk all over?” He heard the sob in my voice, a sharp intake of breath on his end. He started to say something, but I had already hung up and blocked his number. He was a smart man. I figured he would understand that for an adult, refusing to communicate meant the end. But it seemed Sebastian was missing that particular circuit. Later that night, in the pouring rain, he stood on my doorstep, holding a cake box. “Nina said girls like cake, so I went all the way to…” “Enough!” I shoved the box out of his hands, sending the cake tumbling to the wet ground. The dam of my emotions finally broke. “You’re not Nina’s goddamn dog, Sebastian! You don’t need her permission to breathe!” “I am so done! Just go be with Nina! I sincerely, truly hope you two are happy together!” I slammed the door in his face. Through the peephole, I saw him standing there, raindrops clinging to his long eyelashes, a stunned expression on his face. It was only then, I think, that it began to dawn on him that this time was different. Before he could process it, his phone rang. His advisor, telling him there was a problem with the experimental data. Sebastian had no choice but to leave. We didn’t speak for two weeks. From what little my dad told me, he was preparing to compete for the Buckley Prize, one of the highest honors in physics. Then, one night, he called me from an unknown number. “Vivian, what are you doing?” Hearing his weary, raspy voice, I paused for a beat before answering truthfully. “I’m trying on a wedding dress.”

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After another cold war with my childhood sweetheart, I didn’t go running to him. My friends all tried to talk me down. “He’s just complicated, Willow. He says the opposite of what he means.” “Difficult people need a patient lover.” But I was just so tired. I didn’t want to be the one to back down anymore. All those years of cold wars, of arguments and avoidance… they had worn me down so much that I couldn’t even tell the difference anymore. Was he really just complicated, or did he just not love me? So, when he threatened me with a breakup again, I just said, “Fine. Let’s break up.” 1 Hearing me say that, Jerry visibly froze. But I just kept my head down, my voice steady. “I’ll get my things packed and out of here as soon as I can. You can keep everything we bought together. As for the clothes you left at my place, please come get them when you can. Or I can have them couriered to you…” The only sound in the silent apartment was my own voice. Jerry’s expression shifted from stormy to a cold, blank mask. He cut me off abruptly. “What about Pudding? How do we split him?” Pudding was the stray cat I’d found by the gate of our complex. I’d adopted him, paid for all his expenses. But he never warmed up to me. Eight times out of ten, he wouldn’t let me hold him. He’d even scratched my wrist a few times. Jerry, on the other hand, was always indifferent to him, never paid him any mind. And yet, Pudding would actively rub against his legs, meowing and begging for attention. “You can have him, too,” I said, letting out a long breath. No matter how much you love something, that kind of blatant favoritism will eventually break your heart. “Willow Morgan,” Jerry said, his voice tight with suppressed anger, “you’re the one who missed Valentine’s Day. Why are you the one throwing a tantrum?” But wasn’t he the one who said “break up” first? Maybe he’d forgotten. He threw those words around so often, after all. It was an effective threat, and he used it like a well-worn tool. “I told you, my flight was delayed. That’s why I was late getting back.” Jerry just sneered. “Excuses. Why couldn’t you have just caught an earlier flight?” On this business trip, I had worked for over ten hours straight, compressing my schedule just to make it onto a flight that would get me home the same day. But Jerry wouldn’t listen to that. He would find a hundred other reasons to blame me. So I fell silent, a profound sense of powerlessness washing over me. Jerry walked a few steps toward the door, then turned back, his tone icy. “I’m not coming back until you admit you were wrong.” “We’ve already broken up,” I said. But it was as if he hadn’t heard me. He tilted his head, continuing his monologue. “I’ll give you one more chance. It’s not just about you being late.” That was a first. Usually, he’d just slam the door and leave, even if his tone was still as hard as steel. “Think it over, and then come apologize to me.” 2 I sat on the sofa for a long time before dragging my exhausted body up to clean the living room. I retrieved the gift from the trash can. I had run to a dozen different shops in another country to find this, picking it out with so much care. But the person it was for hadn’t even glanced at it. He didn’t cherish it. So, like the rest of the wreckage scattered across the floor, it was worthless. After cleaning the living room, I went to the bedroom to pack. This was Jerry’s home. Every corner of it was filled with traces of me. The mugs we picked out together, the throw blanket, the matching sets of dishes… I only packed a few items of clothing and walked out with my suitcase. As I reached the door, a flash of yellow fur shot out in front of me. As if to block my path, Pudding flopped down in the middle of the living room and refused to move, his round eyes fixed on me. When I first found him, he was dirty and rail-thin, clearly malnourished. Now, his fur was fluffy and glossy. He was an undeniably handsome cat. I knelt down. In a rare exception, Pudding didn’t shrink from my touch. I stroked his head. “I’m leaving now. He’ll take care of you from now on.” Pudding would probably like that. He always preferred Jerry anyway. Not like me, the person he never let get close. I carefully pried his claws from where they were hooked into my pant leg. Ignoring his frantic meows, I picked up my suitcase and left. 3 As I reached the main gate of the complex, I got a call. It was one of Jerry’s friends, and his tone was accusatory. “Willow, what did you do to Jerry this time? He’s at my bar, drinking himself stupid, and no one can stop him. You need to get over here and drag him home before he wrecks the place.” I felt that familiar weariness creep back in. “I don’t even know why he’s angry. The moment I walked in the door, he flipped the table.” There was a pause on the other end, then a note of surprise. “You don’t know? He found out you had dinner with another guy. That guy even dropped you back at your hotel. Jerry’s jealous, Willow.” “He was a client,” I explained. “It was a business dinner. He gave me a ride because it was pouring rain and I couldn’t get a cab.” So that was the real reason. Jerry was always like this. He’d get jealous and angry if I so much as spoke to another man for too long. I used to tell myself it was because he loved me, because he was possessive. But now, all I felt was exhaustion. “I can explain everything,” I said into the phone, my voice soft. “I just don’t understand one thing.” “Why is he willing to tell all of you everything, but he’s never willing to just ask me?” I once asked my best friend what she did when she and her boyfriend fought. She thought for a moment. “Depends on who’s right and who’s wrong. We wait until we’ve both cooled down, then we just talk it out.” But Jerry would never do that. He kept everything bottled up inside. I never knew why he was angry. I always had to guess, or ask his friends. