1 My husband, Daniel Vance, and I had been at each other’s throats since we were old enough to walk. In preschool, he knocked over my lunch, so I locked him in the bathroom. In grade school, he tripped me during gym class, knocking out my front tooth. Later that day, I tied his shoelaces together. We both went home toothless. In high school, he went after the prom queen, so I reported him for cheating. When I started hanging out with the resident bad boy, he spent weeks trailing us with the dean of discipline. I went to college overseas just to get away from him. He, apparently, had the same idea. We met on the first day of orientation. Somehow, we still ended up married. A twisted arrangement where he publicly chased another woman while I drowned my sorrows over the one that got away. I thought we could continue like that forever—two separate, miserable people sharing a last name. Until he took the girl and stole the specialist appointment I had fought tooth and nail to get for my Liam. My Liam, the love of my life, died because of a delayed treatment. That’s when I understood. There would be no peace between us. Daniel and I were destined to be each other’s personal hell, a living, breathing punishment for one another until the very end. I watched as Liam’s body was pushed into the incinerator, turned to a scoop of ash. I held his urn and buried him myself. Staring at his brilliant smile etched onto the cold stone, the grief I’d been suppressing erupted, a tidal wave threatening to drown me. I collapsed before his grave, tears falling like broken pearls, striking the marble one by one. I traced the outline of his photograph on the headstone, sitting there from dawn until the sky bled to black. “Liam,” I whispered, my voice raw, “I have to go now. Someone has to pay for this. Don’t be in a rush to move on. You wait for me. Once I’ve made them pay, I’m coming to find you.” With one last, reluctant look, I left the cemetery. I would get justice for him, no matter the cost. Even my own life was a price I was willing to pay. The grief in my heart had curdled, hardening into a white-hot rage. Liam didn’t have to die. I had practically crawled on my knees to secure an appointment with the world-renowned Dr. Alistair Finch, only for Daniel to use his authority as my husband to steal it. He gave it to his precious little girlfriend for a common cold. By the time I found out, Dr. Finch had already left the country in a fury. All I could do was hold Liam in my arms as he took his last breath. I slammed the accelerator to the floor, driving like a soul condemned, the speedometer needle trembling at its limit. I dialed Daniel’s number. He answered instantly. “Maya,” he drawled, “finally ready to cry uncle? If you get on your knees and beg, I might just find it in me to forgive you. I might even help out that worthless bastard of yours.” His mocking voice crackled through the phone, followed by a chorus of jeering laughter from his friends. “Sis-in-law finally breaking? See, what’s the point of being so stubborn? Just say you’re sorry. We’ll all be witnesses for you!” “Hey, Maya, bring a good bottle of scotch, will you? Show us you’re sincere.” “And don’t forget a gift for our sweet Chloe. Otherwise, that dying loser Liam can forget about getting any help from our boy Daniel.” The last of my sanity incinerated the moment they said his name. “Fine,” I bit out, my voice raspy. “The address.” He gave it to me. I hung up. The roar of the engine was a symphony with the frantic drumming of my heart. I screeched to a halt in front of the private club, snatched a security baton from the guard post, and stormed toward their private room. I kicked the door open. My eyes met Daniel’s, his gaze lazy and indifferent. “Well, well, Maya. Where’s the gift for Chloe?” Carter, the one who had called Liam a dying loser, sauntered toward me with a smug grin. I lifted the baton and brought it down on his head with all my strength. Blood gushed, a geyser of red. “Maya, you’re insane!” 2 He shrieked, but before anyone else could react, I had Chloe by the hair. She’d been standing to the side, a smug smirk on her face. Not anymore. I swung the baton again, burying it in her stomach. She let out a piercing scream. Only then did Daniel seem to snap out of his stupor. He shoved me away, hard, and gathered Chloe into his arms protectively. “Maya! Have you lost your mind? You’re like a rabid dog, attacking everyone you see!” he snarled, his face contorted in disgust. I ignored his venom and walked toward him until I was standing toe-to-toe, my knuckles white on the baton’s grip. “You’re right, Daniel, I am insane. I went insane the moment you and this bitch stole Liam’s last chance to live.” At the mention of Liam’s name, Daniel let out a short, cold laugh. “Him again? That spineless parasite who lives off women? Did he run crying to you? He’s really mastered the art of being a leech, hasn’t he?” My hand flew, the crack of my palm against his cheek cutting him off mid-sentence. “You don’t get to say his name. You murderer.” The slap finally broke through his arrogant calm. He stood, his eyes blazing, and jabbed a finger into my shoulder. “A bastard. Why can’t I say his name? Have you forgotten, Maya? You are still my wife.” He grabbed me, his grip like iron, and forced me to the floor. “Now, my dear wife, apologize to my sweet Chloe. If you’re good, maybe I’ll be in a generous mood and help that bastard of yours live another day or two.” I struggled, but he was too strong, pinning me to the floor like a dog at Chloe’s feet. A slow, chilling smile spread across my face. “Alright, Daniel. If you can save Liam, I’ll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.” His expression darkened for a split second before returning to a mocking sneer. “Good. Let’s see just how far you’re willing to go for that piece of trash.” The moment he released me, I lunged. Not to beg, but to kill. I tackled Chloe to the ground, my teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck, aiming for the artery. I wanted to tear her apart. Daniel roared with rage, yanking me off her and throwing me across the room. My head slammed against the floor, but I felt no pain, only a savage, exhilarating joy. A low giggle escaped my lips as I watched Chloe sob in terror, blood streaming down her neck. Daniel stalked over, grabbed me by the collar, and hauled me to my feet. His deep-set eyes were glacial. “Maya, you just don’t know when to quit! Fine. You want to play this game? Strip. Get on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness while you’re naked.” “Or else…” I wiped the blood from my lips—her blood—and met his gaze without flinching. “Or else what?” I grabbed his tie and pulled him close, my lips brushing his ear. “You’ll kill me?” A flash of fury crossed his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace Liam had given me, dangling it in front of me. My breath hitched. I lunged for it, but he was faster, grabbing my throat with one hand while the other held the necklace just out of reach, taunting me. “You want it?” he purred, his eyes glinting with malice. “Do as I say.” “Daniel,” I hissed, “have you sunk so low that you’ve become a common thief?” I had torn our home apart looking for that necklace. The guilt of losing it had kept me awake for nights. And all this time, he had it. It was one of the few things I had left of Liam. It was everything. “We’re married, darling. How can it be stealing?” he smirked. “Strip naked, apologize to Chloe, and I’ll give it back to you. Simple.” His hand tightened on my neck, his voice a soft, intimate whisper. I closed my eyes, the humiliation a bitter pill. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Daniel’s lips thinned into a hard line. He sat on the sofa, his expression unreadable, and watched me, rubbing the necklace between his fingers as a silent threat. I walked over to Chloe and, without hesitation, pulled off my shirt. The cold air hit my bare skin, and I shivered. I took a deep breath and unzipped my pants, letting them fall to the floor. Jeers and lewd comments filled the room. “Damn, Maya’s crazy, but look at that body.” “Tsk, tsk… if she wasn’t Mrs. Vance, I’d have to get a piece of that…” Their words were disgusting, but they couldn’t touch me. Nothing could. My hands went to the last piece of my clothing. Suddenly, Daniel shot to his feet. “Enough!” He strode over and grabbed my face, his voice laced with a raw, violent disgust. “You make me sick, Maya.” “Apologize to her like this. The sight of your body is making me ill.” He threw me to the ground. I crawled to Chloe’s feet and knelt. “I’m sorry.” My hands were clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I was apologizing to Liam’s murderer. The shame and rage made me tremble. “Daniel, I’m scared,” Chloe whimpered, her body trembling like a delicate flower in a storm. “Louder!” Daniel roared at me. “On your knees! Bow your head and apologize!” I swallowed the fury that choked me and slammed my forehead against the floor. “Chloe, I’m sorry!” When I looked up, my eyes met Daniel’s. They were dark, unreadable pools of contempt. “You really do love that bastard, don’t you?” he sneered. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I want to give this back to you after all.” And with that, he threw the necklace out the open window. “No!” A raw, agonized scream tore from my throat. I lunged for the window, a moth drawn to a disappearing flame. “Maya!” 3 The chain brushed against my fingertips. For a split second, joy flared in my chest, but it was extinguished as Daniel’s hands clamped around my waist, yanking me back into the room. I watched it fall, slipping through my grasp just like Liam had. “No! My necklace! Give it back!” I thrashed like a wild animal, forgetting we were eleven stories up, my only instinct to reach for the plummeting piece of silver. I lunged for the window again, and again he pulled me back. He spun me around, his face a mask of dark fury, and slapped me across the face. “What is this, Maya? Some tragic performance for my benefit? Playing the heartbroken lover?” he snarled, his nose brushing against mine. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the desolation that crushed me. I slid down the wall, the grief I’d been holding back finally breaking through. Sobs wracked my body, torn from the very depths of my soul. A warmth settled on my shoulder. Daniel’s voice was stiff, unnatural. “Maya… stop crying. It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy you another one.” I looked up, my eyes bloodshot, and grabbed the front of his shirt. “You make it sound so simple, Daniel! We were supposed to stay out of each other’s way! Why did you have to interfere? Why did you have to take his chance to live?” “Why?” My voice was a broken, animalistic cry. “I’m your husband, Maya! Have you forgotten?” he shot back, his own eyes red-rimmed. “You crawl on your knees for that bastard, get yourself beaten and bruised for him! What about my reputation? My pride?” “My husband? Don’t make me laugh, Daniel!” “And what about her? You made headlines buying out an entire auction for her! You used my dignity as your personal doormat! What about my pride?” We were two warring nations, launching volley after volley, giving no quarter. “Chloe is different,” he finally said, his lips a thin, hard line. “So is Liam!” “Don’t you dare compare that trash to Chloe!” “He is not trash! He was your brother! Your own flesh and blood!” Daniel ripped my hands from his shirt. “Enough, Maya.” He straightened his collar and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “It was just a stupid necklace. If you don’t want me to replace it, go ask that bastard to get you a new one.” He fumbled with his lighter. I staggered to my feet, tears streaming down my face. “He’s dead.” “He can’t give me anything ever again.” Daniel froze. The lighter in his hand clicked four times before a weak flame sputtered to life. “Dead?” he said, his voice muffled by a cloud of smoke. “Good. Dead is better. Cleaner.” His words were hollow, empty. I wiped the tears from my face. In that moment, I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone in my life. I didn’t want his casual dismissal. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel the same gut-wrenching agony that was tearing me apart. I walked through the smoke until I stood directly in front of him. A twisted smile played on my lips as I gently tapped his abdomen. “Did you know? The kidney in your body right now? It was Liam’s.” “He didn’t want you to feel guilty, so he never told you. The man you despised most in the world… he gave you your life.” I stared into his eyes, my own trembling, and watched his expression shift from blankness to disbelief, and finally, settle into a mask of pure agony. My smile widened. His pain was my only solace. “Why don’t you go and thank him in person?” I whispered, my voice the seductive hiss of a demon crawling from hell. Daniel’s gaze was deep and unsettling, a stagnant pool of despair. “Daniel, don’t listen to her lies!” Chloe rushed to his side, clinging to his arm. “It wasn’t Liam who donated the kidney! If it was, why didn’t he say anything that day, when you… when you had him beaten?” Her words were a steel blade, twisting in my already gaping wound. “What did you say?” My voice was a strangled, ugly sound. Daniel moved, shielding Chloe from my view with his own body. I lost control. I was a caged animal, throwing myself at him, my fists hammering against his chest. “He saved you! How could you beat him? He was dying, and you wouldn’t even let him go in peace!” “Why aren’t you dead? You should be in hell! You should all be dead!” I hit him, bit him, clawed at him, and he just stood there, his lips pressed together, taking it all without a word. Finally, exhausted, I slumped to the floor, my heart a hollow, aching void. “Daniel, I’m scared,” Chloe whispered. “I’ll take you home.” Daniel looked down at me, his expression conflicted, but in the end, he wrapped an arm around Chloe and walked out. The once-raucous room was now silent, leaving me alone with my grief. I swayed to my feet. Life felt pointless, but I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not while my enemies were still breathing. I ran after them, getting to my car first. The moment Daniel’s engine started, I floored it. I rammed their car with everything I had. I wanted them dead.

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My boyfriend and I were both away on business trips when the smart home app connected to our pet feeder sent a notification to my phone: “Cat food has been added manually.” How was that possible? We always used the automatic feeding schedule. The manual button was tucked away in a spot the cat could never reach on his own. I immediately pulled up the security camera feed linked to the app. Dragging the timeline back, I saw it clearly: a slender, pale hand pressing the button. A moment later, a pair of legs in sheer stockings came into view. My cat, Schwarz, was purring and rubbing affectionately against her ankles. I called my boyfriend, Leo. “Did you ask a friend to feed the cat for us?” He sounded surprised. “No, why? Isn’t the automatic feeder working? Don’t worry, babe, he’s not going to starve.” I murmured something about the app probably glitching, but as I hung up, my fingers were already flying across the screen, canceling my flight for the day after tomorrow and booking a seat on the earliest high-speed train home. … The train cut through the darkness. I clutched my cold phone, replaying the ten-second clip over and over. Who was this woman? Leo and I had been together for three years, living together for one. This downtown apartment was his, he’d said, bought outright to give us a stable future. He had always been thoughtful, attentive to every detail. Even on this trip, he’d called every morning and night, his voice overflowing with love. But the image on my phone screen had just punctured the perfect, airtight bubble of our life together. I didn’t call him back. I didn’t send an accusatory text. I needed to see for myself. At five in the morning, I stood at our front door, suitcase in hand. The fingerprint lock clicked softly. The apartment was pitch black, so quiet I could hear my own heart hammering in my chest. I didn’t turn on the lights. Using the faint glow of my phone, I crept into the living room. A strange perfume hung in the air, a light, floral scent completely different from the woody fragrance I always wore. On the sofa, I saw a single, long strand of curly hair. Not mine. My hair was long and straight. Hearing a noise, the cat padded out from the bedroom. He saw me and let out a lazy “meow,” not the enthusiastic greeting I was used to. He, too, smelled of that unfamiliar perfume. Every sign pointed to the worst possible conclusion. I checked the bedroom. The bed was perfectly made. The closet held only my clothes and Leo’s, nothing belonging to a third person. The bathroom had only our two toothbrushes, our towels hanging neatly in their places. Besides the hair and the perfume, the apartment was pristine, as if nothing had ever happened. But that only made it more unsettling. A woman who could come and go so freely, a woman my cat treated with such familiarity, was no ordinary intruder. I sat on the cold sofa, sleepless, until the first light of dawn broke through the windows. I sealed the strand of hair in a small plastic bag and took a picture of it. Then, as if nothing were wrong, I hired a cleaning service to deep-clean the entire apartment, ordering them to use an air purifier to eliminate any lingering scents. Once it was done, I posted a photo of the train station on my feed. The caption read: “Finished work early. Time to go home and cuddle my cat.” Leo’s call came almost immediately. I let it ring for a long time before answering, my voice deliberately groggy. “Hello?” “Babe, you’re back early! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve picked you up.” His voice was as gentle as ever, with just the right touch of playful reproach. “It was a last-minute thing. I was too tired to call.” “Well, I’ll wrap things up here as fast as I can. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Be good and wait for me, okay?” “Okay.” After hanging up, I stared at his name on the screen. He was playing it cool. As if the woman in our home was nothing more than a glitch in the system. For the next two days, I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed home with Schwarz, analyzing the security footage again and again. After pressing the button, the woman hadn’t left right away. She had crouched down, stroking the cat’s back, whispering something to him. Her profile was visible for a fleeting moment in the corner of the frame—blurry, but clearly beautiful. From what I could see, Leo wasn’t there. This wasn’t a simple case of him cheating while I was away. The woman moved with an unhurried, familiar ease, as if she were the one who owned the place. That was the part that didn’t make sense. This was more complicated than I thought. A cold knot of dread formed in my stomach. The weather was beautiful the day Leo returned. He walked in, dropped his suitcase, and opened his arms for a hug. “Babe, I missed you like crazy.” He smelled of his usual cologne, mixed with the faint scent of travel. I stood rigidly in his arms. He seemed to notice and pulled back, cupping my face. “What’s wrong? You’re not happy to see me?” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “No, just a little tired.” He tweaked my nose. “My lazy girl. Just wait, I’ll cook you a feast tonight.” While he was in the shower, I went through his suitcase. His clothes were neatly sorted, clean separated from dirty, just as meticulously as always. There were no women’s items, no suspicious receipts, no cracks in his perfect facade. For dinner, he made all my favorite dishes. At the table, he chattered excitedly about his trip, placing food on my plate, acting as if nothing had changed. I listened quietly, the food tasteless in my mouth. Then, he mentioned it casually. “This project is going to come with a big bonus. What do you think about getting a new sofa? This one’s getting a little old.” I put down my fork. “Leo, did you really buy this apartment?” The smile on his face froze. He stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed as if I’d told a joke. “Babe, what are you talking about? If I didn’t buy it, did it just fall from the sky?” He reached for my head, but I pulled away. “Can I see the contract? The deed for the apartment?” I held his gaze. His eyes flickered for a moment before he regained his composure, his expression shifting to one of hurt. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you suddenly asking about this? After all this time, you don’t trust me?” “I just want to see it,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. He fell silent. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the refrigerator. Finally, he sighed, went to his desk, and pulled out a file, handing it to me. “It’s all in here.” I opened it. The purchase agreement, a copy of the deed, receipts—everything was there. And on the deed, under the owner’s name, was his name, clear as day: Leo Reed. Every letter seemed to mock my suspicion. Was I wrong? Was I just being paranoid? Leo came and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “You silly girl, you scared me. Were you just overthinking things while I was gone? I won’t leave you alone again.” His embrace was warm, his tone forgiving. Just then, the doorbell rang. Ding-dong. The sound shattered the fragile peace. Leo’s body went rigid. I could feel the muscles in his arms tighten around me. “Who could that be so late?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “I’ll get it.” I tried to pull away. He held me tighter. “Don’t. It’s probably just a salesperson. Ignore it.” Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The bell rang again, more insistent this time. I broke free and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole. A woman stood outside. She was wearing a simple dress, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale. Even through the distorted lens of the peephole, I recognized her instantly. It was the woman from the video. I took a deep breath and threw the door open. The woman saw me and froze, looking completely stunned. I stared back, my heart pounding against my ribs. The two of us stood there, separated by the threshold. She wasn’t arrogant or smug. She wasn’t guilty or evasive. Her eyes held nothing but pure, unadulterated shock. Her gaze flickered past me to Leo, then back to my face. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why are you in my house?” Leo’s face turned the color of ash. He stared at the woman at the door, his eyes wide with a panic I had never seen before. “S… Serena?” he stammered. The woman named Serena ignored him. Her eyes were fixed on me. “Are you Leo’s girlfriend?” I nodded, my body numb. “Do you know who owns this apartment?” A bitter smile touched her lips. “He told you he bought it, didn’t he?” My silence was all the answer she needed. “He’s a liar,” Serena said. “This apartment belonged to my parents.” My mind went blank. A roaring sound filled my ears. I turned and stared at Leo, silently demanding an explanation. A part of me, a desperate, foolish part, still hoped this woman was the liar. But Leo avoided my eyes, his face gray, a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “Leo,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “is what she’s saying true?” He just shook his head, muttering, “No… it’s not like that…” Serena pulled a stack of documents from her bag and slapped them down on the console table. “This is the deed. The owner is my father, David Shen. These are my parents’ death certificates. And this is the property management agreement Leo signed.”

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After my divorce, I paid five million for the city’s most sought-after woman. Money truly does buy perfection. She introduced me to undreamed-of pleasures. A photo of us entangled on my balcony went viral overnight. The following morning, my ex-wife Seraphina appeared. After having the woman dragged away, she turned on me, her voice sharp. “Did she touch you there?” I grinned recklessly. “Lips, chest, everywhere you used to love.” Fury ignited in her eyes. She ordered her guards, “Break her legs and dump her with the beggars.” I shrugged. “Do whatever you want.” This began three years ago. My friend Harry, a renowned surgeon, called, furious I’d hidden a terminal illness and let our daughter donate her liver to save me. I was baffled, holding a clean health report. He sent a video of our daughter Zoey in a hospital bed, proudly declaring her wish to save me. My blood ran cold. I immediately canceled my wife and daughter’s credit cards and filed for divorce, renouncing custody. Let her be the ‘filial’ daughter she so wanted to be. … Following the address Harry sent, I raced to a private hospital on the outskirts of the city. Harry, having just rushed from the airport himself, met me at the entrance, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. I cut him off before he could speak. “No time for questions. We’re going to catch a cheater.” As we approached the VIP floor, we were stopped by security. “Sorry, sirs. This entire floor has been reserved by Mrs. Sterling for her husband’s liver transplant. No unauthorized personnel allowed.” Harry’s brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. “Mrs. Sterling… isn’t that your wife? Ethan, are you seriously not sick? Don’t hide this from me, man. If you’re ill, I’m the one who can fix it.” I shot him an irritated look. “You’re the one who needs his head checked.” Then, I turned to the guard, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m a… friend of Seraphina Sterling. I’m here to see her husband, Ethan, and their daughter, Zoey.” The guard let out a derisive snort. “You don’t even know the husband’s name and you’re trying to claim you’re a friend? Listen, pal, Mrs. Sterling’s husband is Caleb Goblin. Heir to the entire Linwood Enterprises fortune.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve seen plenty of guys like you, trying to suck up by bringing gifts. Just leave whatever you brought and get lost. Don’t cause trouble.” Harry’s frown deepened. “Linwood Enterprises? Isn’t that your family’s company? And who the hell is Caleb Goblin?” Rage coiled in my gut. The pieces were clicking into place, forming a picture more hideous than I could have imagined. Caleb Goblin. Seraphina’s closest confidant, her “best friend.” And, apparently, the man my daughter Zoey now called “Dad.” The realization hit Harry like a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief as he finally understood the gravity of the situation. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his credentials. “I’m the lead surgeon for this operation. I just flew in from an international conference.” The guards exchanged uncertain glances. The name and face on the ID were unmistakable. They stepped aside, their arrogance replaced by a nervous deference. The hallway outside the VIP suite was bustling with people. It was impossible to miss them. Seraphina was clinging to Caleb’s arm, the two of them basking in the congratulations and well-wishes of the crowd. “Mr. Goblin, Mrs. Sterling, you two are the perfect couple! So much in love, it makes us all envious!” “What’s truly admirable is the wonderful, devoted daughter you’ve raised!” “She’s so young, yet willing to risk her own life to save her father! She’s truly Daddy’s little girl!” Caleb beamed, his chest puffed out with pride. “What can I say? I’m a total sucker for my daughter. I had to beg Seraphina to try out eighteen different positions before we finally conceived her!” I flinched. Seraphina had always been conservative, almost frigid, in our marriage. Any talk of intimacy was met with a cold stare and accusations of being shameless. But now? She wasn’t angry at all. A blush crept up her cheeks as she playfully slapped his arm. “How can you say something like that in public?” Caleb wrapped his arm around her slim waist, his hand roaming freely. “Am I wrong? I worked my ass off to give you our precious Zoey. I’d say I’m the real hero here!” The crowd erupted in laughter. Someone even jokingly asked him to share his “advanced techniques.” Caleb just laughed, pulling Seraphina closer as if to demonstrate. In that instant, something inside me snapped. “You bastard!” I lunged forward, my fist connecting with Caleb’s jaw in a solid, satisfying crunch. It happened so fast no one had time to react. Seraphina cried out, rushing to steady Caleb as he stumbled back. Her eyes, when they found me, were filled with venom. “Who the hell has the nerve to lay a hand on my husband?” Zoey, who had been resting in the adjacent room, came running out. “Dad, are you okay?” The moment she saw me, both her and Seraphina’s faces froze. Zoey instinctively shrank back. A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Seraphina, you’ve really outdone yourself. How dare you let my daughter donate her liver to your lover?” The words hung in the air, sucking all the sound from the hallway. A dead silence fell. Dozens of pairs of eyes darted between me and Zoey, flickering with shock and morbid curiosity. “Did he just say… the girl is his daughter?” “Then what about Mr. Goblin? Is Mrs. Sterling cheating on him?” The whispers grew, and Seraphina’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Zoey is Caleb’s daughter! Who gave you the right to slander us?” she shrieked, tightening her grip on Caleb’s arm. “Ethan, I’m begging you, stop harassing me! I’ve told you a hundred times, I have a husband and a child now…” Caleb, recovering, shot me a smug look and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t let his pathetic attempts to stir up trouble get to me. After all, you spend every night finding new ways to please me in bed, except for a few days a month. When would you even have the energy to cheat?” His words were a masterstroke. In a few sentences, he’d painted me as the obsessive, delusional homewrecker. The crowd’s gaze shifted, now burning with contempt and disgust. I was so furious I could only laugh. “Seraphina, look me in the eye and say it again. Who is the one wrecking a home here? Who is Zoey’s real father?” Harry, his face a mask of thunder, stepped forward. “This is absolute madness! Without the consent of her biological father, Ethan, none of you have the right to authorize Zoey to donate an organ to anyone!” Caleb scoffed. “And who the hell are you? Nobody asked for your opinion.” Seraphina took a deep, steadying breath, her decision made. “Let me make this perfectly clear, one last time. My husband is Caleb Goblin. Zoey is our daughter,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality. “And you, Ethan… don’t think I don’t see your sick little game. You’re trying to sabotage my husband’s surgery so you can swoop in when he’s gone, aren’t you? Pathetic. Guards, get them out of here!” The onlookers gasped, a wave of understanding—the wrong understanding—rippling through them. “That homewrecker is disgusting! He knows Mr. Goblin is about to have surgery. This is practically attempted murder!” “What are you all waiting for? Someone call the police!” “Thank God we didn’t fall for his lies. Can you imagine the fury of Linwood Enterprises if we’d delayed the surgery?” Caleb shook his head with a theatrical sigh, his eyes locking onto mine with pure provocation. “I guess it’s my own fault for having such an irresistible wife,” he said. “But I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Ethan. Seraphina’s heart belongs only to me. To be honest, I didn’t want Zoey to go through this either. But she loves her daddy so much, she begged and cried until I agreed to let her donate.” My entire body trembled with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “Are you even human? She’s only fourteen!” Though two of Seraphina’s bodyguards had grabbed my arms, I broke free with a surge of adrenaline and drove my foot into Caleb’s stomach. His face went white, and he crumpled to the floor, clutching his middle. “Seraphina… I… it hurts so much! Am I… am I going to die before I can even have the surgery?” Seraphina scrambled to his side, her voice a raw scream of fury directed at me. “Hold him down!” The guards, given their order, no longer held back. They seized my arms and slammed me face-first onto the ground. My cheek slammed against the cold, sterile floor with a sickening crack. The taste of blood filled my mouth. “Seraphina, are you insane? You’re doing this to me, for him?” Ignoring me, she handed Caleb over to the nurses and stalked toward me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She snatched a rubber baton from one of the guards and brought it down on my head with all her strength. A searing, white-hot pain exploded across my skull. Blood trickled down, blurring my vision. Then, she planted her high heel on the back of my head, grinding it into the floor. “If anything happens to Caleb’s surgery,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, “I will have your life.”