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t communicate with me. Why he’d rather vent to his friends than just ask me for the truth. Later, I learned a word for it: emotionally constipated. Jerry was the most emotionally constipated person I had ever met. He was sensitive and volatile. His only responses were to retreat and withdraw, using cold, cutting words to test me. Everyone said that people like him weren’t cut out for relationships. Only I didn’t believe them, and I charged ahead, full of passion. But now, I was lost. If a relationship always depends on one person making all the effort… can it really last? 4 I moved back into my own apartment. But even if we didn’t see each other at home, we still had to see each other at work. We worked at the same research institute, just in different departments. During a project handoff, I saw a young woman trailing beside him. She had a fresh, innocent look about her—a graduate student who had just started this year. Her name was Chloe. Jerry’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me. But I didn’t look at him, just calmly went through the work procedures. And just like that, the warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by an icy chill. He walked right past me without a word, his gaze fixed straight ahead. I overheard Chloe’s curious whisper. “Dr. Croft, how did you get that huge scar on your arm? It really startled me the first time I saw it.” Someone else answered. “You’re new, so you wouldn’t know. Our Dr. Croft and Dr. Morgan from the next department… they’re the couple. Total power couple. That scar is from an old earthquake drill. He was carrying her because she’d sprained her ankle. I heard that scar is why he couldn’t become a pilot, so he switched majors and ended up here.” Chloe’s eyes filled with admiration. “That’s so moving. They really are the perfect couple.” The gossip mill instantly churned to life. From Jerry giving up his dream for me to him applying to the institute to be with me, everyone was praising his devotion and, by extension, expressing their envy of me. Our cold war of the past few days was dismissed as simple lovers’ banter. “I bet you it’s Dr. Morgan who apologizes first again.” “Last time she bought us all bubble tea. What is it this time? I’m hoping for cupcakes.” “No way, that’s cheating. It’s always Dr. Morgan who gives in first. If you bet on him apologizing, then I’ll take that bet.” I stood in the corner, listening silently to their laughter. But this time, they were all wrong. “Jerry and I have broken up,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “Please don’t bring it up again.” My appearance brought the conversation to a screeching halt. People exchanged awkward glances and quickly dispersed. The truth was, our relationship was nowhere near as perfect as it looked from the outside. The endless cold wars and arguments had left it covered in invisible wounds, fragile and on the verge of collapse. I really wanted to know, Jerry… now that I’m not fixing things, now that I’m not trying to save us… will you even notice? Will you try to get me back? This time, will you be the one to apologize to me first? 5 For an entire month, Jerry and I were like strangers. It was a standoff. Neither of us was willing to be the first to back down. In the meantime, Chloe and Jerry were getting closer. They had lunch together, left work together. During a weekend team-building hike, Jerry even chose to be in her group. It was Chloe, ironically, who seemed hesitant. “Isn’t this… a little inappropriate? What about Dr. Morgan?” Jerry’s tone was dismissive. “We broke up, didn’t we? Why should I care what she does?” He didn’t lower his voice; everyone around us could hear. “Besides, she loves having dinner with other men so much. I’m sure hiking is no different.” Instantly, the way people looked at me changed. I heard whispers. “She has a great boyfriend like Dr. Croft and she doesn’t appreciate him. Flirting with other guys… no wonder he broke up with her.” The gossiping group only scattered when they saw me approaching. On the way up the mountain, Chloe twisted her ankle. Without a second thought, Jerry crouched down and lifted her onto his back. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice filled with guilt. “Now we’re going to be last because of me.” Jerry’s voice was gentle. “It’s fine. We were just here to relax anyway. The ranking doesn’t matter.” I was trailing behind them. There was an odd number of people on the trip, and everyone else had already paired up. Not wanting to break anyone up, I just went as a group of one. My stamina had never been great, and I was already breathing heavily. The atmosphere between the two of them up ahead was peaceful and harmonious. I even heard someone praise Jerry for being so dependable. 6 Jerry was, indeed, a very dependable person. He was polite and gentlemanly to everyone. Except me. In college, he was our class president. During an earthquake drill, everyone scrambled for the exits. He was the only one who ran against the crowd, back towards me, to carry me out because I had sprained my ankle a few days prior. The entire university buzzed about it. Everyone envied my luck. But what they didn’t know was that Jerry was scolding me the entire time. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you are? If you’ve sprained your ankle, why don’t you just stay home? Now you’ve dragged our whole class down to last place again. Willow, you’re completely useless.” I wanted to tell him that I had already gotten permission from the professor to skip the drill. But hearing his harsh words, I didn’t want to argue and make him angrier. Later, his friends told me he was just being contrary. That he was actually worried about my ankle and wanted me to rest at home. He had even gone to find a traditional medicine doctor to get a special ointment for me. “He makes a hundred bucks a day at his part-time job, but one of those patches costs eighty. He bought you two weeks’ worth without even hesitating.” My best friend was envious. “He’s just awkward, but he really loves you. That whole broody, secretly-caring thing is so romantic.” But now, watching Jerry comfort Chloe, I finally realized something. It wasn’t that he was incapable of gentleness. He just wasn’t gentle with me. I could feel his love through the words of others, but never from his own actions. He always spoke to me with venom, always gave me the cold shoulder. He called me stupid, called me frivolous. He cut up a scarf someone else had given me, smashed a gaming console a colleague had lent me. I told myself he was just jealous, that he just cared too much. So, after being pushed away time and time again, after every refusal to communicate, I would soothe my own hurt feelings, and then I would be the one to be warm and proactive, to apologize tirelessly, to be the first to give in. But passion needs to be reciprocated. I wasn’t invincible in this relationship. I could feel hurt and sad, too. The way he acted when he was being “difficult” and the way he acted when he didn’t love me were so similar. I was too heartbroken to tell the difference anymore. Was Jerry really just complicated, or had he just stopped loving me?