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My wife’s colleague, Toby, called again in the middle of the night. An urgent case, he said. A body that needed to be handled immediately. Clara, already exhausted from a long week, got dressed and left without a word. She didn’t return until the sky was beginning to pale with dawn. “Toby couldn’t handle it alone,” she murmured, slipping into bed behind me. “Good thing I was still awake.” I didn’t respond. I just stared at the ceiling. She wrapped her arms around my waist, her voice a soft whisper against my back. “I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, David, but it’s my job. I had to go.” She nuzzled my shoulder. “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you on that trip we talked about. How does that sound?” I remained silent, pulling away from her touch. Then I spoke, my voice cold and flat in the quiet room. “Let’s get a divorce.” 1 Clara froze. She forcefully turned me over to face her, her hands gripping mine. The skin under her eyes was bruised with the tell-tale blue-black of chronic sleep deprivation. “David, don’t be like this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired, too.” Her voice was pleading. “But this is what I do. It’s my duty. You understand that, don’t you?” I avoided her gaze, pulling my hands free. Her voice trembled, but she fought to keep it gentle. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or… or because I forgot your birthday last month? I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. When this rush is over, we’ll take a long vacation, just the two of us. Okay?” She stroked the back of my hand, the same soothing gesture she used after every argument we’d ever had. I remembered back when we were first married, when my career was stalling and I was riddled with insomnia. She would sit with me just like this, never a word of complaint, just a simple, grounding promise: “David, I’m here.” Thinking of it now felt like a sick joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. Her hand stopped mid-air. The exhaustion on her face melted away, replaced by a raw, naked confusion. “What is wrong with you? Is it really just because I had to go to work again?” Her voice rose. “David, life and death are serious matters. If I don’t go, do you expect them to just leave the body lying there?” “Whatever you say. We’re getting a divorce.” I repeated the words, my voice low but unwavering. Her eyes instantly reddened, as if she were seeing me for the first time. “You’re serious?” I turned my back to her again. “City Hall. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Be there.” Clara let out a laugh that was half a sob. “David, you have to give me a reason. Is it the overtime? Or do you think Toby and I are…?” “Leave him out of this,” I cut in. “It’s you. You make me sick.” The color drained from her face. Her lips parted, trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” she finally choked out, her voice raspy. “Toby and I are just colleagues. That’s all.” I couldn’t stand to listen anymore. I got up, walked out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. She didn’t follow. She didn’t try to explain further. I heard the sound of a glass shattering against the floor, followed by a muffled curse. A few moments later, my phone buzzed. It was Toby. He had been Clara’s senior in college. And her first love. The phone rang for a long time before I finally answered. His voice was laced with weariness. “David? Clara just called me. I… I wanted to clear things up for her.” “We’ve been getting a lot of cases from the West Side precinct lately…” I didn’t let him finish. I hung up. I sat on the couch in the dark, remembering a night six months ago. She had come home late, just like tonight, so exhausted she’d collapsed onto the bed next to me, still in her work clothes. Her eyes were closed, but her hand had found my face in the dark. “David,” she’d whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Back then, I really believed we would last forever. The sun was fully up. When I woke on the couch, Clara was gone. The living room was spotless, her coat from last night hung neatly on the rack by the door. On the coffee table sat a glass of honey water, still warm. Next to it, a sticky note. Wait for me to get home. I’ll make your favorite braised short ribs. I picked up the glass, walked to the kitchen, and poured the contents down the drain. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from her. David, I’m at work. Did you drink the honey water? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another one came through. I’ll spend more time with you once this project is over. I promise, there’s nothing going on between me and Toby. I stared at the screen for a long time before typing a single line. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late. Then I blocked her number. At 8:30 AM, I was standing outside City Hall. People milled about, mostly in pairs. Some were wrapped in sweet embraces, others stood apart, their faces grim. I leaned against a pillar, my eyes fixed on the street. 9:30 AM. She hadn’t shown up. I took out my phone, unblocked her number, and dialed. It rang three times before the call was abruptly ended. A hot surge of anger flared in my chest. I hit redial. This time, it went straight to a message saying the number was unavailable. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to try again, a call came in from an unknown number. I answered. A young woman’s voice spoke rapidly. “Mr. David Thorne? This is City Central Hospital. Your wife, Clara Thorne, was in a car accident. She’s in emergency surgery right now. We need you to come down immediately to handle the payment.” I froze, the words not quite registering. The voice on the other end grew more urgent. “Mr. Thorne? Can you hear me? Mr. Thorne!” I hung up before she could finish and flagged down a cab. By the time I arrived, Clara was out of surgery. A crowd was gathered outside her room. Several people in dark blue uniforms—her colleagues—were huddled together, talking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, looked up, saw me, and immediately rushed over, her eyes red-rimmed. “Where have you been? Do you have any idea that your name was the only thing Clara was saying before they took her into the OR?” “How is she?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the hospital room door. The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What are you going to do!?” I ignored her and walked toward Clara’s bed. She didn’t look as bad as I’d expected. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was fixed on me. “You’re here…” she rasped. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, then pulled the divorce agreement and a pen from my briefcase. “Sign this. Otherwise, I’m not paying your medical bills.” My voice was so cold it seemed to suck the warmth from the room. Everyone stared at me, aghast. The young woman who had confronted me earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Clara got into this accident because she was distracted by your call while she was on the job!” she screamed. “And you’re using this to threaten her? Are you even human?!” Toby stepped forward, his expression grave. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “David, man… Clara and I are just colleagues. I swear. If you really don’t believe me, I’ll resign. But you can’t do this to her. She only has eyes for you.” The stinging pain on my cheek ignited my rage. I violently shoved his hand away. “Did anyone ask you to speak?” I walked back to Clara’s bedside. “If you don’t sign, you can wait for the hospital to kick you out.” Tears streamed from Clara’s open eye. “Why?” she whispered. I looked down at her, my voice low and heavy. “Because I find you filthy.” Clara’s sobs grew more violent, her chest heaving. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, David. I haven’t done anything to betray you. I already bought the tickets to Aspen… you said you wanted to go skiing…” A few of the other women in the room began to cry softly. A pang of pain shot through my own heart, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Gritting my teeth, I held the papers out again. “Sign it.” Toby snatched the agreement from my hand and ripped it to shreds. “David! How could you? Clara just got out of surgery, she’s still weak! Even if you’re dead set on a divorce, you can’t do it like this!” I shot him a venomous glare, but before I could speak, Clara intervened. “Toby, don’t… Don’t treat him like that. It’s my fault. I failed as a wife.” She weakly reached out, her fingers catching the hem of my shirt. I flinched back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.” Clara’s face, already pale, turned ashen. “I will not divorce you over something so small. I’ve already put in for my annual leave to spend time with you…” Toby stepped forward again, a bastion of righteousness. “Fine. I’ll go back and quit my job right now. The truth will speak for itself. There is absolutely nothing between us.” His declaration cast me as the villain, the unreasonable, jealous madman. The others glared at me with righteous indignation. The absurdity of the scene was almost laughable, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “You’re right. There’s nothing between you. I just don’t want to be married anymore. Is that so hard to understand?” Clara just looked at me, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “David, whatever it is, can we please talk about it after she’s recovered? I’m begging you,” Toby pleaded, his voice low and earnest. I ignored him, my eyes locked on Clara. “Sign the papers, or I walk out that door right now. Your choice.” The female colleague who’d slapped me started forward again, but someone held her back. “Are you a monster?! She just cheated death!” “Her life is her own,” I said, my voice flat, tired. “It has nothing to do with me.” Clara suddenly began to cough violently, her whole body shaking. Toby frantically pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, her brow furrowing as she took in the scene. “The patient needs rest. Family members, please control your emotions.” The room fell silent again. Clara stared at me, biting her lip, but still she refused to yield. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Do whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked out. I walked aimlessly, my mind in a fog, and found myself outside the funeral home where Clara worked. “Mr. Thorne?” An older man I didn’t recognize approached me. “You know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, looking hesitant. “Clara’s phone wallpaper is a picture of you. I’ve seen it.” I pulled out a cigarette, offered him one, and forced a smile. “Could you show me where she usually works?” He took the cigarette and sighed. “Sure. Follow me.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces, and my foot kicked something on the floor. A lighter. It was a specific brand I’d once mentioned to Clara. I remembered Toby having one just like it. Just then, the older man spoke. “Last night, Clara really was handling an emergency. I don’t normally stick my nose in, but she’s a good woman.” I said nothing. My phone rang. It was Clara’s colleague. “David! Where the hell are you? Both our parents are here! Get your ass back to the hospital, now!” she shrieked. “Did you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter in my hand, my heart a dead, silent void. When I got back to the hospital, the atmosphere was thick with tension. My parents and Clara’s were all there, their faces grim. The moment I walked in, my father slapped me. “You disgraceful son! If Clara’s colleagues hadn’t called me, I would have never known you were here acting like such a monster!” he roared. “Go and apologize to your wife this instant!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and said nothing. My mother and mother-in-law rushed to intervene, one holding my father back, the other trying to soothe me. “David, dear, couples need to be understanding with each other. Why must you insist on a divorce?” “She’s right, son. A wife as good as Clara… you’ll never find another one like her if you let her go.” No, I thought. I certainly won’t. Clara’s eyes were red, as if she’d been crying again. She looked at me with a mixture of pain and worry. “Why did you just leave? I was so worried about you.” I turned my head, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I couldn’t stand the sight of you. It makes me sick.” My father lunged at me again, but was held back. Clara, however, finally snapped. “David, can you stop being so unreasonable?!” she screamed, her voice raw. “What more do you want from me?!” “A divorce.” Seeing the situation about to explode, Clara reached for me. “David,” she pleaded, her voice cracking, “let’s just talk, please? For our parents’ sake…” I pulled the lighter from my pocket and placed it gently on the bedside table. “Is this yours?” I asked. Clara’s pupils contracted for a fraction of a second. Toby immediately stepped forward. “It’s mine,” he said quickly. “I must have dropped it yesterday when I was helping clean up.” Clara latched onto his words. “Yes, it’s Toby’s. You know he always uses that brand.” I stared into her eyes. I used to love her eyes; they were so clear, so honest. Now, I couldn’t see anything in them at all. I bent down and pulled a newly printed divorce agreement from my briefcase. “Sign it.” My father-in-law slammed his hand on the table. “David! Are you determined to burn everything to the ground?!” “Dad!” Clara cried out, silencing him. Then, her voice softened as she looked at me. “Is it because I work too much? Or because of Toby? I’ve told you a hundred times, we’re just colleagues…” Toby jumped in, holding out his phone. “If you still don’t believe us, I’ve just requested the security footage from last night. Watch it. Then you can stop accusing Clara.” I glanced at the faces around me, then took the phone with a cold smirk. I turned to Clara. “Do you want to watch it together?” She hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight nod. I walked over and held the phone in front of her. The footage was perfectly normal. It showed her meticulously suturing and preparing a body, with Toby assisting nearby. There was no physical contact, nothing inappropriate at all. Her female colleague couldn’t contain herself. “See? Now you know you were wrong! Apologize to Clara, right now!” My father punched the wall in frustration. My mother frowned. “David, you’re embarrassing me!” my father hissed. “Now that you’ve seen the proof, stop fighting,” my mother added. “Take care of your wife and say you’re sorry.” But before they could finish, Clara’s hand trembled, and she knocked the phone from my grasp. It clattered to the floor. “Stop fighting,” she said, her voice hollow. “I’ll agree to the divorce.” She wouldn’t look at anyone. She just held out her hand. Toby tried to stop her, but she gently pushed him away. “A pen,” she said. No one moved. Finally, I took the pen from my own pocket and handed it to her. Clara stared intently at the divorce agreement, her hand raised, ready to sign. Toby lunged, snatching the pen away, his voice cracking. “You can’t sign this! We can talk about this when you’re better! He’s lost his mind, Clara, you can’t go along with it!” The colleague who’d hit me rushed forward, screaming. “Clara, don’t! If you sign this, it’s like admitting there was something going on with Toby! We all know you’re innocent! Don’t be afraid!” My mother-in-law clutched her chest, swaying on her feet. My father-in-law caught her, his face livid as he pointed at me. “David, if you dare force her to sign that paper today, I swear, this isn’t over between us!” My own father stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “You bastard! What are you trying to do? Are you trying to destroy this family completely?!” Clara took a shaky breath and spoke to Toby. “Give me the pen.” He didn’t move. He took a step back. “No! Clara, if you sign this today, it’s not just about the divorce! Your reputation will be ruined!” Clara turned to look at me one last time. Seeing the unyielding resolve in my expression, she gritted her teeth. “Give it to me!” Her mother, knowing her daughter, knew something was deeply wrong. “Clara, what is going on? First David acts out, and now you. Marriage is not a game! If you’re getting divorced, you at least owe us a reason!” Clara closed her eyes, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “Mom, please, don’t push me.” A tense silence filled the room. Finally, my father grabbed me, forcing me to bend over. “Apologize to Clara! Or I’ll disown you!” Even pinned, I didn’t back down. “Dad, if you keep pushing, I’m going to have to tell them the truth.” Clara’s hand froze. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes darting nervously. But with so many people watching, she had to deny it. “What truth? I’m just… I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m just tired.” Her voice was so broken. Her words instantly made me the villain in everyone’s eyes. The last shred of affection I had for her evaporated. I took a step forward, ignoring the furious glares. “Aren’t any of you curious?” I asked the room. “Why would Clara endure being called filthy, being forced into a divorce, even getting into a near-fatal car accident, and still refuse to sign? And then, the moment she sees that perfectly innocent security footage, she suddenly agrees?” Toby immediately blocked my path to her. “David, have you had enough?! You’ve broken her heart! She doesn’t want to deal with a madman like you anymore! What’s so hard to understand about that?” “Is that it?” I looked past him, my gaze fixed on Clara. “Is it a broken heart? Or is it fear? Fear that someone might see something else in that footage?” “What could there possibly be in the footage?!” my father roared. “It was just Clara doing her job! What kind of lies are you trying to spin now?!” I turned to look out the window, my voice weary. “Because she was afraid. Afraid that you would all find out about her secret, twisted obsession.”

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Liam and I were the classic story: from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. But on the eve of our wedding, he died in a tragic accident. I was sobbing, on the verge of collapsing, when strange lines of text began to drift across my vision. 【CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THE TRAGIC HEROINE THAT HE FAKED HIS DEATH?!】 【Liam’s little canary ran off after she heard he was getting married. He faked his own death overnight to chase her across the ocean. The heroine is crying at his grave while the canary is crying in his bed. I’M SO MAD.】 【It’s such a shame. When he comes back, the heroine won’t know a thing and will just happily marry him anyway…】 Half a month later. News of my engagement to the crown prince of A-City’s high society became the talk of the town. Liam’s best friend, who was in on the whole scheme, rushed to confront me, his voice full of indignation. “It’s barely been a month since Liam died! Are you really that desperate to find a replacement?” I just smiled. “He’s dead. I can’t be expected to stay a widow for him forever, can I?” 1 When the lines of text, like comments from some invisible audience, first appeared, I thought it was a hallucination brought on by grief. But they didn’t stop. 【If the heroine goes up to the rooftop right now, she’ll find out the male lead isn’t dead at all.】 【She’s barely eaten in two days because of him. She can hardly walk. How is she supposed to get to the rooftop?】 My legs felt like they were filled with lead, but I dragged myself towards the stairs, towards the rooftop. As I neared the top, I heard a voice I knew better than my own, laced with a familiar, playful teasing. “Is my funeral still going on?” The voice was coming from the phone of Liam’s best friend, Leo. “Not over yet, man,” Leo replied. “What about Aurora? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” “Not a chance,” Leo said with a chuckle. “She’s been running around, taking care of everything. She nearly passed out from grief yesterday. Probably still crying in her room right now.” Liam’s tone was casual, unconcerned. “Just do me a favor and comfort her a little.” Sam, another one of his close friends, chimed in. “But seriously, Liam, you must have really fallen for that little canary of yours. Faking your own death to chase her to England, and making all of us act in this drama with you.” So, the comments were real. My hand tightened on the railing, every cell in my body trembling. Then I heard Liam’s voice again. “Whether I’ve fallen for her or not is none of your business. Just help me keep it from Aurora.” Leo asked the question that was echoing in my own shattered heart. “So, are you still getting married?” “Of course,” Liam said without a moment’s hesitation. “When I get back, the wedding is on as planned. But a guy’s gotta have one last crazy run for love before he settles down, right?” “That’s true.” “Once you’re married, you’re tied down to one person. You don’t get chances like this again, haha.” The three of them laughed, a conspiratorial sound that froze the blood in my veins. A shudder wracked my body. I had prayed countless times for the slimmest possibility that Liam was still alive. I never imagined it would be like this. 2 【OMG, my girl sees the truth! I hope she wakes up and smells the betrayal.】 【GET OUT THERE AND DESTROY THAT SCUMBAG!!!】 But I didn’t rush out to expose them. I turned around and walked silently back down the stairs. After a bout of dry-heaving over the toilet, I stared at the woman in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw from nights without sleep, her face a haggard mask of grief. I splashed cold water on my face, then used a towel to wipe away the tear tracks. 【Of course. She knows the truth and she’s still going to silently accept it. I’m so pissed.】 【Well, yeah, she’s madly in love with him. She probably heard him say he’ll still marry her when he gets back and decided to just swallow her pride.】 【I don’t know… I think she’s not revealing her hand just yet. I think she’s planning something big.】 I walked out of the room. Leo handed me a tissue, his face a perfect picture of concern. “Aurora, try not to be so devastated. Liam wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his handsome, lying face. “You know,” I said softly, “what if Liam isn’t really dead?” 3 Panic flashed in Leo’s eyes for a split second before he composed himself. “H-How could that be? Aurora, they pulled his jacket and shoes from the river. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Liam’s car had plunged off a bridge into the river late at night. The police theorized he’d escaped the car only to be swept away by the fierce current. I had waited by the riverbank all night, refusing to sleep. The rescue team searched for days, finding only his coat and one of his shoes. The news had shattered me. Today was supposed to have been our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I find out it was all a show. My grief, my heartbreak—it was all just a joke to him. 【He could have learned anything, but he chose to learn how to keep a canary on the side. So disappointing.】 【I know, right? At first, I thought this was going to be a super sweet romance. I didn’t expect to be fed a spoonful of crap.】 【She’s a gorgeous, top-tier socialite. If he doesn’t want her, I’ll take her!】 The wave of nausea and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me was soothed, just slightly, by the strange, supportive comments scrolling past. Leo continued his performance. “Aurora, don’t let your imagination run wild. If Liam could see you now, his heart would break.” His heart would break? How ironic. This morning, I was grateful to him for helping me with the funeral arrangements. Now I realized he was just another snake in the grass. 4 Following a tip from the bullet comments, I found the TikTok account of Liam’s canary. I realized with a jolt that I’d seen her before, right under my nose. She was a minor influencer signed to Liam’s own media company. Her name was Jenny. Her account handle was “JennyLovesLiam.” Her latest video was a street view of London. Two hands tightly clasped, followed by a dusty, travel-worn embrace. The small mole on the man’s hand, at the base of his thumb, was painfully familiar. The caption read: “In a year of pure love, he abandoned his arranged marriage to a socialite and crossed the world for me. The winds of A-City have finally blown all the way to London to find me.” The video had gone viral. The comments were filled with people gushing over their “epic romance.” “CEO chasing after his runaway canary, this is literally a novel coming to life! Aaaaah!” “I know this plot! It means the rich guy really loves YOU, girl! The fiancée is just a plot device to push him to chase after his true love~” “Wow, rich guys really are the most romantic. Can I get a link to your sugar daddy, please? LMAO.” The bullet comments in my vision had a different take: 【Are these commenters even real people? This isn’t some romantic novel, it’s a story about a homewrecker.】 【‘Arranged marriage,’ lol. They’re really trying to make the scumbag look good. The heroine’s original arranged marriage was with the book’s main villain!】 5 Liam and I weren’t an arranged marriage. When I met him in high school, my parents had already selected a fiancé for me: Julian Thorne, the crown prince of the powerful Thorne family. But I didn’t want to marry him. My own parents’ marriage was a loveless transaction. Growing up, I watched them play the happy couple in public, only to bring different partners home behind closed doors. The rare moments they were together were filled with endless arguments and accusations. I was sick of such a hypocritical, broken home. So, I resisted the arranged marriage with everything I had. In my junior year, Liam became the guy who sat behind me in class. When I was at my lowest, he was like a happy puppy, wagging his tail and inching closer. Saying yes when he asked me out felt like the most natural thing in the world. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We were the couple everyone envied, the ones who had made their fairytale romance a reality. I basked in their admiration, believing I had found my true love. I never imagined that the person I thought would never betray me had been keeping a canary all this time. In her videos, Jenny called him “hubby” in a cloyingly sweet voice. She posted “A Day in the Life with my Sugar Daddy,” and her followers begged for more. Liam would hold her, filming trendy hand-dance videos with her. His face was never fully in frame, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself. His so-called “business trips” were all trips with her. Countless nights I thought he was working late, he was actually in the arms of another woman. Once, I told him not to work so hard. He’d cupped my face and said, “I need to earn your parents’ respect. And I want to make more money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.” Five minutes before his “accident,” Liam had sent me a text: “No matter what happens, Liam will love you forever.” I had read that message and cried every single time. Now, all of it had shattered like a soap bubble. 【He even has his excuse ready for when he comes back. He’ll say he was washed downstream, rescued by a family, and had amnesia.】 【And the crazy part is, the heroine believes him! She marries him and begins a lifetime of misery, constantly forgiving his cheating until she dies of depression. Who even writes this kind of misogynistic, old-school garbage anymore?!】 【But wait, the plot has changed now! Our girl knows the truth ahead of time! I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes!】 6 I went downstairs. Liam’s mother was sitting on the living room sofa. When she saw me, her swollen, red-rimmed eyes shot daggers at me. “If you hadn’t been rushing my son to come back, he wouldn’t have driven off that bridge! You’re the one who killed him!” Liam had been on a “business trip.” The day after his “accident” was the day we were scheduled for our wedding dress fitting. He’d crashed on his way back to me. When I first heard the news, I had swallowed my own grief to comfort his mother. She had shoved me away. “You’re a curse! A jinx! You killed my son!” 【A blessed woman will not enter a cursed house. Heroine, get out while you still can!】 【She won’t. A few days ago, his mom called her a husband-killer and a bad omen, and she just blamed herself for everything. After being abused by this old hag, she gets abused by the ‘resurrected’ scumbag.】 Liam’s mother and I had never gotten along. He had promised me we wouldn’t live with her after we got married. But for the past few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her take all her anger out on me. But now, watching her clutch a black-and-white portrait of Liam, she just looked like a pathetic clown. A small, sharp laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. She exploded. “What are you laughing at?” She shot up, ready to slap me. Sam rushed to intercept her. “Auntie, please calm down. Aurora is just overwhelmed with grief, her mind isn’t right. Don’t take it personally.” Leo chimed in, “Aurora, just apologize to his mother.” I walked slowly toward Liam’s mother. She must have thought I was going to grovel again, because she turned her head away in disgust. “I don’t care what you say, I’ll never forgive you. You and my son were only engaged, not married. Don’t even think about getting a cent of his inheritance.” But I just leaned in close. And whispered in her ear, “Your son got what he deserved. When are you planning on joining him, you old hag?” She clutched her chest, gasping, and fell back onto the sofa. 【HAHAHA, the old witch is having a stroke! I’m waving the flag for our girl! Let’s see who dares to mess with her now!】 【So satisfying! She’s not taking any more crap!】 The relatives in the room descended into chaos, all rushing to her side. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “She’s the one who killed my son! Leo! Sam! Call the police! Have her arrested!” 【Liam’s mom is genuinely unhinged. No wonder she raised such a scumbag son.】 【Our girl is finally fighting back! Aaaah, I’m so happy!】 【I just hope this is for real. I’m so worried she’ll fold the second he comes back…】 I let tears well up in my eyes. “Since you hate me so much, Auntie, I guess the only thing I can do is move out.” “Aurora, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Leo pleaded. “Don’t try to stop me,” I said firmly. “My being here only makes her feel worse. My decision is final.” Leo and Sam exchanged a look. This was clearly not part of their plan. Leo slipped into a corner to text Liam. 7 Liam’s reply came quickly: “My mom’s just like that. She had a hard time raising me. Tell Aurora to just let her have her way.” “But… she won’t stop yelling at her. Aurora is dead set on moving out.” “So let her move. When the time comes, I’ll just tell her to move back in, and she will.” “Okay, fine. I won’t try to convince her then.” I couldn’t hear their conversation, of course. But the bullet comments kept me informed. After I had packed up all my belongings from the bedroom, my best friend, Nina, arrived with the moving company she’d called for me. “Aurora, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked cautiously. She had seen me at my most broken over the past few days. “I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Right now, I just want to find a place and move out as soon as possible.” An idea suddenly struck her. “My brother has a penthouse he hasn’t used since he moved abroad. Why don’t you stay there for a while? You can move out once you find your own place.” The bullet comments suddenly exploded. 【Our dark and broody villain is finally making his entrance! It’s a shame he doesn’t have a bigger role in the original story, but honestly, I love his character type.】 【He sent the heroine a message, and she still hasn’t replied. Blackening value +10000.】 Villain? Julian? I didn’t even have his number. The last contact I had was an old, forgotten social media account from middle school. It seemed to have been hacked; every couple of months, it would send me a suspicious-looking link. I’d always been afraid it was a virus, so I’d never clicked on them and had muted the chat. That’s why I had completely missed the message he’d sent me a week ago: “Do you need help?” The news of the search for Liam’s body had been all over A-City that night. A video of me, crying during an interview, had gone viral on TikTok. Many people had offered their condolences, sympathizing with my loss. Julian’s message had come on that day. Since I hadn’t seen it, I hadn’t replied. After a moment’s thought, I typed out a polite response: “No, but thank you.” A reply came back instantly: “Okay.” I remembered the day Liam asked me out. He’d met me in the grove of trees next to the school building. The wind was blowing fiercely. As I pushed a strand of hair from my face, I saw him. Julian. He was standing at the end of a second-floor hallway, his hands resting casually on the railing, his dark, intense eyes fixed in my direction. I looked at him. Then I looked down. And smiled at Liam. “Okay,” I said. It wasn’t until Liam kissed my cheek that I looked up again. The boy at the end of the hallway was gone. Only the branches of the trees remained, swaying violently in the wind. 8 I shook off the memory. The room was nearly empty of my things. The framed photo of Liam and me on the nightstand had been knocked over. I stepped on it with my high heel, and the glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He wasn’t dead, but as of this moment, he was dead to me. As I left the house, his mother was still screaming obscenities at my back. “And don’t you dare come back! You’re not welcome to visit my son’s grave, ever!” 【This old hag is so afraid the heroine will fight her for the inheritance. As if Aurora, with her massive family fortune, would care about her scraps.】 【Is your son the emperor? Visiting his grave is a privilege now? Even a dog wouldn’t bother.】 “Auntie, that’s enough,” Sam said wearily. He and Leo walked me to the door. “Aurora, if you need anything, just let us know.” “I won’t. I just want to be alone.” “You know, you might be right,” Leo added. “Maybe Liam is still alive. The police never found a body, right? If we just wait a little longer, maybe there will be good news.” 【Liam’s afraid she’ll do something drastic after moving out, so he’s having his minions give her a sliver of hope.】 【Little does he know, our girl already knows the truth. What a trio of clowns.】 I had my own properties, but they were all rented out. I couldn’t just evict my tenants, so I took Nina up on her offer and had my things moved to the Thornes’ empty penthouse. When Nina handed me the key, I asked, “Your brother won’t be coming back suddenly, will he?” “No way. I just asked him a little while ago. He said he has no plans to return anytime soon. And even if he did, he rarely stays at that place. He usually goes back to the main family estate. You’ll be fine there.” I slept for two days straight, letting the swelling around my eyes go down. That night, Nina invited me out to a bar for a quiet drink. After a few glasses, I saw Leo and his crew. I had no desire to speak to them, so I looked away, pretending I hadn’t noticed them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take out his phone, snap a picture of my profile, and send it to Liam. “Hey man, ran into Aurora at a bar. Looks like she’s drowning her sorrows. Should I go over and say something?” “Yeah… I know I didn’t handle this well. She’s been through a lot.” Leo put his phone away and started walking towards me. Halfway there, another message from Liam buzzed on his phone. “Actually, never mind. Don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me. When I ‘come back from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more, won’t she?” 9 “That’s true. You’re the expert on this stuff, man.” “Just keep an eye on her for me. Bars can be sketchy. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.” The bullet comments scoffed: 【‘Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,’ he says. LMAO. You can lie to your friends, buddy, but don’t lie to yourself.】 【Hey, rich boy, I dare you to make your fake death a real one. That would be a plot twist.】 Sam sighed wistfully. “Man, when am I going to find a girlfriend as beautiful, devoted, and rich as Aurora? I’d die for a girl like that.” Leo shot him a look. “You could always try to steal her from Liam now.” “No way. Liam would kill me when he gets back.” Over the years I was with Liam, a few of his friends had tried to hit on me privately. When he found out, he cut them off without a second thought. But that cheap possessiveness was not the same as loyalty. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. JennyLovesLiam, whom you follow, has posted a new video. “VLOG: 23 days until my sugar daddy has to go back home. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights!” The comment section was filled with heartache. “Why does he have to go back?! Can’t he just stay with you forever?!” Jenny replied: “I’m just in it for his money and his body, lol. He’s with me for a month, then he has to go back for his arranged marriage. Time for me to find my next target~” Her followers wailed. “NOOOO, don’t be so tragic!” “I hate fiancées who don’t know their place. Go away, go away, go away!” The bullet comments in my vision were less sympathetic: 【This homewrecker acts so carefree, but she’s the one who chases him back to A-City a few weeks after he returns.】 【Yup. She pretends to be his cousin so she can move into his house and walk in and out of their marital home like she owns the place.】 【Big Rig Trucker Wang: Meet me on the interstate. We need to talk.】 I had spent the last two days binge-watching her videos. The process was like taking a small knife and slowly, methodically carving Liam out of my heart. It was painful, but effective. Grief was gradually being replaced by disgust. Now, watching their sickeningly sweet displays of affection, what I felt most was a sense of relief, like a survivor of a near-fatal disaster. You love having an audience for your happiness so much? Fine. I’ll be happy to grant that wish. I forwarded her account to a friend in the media. “I have a big story for you. Interested?”