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1 In the city’s elite circles, there was a running joke: “If your husband’s giving you trouble, just have him spend an afternoon with Leo Hanover. He’s the only man in the city who’d let his wife bring home a different man every night for the sake of their kid.” So at parties, someone would inevitably say with a sigh, “If only my husband had half of Leo’s patience.” What they didn’t know was that Leo Hanover, the man they saw as the city’s most patient and obedient husband, on a day no different from any other, asked his wife for a divorce. He didn’t even want the child. When I brought it up, nobody believed me. Including my wife, Victoria Sterling. … “What is this nonsense?” When I said I wanted a divorce, Victoria didn’t even look up from her paperwork. Only the ash at the tip of her cigarette grew long, forgotten. “I said, I want a divorce.” Victoria glanced at her watch, her brow furrowed, and answered a question I hadn’t asked. “Damian gets out of school in seventeen minutes.” I knew what she was doing. She was using our son as leverage. But she didn’t know what had happened yesterday. At the Sterling family dinner, as I was picking the hated green onions out of his soup, as I always did, our eight-year-old son, Damian, looked up at me. “Dad,” he said suddenly, “I’ve realized you’re really pathetic.” I froze on the spot. My chopsticks clattered to the floor. Damian didn’t even flinch at the sound, continuing as if talking to himself. “No wonder everyone calls you a spineless doormat. Even Grandma can’t stand you. And honestly? You’re not nearly as fun as the uncles Mom brings home.” A ripple of snickering went through the Sterling family members at the table. Only my face was terrifyingly cold. Damian saw my humiliation, but he just frowned. “Dad, don’t always act like I’m bullying you. Pouting like a little kid all the time… don’t you have any shame?” For a dizzying moment, I saw his mother’s reflection in the son I had raised for eight years. Just then, Victoria walked in with her companion for the evening, the hot new movie star, Evan Vance. Victoria’s mother finally spoke up, smoothing things over. “Alright, Damian is just a child. You’re his father, are you really going to hold a grudge against your own son?” The others chimed in. “Yes, kids say the darndest things. Don’t take it to heart.” “Besides, everyone in the city knows your reputation. Damian is just repeating what he hears. You can’t blame him.” I just watched silently as Damian, who had been glaring at me with impatience just a moment before, broke into a wide grin and ran towards Victoria and Evan. He grabbed Evan’s arm, swinging it playfully. Evan, smiling conspiratorially, produced a paper kite from behind his back. The way Damian’s face lit up, it was clear this wasn’t their first meeting. They already had their little secrets. Victoria felt my gaze and glanced at me, but her eyes slid right past, as if I were a piece of furniture. She probably assumed the grim look on my face was just the usual breakdown after being the butt of the joke. She was used to it, after all. But this time, the one treating me like a joke wasn’t some stranger. It was the son I had painstakingly nurtured, cared for, and raised for eight long years. “Are you sure you want a divorce?” Perhaps my silence had stretched on for too long. Victoria was finally looking at me. My eyes met hers. “Yes, Ms. Sterling,” I said softly. Victoria Sterling and I were a mismatch in every conceivable way—family background, status, even looks. The only reason she had chosen me as her husband was because I was compliant and emotionally astute. For years, to keep her happy, I had lived by two simple rules: Never say anything that would anger Victoria. Never do anything that would anger Victoria. “You…” Before she could finish, the office door was pushed open. I was surprised to see Evan. Victoria had a rule: the men she brought home were never brought to the office. Evan was the exception. “Ms. Sterling, am I interrupting?” At the sight of him, the cold lines of Victoria’s face softened slightly. “It’s nothing important. Just give me a moment. I haven’t forgotten my promise to you and Damian.” Evan smiled. “As long as you remember.” The irony was crushing. Even my request for a divorce was “nothing important” in her eyes. And Victoria, who never bent for anyone, was now being forced to compromise because of an impatient look from Evan. “If this is because you’re angry about the dinner yesterday,” she said, her voice clipped, “because my family upset you, I promise it won’t happen again.” Evan chimed in smoothly. “Leo, the park opens soon. Damian’s waiting in the car. Please, can you just let Victoria go for now?” My hand trembled. I had tried to take Damian to an amusement park countless times. He had always scoffed at the idea. “Dad, you’re a grown man. Can you stop being so childish? Going to a place like that is just a waste of my time.” Now, swallowing the bitter wave of grief rising in my throat, I pointed to the divorce papers on her desk—a document I had revised over and over again. “Sign it. I’ll leave immediately. I won’t bother you ever again.” Only then did Evan seem to notice the papers. A flicker of excitement lit up his eyes. “Ms. Sterling, should I give you two some privacy?” He said the words, but he didn’t move an inch. Victoria set down her pen with a frown. “No need.” I recognized the expression. It was the prelude to her anger. In the past, I would have immediately apologized, scrambling to smooth things over. But now, I was numb. I didn’t care. “Ms. Sterling, surely Leo isn’t trying to divorce you because of me,” Evan said, biting his lip in a display of feigned distress. He immediately turned to me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come over last night without calling. I made you angry. It’s all my fault.” He bowed his head, grabbing my wrist, his eyes full of guilt. But the sharp, digging pain of his fingernails was all too