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I was kidnapped by Lana Hill—the ex-wife Damian Thorne claimed to despise. With Damian forced to watch, she took a steel pipe and beat the three-month-old child out of my womb. “This is the price you pay for choosing her, Damian!” she screamed, her face a mask of pure hatred. He had once told me, “If you want revenge, Lana, you’ll have to kill me in my own bed.” After I was rescued, Damian drove a blade through her womb and had her stripped bare, then cast her into the Warrens, the city’s most lawless slum. From that day on, everyone in the city of Crestfall knew: I, Ava Reed, was Damian Thorne’s reason for living. But one week before our wedding, in the hushed quiet of a bridal boutique’s fitting room, I saw him press her against the wall. He was kissing the scarred landscape of her back with a reverence that felt like a punch to my gut. Lana bit his Adam’s apple, her voice a low growl. “You owe me for every one of these scars. How are you going to pay me back?” “How do you want to be paid?” “The same slum you threw me in? I want Ava to experience it, too.” Damian was silent for a beat, then a slow, dark smile spread across his face. “Fine. As you wish.” 1 Noticing his slight hesitation, Lana pushed, her voice sharp and demanding. “What? Feeling sorry for her now? Weren’t you just saying you’d die for a chance to be inside me again?” Damian scoffed. “She’s my wife. If I don’t feel for her, am I supposed to feel for you?” He pulled on his shirt, ready to leave. A flicker of desperation crossed Lana’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his. He recoiled slightly. “What are you, a rabid dog?” “For you? I’d be anything.” Damian took a deep, ragged breath, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Pregnant, and you still can’t keep your hands to yourself. Christ, I ought to put you down.” Lana’s laugh was triumphant. “You’d never.” “Shut up.” I couldn’t listen to another word. Pregnant? So, her womb was fine. Damian had lied to me. I raised a trembling hand to my own stomach. Three months ago, the child she had beaten out of me felt like it had dissolved into a pool of warm blood that now clung to my skin, sticky and damning. The memory of Damian’s face, contorted with rage, was seared into my mind. “You killed my son. You’ll never have a child of your own again.” Eight stabs. He’d left Lana with just a breath of life before having her stripped naked and thrown into the Warrens. I’d watched in the rearview mirror as countless grimy hands dragged her into a squalid hovel. It was all a show. A grand, grotesque performance just for me. I wiped away a tear, not of sorrow, but of pure, unadulterated rage, and a bitter smile touched my lips. He’d gotten so used to the good girl, so comfortable with my devotion. Damian had forgotten I was raised on wolf’s blood. Stepping out of the fitting room, a sales associate noticed my pale face. “Miss Reed, are you alright? Can I help you with anything?” My eyes lifted to the centerpiece of the grand hall: the wedding gown Damian had commissioned for me, a one-of-a-kind creation. An hour ago, seeing it had filled me with visions of a lifetime of happiness. Now, it looked like a blade, sharp and cold, plunged into my heart and churning through flesh and bone. The pain was so intense I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I pointed at the dress. “Burn it.” Without a glance at her stunned expression, I pushed open the heavy glass doors and walked out into the cold air. It was late when Damian came home. He wrapped his arms around me from behind just as I closed the files on my phone—five gigabytes of videos and photos sent from an anonymous source. “You didn’t like the dress? Why did you have them burn it?” he murmured into my hair. “It was dirty.” He stiffened, his senses instantly on alert. His grip tightened. “Alright. If you don’t like it, we’ll get rid of it. I’ll have an even better one made for you, my love.” He leaned in to kiss me. But as his face drew near, the images from the video—their bodies entwined, their passionate cries—flashed in my mind. I saw the faint lipstick smudge on his neck, caught the scent of lily of the valley clinging to his clothes—her scent. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I shoved him away and bolted for the bathroom, vomiting until my body convulsed. When I emerged, the entire household staff was lined up in the living room, trembling. Damian sat on the sofa, flicking a lighter open and closed. The dancing flame cast sinister shadows on his grim face. “I pay you a fortune to look after my wife, and this is the care she receives?” These people had been handpicked by Damian himself, their loyalty bought with a price that bound them to him, life and death. If something happened to me, they would pay for it. A young maid fell to her knees, terrified. “Mr. Thorne, we all know Miss Reed is your life. We would never be careless! We’ve been meticulous with everything, from her food to her safety.” A bodyguard entered, ignoring her pleas. He dragged her out, her screams echoing down the hall. A moment later, a sickening thud silenced them. The room was frozen in terror. No one dared to breathe. “Still no one can figure it out?” Damian’s voice was dangerously calm. “Then you’ll all have your hands broken.” My lips tightened. I stepped forward. “It has nothing to do with them. It was my own issue. Let them go.” Damian pulled me into his arms, using his expensive sleeve to gently wipe the moisture from my face. “Since my wife has spoken, we’ll let it go. For today.” But the next morning, every single member of the staff had been replaced. 2 Even with incense burning, the faint, coppery smell of blood lingered in the living room. Damian acted as if nothing had happened, patiently feeding me spoonfuls of nourishing porridge. I swallowed mechanically, a chilling coldness seeping into my bones. Before, I might have convinced myself this was a twisted display of his all-consuming love for me. Now, it was just a pathetic, third-rate farce. He was a masterful actor, and his performance made me sick. “You look beautiful today, baby,” he said, his eyes crinkling. “Any special plans?” I managed a smile. “There’s an auction. I have a surprise for you.” As we were about to leave, his phone rang. A unique ringtone—two long tones, one short. A signal. Before he could answer, I snatched the phone and ended the call. “I want your full attention today. Unless that was a call you couldn’t miss?” My gaze seemed to scorch him. He rubbed his nose, a nervous tic. “Just work. Of course, my wife is more important.” On the way, the phone rang several more times, the same coded ringtone growing more frantic with each call. I could see the irritation building on his face, his composure fraying at the edges. Just as he looked ready to snap, we arrived. I handed the phone back to him. “Go on. Answer it.” He snatched it eagerly, completely missing the icy glint in my eyes. But before he could dial, the doors to the auction hall swung open before us. On the massive wrap-around screen, the image of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace assaulted his senses. The man’s face was blurred, but the woman… her face was in perfect, high-definition focus. The familiar, decadent sounds filled the room, and the color drained from Damian’s face. I walked past him and took a seat in the front row. “Some kind soul sent this to me,” I said, my voice carrying in the suddenly quiet hall. Ignoring his ashen face, I added mockingly, “Damian, darling, did you know your ex-wife was so… adventurous? She doesn’t seem to be very picky.” A murmur went through the crowd. “That man’s build… looks a bit like Mr. Thorne, doesn’t it?” someone whispered. “Don’t be ridiculous,” another shot back. “Everyone knows Ava Reed is the love of his life. His ex-wife is the monster who killed their baby. He hates her guts. He’d never touch a woman like that.” Reassured, the crowd grew bolder. A man hoping to curry favor with us snickered loudly, “I gotta say, though, the woman’s got a hell of a body. Getting my blood pressure up just looking at her.” “I’d pay good money for a night with that,” another voice boomed. As the vulgar comments filled the air, Damian’s face grew darker with every passing second. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, yet his voice was deceptively soft when he spoke to me. “Ava, please. Lana was with me once. This is humiliating for me, too. Take the video down. Whatever you’re angry about, I’ll deal with her later for you.” Deal with her? Like he did in the fitting room? I smiled coldly. “Alright.” The screen went black. Damian had barely breathed a sigh of relief when his pupils dilated in horror. From the ceiling, a giant golden cage was slowly lowered onto the stage. Inside, bound hand and foot with tape across her mouth, was Lana Hill. She was huddled in a corner, trembling. Her revealing clothes showed off the scars on her body, which had been artfully covered by an intricate tattoo of a mountain landscape, the ink twisting over her skin. It was a sight that ignited a primal lust in every man in the room. The hall erupted. “A million! I’ll pay a million for her, Miss Reed!” “Five million! She’s mine tonight!” “Get in line! I’ll pay whatever it takes!” Amidst the roaring bids, I turned to Damian, my smile as sweet as poison. “Darling, the money from selling Lana can pay for my new wedding dress.” “Enough.” Damian’s facade finally shattered. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at me, his voice a raw, desperate roar. “Ava, stop this! Let her down right now! The man in that video… it was me!” 3 His confession fell into a dead silent room. I slowly looked up at him. In that silent, charged space, he saw the dead, empty coldness in my eyes, and his heart gave a violent lurch. His voice softened, turning pleading. “Ava, it’s my fault. I can explain everything. Punish me however you want, but Lana is innocent in this. She’s… she’s pregnant with my child!” Lana. Not the monster he claimed to hate, but Lana. I stared into his eyes. “And what about our child? Did our baby die for nothing?” He answered as if he’d rehearsed the lines, his tone sickeningly reasonable. “Lana has already agreed. She’ll give you this child. We’ll raise it as our own. Boy or girl, all our assets will go to them. The three of us will be a happy family.” His shamelessness left me stunned for a solid two seconds before I burst out laughing, a harsh, grating sound. “You lied to me, you got the woman who murdered my child pregnant, and now you want me to raise your bastard? And you think that’s some kind of gift to me?” My voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Damian, aren’t you afraid the ghost of my child will come for you in the middle of the night?” His face instantly turned cold. “What do you mean, ‘bastard’? This is our child too. When did you become so bitter and cruel, Ava? You can’t even tolerate a child? You disappoint me.” He sighed, as if burdened by my pettiness. “Just let her go, Ava. I’ll make sure Lana only sees the child a few times a week. Hasn’t she been punished enough?” I was so furious I could only laugh. Then, I slapped him. Hard. The words were squeezed from between my clenched teeth. “Let her go? In your dreams.” I pointed to the man who had offered the highest price. “Mr. Russo, she’s all yours. Enjoy.” Russo hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at Damian. I added, “If you don’t take her, I’m not refunding the auction price.” That settled it. He clenched his jaw, stormed the stage, and started dragging Lana toward a back room. Damian moved to follow, but I spoke from behind him, my voice a blade of ice. “Damian Thorne, if you take one step into that room, we are finished.” His body went rigid, his eyes looking as though they were about to bleed. Suddenly, a woman’s piercing shriek tore through the room. “Damian, save me—Ah!” All rationality abandoned him. He charged into the room like a madman. A gunshot rang out, and his bodyguards swarmed in, dragging out a blood-soaked Mr. Russo. Damian completely lost control, kicking and stomping at the man’s groin like a wild animal. It was Lana’s sobbing that finally broke through his rage. He lifted her into his arms and strode past me, bumping my shoulder without a second glance. Just then, Lana, nestled safely in his embrace, lifted her head and shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “You pathetic bitch, did you really think you meant anything to him? Damian has always loved me! And here’s something you don’t know: after I beat that little bastard out of you, Damian himself ordered the doctors to have your uterus transplanted into me!” “Shut up!” Damian’s face went white. He shot a panicked look at me. But Lana just laughed, emboldened. “You’re useless now, Ava. A broken, barren hen that will never lay an egg.” The world went silent. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. A roar filled my ears, and my mind went blank. No wonder my body had felt so alien after the D&C. The man I had loved for six years. He had personally destroyed my chance of ever being a mother. All for the woman who had murdered our child. A vicious, churning pain erupted in my chest, a pain so dense it felt like it was going to tear me apart from the inside out. I doubled over, each breath a fresh slice of agony, like death by a thousand cuts. A flicker of guilt and pity crossed Damian’s face. He started to step toward me, but Lana went limp in his arms. “Damian,” she whimpered, “my stomach hurts… the baby… is something wrong with the baby?” At the mention of the child, that fleeting trace of concern for me vanished. He looked at her, his priorities clear. Without another thought, he swept her up and rushed away. As I watched his retreating back, the last ember of warmth in my heart died, leaving behind nothing but cold, hard ash. I leaned against the wall, my gaze empty, staring at nothing. It took a long time before I could raise my phone and dial a number that had lain dormant for years. “I’ve made my decision. I’m coming back. The marriage alliance with the Hawthornes of the North… I’ll accept.” 4 Damian returned that night. He knelt in the center of the living room and, in front of me, had his bodyguards lash him ninety-nine times with a whip. Blood seeped into the grout between the marble tiles, the metallic stench making me sick. I turned away, picked up the divorce papers from the table, and held them out to him. “Sign them. We were legally married but never had the wedding. Not many people know. It will be a clean break.” He looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, the color draining from his face. He shook his head frantically, reaching for my hand. “No, Ava, I won’t divorce you. I love you, Ava, I love—” I stepped back, and he stumbled forward, falling to the floor. His eyes darted to the fruit knife on the side table. In a crazed motion, he snatched it and plunged it into his own abdomen. Damian had made his start in the city’s underworld; he was ruthless with others, and even more so with himself. He forbade the staff from calling a doctor and waved away his bodyguards. His eyes were locked on me as he gave a weak, pained smile. “Is that enough to make you feel better? If not, I can do it again.” I stared at the blood pouring from his wound, then finally lowered my gaze. “The divorce, or the baby in Lana Hill’s womb. Choose one.” The smile froze on his face. Damian disappeared for three days. When he returned, he looked like a hollowed-out shell of a man. He threw a medical report on the table in front of me. An abortion report. His face was a mask of agony. “Lana’s baby is gone. Are you satisfied now?” I didn’t even glance at it. He sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion, and knelt before me, taking my hands in his. “Ava, I’ve sent Lana away. Can we please go back to how things were?” He orchestrated the murder of my child, ensured I could never be a mother again, and now he thought a simple, dismissive “sent her away” could erase the soul-crushing pain I endured. Damian was always so arrogantly certain that if he just bowed his head a little, I would forgive him for anything. He didn’t know. We could never go back. Seeing my silence, he tried a different tactic. “Some friends are throwing a ‘finally-off-the-market’ party for us tonight. Let’s go together.”

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1 At the opening gala for the new exhibition, a notification popped up from my husband’s social media—a post he’d hidden from my feed. “May my muse astonish the world.” The girl in the photo was wearing my missing “Morning Star” brooch, a bespoke piece. Just then, a spotlight flared to life on stage, and the host’s voice boomed through the hall. “Please welcome the brilliant emerging artist, Luna Jiang!” It was the girl from the photo. I smiled, snapped a picture of the stage, and sent it to my husband, Warwick. “If I reported a theft, how many years do you think she’d get?” As I hit send, a bank of camera flashes illuminated the side of the stage. My husband, Warwick Vance, was standing there, his gaze fixed on the woman in the spotlight with an expression of pure adoration. I walked straight up to him. “Warwick, darling,” I said, my smile unwavering. “Fancy seeing you here.” … The moment our eyes met, the tender smile on Warwick’s face froze. I acted as if I hadn’t noticed a thing, my voice laced with concern. “You look so pale, Warwick. Are you not feeling well?” Mr. Davies, the gallery director, approached us just then, his eyes darting between us. “Ms. Sterling, you and Mr. Vance know each other?” He gestured toward Warwick, his tone full of admiration. “Mr. Vance here is the new honorary director of our gallery! We have him to thank for funding both our young artist sponsorship program and the complete overhaul of our security systems. We’ve even named the east wing ‘The Vance Light’ in his honor.” Mr. Davies beamed at Warwick. “Mr. Vance, if you had told us you were coming tonight, we would have arranged the head seat for you!” He must not have heard the intimate way I’d said Warwick’s name. My lips curved into a smile as I looped my arm through Warwick’s rigid one. “Oh, we’re more than just acquainted, Mr. Davies.” “We’re legally married.” I tilted my head, my smile never faltering. “Right, darling?” A tremor ran through Warwick’s arm. He managed a strained smile. “I was just passing by and saw there was an event, so I thought I’d drop in. I didn’t want to disturb anyone.” He brushed past the director’s question, his voice low as he introduced me. “This is my wife, Kathy Sterling.” His eyes flickered away, unable to meet mine. I didn’t expose his pathetic lie on the spot. Instead, I turned my attention to the stage, feigning admiration. “Mr. Davies, who was Miss Jiang’s mentor? Her work has such a spark.” At the mention of her name, the director became effusive. “Luna? A true prodigy. An incredible talent from a very humble background. She’s the rising star we have the highest hopes for. Mr. Vance was the one who discovered her—her patron. He not only brought her to our attention but has provided immense support to the gallery on her behalf.” I nodded slightly, listening in silence. As the evening wound down, Mr. Davies eagerly led Luna over to us. “Luna, come and meet the esteemed Kathy Sterling! Ms. Sterling is the one who established our ‘Voyager Fund’ for new artists.” He added with a chuckle, “What a coincidence that your patron is Ms. Sterling’s husband.” Luna greeted me respectfully, her words a perfect blend of awe for me and gratitude for Warwick. She projected an image of humility and fragility, but I could see the calculating assessment—and the hostility—she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes. My gaze settled on the brooch pinned to her dress. “Miss Jiang,” I began, my voice soft, “for someone from such a humble background, how can you afford a custom piece from ‘Morning Star’?” I paused, letting the silence hang in the air. “It’s a remarkable coincidence. It looks almost identical to a one-of-a-kind piece I lost a while ago.” The color drained from Luna’s face. She shot a desperate, pleading look at Warwick. He gave her a sharp, warning glare. She immediately lowered her head, her voice a small, wounded whisper. “The brooch… I made it myself, a replica from design sketches using cheaper materials. The diamonds are just crystals. It may be a fake, but I wanted the presentation of my work to be perfect.” I didn’t press further. I just turned to Warwick and gave him a slow, meaningful smile. “Darling, I was particularly fond of that brooch. If I find out some sticky-fingered thief made off with it, I’ll make them pay dearly.” Warwick’s face was a thundercloud. He seized my wrist, his grip tight, his voice strained. “Kathy. It’s time to go home.” 2 The heavy front door clicked shut behind us. I turned, my eyes cold steel. “Warwick, you had better have a damn good explanation.” He rushed forward, his words tumbling out. “Kathy, I swear, there’s nothing between us! The girl is incredibly talented, but she comes from nothing. It was just… a moment of weakness for a promising artist…” I cut him off with a scornful laugh. “Sponsoring her when she was a minor? Fine. But she’s twenty now, perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet.” “Starting next month, you will pay only the gallery’s basic contract fee. Not a single cent more for materials. I’ll have Mr. Davies arrange an assistant’s position for her at the gallery; it won’t interfere with her creative work.” I stared directly at him, laying out my terms, one by one. “You will cut off all contact with her. That includes the sponsorship. From now on, the money will be transferred directly from my personal account to the gallery.” “And,” my gaze intensified, “everything you’ve given her—the brooch, anything else—will be returned. In its original condition. If Luna Jiang wants to be a high-minded artist, she can stop acting like a canary in a gilded cage.” A storm of emotions crossed Warwick’s face before he finally slumped in defeat and nodded. He turned and walked away without another word. Years ago, the Vance family, desperate for a foothold in the cultural sector, had sent their meticulously groomed heir to me. He was refined, tasteful, and elegant. Though I had little interest in romance, I saw the value in a power merger and agreed to the marriage. After we married, we discovered a shared passion for the arts and enjoyed several years of genuine harmony. Though the passion had faded recently, we remained respectful partners. I understood that all marriages eventually settle into a quiet routine, but I would never, ever tolerate betrayal. The next day, as promised, Warwick returned with everything. The ‘Morning Star’ brooch lay nestled in its velvet box on the table before me. “Kathy, I’ve made it clear to her. We won’t have any more contact,” he vowed, his tone earnest. Seeing his compliance, the fire in my chest cooled slightly. I said nothing more. The moment Warwick left, a friend request popped up on my phone. It was from Luna. I was wondering how she got my contact information when a second request came through. Assuming it was about the sponsorship, I accepted, ready to handle it professionally. Before I could type a single word, my screen was flooded with her messages. “Ms. Sterling, don’t you think you’re overreaching? You’re nothing but a parasitic vine living off your husband’s capital.” “By what right do you take back the gifts Mr. Vance gave me?” “He paid for them with his own money! He can give them to whomever he wants!” “You call yourself a great curator? What kind of power trip is this, crushing a young artist like me?” I read the defiant words, a cold smile spreading across my lips. Not a delicate flower, then. A venomous little snake with fangs. I typed back slowly. “Warwick and I are legally married. Our assets are shared. It is my right to spend his money. But every cent he spent on you is marital property. If I wanted to, I could sue you for malicious appropriation and make you pay back every last penny, with interest.” “Miss Jiang, is this how an artist who depends on sponsorship speaks to her patron? I suggest you learn your place. It wasn’t easy to claw your way out of some backwater village into the city. Don’t throw it all away.” “I’ll let this slide as youthful impulsiveness. But if there is a next time, your contract and your assistant position will be gone.” The chat window went silent. She didn’t reply. I didn’t give it another thought. I’d seen countless girls like her, trying to climb the social ladder on their backs. They rarely end well. 3 Just then, my mother called. “Kathy, darling, your grandmother misses you. Can you come to the estate for a visit soon?” Grandmother’s health had been declining for years, and Warwick and I made a point to visit whenever we could. With my latest exhibition just wrapped up, my schedule was clear. “Of course,” I said cheerfully. “Warwick and I will come together.” The night before our trip, however, Warwick called. “Kathy, I’m so sorry. There’s an urgent merger at the company. I have to fly to Zurich immediately. I won’t be able to go with you.” His voice was thick with apology. “I’ve already prepared the nutritional supplements for Grandmother, don’t forget to take them. I promise I’ll make time to see her as soon as this project is over.” Work had always been our priority. “Alright,” I said, understanding. Back at the family estate, I was strolling with Grandmother through the nearby botanical gardens when she suddenly pointed into the distance. “Kathy, look. Doesn’t that man look a bit like Warwick?” My heart sank. I followed her gaze. It was him. Even from the back, I recognized the cashmere coat from the photo he’d sent me that morning. Beside him, Luna Jiang leaned in affectionately as they stood before easels, seemingly sketching the scenery. I forced the rage down, laughing lightly. “Grandmother, your eyesight is getting worse. He’s on a business trip in Zurich. How could he possibly be here? The wind is picking up, let’s go sit in the teahouse up ahead.” Once I had Grandmother settled, I sent my live location to Warwick. Then I called him. “Warwick. You have three minutes. Get here now.” His voice on the other end was surprised. “Kathy? What are you doing nearby?” I laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “I should be asking you that. Aren’t you supposed to be in Zurich?” He stammered. “Luna… she was having creative block, and today is her birthday, so I brought her out for some inspiration…” “Shut up,” I snapped. “Get to the location I sent you. Immediately.” He refused outright. “Kathy, I’m the one who brought her here. I can’t just abandon her. You and Grandmother go on ahead. I’ll explain everything when I get back tonight.” “Warwick, if you are not here in three minutes, you will face the consequences.” Before I could finish, he hung up. When I tried to call back, his phone was off. A moment later, Luna’s social media feed updated. [Someone said they’d block out the whole world just to look at the scenery with me~] The accompanying photo was of Warwick’s back as he held a delicate paper umbrella over her head. I was trembling with fury. I opened my chat with Luna. “Have Warwick call me back in the next three minutes, or you will both regret it.” The message was met with silence. Three minutes passed. Nothing. I didn’t hesitate. I called my assistant. “Terminate all cooperation with Luna Jiang. Immediately.” Then, I screenshotted Luna’s post and uploaded it to my own account. [Husband lies about a business trip to take his sponsored student on a ‘creative retreat,’ then blocks his wife’s calls. Thoughts?] The post exploded. [What is happening? Isn’t Mr. Vance supposed to be the perfect doting husband? Is this real?] My feed blew up with comments and shares. Soon, Warwick’s name was flashing on my screen, call after call. I declined and blocked his number. The next morning, Warwick’s parents dragged him to my door. The second they were inside, his father’s foot shot out, kicking him hard. “You disgraceful whelp! You’ve dragged the Vance family name through the mud!” His mother, trembling with rage, slapped him squarely across the face. They continued to berate and hit him right in front of me. When they had vented enough, his mother turned to me, her tone shifting. “Kathy, Warwick was just momentarily foolish. There’s really nothing going on with that girl. Don’t take it to heart.” His father kicked him again. “Get on your knees and apologize to Kathy!” Warwick dropped to his knees with a thud. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. “Kathy, I was wrong. I swear I’ll never contact her again. Please, just forgive me this once.” Looking at his pathetic state and the sincerity in his eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to throw away our entire relationship. 4 I sighed, my voice heavy. “Warwick, this is the last time.” As a show of his resolve, Warwick deleted all of Luna’s contact information right then and there. In the following days, he came home on time every evening. He even started learning to cook to please me. Our relationship seemed to return to the warmth of our early years. I believed the chapter with Luna was closed, and I threw myself into preparing for my studio’s annual exhibition. After countless sleepless nights perfecting the new series, everything was finally ready. I told my team the official opening was in three days and sent them home to rest. The next morning, Faye, one of my signed artists, called me. “Kathy… I… I’ve been replaced.” I was stunned. “But the exhibition isn’t for two more days.” Faye’s voice broke. “Mr. Vance… he moved the opening to today!” My mind went blank. I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door. When I arrived at the gallery, Warwick was on stage, confidently answering questions from the press. And standing beside him, glowing under the lights, was Luna Jiang. The paintings hanging behind her were Faye’s new series—the work she had poured her heart and soul into. Shaking with rage, I stormed the stage. “Warwick! What is the meaning of this?” He flinched when he saw me, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. “Kathy, Faye wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it. I asked Luna to fill in at the last minute.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Faye emerged from the crowd. “I am not sick! Mr. Vance’s secretary informed me that I had been replaced!” A wave of murmurs swept through the audience. I pointed at Luna, my voice dripping with ice. “Take down her paintings and get her out of here. This is my exhibition. Who the hell is she to display the work of an artist from my studio?” Tears welled up in Luna’s eyes. “Ms. Sterling, I didn’t know anything about this, please, don’t do this to me…” Warwick pulled her behind him protectively. “Kathy, this was my decision. Don’t take it out on Luna!” I laughed coldly. “Warwick, you’ve crossed every line for her. This project was my baby, and now you’re interfering with this, too? Have you forgotten how you knelt and swore to me?” Luna’s sobs grew louder as she clutched Warwick’s sleeve. “Mr. Vance, please don’t fight with Ms. Sterling because of me… It’s all my fault. I’m just not worthy of your kindness…” Seeing her tear-streaked face, Warwick glared at me. “Kathy, this project might be your work, but it belongs to my company! As the president, what’s wrong with me replacing one artist?” Before I could argue, he cut me off, his voice rising in accusation. “You’re too controlling! You cut off her funding over something so trivial and had the gallery suspend her work! You even hired people to harass her! She’s just a child, fresh out of school, and you’ve pushed her to the brink of a depressive relapse! I wouldn’t be helping her if it weren’t for that! I’m cleaning up your mess!” I was so furious I laughed. “My mess? Warwick, you’re a master of self-deception! How dare you be so self-righteous about your affair!” His nerve was struck. He flushed with anger. “Kathy, if you cause any more trouble, I will have you removed from your position immediately! You can be a stay-at-home wife!” CRACK! I had reached my limit. I slapped him, hard. He clutched his cheek, his face dark with fury, and called for security. “Get these two crazy women out of here! Don’t let them ruin the exhibition!” Faye and I were brutally dragged out of the gallery. Staring at the closed doors, I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I took out my phone and dialed the director of my family’s investment group. “Immediately cease all investment in Vance Industries and sever all partnerships. Recall all our personnel. Three days. I want Warwick Vance to have nothing left.”