real. Out of Victoria’s line of sight, he mouthed the words, his lips forming a cruel smile: She and your son… they don’t want you. You deserve this. I felt no anger, only a profound sense of the absurd. I slowly pried his fingers off my wrist. He suddenly stumbled backward, collapsing to the floor. It was such a clumsy, pathetic performance, but Victoria bought it. And so did Damian, who had just pushed the door open. “Have you not caused enough trouble?!” Victoria’s voice was sharp. “Dad, are you crazy? Why did you push Uncle Evan?!” In that moment, my wife and my son were both accusing me, defending another man. “Uncle Evan, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone bully you again,” Damian said, rushing to Evan’s side, his face a mask of concern. Eight years ago, I had stayed up all night, every night, watching over the fragile life that was the newborn Damian. He was barely the size of my palm, lying in an incubator, clinging to life. The hospital had issued one critical condition notice after another. Nearly everyone had given up on him; the doctors said even if he survived, he wouldn’t live past five. Only I refused to let go. I begged the doctors, I prayed to every god I could think of, I sought out anyone who could possibly save him. And I did. I saved his life. That was why I could endure Victoria’s neglect, her coldness. In her eyes, Damian was my weakness, the one thing she could always use to control me. Now, she dropped all pretense. “Leo, if you really want this divorce, you will never see Damian again!” At the word “divorce,” Damian’s head snapped up. He glared at me. “Dad, you’re divorcing Mom because of Uncle Evan?” “I’m telling you, even if you get divorced, I’ll never go with you. A stupid, useless person like you doesn’t deserve my mom. Everyone laughs at you! Grandma and the others can’t stand you! Can’t you just take a good look at yourself for once?” There was no sadness in his eyes as he looked at me, only disgust. I no longer felt any lingering affection for him either. I just said, flatly, “Good. Because I don’t want you anymore, either.” Damian froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. A flush of red crept into them. He wasn’t always like this. Before he was five, whenever someone made fun of me, he would take my hand and say, “Dad, you still have me.” When I was sad, he would hug me. “Don’t be sad, Dad. Damian is here.” He was once my only anchor in that cold, cruel house. But people change. And I couldn’t live a life without a single drop of sweetness anymore. Victoria picked up her pen. With a flourish, she signed her name. “Don’t you dare regret this!” I let out a breath of pure relief. The weight I had carried for so many years was finally lifted. “I will never regret it.” My absurd marriage to Victoria Sterling had finally come to an end. I had followed her around like a shadow since we were children, but her gaze had never once landed on me. Even our marriage was a fluke. Her fiancé had left her at the altar, declaring he’d suddenly realized he preferred freedom to marriage. Humiliated and furious, Victoria had simply swapped out the groom on the spot. To everyone, I was the lucky one. I thought so too. In a place she could never see, I had secretly loved her for my entire youth. But the Sterling family was furious. They told everyone that a person from a small, insignificant family like mine could never be worthy of a Sterling. I knew it too. So for years, I was careful, cautious, trying to please every single one of them. But I was naive. There are some circles you can’t enter, no matter how hard you try. Now, I was giving up. Giving up on all of it. I folded the signed divorce agreement and put it in my bag. I checked the time. “Weren’t you going to the amusement park? If you leave now, you can still make it.” I had planned so many trips, I had the park’s operating hours memorized. I looked at Damian, my voice soft with a final instruction. “You’re allergic to mangoes. You can’t sneak any more food with mango in it.” I remembered a time when Damian would cry every night, begging to see Victoria. She would just brush me off with two words: “Too busy.” So Damian secretly ate a mango gummy. He broke out in hives all over his body, gasping for breath. Terrified, I had begged Victoria to come home. Afterward, the Sterlings berated me for days. They said my interruption had cost their company a multi-million dollar contract. They said it was my fault for not watching him properly, that the scars left by the hives were my failure. I was consumed with guilt. But Damian seemed to have found a loophole. Whenever he wanted to see his mother, he would search the house for anything containing mango. In his mind, an allergic reaction was the only way to make his mother come home. He never knew that with each frantic hospital trip, his father’s heart broke a little more. “Damian, you’re eight years old. You’ll be in the second grade soon. You need to learn to take care of yourself.” I watched as Damian pouted and turned away, hugging Evan. “You’re not my dad anymore after you divorce Mom! I don’t need you to worry about me!” A flash of memory: Damian, just learning to walk, toddling after me, endlessly chanting “Dada, Dada.” A sharp sting hit the back of my nose. My voice was hoarse. “Fine. I won’t say any more.” Victoria sensed my emotion and sneered. “Are you satisfied now that you’ve made this scene?” Evan stepped in front of her, pretending to mediate. “Victoria, take it easy. I’m sure Leo is hurting right now, too. Maybe it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. When you’ve both cooled down, you can talk it over. After all, how could he possibly bear to leave Damian? It must have just been said in anger.” Damian was the first to object, his face twisted with malice. “He doesn’t want me? Ha! I don’t want him either!” Victoria’s voice was cold as ice. “I gave him plenty of chances. He brought this on himself. People have to pay the price for their own recklessness.” But from the moment I asked for the divorce, I had never intended to look back. Evan’s eyes lit up with undisguised joy. “Well… Leo, regardless, I still think you should reconsider. We’re heading to the park now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Damian.” Victoria looked at me with a smirk. “You got what you wanted. Why are you still standing here? Are you waiting for me to beg you to stay?” Without another word, I turned and left first. “Have fun,” I said over my shoulder. Back at the Sterling mansion, I began to pack. It turned out that all my possessions from all these years fit into a single suitcase. I left the necklace I wore on the coffee table. Inside the locket was a family photo of Damian at three years old, a photo I had begged Victoria for three whole days to take. Just then, a news alert popped up on my phone. It was an entertainment headline: Victoria Sterling spotted at an amusement park. The photo showed the three of them—Victoria, Evan, and Damian—looking for all the world like a perfect family. What was there left to miss? Before I left, I gave the money I had saved over the years to the butler. “This is for Damian’s child support.” The butler hesitated, about to say something, when Victoria’s mother pushed open the main doors. She saw the suitcase and froze. “Damian told me you’re insisting on divorcing Victoria.” I was silent for a moment, then shook my head. “It’s not an insistence. It’s already done.” Her face contorted with rage, and she swept everything off a nearby table. “Leo Hanover, who gave you the nerve?! You worthless piece of trash, how dare you be the one to serve my daughter with divorce papers! I’m telling you, you will leave with nothing! And that includes Damian! You will never see your son again!” From the day I married into this family, her first words to me were a command not to call her “Mother-in-law.” Every time Damian had a little scrape, every time Victoria was slightly unwell, it was my fault. I could have endured the screaming. I was her favorite punching bag, after all. But I endured it all for Damian. Now that I was giving him up, I had no reason to endure it anymore. So when she raised her hand to slap me, I caught her wrist and shoved her away. “From the moment Victoria signed those papers, I have had nothing to do with you or the Sterling family.” Caught off guard by my resistance, she stumbled and fell. Just then, a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Leo! Have you completely lost your mind?! You dare to lay a hand on my mother?” It was Victoria. Evan was right behind her, his eyes wide as he rushed to help her mother up. “Leo, no matter how angry you are, you shouldn’t take it out on her mother!” The servants, drawn by the commotion, began whispering in the background. “I used to feel sorry for Mr. Hanover, but now I see he was just putting on an act.” “Right? This is nothing like the weak, bullied man everyone talks about. He even dares to hit his own mother-in-law.” Damian stood in front of his grandmother, glaring at me. “You’re a bad dad! You bullied Grandma! I never want to see you again! I want Uncle Evan to be my dad!” At only eight years old, he had no idea how lethal those words were. Even a heart as battered as mine could still feel the sharp, twisting pain. “She tried to hit me, I was just…” Victoria cut me off, her voice a cold sneer. “You’re saying my mother hit you? Did anyone here see that? But we all saw you push her. What else do you have to say for yourself? Leo, you’ve caused enough trouble, but bullying my mother is a new low. Apologize to her. Now.” I refused. From the moment I stepped into this house, my life had been an endless series of apologies. Damian refused to go to school, and I had to bow to his teachers. Victoria’s tie didn’t match her suit, and I had to apologize. Her mother lost face at a party, and I had to apologize to the guests. “Victoria, it’s fine,” her mother said, suddenly magnanimous in front of her daughter. “It’s nothing serious. No need to get upset.” She was always the picture of grace in front of Victoria, but behind her back, she treated me like a servant. I couldn’t stand to look at this family for another second. “Just throw out anything I haven’t packed,” I said to the butler. “I’m leaving now.” But Damian blocked my path. His eyes were red, but the words he spoke were not of reconciliation. “You think you can just walk away after bullying Grandma and Uncle Evan?” “I’m going to punish you! Just like you used to punish me! So you’ll learn your lesson about what you can and can’t do!” I stared at him in disbelief. No matter how much he disliked me, how could he hate me this much? “Mary… lock him in the attic.” The Sterling family attic was their version of a punishment room. I had locked Damian in there once, after he threw his chopsticks at me during a dinner party because he didn’t like the food. I did it to teach him a lesson. I never imagined that less than a year later, my own son would use it to “punish” me. Victoria and the others stood by, their faces blank, tacitly approving Damian’s actions. The servants grabbed me, and I struggled, my eyes burning. “Damian, I am your father! How could you do this to me?!” He looked at me with the same cold indifference as his mother. “Not anymore. Not since you divorced Mom.” The son I had raised with my own hands was now standing with them, against me. My heart, what was left of it, finally died. That night, locked in the attic, I took one last look through the window at Damian’s room. He used to love it when I played hide-and-seek with him in there. Now, he had a father he liked better. And I was choosing to let them be. I made one final phone call. Then, I lit a pile of old junk in the corner. The flames instantly roared to life, engulfing the small space. I smiled bitterly in the flickering light. “Everything here… it’s time for it to end.” Just before I jumped from the window, I thought I heard a gut-wrenching, primal scream coming from the main house…