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For five years, I was the top executive assistant to the CEO of Thorne Corporation, living less like an employee and more like a servant hired to clean up the messes of him and his fiancée. When he had an affair, I sanitized the scene. When his fiancée, who suffered from severe anxiety, had a meltdown, I was her 24/7 punching bag. When she checked up on him, I was the shield. When she hunted for his mistress, I was the scapegoat. Coffee thrown in my face and slanderous rumors were just part of the job description. Marcus Thorne thought he could buy my life with a pittance of a salary and a hollow phrase like “I value you.” That all changed the night Liana Bloom broke into my apartment with a knife, and he said with a frown, “Alice, just apologize, and we can put this behind us.” I looked at them, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. Fine. One a monster, one a madwoman. A match made in hell. In that case, I would take everything they held dear, piece by piece, and smash it all to smithereens. 1 My phone vibrated violently across my desk, the clock on the screen reading 2:00 AM. Liana Bloom’s name glowed like a death sentence. I had just wrapped up 48 consecutive hours of high-intensity work, and my eyelids felt like they were lined with lead. I rubbed my throbbing temples and forced down the wave of irritation as I answered. “Alice! Why isn’t Marcus answering my calls? Did you hide him from me? Are you with him?” Liana’s voice was a choked sob. I glanced at the glass wall of the CEO’s office, seeing the entangled silhouettes of two figures reflected in the dark pane. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, but I kept my voice steady. “Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne is in an overseas video conference. It’s been running for six hours, and his phone is on silent.” “You’re lying! I know you’re in there with him!” she shrieked. “Put him on the phone! Now! Right now!” Her voice was so shrill it felt like a shard of glass in my ear. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the authority to interrupt the CEO’s meeting.” Even through my exhaustion, my tone was placid. How could I tell her that her fiancé was actually in his office with a young influencer, and that after my official workday ended at six, my job had been to clear the building, greet the girl at seven, and then stand guard outside, a forced audience to their six-hour tryst? As expected, her next words were an accusation. “You’re just an assistant! Who the hell are you to keep me from my own fiancé? Are you trying to sleep your way to the top? Let me tell you, I will never let you succeed!” The line went dead, immediately followed by a barrage of dozens of abusive text messages. I stared at the screen filled with vile curses, my face a mask of indifference as I screenshotted each one and saved them to a private, encrypted folder. How many times had this happened? I’d lost count. I had reported it to Marcus before, but it always ended the same way: with him telling me that managing Liana’s “anxieties” was part of my job. My KPI. Just as I was about to pass out from exhaustion, the office door swung open. Marcus emerged, his arm draped around the influencer. “Alice, go in there and clean up. Leave no trace,” he commanded, his tone casual, entitled. “Liana is sensitive, and she’s been dropping by unannounced lately. I don’t want her to see anything.” This wasn’t the first time. Marcus loved the thrill of fooling around in his office, never a hotel, never his home. But he was terrified of exposure, so I was his permanent lookout and his clean-up crew. And in the eyes of his fiancée, Liana, the blame for every one of his infidelities landed squarely on my shoulders. The next day, during a break in a client meeting, Liana walked up to me, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. “Alice, you’ve worked so hard. Here’s a coffee, on me.” Before I could react, she “tripped,” sending the entire scalding contents of the cup onto my white silk blouse. Gasps erupted around us as Liana’s eyes filled with crocodile tears. “Oh my God, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Are you okay, Alice?” Marcus rushed over at the commotion. He took one look at the scene, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He immediately wrapped an arm around Liana, comforting her. “It’s alright, Lia. I know you didn’t mean it.” Only after soothing his fiancée did he turn his irritated gaze to me, drenched and humiliated. “Alice, we have another client meeting shortly. Go get yourself cleaned up.” He added, as an afterthought, “It’s just a shirt. I’ll have finance approve fifty bucks for a replacement. They can take it out of next month’s travel budget.” Fifty bucks? The designer blouse I had splurged on to maintain a professional image for his company had cost me five hundred. My colleagues shot me looks of pity, but mostly, it was weary resignation. Everyone knew that as the CEO’s executive assistant, I earned barely more than an intern, did the work of three people, and was expected to silently endure the whims of the boss’s unhinged fiancée. That evening, Marcus kept me after hours, his tone one of faux confidentiality. “Alice, I know today was difficult. I got home late last night, and Liana is very perceptive. She smelled a different perfume on my clothes and assumed you were getting too close.” I had reached my breaking point. I told him Liana’s behavior was severely impacting my work and showed him the screenshots of her abusive messages. His gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. “Alice, you disappoint me. I hired you for your calm and steady nature. I trusted you to keep Liana calm.” His voice hardened. “Do you know how many Ivy League graduates would kill for a position at Thorne? I gave you, a state school graduate, this opportunity because I valued you. Is this how you repay me?” “Mr. Thorne, I am simply reporting a serious issue—” He slammed his tablet on the desk, cutting me off. “What kind of job do you think you’ll find if you leave Thorne Corp? Or is it that you’re unwilling to placate Liana because, just like all those other women, you have inappropriate feelings for me?” “I do not—” “Good. Then remember that your job includes managing my fiancée. If you can’t handle it, I have no problem finding an assistant who can.” A chill ran down my spine. After everything I had done for him and his company, I was still just a disposable cog in his machine. Seeing my crestfallen expression, his tone softened. “Think about your rent next month, Alice. And your parents back home, your sister who needs your support.” He knew exactly where to twist the knife. For this mediocre salary, for the “respectable” job my parents were so proud of, for my younger sister’s leukemia treatments that had started five years ago, I swallowed my pride one more time. My submission bought me a brief period of peace. A few days later, Marcus handed me a small, velvet jewelry box. “It’s Liana’s birthday tomorrow. I need you to give this to her. I’ve got plans that night, so just keep her company until morning.” “Sir, that’s not appropriate—” “It’s perfectly appropriate. Take her shopping. The company will reimburse you for thirty percent of any expenses.” He continued, his voice smooth as silk. “I gave you this job, I gave you access to the core of my business. You owe your entire career to me.” So, not only was I to spend the night with his fiancée so he could cheat, I was also expected to cover seventy percent of the costs myself, all as “repayment” for the “opportunity” he’d given me. When I presented Liana with the lavish bracelet from Marcus, she was ecstatic, holding out her slender arm for me to admire, gushing about how perfect they were together. But her mood soured quickly. She demanded I call Marcus and tell him to come home. I knew Marcus had planned a foursome at the office that night. My call would be less than useless. “Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne has a very important engagement tonight. He really can’t get away. Perhaps I could take you home, or we could continue shopping—” “Shopping? I see what this is. You’re the one keeping me from him, you damn homewrecker!” CRACK! The sharp, stinging slap echoed in the quiet, upscale boutique. Liana looked as shocked as I was for a moment, before her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! But why are you trying to steal my man? Just because he has money, you think you can throw yourself at him?” The other shoppers fell silent, all eyes on us. My cheek burned, a perfect red handprint blooming on my skin. I heard the whispers: shameless, gold-digger, sleeping with a taken man, slut… I wanted to defend myself, but Liana had already collapsed onto the floor, sobbing hysterically, drawing an even larger crowd of onlookers. Fearing what this unstable woman might do next, I had no choice but to half-drag, half-carry her home and hand her over to her housekeeper. My “kindness” was not rewarded. Soon, rumors began circulating at work: I was using unethical means to win projects, sabotaging my colleagues, taking bribes from partners. The source of this slander was obvious. I had had enough. I went to Marcus, demanding he clear my name. When I entered his office, he was lounging on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips. “Rumors, Alice? You know what they say, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Perhaps your own behavior hasn’t been entirely professional?” He didn’t care about the truth. He enjoyed this—the power, the control, watching his fiancée toy with me while I scrambled to survive. A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. He had never seen me as a person. I was a tool to pacify his fiancée, an object to display his power over, a cheap and disposable slave. Rage and shock warred within me. I stopped trying to argue. I pulled the resignation letter I had prepared from my bag and slapped it down on his desk. Without a backward glance, I walked out. I didn’t tell my parents I had quit. I didn’t tell them I had no way to pay for my sister’s next round of treatment. I spent my days compiling a dossier on Marcus and Liana—every threat, every incident—while frantically sending out resumes. My family’s situation meant I couldn’t afford to be unemployed for a single day. But my job search was a dead end. Every application vanished into a black hole. The few interviews I landed were mysteriously rejected at the final stage. After a week of this, a text from Marcus arrived. [Alice, you were in the wrong first. But in light of your five years of service, I’m giving you one last chance. Come to the office tomorrow, apologize to Liana in front of everyone, and we’ll consider this matter closed.] I laughed until tears streamed down my face. But my pride wouldn’t let me crawl back, even though he had me pinned. I knew then that he was the one sabotaging my job search. If I was going down, I was taking them with me. I compiled a portion of my evidence, anonymized it, and sent it to several gossip reporters, including several suggestive photos of Marcus with various women. The internet began to stir. My phone rang. It was Marcus, roaring with fury. “Alice, you backstabbing bitch! You think you can threaten me? I will destroy you. You’ll never work in this industry again. Expect a call from my lawyers!” His power was formidable. The posts were taken down by that evening, replaced by a unified narrative from several popular blogs. #Thorne Corp Exec Assistant, Spurned and Bitter, Spreads Malicious Lies# Liana saw the articles. She showed up at my cheap rental apartment with a group of hired thugs. “Alice, you pathetic slut! Can’t live without a man, can you? How dare you spread lies online!” Her eyes were filled with venom. “Get her! Rip that seductive face of hers apart!” As her goons descended on me, a man who had witnessed the slapping incident in the boutique happened to be passing by. He clicked his tongue. “Well, well. The wife finally came to deal with the mistress.” The word “mistress” sent Liana into a complete frenzy. Ignoring my battered body on the floor, she shrieked and pulled a glittering fruit knife from her purse. “It was you! How dare you? Marcus is mine! You can die!” As she lunged, a cold, final despair washed over me. In the shadow of death, I used my last ounce of strength to twist away. The blade missed my heart, but plunged deep into my side. White-hot pain exploded through me. Warm blood gushed out, soaking my shirt. I staggered back, clutching the wound, staring in disbelief at the demonic face before me. Seeing the blood on her knife seemed to snap her out of it for a second, but the madness quickly returned. “Good. Once you’re dead, you can’t seduce my Marcus anymore.” Before the pain and terror could overwhelm me, I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and hit the emergency dial button. Then, I collapsed into a pool of my own blood. The sharp pain in my side and the sterile smell of antiseptic brought me back to consciousness. I was in a hospital. I had been saved.

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The day my sister gave birth to my nephew, she ran off with my wealthy boyfriend. Furious, and armed with a face identical to hers, I knocked on the door to my brother-in-law’s bedroom. I vowed to take her place and make their lives a living hell. Ten years later, my sister came back. She took one look at the thriving nephew I’d raised and my brother-in-law’s booming business and sneered, “I’m giving your boyfriend back. Now it’s time you gave me back the family you stole.” The catch? My wealthy ex-boyfriend was bankrupt. “Dare to cause a scene,” she threatened, “and I’ll tell everyone about your sordid little affair with my husband.” I gritted my teeth and gave in. That night, I booked a flight, my taxi racing toward the airport. But then he was in the back seat, pulling me down onto his lap. “I’m far more useful than that rich boy,” he growled. “Want to try me?” 1 The day my sister gave birth to my nephew, she ran off with my wealthy boyfriend, Percy Waylett. She even had the nerve to send me a selfie of them, tangled together in a hotel bed. The caption read: Goodbye, little sister. You could never beat me when we were kids, and you certainly can’t now. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I stared into the mirror, at the face I shared with my twin, and a dark plan began to form. That night, I knocked on the door to my brother-in-law Liam’s bedroom. If she was going to abandon her husband and newborn son in this city, then she couldn’t blame me for making their lives a living hell. Liam was flustered by his wife’s sudden, cold transformation. But his business was teetering on the edge of collapse, and he naturally assumed his “wife” was angry at him for failing to provide. It was, in his mind, a rage he deserved. So he bent over backward to please me, becoming even more subservient. Every time I berated him, even when I lashed out physically, he would just lower his head in silence, promising that he’d make things right, that he’d give me the life I deserved soon. I knew my brother-in-law was a decent, simple man. I just hadn’t realized how much of a pushover he was. So I turned my attention to her child. By the time he was three, the boy, Leo, genuinely believed I was his mother. But I was a harsh one. I was stingy with food, with affection, and my words were often sharp and cutting. Each time, he’d just bite his lip, his little hands twisting the hem of his shirt, his big eyes welling with tears. He’d whisper, his voice trembling, “Don’t be mad, Mommy… I’ll go kneel outside. Please don’t be angry, it’s bad for you.” …Like father, like son. A matched set of doormats. This continued until the day I went to pick him up from preschool and found a group of kids surrounding him, their fists and feet flying. Something inside me snapped. No one gets to bully my son but me. And I’d never, ever laid a hand on him like that. I stormed straight into the principal’s office. It turned out the ringleader was the only son of a local corporate giant. The principal advised me to let it go, to know my place. I responded by slapping the CEO, who’d been called in, square across the face. Liam spent the next hour apologizing profusely, his head bowed, his voice meek. The sight of his spinelessness made my blood boil. After forcing the CEO to transfer money for medical expenses, I grabbed Liam and Leo and stalked out. On the way home, Liam kept opening his mouth to speak, then closing it. I shot him a glare. “What? You think I was too impulsive?” “Well…” he coughed, embarrassed. “Not exactly…” “Then shut up!” I snapped, turning on him. “Either you pull yourself up and become a man no one dares to cross, so your son never has to face that again, or I’ll handle it myself. Anything’s better than our whole family being doormats!” I never expected him to actually do it. Now, that same CEO has to bribe my assistant with lavish gifts just for a chance to get a meeting with Liam. The Anderson family name means something in this city. No one dares to mess with Leo anymore. After that day at the preschool, I took a hard look at his frail, skinny body. Gritting my teeth, I used my own money—even while Liam was still drowning in debt—to buy a mountain of nutritional supplements. “Look at you! You’re nothing but skin and bones! No wonder you get picked on! Don’t call me Mom until you put on some weight!” Under my tyrannical supervision, Leo didn’t just get bigger. His body fat percentage was perfect. The ten-year-old was even starting to show hints of muscle. Between his physical strength and his new status, no kid his age would dream of touching him. Everything was… good. Leo saw me as his mother. He’d proudly tell anyone who would listen the heroic tale of how I’d faced down a corporate titan in the principal’s office. And Liam saw me as his wife. Once he made it big, he showered me with gifts—designer bags, luxury cars, a sprawling mansion. It was a relentless cascade of wealth. For the first time in my life, I, a woman who had never known such security, allowed a dangerous thought to bloom: I could get used to this. Forever. Until my sister came back. And dragged me out of the beautiful dream I’d built with her husband. 2 “Let’s be honest. The happiness you’ve had these past ten years? You stole it.” My sister, Chloe, sat across from me, blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air. “I may have run off with your boyfriend, but my husband was still my husband. My son was still my son. That didn’t give you the right to slide into my life.” She tapped the ash from her cigarette. “I won’t press charges for you impersonating me. I’m giving you Percy back. Now, it’s time for you to return my husband and son to me.” My fists clenched. Percy’s family had declared bankruptcy a few months ago. He was in a worse financial state than Liam had been ten years prior. “You really have perfect timing, don’t you, Chloe? Ditch your broke husband for my rich boyfriend, and now that the tables have turned, you waltz back in to play the wealthy tycoon’s wife?” CRASH! The heavy glass ashtray shattered at my feet. Chloe’s chin lifted in defiance. “Is that any way to speak to your older sister? And let’s get something straight, Zoe. I may have had a thing with your boyfriend, but you… you seduced your own brother-in-law. You stole my son. My newborn son. Don’t you feel disgusting? Don’t you have any shame? Let’s think about which one of us is truly shameless here.” My breath caught in my throat. She rose from her chair and stood over me, her shadow falling across my face. “If you dare cause a scene, I’ll tell everyone what you did. We’ll see who they call a slut then.” I wasn’t afraid of being called names. Growing up, my only real goal was to have a full stomach. People called me a gold digger when I was with Percy, and I couldn’t have cared less. But then I thought of Leo. I could picture his face, the sweet way he called me ‘Mom’. If this all came out, what would he think? And Liam… what would he think of me? Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke. “Give me three days.” Chloe’s brow furrowed. “What? Don’t I need to pack? Don’t I need to erase every trace of myself from their lives for you? All the ways they’ve changed in the last ten years… don’t you need me to write you a memo?” A cold smile touched her lips. “You try any tricks, and I swear, I’ll ruin you.” 3 At dinner that evening, both Liam and Leo could tell something was wrong. As soon as we finished eating, Liam followed me into the bedroom. He knelt at my feet, looking up at me with worried eyes. “Did someone hurt you?” “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “What would you do if, one day, you had a different wife?” The gentle smile on his honest face cracked and fell away. “You want to leave me?!” I cupped his face in my hands. “Why are you so worked up? I’m just asking a hypothetical question.” “No!” he said, his voice a low growl. He’d never been this forceful with me before. “I would never replace you. If you leave, I’ll raise Leo alone for the rest of my life. If you died, I’d raise him until he’s eighteen and then come find you.” “Hey!” I pressed my hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear such morbid words. “What if,” I started, choosing my words carefully, “what if someone who looked exactly like me came to take my place? Would it matter then?” Chloe and I had always been rivals; we never introduced our boyfriends to each other. Liam had no idea she even had a twin sister. “My love,” he said, capturing my hand in his. “What kind of person could live with their partner for ten years and not notice when an identical imposter takes their place? That’s not love. And believe me, no one in this world loves you more than I do.” I had to fight to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. “You’re being cheesy.” He didn’t mind. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and then turned to draw my foot bath. This was our routine, a ritual that had persisted through all these years. Even in the beginning, when my words cut him the deepest, he would swallow his hurt and quietly wash my feet. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started wanting him to do this for the rest of my life. Thinking I was upset over some slight, Liam made a grand gesture the next day. He bought an entire office building in my name. The ribbon-cutting ceremony was the talk of the city. He stood before the cameras and declared to the world that I was the only wife he would ever have, that I was more precious than all the gold in the world. That evening, I arrived at the celebratory gala, only to find a familiar figure already there, wearing a gown identical to mine, laughing and chatting with the circle of socialites I had come to know. 4 Catching sight of me from the corner of her eye, one of the women gasped, her eyes wide. “My goodness, Mrs. Anderson! You really do have a twin sister!” “Chloe…” I breathed, staring at her in disbelief. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze dripping with disdain. “Oh, look everyone. This is the dear sister I was telling you about. The one who’s trying to seduce her own brother-in-law.” My fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, that explains it!” one of the women chirped. “We were wondering why Liam would make such a public declaration of loyalty. He must have known you were up to something.” “Everyone knows how devoted Liam is,” another added. “Having the same face won’t do you any good, dear.” “Honestly,” a third chimed in, “when it’s true love, you can tell the difference even with identical twins. A little homewrecker like you should give up on such shameless schemes.” These were the same women I had shared jokes and gossip with just days before. Now, they couldn’t tell us apart. Because Chloe had gotten there first, they simply assumed she was the woman they’d known for years. Chloe ran with it. “Zoe, darling,” she said, her voice laced with fake sympathy, “this is exactly why I never introduced you to Liam. I was afraid you’d get ideas. But I’ve never mistreated you, have I? Every time you said you were broke, I sent you money. What’s this? Are you trying to cut out the middleman and go straight to my husband for a handout now?” “You—!” I seethed, taking a step forward. Suddenly, a look of pure terror flashed in Chloe’s eyes. Before my hand could even get close to her, she stumbled backward dramatically. “Ah! Zoe, why are you pushing me?!” She didn’t just fall; she collapsed into the champagne tower. A cascade of crystal and golden liquid crashed down around her, drenching her in an instant. The socialites immediately swarmed, forming a protective barrier between us. “You ungrateful little brat! It’s bad enough you’re trying to steal your sister’s husband, but now you’re assaulting her!” “And showing up in the same dress! Have you no shame?” “Don’t think you’re special just because you have the same face. Liam would never want a whore like you!” I was about to retort when a familiar, authoritative voice cut through the chaos from behind me. “What is going on here?” “Liam!” I spun around. But he walked right past me. He went straight to Chloe and wrapped her in his arms. “Honey, are you hurt? Let me see.” Chloe just bit her lower lip, her eyes red and brimming with unshed tears as she shook her head. She didn’t say a word, but her silence screamed of profound victimhood. “Mommy!” A small figure darted through the crowd and threw his arms around Chloe. “Mommy! Are you okay?” Seeing the son I had raised, Chloe froze for a second. Then, a watery smile touched her lips as she gently stroked his cheek and shook her head again. “Mommy… sob… Mommy…” Leo clung to her, crying his heart out. It struck me then that he was so much more emotionally open with her than he ever was with me. They say blood is thicker than water. It seemed that even after ten years apart, a child could still pick his real mother out of a crowd, guided by some primal instinct. And run to her. “Ma’am,” Liam said, helping Chloe to her feet. He turned to me, his eyes as cold as ice. “You may be my wife’s twin sister, but that does not give you the right to harm her. She is your sister, but more importantly, she is the woman I love.” I gripped the fabric of my dress, my knuckles white. “As for your behavior here tonight,” he continued, his voice dangerously low, “I will be contacting my lawyer. You will be held accountable.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Just yesterday, he had said that swapping one identical face for another would only matter to someone who wasn’t truly in love. Apparently, Liam Anderson wasn’t truly in love with me. 5 I kept my promise to Chloe. The next day, I wrote out a detailed memo covering the last ten years of Liam and Leo’s lives—their habits, their preferences, their milestones. Then, I packed my things and left. To avoid raising suspicion, it was me who went home with Liam and Leo after the gala. I sat on the edge of the bed, silent and numb. Liam approached cautiously, gently taking my hand. “What’s wrong? Are you still angry with your sister?” I pulled my hand away without a word. He stubbornly took it again, his grip firm but gentle. “I told you, you’re the only woman for me. The fact that she has your face isn’t an advantage. It just disgusts me.” My head snapped up, my eyes meeting his. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, clearly thinking I was Chloe. “Tomorrow. I’ll have her sent out of the country. I’ll make sure she’s never allowed to come back. How does that sound?” I stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking. “That won’t be necessary.” Tomorrow, I would be leaving the country myself. When we lay down to sleep, I turned my back to him. He continued speaking, trying to get my attention. “I heard them talking. Your sister’s boyfriend went broke, so she got some… inappropriate ideas? His name is Percy Waylett, right?” I frowned in the darkness. So that was the story Chloe was spinning. A tale of a pathetic gold digger who, after her rich boyfriend lost his fortune, tried to seduce her successful brother-in-law. “Percy Waylett is bad news,” he murmured against my hair. “The fact that she was with him says a lot about her character.” A wave of resentment washed over me. I needed to salvage some shred of my dignity. “He was alright,” I said coolly. “Good in bed.” A warm, strong arm wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me back against a solid chest. “My love,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble. “Nothing and no one can ever come between us.” “Mm,” I murmured, closing my eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll be gone. You two can have whatever twisted love story you want.

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1 My husband died at sea, saving his one true love. By the time they notified me, the fish had already had their fill. The officer on the line asked if I still wanted them to search for the body. I waved it off dismissively. No need to waste public resources. With the official death certificate in hand, I had my husband, Jerry, legally erased from existence. Then I called his lawyer. It was only after hanging up that I finally let myself laugh. I popped a bottle of champagne that night. The inheritance I was supposed to split was now two-thirds mine. That was definitely worth a celebration. … My husband, Jerry, was dead. He’d taken his old flame, Abby, out for a spin on his yacht. A freak wave slammed them into the rocks. He gave her the only life jacket, and the ocean took him instead. When the Coast Guard called, they told me a shark had taken his head. His headless torso had been floating on the surface. A few fishermen were about to haul it in when another shark appeared, clamped down on the body, and dragged it back into the deep. All they recovered were his wallet and his waterlogged phone. As one of the city’s most prominent entrepreneurs, everyone expected a grand search for Jerry’s remains. The police asked if I wanted to call in a specialized recovery team. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “Let’s not waste public resources.” An hour later, I was at the county records office with the death certificate. The clerk teared up when she saw his ID. “Mr. Hayes was such a good man. My condolences, Mrs. Hayes.” I had to bite back a smile. She wasn’t wrong. Jerry was a very good man. He was scheduled to sign our divorce papers in two days, right before signing a marriage license with Abby. Instead, he died, leaving me with a mountain of assets. With no body to bury, I had to improvise for the cremation. I gathered all the useless paperwork from his corporate office, threw in his personal effects, and set it all ablaze. After it cooled, I scooped the ashes into a plastic bag, making a mental note to buy a proper urn tomorrow. I met with the lawyer to liquidate Jerry’s estate. Six companies, eight luxury cars, sixty-six commercial properties, and eighty-eight residential units, not to mention the gold bars in his bank vault and a sprawling portfolio of stocks and bonds. I was busy counting the zeroes when the lawyer cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hayes, it appears your husband had already transferred the titles of two properties to a Ms. Abby Chen before his passing.” What? I would not allow anyone to ruin my lucky numbers. I turned to the lawyer, my voice turning to ice. “Anything he gave her… I can get it back, right?” He was a million-dollar-a-year lawyer for a reason. He understood immediately. That same day, data recovery specialists worked their magic on Jerry’s ruined phone. By the afternoon, a courier was delivering a legal notice to Abby’s doorstep. She stormed into my house just as I was pouring a glass of champagne. She snatched the glass and lunged, aiming to douse me. “Maya! What the hell is the meaning of this letter?” I sidestepped neatly, and the champagne splashed harmlessly onto the floor. “My handmade Italian rug,” I mourned, looking at Abby with mock pain. “Don’t worry, I’ll add it to your bill.” “Who do you think you are, demanding these things from me? Jerry gave them to me! We were about to get married! They’re mine!” “Ms. Chen, are you unfamiliar with the law?” I scoffed. “Gifts given during our marriage are considered marital assets. I have every right to demand their return.” Her face went pale. She fumbled for her phone. “You didn’t discuss this with Jerry, did you? I’m calling him right now. Just you wait, he’s going to tear you apart.” At that, a real laugh escaped me. “Don’t bother. The reception is terrible from inside a shark’s stomach.” Her eyebrows twisted in fury. “You are a vile, poisonous woman, Maya! You were married to him! How can you say something so horrible?” I let her finish her tirade before calmly pulling Jerry’s ID from my purse—cut cleanly in two. “Still don’t believe me? Here’s his ID. I just had it invalidated this morning.” Abby stared at the two halves, her disbelief warring with a creeping dread. “This is just another one of your tricks. I’m calling him, and you won’t see a single penny of his money!” She frantically dialed his number. A moment later, a phone started ringing from inside my handbag. I pulled out Jerry’s phone. The screen was lit up with a single word: ‘Wifey.’ The color drained from Abby’s face. “Why do you have his phone?” “I told you. He’s dead.” “Then where’s the body?” “Shark food,” I said with a shrug. “Ms. Chen, have you forgotten? You two were on that yacht together. How is it that you’re the only one who came back?” “I thought… I thought…” Abby’s legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor. Her body started to tremble, her eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks like perfect, glistening pearls. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, tears are just as bad for the rug. After a few minutes of sobbing, she shot to her feet and made a beeline for the marble pillar in the living room. “Jerry, I’m coming with you!” I jumped back, startled, and quickly dialed my phone. “911? Yes, there’s a woman attempting suicide in my home.” The police arrived quickly. After getting the story, they escorted a hysterical Abby out. As they left, I couldn’t help but call after her. “Remember to return my property, or I’m suing!” One of the officers shot me a look that clearly said, The woman is having a breakdown, and you’re still harassing her? I just shrugged. We were talking about millions of dollars. Who wouldn’t be a little stressed? A few days later, I started planning Jerry’s funeral. He had so many wealthy relatives, and I’d spent years giving them generous wedding gifts and condolence money. Now, it was time to reap my harvest. I sent out notifications to Jerry’s sprawling family tree and hired an ‘expert’ from the cemetery to help me pick a plot. He showed me all the prime locations with good “energy,” but I wasn’t interested. My eyes were drawn to a barren patch on the edge of the grounds, where nothing grew. “Absolutely not,” the expert said. “If he’s buried there, his descendants will lead lives of hardship.” I clapped my hands together. “Perfect! It’s got great feng shui and it’s cheap. We’ll take it.” Jerry and I never had children, so there were no descendants to worry about. With the plot and a new urn secured, I hired a top-tier funeral service to give Jerry a send-off worthy of his status. During the service, I dabbed at my dry eyes with a tissue while discreetly eyeing the growing pile of condolence envelopes. Rich people, god love them. The envelopes were getting fatter and fatter, and it took all my willpower not to grin. Just as the funeral was winding down, Abby appeared. She was dressed in black, holding the hand of a small boy, maybe seven or eight years old. She walked directly to the front, facing Jerry’s portrait. The already quiet room fell into a stunned silence. Every eye was on her. “Leo,” Abby’s voice was frail, “kneel. This is your father.” As the boy started to bend his knees, I rushed forward and gently pulled him back up. “Careful, little guy. You can’t just go around calling any man ‘Dad.’” Abby’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s my son with Jerry!” “Oh,” I said, my gaze dropping. “Is he now? That’s what you say. But who can prove it?” “We can.” Two figures appeared in the doorway. It was my mother- and father-in-law, whom I hadn’t seen in years. “You venomous bitch!” my mother-in-law shrieked the moment she saw me, lunging forward. “My son is dead, and you notify everyone but his own parents? What are you plotting?” I wasn’t about to let her claw my face off. I took a step back, and with a flick of my wrist, my hired bodyguards intercepted her. From a safe distance, I said, “Mother, wasn’t it you who told me never to contact you again unless I was dead?” She seemed to have forgotten the day she threw me out of her house with those exact words. “You evil woman! You must have killed him! You’d do anything for his money, you shameless whore! You’ll rot in hell for this!” She continued to struggle, desperate to get her hands on me, but my security was earning their pay, holding her tight. “Mother, surely you know how Jerry died? He was with Chl—” “Leo, come here! Say hello to Grandma and Grandpa!” Abby interrupted, pulling the boy toward them. My mother-in-law instantly softened, crouching down to caress the boy’s face. “So this is our grandson. He looks exactly like Jerry did as a boy.” She looked up at Abby, her voice thick with emotion. “Abby, you poor dear. It must have been so difficult, raising him all by yourself for all these years.” The whole reunion scene was making me sick. “Mother,” I said, my voice dripping with false concern. “You can’t just believe everything she says. We don’t even know who this child’s father is.” Abby bristled. “Are you suggesting Leo isn’t Jerry’s son? I’m telling you, he is! I was already pregnant when we broke up. I’ve been raising our son on my own ever since.” My mother-in-law chimed in, “Anyone can see this boy has Hayes blood! You, on the other hand, you barren woman! You can’t even have a child of your own, so you attack those who can.” Emboldened by her new ally, Abby’s confidence surged. She launched into a tearful monologue about the struggles of being a single mother and the discrimination she faced. “Is that so?” I cut through her performance without mercy. “Funny, I heard you were married to someone else overseas. And that he left you because you cheated on him.” “You’re lying!” Abby sobbed, turning back to my mother-in-law. “I can endure the insults, but it’s Leo… a boy needs his father!” My mother-in-law, completely won over, rounded on me. “You useless, barren woman, Maya! You’ve never been a mother, you wouldn’t understand! I understand Abby’s pain perfectly!” I spoke softly, my voice carrying through the silent room. “Mother, even if this child really is Jerry’s, you’d need proof, wouldn’t you? Otherwise, anyone could walk in here with a child, claim it’s your grandson, and you’d just accept it?” “I have proof,” Abby declared, her back straightening. “Jerry didn’t believe Leo was his at first, either. So we did a paternity test. The report is still in the drawer of his office desk. Go see for yourself, Mother. Then you’ll know.” Well, well. Things were escalating quickly. It wasn’t just me; you could see the fascinated, hungry expressions on the faces of every guest. This funeral was turning into quite the spectacle. Hearing this, my mother-in-law immediately ordered someone to go to Jerry’s office and retrieve the report. I tried to intervene again. “Mother, can’t we deal with this after the funeral? It’s not a good look, making a scene in front of all these people.” She snorted. “What’s the matter, Maya? Afraid that if the test proves he’s Jerry’s son, he’ll get a piece of the inheritance? Let me tell you something, you need to be more generous. If I were in your shoes, I would welcome Leo with open arms.” There was no stopping her. After Abby gave specific instructions on where to find the document, one of the family assistants rushed off to Jerry’s company headquarters. I took the opportunity to make a quick phone call myself. He returned in less than half an hour.

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