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The day I found out I was pregnant, the 60-year-old billionaire who kept me, Arthur Howard, was at the hospital with his son and daughter-in-law for their prenatal check-up. When he saw me, he showed no concern. Instead, he told me to get rid of the baby. For the sake of the Howard family’s rightful heir, he said, the bloodline couldn’t be tainted. I didn’t cry or protest. I simply walked into the clinic for the procedure. I did it because in my past life, I fought tooth and nail to keep this child, and Arthur hated me for it. The day before he died, he even demanded I be buried with him. His descendants treated my son like a workhorse, a slave. In the end, I died at the foot of his cold, granite tombstone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day, the day he told me to have an abortion. This time, I was the one who brought it up first. “Don’t you worry,” I said with a placid smile. “I’ll take the best care of your son.” 1 As I died, I finally saw the truth. Charles Howard had never loved me. He loved only himself, and the heir who carried on his corrupted legacy. “Anna, darling,” Arthur had said in my past life, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I won’t be able to come with you for the procedure. My precious grandson needs me, you see. And a man of my standing… well, it wouldn’t do to be seen. You’re so understanding. You’ll get it, won’t you?” It was always the same. In public, Arthur Howard and I never appeared in the same frame. I suppressed the tsunami of hatred rising in my chest and replied with the practiced gentleness he expected. “I can go by myself. You should take care of yourself, too.” He nodded, pleased. He had always prized my obedience. “Anna, keep this quiet, won’t you? Don’t let a soul know, especially not my son. If he were to get the wrong idea… it wouldn’t be good for you. After all, you’re the one who’s going to be with me for the rest of my life.” “After my grandson is born,” he’d added, “I’ll marry you.” After six years together, it was the first time he’d ever mentioned marriage. But this time, I didn’t want it. In three days, I would be done with him forever. On my way to work, I stopped by a service and hired a private nurse to assist me post-procedure. The moment I stepped into the office, I saw Arthur bustling in with bags of fresh vegetables and prime cuts of meat. In my last life, when I was burning up with a fever and begged for a simple bowl of soup, he never once stepped into the kitchen for me. “I’m sixty years old,” he’d scoffed. “You really expect me to wait on a thirty-year-old woman?” I ended up dragging my limp body to the hospital alone. My hands were so weak that I spilled the scalding soup all over my hand, leaving a nasty scar that never faded. But seeing him today, I realized the truth. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook for someone. He just wouldn’t cook for me. Swallowing down my bitterness and the gnawing hunger in my stomach, I pushed open the door to the CEO’s office. There, on the plush sofa, sat Arthur’s daughter-in-law, Victoria. Her belly was barely showing, yet she was delicately nibbling on exotic, imported fruit. And here I was, summoned back to the office on a weekend without even having had breakfast. “Oh, Anna! I’m so sorry to drag you back here on your day off,” Victoria chirped, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. Arthur poked his head out from the kitchenette, his expression all business as he looked at me, but his voice softened as he turned to Victoria. “This company will belong to my darling grandson one day. Forget a weekend, if she were on her deathbed, she’d have to crawl here for him.” Victoria shot me a triumphant smirk, clutching her stomach and whining that she was hungry. But for all his effort, Arthur could only make broth. He was completely lost when it came to actual cooking. The billionaire tycoon was sweating, utterly flustered. He saw me and immediately barked an order. “Make lunch. My grandson is hungry.” I glanced at the beautiful sea bass in his hands—my favorite. I said nothing. 2 I simply took the fish into the small office kitchenette and transformed it into a fiery, sour fish stew, along with an entire spread of tart and tangy dishes. When I brought the food out, Arthur and Victoria were already seated at the table, waiting for me to set out the plates and silverware. I brought out three sets from the kitchen, carefully placing one in front of each of them. Then, I sat down and started ravenously eating the sour and spicy fish myself. Arthur stared, dumbfounded. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Anna! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you to cook, not to sit here and feast!” “And what is this garbage?” he snarled, gesturing at the table. “It’s all either sour or spicy. How is Victoria supposed to eat this?” I just smiled. How could she not? In my past life, I was their unpaid maid. I knew everyone’s tastes down to the last detail. It was because I catered to their every whim that when I was eight months pregnant, I weighed less than a hundred and ten pounds. I’m five-foot-five. This life, I would eat what I wanted. I would never again starve myself for these people. I finished my plate in minutes, patting my stomach in satisfaction. Then, I casually reached over and polished off all the fruit Arthur had so carefully prepared for Victoria. Victoria finally lost it. “Dad! What am I supposed to eat? Your precious grandson is starving!” Arthur, fuming, spun around and stormed back to the kitchen to whip up something else. But there was nothing left. I had used every last ingredient for my sour feast. In my past life, I was their doormat. In this one, I was still the company’s top salesperson. I wasn’t going to coddle them anymore. “You know the old wives’ tale,” I said nonchalantly. “‘Sour for a boy, spicy for a girl.’ I wonder which one the missus is having?” Arthur’s eyes lit up. He pushed all the sour dishes in front of Victoria. “Victoria, dear, eat up! These are all your favorites.” Victoria’s face was a mask of disgust, but she choked down the sour fish, the sweet and sour ribs, and the sour plum pork. I had to stifle a laugh. I knew for a fact she despised fish and anything sour. In the end, I was the only one who enjoyed the meal. Wiping my mouth, I walked straight up to Arthur. “Mr. Howard, I’ll be expecting my overtime pay for today.” His face went dark. “I’ll have accounting wire it to you.” I discreetly hit the record button on my phone, then waved it at him with a bright smile. “Thank you, Mr. Howard!” I called out loudly. As for the dishes, they could wash their own damn selves. Stepping out of the building, I looked back at the glass-and-steel tower that had been my cage for half my life. It had imprisoned not just my body, but my youth and my talent. The moment I was hired as a junior sales rep, Arthur had set his sights on me. For him, I abandoned my childhood sweetheart, Leo, who was waiting for me back home. I chose to become Arthur’s dirty little secret. When Leo came to the city to beg me to come back, Arthur had his men break his leg. I was so blinded by his counterfeit love back then. This life, I would repay every debt. An eye for an eye. Just as I made my vow, my phone rang. It was Arthur. “Anna, that was my daughter-in-law. She’s pregnant. I know you’re upset, but your behavior today was a profound disappointment.” “Tomorrow,” he continued, his voice cold, “you will hand over that five-million-dollar account to Victoria. And we will pretend this never happened.” As he spoke, I looked up. There, on the fifteenth floor, framed by the floor-to-ceiling window, was Victoria, looking down at me with an air of smug satisfaction. I laughed out loud. 3 “I have a hospital appointment tomorrow. I’m busy.” “And Arthur,” I added, my voice turning to ice, “don’t forget my bonus. The abortion isn’t free, you know.” “If I don’t have the money… well, you might just end up with another son.” The next morning, I treated myself to a lavish brunch at a high-end restaurant and charged it to the company account. In my past life, I was always so careful with Arthur’s money, trying to save every penny. This time, I refused to be the fool. When I arrived at the hospital, I ran right into Victoria, who was there for a check-up. Her eyes gleamed with triumph when she saw me. “Anna, you really are pathetic.” “You work yourself to the bone landing deals for the company, and in the end, you’re just paving the way for me.” Victoria was the sales manager, but she was utterly incompetent. There was no way she could handle the millions in business the company generated each year. In my past life, I was the fool who drank glass after glass of liquor, drinking until I got a stomach ulcer just to close a ten-million-dollar deal. The credit, of course, went to Victoria. Looking back, Arthur knew. He knew and he let it happen. Because Victoria was his daughter-in-law, his family. And I was just an outsider. Seeing me lost in thought, Victoria glanced down at her stomach. “Arthur specifically told me not to overwork myself. No drinking, nothing stressful. He said you could handle everything. All I have to do is focus on carrying Charles’s child.” “Sooner or later, this company will belong to me and Charles,” she sneered. “And you? You’re just a tool.” Victoria had always resented me for outshining her at work, taking every opportunity to put me down. Her taunts didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was a stray thought: how could a woman who had been on fertility medication for years suddenly get pregnant after three or four years of marriage? Who really had the problem? If Victoria was the one who couldn’t conceive, would Arthur, who was so obsessed with having a grandson, have treated her so well all this time? Could it be… Charles? I suddenly remembered a time when Arthur was discreetly researching male infertility, and the lab report for a low sperm count that I’d found in his pants pocket. If Charles had fertility problems, it all made sense. In my last life, Victoria’s pregnancy was high-risk from the start. But Arthur blamed me for not taking proper care of her, claiming it was my fault his grandson was born frail. He was so terrified I would try to claim a piece of the Howard fortune that he ordered me to be buried with him. My mind snapped back to the present when Victoria’s expression shifted. She realized why I, a single, childless woman, was in the obstetrics wing. “You’re pregnant?” she gasped. “You’re pregnant out of wedlock!” “Hah! I’m telling everyone in the company!” she shrieked, whipping out her phone, ready to destroy my reputation. I couldn’t leave the company yet. If this got out, Arthur would have no choice but to fire me. I lunged for her phone. Suddenly, Victoria screamed, “Help! She’s attacking a pregnant woman!” I froze, furious. She was pregnant, but so was I. Then, behind me, I heard the voices of Arthur and his son, Charles. Charles shoved me hard. I stumbled backward and fell as he rushed to Victoria’s side, shielding her. Arthur’s face was a mask of panic. “Victoria, are you alright? Is the baby okay?” “We should get you to a doctor, right now.” Then he turned to me, his face filled with crushing disappointment. “Anna, I thought you were better than this. I never imagined you could be so venomous, to try and harm my grandson. Go to HR tomorrow. You’re fired.” When I fell, my stomach slammed against the hard, tiled floor. Pain, sharp and blinding, shot through me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Charles looked terrified, taking a hesitant step towards me to check if I was okay. But Arthur’s voice cut through the air. “Charles, forget her! Look at Victoria, she’s clutching her stomach! She’s in pain!” Victoria’s weak cry came right on cue. “Charles, it hurts… the baby… our baby.” Charles turned to leave. I grit my teeth against the pain and saw Arthur standing there, watching me with cold, detached eyes. He saw me bleeding on the floor, and he chose to do nothing. I clawed my way forward, my blood-smeared hand grabbing the cuff of Charles’s pants. I looked up at his face, which still held a flicker of innocence. “Help… my baby,” I choked out. Charles froze. His eyes widened as he saw the crimson tide soaking through my dress, staining the white floor tiles red. But the urgent calls from Arthur and Victoria pulled him away. He scooped Victoria into his arms and sprinted towards the doctor’s office. The commotion finally drew a crowd of doctors and nurses. They gasped, shouting as they lifted me onto a gurney… As they wheeled me into the operating room, a nurse leaned close to my ear. “Ma’am? Ma’am, do you have any family here? We need them to sign the consent forms.” Through waves of agony, I stammered, “No… I have no one.” The nurse looked at my blood-soaked clothes, her expression full of pity. “But we need a signature for the surgery… what are we going to do?” “I’ll… sign.” The moment my name was on the dotted line, the anesthesiologist began to push the drug into my veins. Arthur Howard! I silently screamed. I will make you pay for this in blood. 4 The procedure was done ahead of schedule. The private nurse I’d hired never showed up. I was alone, lying on a cold hospital bed. But thank God for modern technology; at least I could order food and wouldn’t starve. The next day, as I was leaving, I went to get the official certificate for the procedure. Walking past a room, I saw Victoria surrounded by Arthur and Charles. And my hired nurse was in there with them. They were in the room right next to mine. On a morbid impulse, I pressed my ear to the door. “I’m telling you, she’s perfectly fine,” the doctor was saying, exasperated. “You can all go home.” Charles was packing Victoria’s things while Arthur followed the doctor into his office. I trailed them, listening from the hallway. “Doctor, are you absolutely sure the baby is okay?” Arthur pressed. Faced with the undeniable power of money, the doctor was exceedingly patient. “Mr. Charles Howard’s sperm quality is admittedly low, but the mother is healthy. As long as you’re careful, the baby will be fine.” So I was right. Charles Howard did have fertility problems. No wonder Arthur, the ruthless tycoon, treated his daughter-in-law like a precious treasure. Since he showed me no mercy, he could expect none from me. On the way home, I got a text from my landlord reminding me that rent was due. I spun the car around and headed straight for the office to get my money. The moment I stepped into the lobby, the whispers started. “How dare she show her face? After a scandal like that.” “No wonder she’s thirty and still single. God knows how she really got all those clients.” 5 “Exactly.” … I didn’t have to guess. Victoria must have spread the news about my pregnancy while I was unconscious, using it as an opportunity to snatch all my clients. What a beautiful dream. Ignoring the jeers, I walked into my office, only to find Victoria sitting behind my desk. All of my personal belongings were dumped in a pathetic pile on the floor. “Anna, your morals are a disgrace,” she said, looking up at me with an arrogant smirk. “Arthur said you should leave on your own. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll resign and get out.” In this life and the last, she’d stolen countless clients and bonuses from me. Now she wanted me to just roll over and quit? Not a chance. I threw the office door wide open and burst into loud, theatrical sobs. “This company is just using me and throwing me away!” I wailed for all to hear. “I just closed a massive deal, and now they want to steal my bonus and kick me out! This is inhuman!” The word “bonus” is a sensitive topic in any office. Instantly, every eye in the department was on me and Victoria. Victoria’s face cycled through shades of red and white. She was trembling with rage. “You’re the one who lost a major client because of your messy private life! I was being kind by letting you resign quietly, and you have the audacity to ask for a bonus? You’re delusional!” “Now get out, you slut!” I collapsed to my knees, my face a mask of pale misery. “Everyone, please listen to me! I bring in millions of dollars in business for this company every month, and my salary is only five thousand dollars! Is that fair?” “I work endless overtime, 364 days a year, with no extra pay!” “And now I find out that the chairman and the CEO gave my one-million-dollar bonus to Victoria!” My colleagues were stunned. A few of them immediately rushed to the finance department to check their own pay stubs. Those who couldn’t get in started muttering amongst themselves. “She’s the CEO’s wife, and she’s stealing bonuses from us regular workers? How are we supposed to survive? I wonder how much of our money she’s pocketed.” “Seriously. She’s the sales manager, but she doesn’t know a thing about sales. How does she get a million-dollar bonus every year? Meanwhile, Anna works herself to the bone for a measly five grand.” The head of finance, an older woman who knew everything, confirmed the story. That was all it took. Everyone believed me. Victoria panicked. “She’s lying! For key employees, we have a stock-option plan! The money is vested and paid out after ten years to protect the company’s interests!” “Not only does she have a depraved personal life, but she’s also undermining our company’s entire compensation structure! We can’t have someone like her here! Anna, go to finance and get your money!” Swallowing her pride, Victoria immediately transferred two million dollars into my account. I cheerfully packed my things and left. But the show was just getting started. In the chaos, HR forgot to revoke my access card. At 8 PM, I went back to the office and walked to the executive suite. In my past life, every night I worked late, there was one person who always stayed later: Charles. I knocked on his office door and walked right in. “Charles, your father’s mistress is pregnant.”

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